Gil the Gunner Part 11

Brace saw my face, and laughed.

"Vincent is in the doldrums," he said.

"What about?" grumbled the major, with his mouth full of curry.

"You asked him if he was sore. He is: about the thras.h.i.+ng you gave him this morning."

"Bah! nonsense! Good lesson for you, boy. You won't make that mistake again. You are getting on capitally. Wish we had a couple more of your breed."

"There, Vincent," said Brace; "what do you say now?"

I could not say anything, only feel as if the morning had suddenly become bright and joyous; and I began to make a wonderful breakfast; while the major chatted over a few matters connected with the discipline of the troop and the behaviour of some of the men.

"Well," said Brace, as soon as the major had gone; for he jumped up suddenly on receiving a message from his own quarters, leaving his half-eaten curry and a newly filled cup of coffee.

"The general down," he cried. "Bring Vincent over this evening for an hour or two."

"Well," said Brace, "how are the spirits now?"

"Oh, better," I said, smiling; "but I do wish I was more clever."

"Rubbis.h.!.+ Don't be impatient. A soldier can't learn his duties in a month; and when he has learned them, it requires incessant practice to keep up to the mark; and will need," he continued sadly, "to work hard; and, by the way, pay all the attention you can to your sword practice and fencing. I would not miss any of the pistol practice either."

I looked at him curiously, for there seemed to be a meaning underlying his words.

"You need not worry about the riding-school; you can't help getting on well in that. What are you looking at?"

"You don't think there is going to be war, do you?"

"I think a soldier ought always to be ready in case there is," he replied evasively.

"Yes; but not war out here. You don't think Russia means--"

"Hallo! Who has been talking to you about Russia? No, Vincent, my boy, I do not; but I should not be surprised if we have a bit of trouble in one of the provinces before long. I hope not; but we are always having a little affair with some native prince. However, if we do, it may not affect us. Our troop may be a thousand miles away. India is a big place."

"Yes, and isn't it wonderful that so few Englishmen should keep so many millions of the natives in subjection?"

"In some respects, yes, my lad; in others, no. The great power comes from the fact that India embraces many nations who do not all think alike, neither are they of the same religion; and hence if we had trouble with one nation, the possibility is that we could bring some of the others to fight upon our side. But matters are not as they should be, Vincent; and I cannot help having forebodings now and then. We do not treat the people as we should. There is a little too much of the iron heel of the despot on their necks."

I thought of Barton's treatment of the syce, and of many similar incidents wherever I had been since I came out, and then forgot every one but the fact that the post had come in, and with it a letter from my father, enclosing two others from my mother and sister.

"Where are they now?" asked Brace.

"In the north-west provinces," I said eagerly, "at Nussoor."

"Some hundred miles away, Vincent. You are not likely to meet them for some time to come. You will have to introduce me to your people when you do."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

My work was hard at Rambagh, for I had no measured hours. I was ambitious too; eager to master my profession, and in constant dread of exciting derision by making some mistake.

Perhaps some lads of my age would not have worked so hard, but would have contented themselves by acquiring the necessary knowledge slowly; but that did not accord with my ideas, and I eagerly attended all the early morning drills, and though the sergeant sourly said that I wanted a deal of setting up, and the riding-master laughingly told me that I looked like a tailor on horseback, I suppose I got on pretty well. At any rate, I was able to keep my place without making many outrageous blunders.

I suppose it was a good deal due to the petting bestowed upon him, but I found my charger--the Sheik--as I called him, at Captain Brace's suggestion, grew quite attached to me, and would follow me like a dog.

And in spite of the intense heat, it was a pleasant life when I grew more used to my work, and less conscious and afraid of ridicule. I had my servants, who were very obedient and servile, but not at all attentive. I was too easy with them, Barton said, and he told me that a good kicking would do them good. Certainly his men flew to obey every word, and shrank at every look.

"And hate him like poison," Captain Brace said bitterly.

But they did not show their hatred, if Brace was right; and no officer rode out to parade in better trim than Barton.

One hot day, as I was seated panting at my shuttered window, I saw that Barton's way of treating the syces was imitated by his subordinates, for one of the Serjeants, for some reason or another, raised his hand to strike a white-clothed figure across the enclosure, but altered his mind, and kicked him instead, with the result that the man shrank away, but made no sign, and I could not help thinking what a tyrant the white man was to the conquered black.

I don't know how it was, but as I lay back in my chair weary after a heavy morning drill, and drowsy from the effects of a good breakfast, I kept my eyes on the white-clothed figure whom the serjeant had kicked.

He had stood like a statue till the serjeant had gone into the barracks, but as soon as the officer's back was turned, I saw him glance round sharply, and then he appeared to be speaking to the natives near him in a quick excited way.

From where I lay back, it was like looking at some photograph, every figure stood out so sharply in the bright suns.h.i.+ne, and I was just thinking that I did not feel so indignant at what had taken place as I had when I had first witnessed such a thing, when I half sleepily noticed that the native had left the group of syces by the open doorway which looked black on the white walls. Then he appeared to be crossing the great barrack square, and pa.s.sed out of my sight, while my eyes closed, and I was dropping off to sleep, when I started wide-awake again listening.

The sound which had aroused me was repeated close to the open window, and it was a sharp hissing drawing in of the breath, as of one in pain; and directly after the _syce_ who had crossed over to my side of the square, pa.s.sed my window, halting slightly, and with a strange expression on his face, which impressed me even then. As I watched him it pa.s.sed away, and he drew himself up, walking as usual, and salaaming to some one approaching in the opposite direction, and Major Lacey and Captain Brace sauntered by, while I lay thinking about the syce's expression, and the patient way in which he had hidden the pain from which he was suffering. I had recognised him, too, as the tall, handsome native who had been struck by Barton--a man who, ever since, had saluted me with a grave, gentle smile.

"It's too bad," I was saying to myself; and then, in my listless weariness, I was dropping off to sleep again, as I generally did after a hard drill, when my black servant entered silently, and presented me with a little packet.

"What is it?" I said lazily.

"No know, sahib. Ny Deen bring, and say tell master dhoby man keep it and couldn't get back."

I opened the packet, which smelt most fragrantly, and found first some white flowers, and beneath them, very carefully washed, ironed, and scented, a pocket-handkerchief.

"Mine," I said half wonderingly, and then I grasped what it meant. "Did that syce, Lieutenant Barton's man, bring this just now?"

"Yes, sahib. Ny Deen."

"That will do," I said; and I lay back thinking of the morning when I saw the man come out of Barton's quarters bleeding, and bound up the cut.

"A set of black scoundrels, are they," I said to myself. "Well, some of them have feeling, and a way of showing their grat.i.tude."

I took up and smelt the fragrant white blossoms thoughtfully; and then I remember saying to myself, for those events were stamped pretty deeply in my memory--

"An Englishman would never have dreamed of sending flowers like that. I dare say it means something, if one only knew."

A few days after, when I had almost forgotten the incident, save that I always politely returned Ny Deen's salute when I pa.s.sed him, I was returning to my quarters one evening, when--not at all an uncommon thing--I heard loud voices in front, and saw that three of our men were going unsteadily along, evidently after too long a stay at one of the wretched places where they were supplied with the poisonous arrack which was answerable for the miserable death of so many British soldiers. One of the men in particular was in that noisy, excited state when reason seems to have run riot, and folly and madness have been taken for companions.

The man's two companions were greatly under the influence of drink, but they had sense enough left to try and control their drunken friend; and as I kept back unseen in the darkness, I saw them check the fellow when an insane desire had come upon him to kick and hammer at the officers'

quarters; and later on they engaged in a struggle, when he swore that he would go and let loose every horse in the troop.

All this made me so indignant with the idiot that I was several times on the point of interfering, but I thought that nature would punish the fellow enough the next day, and kept back, waiting to see the others get him to his quarters.