Читать книгу A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War - Brereton Frederick Sadleir - Страница 3

Letters did not travel so rapidly in the year 1850 as nowadays, and the fact that a week elapsed between the despatch of Mr Ebden’s note and its receipt at the vicarage at Riddington was not a matter to lead to abuse of the postal authorities; for the town in which Mr Western lived was somewhat remote, and well away from the main line, and epistles which were addressed to its residents usually lay for a day or more at a post-office twenty miles away, from which they were removed at most twice a week. However, arrive the letter did at last, and Mr Western, gloomier and more severe if possible than ever, sat in his study reading it for the second time.

“Look at that,” he said icily, tossing it across to Joe, who stood in his favourite position, leaning against the mantel-piece, with his hands beneath the tails of his coat.

“Humph! The young rascal!” Joe exclaimed with a chuckle, as soon as he had glanced through it. “Got himself into trouble, and his master too. Young donkey! Mischievous young donkey, that’s what he is, Edward; and now he won’t have a penny to bless himself with till his share of the statue is paid for.” Then aside to himself he muttered as he helped himself to snuff: “Humph! Must send him a tip. A few shillings are always welcome to a school-boy.”

Mr Western stared gloomily at the fire and kept silent for a minute or more. Then, bringing his hand down heavily upon the table, he exclaimed fretfully: “The boy worries me. What makes him wish to play these pranks? I have done my best, and so has your sister. He has had warning enough, and surely ought to keep out of these troubles. I believe he is wilfully mischievous, yes wilfully mischievous, and a bad boy at heart, and I will have no more to do with him. I will give him one more start, and leave him to make his way in the world as best he can. If he fails then he must look to himself, and thank himself alone for the trouble he has fallen into.”

Joe started and looked uneasily at his brother-in-law.

“Nonsense, Edward! Nonsense!” he said sharply. “I cannot make you out; and, to be perfectly candid, you are as much a mystery to me as the lad seems to be to you. Cannot you understand that he is simply full of spirit, and though, no doubt, he is sorry afterwards for the pranks he plays, yet they are the result of thoughtlessness and an abundance of good health and animal spirits? Bless my life! where would England have been but for lads of his nature? A sunny, cheerful lad he is, and I tell you plainly you do him an injustice when you say he is bad at heart. Look at the letter again. Doesn’t Mr Ebden admit that he owned up like a gentleman? What more do you want? Would you have the boy a girl?”

Joe snorted indignantly, and blew his nose so violently that Mr Western started.

“The misunderstanding is not on my side,” he retorted. “I who have watched him all these years should know; and it is you, Joseph, who have helped to ruin him. You have egged him on, and now, when he should be quiet and steady, he is simply unmanageable. But we will not wrangle about the matter. Philip shall leave Mr Ebden’s house at the end of this term, and shall take a position as clerk in the office of a friend of mine. After that he must look to himself, for I will have no more to do with him.”

“Then I tell you the lad will not submit to your proposal,” Joe said hotly. “He is too free and easy to love one of your offices, and is not the one to sit down tamely and have his spirit broken by long hours of monotonous drudgery, paid for at a rate which would disgust the average workman. But I will say nothing to dissuade him, though, mark my words, he will disappoint you again; and then, if he is thrown on the world, I will look after him. It is not for me, Edward, to remind you of your responsibilities to Phil. You took him from the gutter, as I have often heard you say, and it is your duty to bear with him, however troublesome he may be. When he reaches man’s age he will be well able to look to himself, but till then he is a boy, just as thoughtless and high-spirited as I was, and his pranks should not be treated as the deeds of a criminal.

“He got into mischief at Riddington High School, and you were asked to remove him, not only that the discipline of the school might not suffer, but also for the sake of the lad himself. By separating him from some high-spirited companions there was a better chance that they and he might settle down and become more sober, and the headmaster fully realised it. But why on that account you should send him to a school specially set aside for incorrigible lads passed my comprehension, and, as you will remember, did not meet with my approval. As a matter of fact Mr Ebden is a clever man, and took to leading and encouraging Phil instead of driving him. And now, merely because the foolish young fellow is dragged into another piece of mischief – innocent, clean-minded mischief, mind you – you would punish him severely, and possibly ruin his future by placing him in a position in which all his energies will be cramped, and from which he can scarcely hope to rise. I call it a short-sighted policy, and most unfair treatment of the boy.”

Joe once more dipped into his snuff-box, blew his nose loudly, and then, seeing that his brother-in-law did not intend to reply, sniffed loudly and stumped out of the room. A month later, when the end of the term arrived, Phil did not return to Riddington for the holidays, but instead took his box to a dingy lodging in the heart of the city, and straightway set to work at his new duties.

Mr Western had written a cold and reproving letter to him, warning him that this was the last he could do for him; while Joe had sent him a few characteristic lines telling him to do his best, and never to forget that he had one good friend in the world.

Determined to get on well if possible, Phil was most assiduous in his duties at the office, and took pains to master the writing put before him. His employer he saw little of, but whenever they met he was greeted politely, so that he had no cause to find fault in that direction. But lack of friends and lack of outdoor exercise soon told upon him. He lost his healthy looks and became pale and listless, for in those days cycling was not in vogue, and it was seldom that a city clerk was able to shake the soot and dirt of the streets from him and get into the country.

“This won’t do,” thought Phil one evening as, chained to his desk on account of unusual business, he drove his pen till the figures were blurred and his fingers cramped. “If this is the life before me I had rather be a soldier or a sailor and earn my shilling a day, and a little adventure. Fellows have often told me that a steady young soldier is bound to rise, and if he works hard and has a little education, may even reach to commissioned rank. That takes years, of course, but supposing it took ten I should be better off than after spending the same time in this office. Larking has been here fifteen years, and look what he is!”

Phil raised his eyes from his work and stared thoughtfully at a bent and prematurely-aged man who sat on his right. “Yes, I’d sooner see the world and run the risk of losing my life in some far-off country than live to grow up like that,” he mused pityingly. “At any rate I’ll go and have a chat with Sergeant-major Williams.”

The latter was a veteran of the Foot Guards, who had long ago earned a pension, and now lived with his wife on the same landing as Phil.

“Tired of your job, lad, are you?” he remarked, when Phil entered his room that night, saying that he had come for a chat and some advice. “Well, now, I’m not greatly surprised; though, mind you, there’s many a poor starving chap as would only be too glad to step into your shoes. What chance has a youngster in the army, you ask? Every chance, sir; every chance. Look at me” – and the old soldier stood upright on the hearth-rug and threw out his chest, thereby showing the row of medals pinned to his waistcoat. “I was your age, my lad, when I first ’listed, and when I had got my uniform and stood on parade for the first time, trying to look as though I knew all about it, with my chest somewhere close to my back and my stomach showing well in front, why, the sergeant-major came along, and I thought to myself he must be the colonel, and miles and miles above me. I never guessed I’d reach his rank some day; but I did, sure enough, and steady, honest work, and being sober, was what lifted me there. But you’ve got education, and that’s the pull. I had to teach myself, and a precious grind it was; but with you it’s different, and if you only keep out of scrapes you’re certain to go up.”

“But I’m always in trouble and scrapes of one sort or another; at least I was at school!” exclaimed Phil.

“Yes, I dare say you was, and a precious baby you would be if you hadn’t been; but that sort of thing don’t go down in the army. Discipline’s discipline, and so long as you remember that, and the fact that you’re filling a man’s place and are no longer a school-boy, you’re all right. Play your larks in the barrack-room as much as you like, and no one will mind; but never give cheek back to a non-commissioned officer as orders you to stop. It’s mighty trying at times, I know. Some young chap as has just been made a corporal gets beyond himself, and pitches into you. Grin and bear it is what you’ve got to do, and that’s discipline, and it’s minding that will help you to get on.”

“Then you think I shall do well to enlist?” asked Phil.

“Do well? Of course you will. Why, I’d sooner pick rags than be at the work you’re at,” answered the sergeant-major. “How much do you earn a week, my lad, if it isn’t a rude question?”

“Ten shillings, and extra if I’m kept overtime,” said Phil.

“Then you’ll be no worse off in the army,” exclaimed the old soldier. “A shilling a day, less washing, and your extra messing, is what you’ll have, and it won’t be long before you’re receiving corporal’s pay. Now think it over, lad. I’ve no wish to persuade you; but if you decide to ’list for the army, I’ll put you in the way of joining the finest regiment in the world.”

Phil thanked the sergeant-major, and retired to bed, only to lie awake thinking the matter over. By the following morning he had quite made up his mind to be a soldier, and went in to see his friend.

“Look here, sir,” the latter exclaimed, flourishing a morning paper, “you’ve made up your mind to leave that musty office and join the army, but you’re barely seventeen yet, you say. Now, I’ve something to propose, and something to show you. Before you ’list try what it’s like to rough it amongst rough men and earn your own living. Here’s an advertisement asking for hands in a kind of private zoo. I know the show, and a friend of mine, an old soldier like myself, is office-man, and keeps the books. Take a job there for a few months and see how you like the life, and then, if roughing it suits you, join the army. Even then you’ll be too young; but you’re big and strong, and a few months won’t make a great deal of difference.”

“But I know nothing about animals,” said Phil doubtfully. “I’ve ridden a horse occasionally, and always had a dog when possible. What does the advertisement say? Surely far more experience than I have had is wanted?”

“Here you are, sir. Read it, and judge for yourself. It’s as fine an offer, and as good an opportunity for you to see what life is in the rough, as you could wish for.”

Phil took the paper and read:

Wanted, a few hands in a large private menagerie. Applicants must be young and active, prepared to make themselves useful in any way, and must not object to travelling.

Then it concluded by giving the address, which was in the suburbs of London.

“Well, what do you make of it?” asked the old soldier, who had watched his face closely all the time.

“It certainly reads in a most inviting manner,” Phil replied hesitatingly; “but still I scarcely think it would suit me, for I really have had no experience to teach me how to make myself useful. I should be a raw hand who was always in the way, and should be dismissed before a week had passed.”

“You’ve no need to worry about that, I can assure you, sir,” the sergeant-major answered encouragingly. “My friend will see that you have a fair chance given you, and I’ll wager that a fortnight will set you on your feet and make you as knowing as those who’ve been working a year and longer with the firm. Mind you, though, I’ve scarcely more than an idea what is really required. Anyone can make himself useful if shown the way, but there must be a lot of work that’s difficult and p’r’aps dangerous. One thing I’ve learnt from Timms, and that is, that animals has to be taken by road to various parties, and that means kind of camp or gipsy life at times. Now look you here, my lad. Just you go right off, read the ’vertisement again, and then think the matter over. It don’t do to jump into these affairs, for you might find it a case of ‘out of the frying-pan into the fire’. There’s the place; top of the centre column. Come back this evening and tell me what you have decided on.”

Phil did as the old soldier suggested. He took the paper to the office, and during the day thought the matter out, finally deciding to make the plunge and find out for himself what roughing it really meant.

“After all,” he mused, as he absently traced lines and figures on the blotting-paper, “I shall be in just the position I might have occupied had not Father taken me from home. My mother was a poor widow, and long ago I should have had to earn my living and help to keep her too. I’ll do it. I cannot put up with this office life. A few years later it might be different, but now it stifles me.”

Many a wiseacre might shake his head at Phil’s cogitations, and more emphatically still at his determination to abandon a certain livelihood for an extremely uncertain one. “Do not think of leaving the office,” some would say, “till a better place offers itself”; or “Remain where you are till you are thoroughly acquainted with business life, and can command a higher salary.” Certainly the majority would be strongly against his applying for the post proposed by the sergeant-major.

But deep in Phil’s heart was a desire to show his adoptive parents that he had profited by their kindness, and was able to work his way up in the world. He knew that by leaving his present place he would give occasion for more disappointment; but then, after many a chat with others similarly situated, and being, for all his spirits, a thoughtful young fellow who looked to the future, he came to the conclusion that here he had no opportunity of rising. He knew that whenever a vacancy in some business house did occur there were plenty asking for it, and he knew, too, that without means at their disposal those who were selected had prospects none too brilliant. Many did rise undoubtedly from the office-stool to the armchair of the manager. But how many? Why should that good fortune come his way? No, in an office he felt like a canary in a cage; therefore he determined to forsake the life and seek one with more of the open air about it, and a spice of danger and hardship thrown in. Who could say that luck would not come his way? If it did, perhaps it would give him just that necessary heave which would enable him to set foot upon the first rung of the ladder which leads upward to honour and glory, and a position of standing in the world.

It was a brilliant prospect, and it must be admitted that Phil built many castles in the air. Yet for all that, once he had descended to terra firma, he plainly acknowledged to himself that plenty of hard work, plenty of rough and tumble, and no doubt a share of privation and hardship, must be faced before the height of his ambition could be reached.

“I’ve read the advertisement through,” he said that evening, when once more seated in front of the sergeant-major, “and if you will introduce me to your friend I will apply for one of the vacant places. First of all, though, I should like to hear whether they will have me, and then I will give my present employer notice.”

“Shake hands on it, lad! I’m glad you’ve decided, and I’ll be hanged if you won’t make a splendid workman, and one of these days as fine a soldier as ever stepped. Here’s wishing you the best of luck. Now we’ll go off to Timms right away and see what he has to say.”

Accordingly the two started off, and in due time reached a big building in which the menagerie had its home. Phil was introduced to Timms, as fine an old soldier as the sergeant-major, and was greatly relieved to hear that his services would be accepted at fifteen shillings a week.

“Come in a week, when your notice is up,” Timms said pleasantly, “and your job will be waiting for you. You’ll look after the horses at first, and perhaps we’ll give you one of the cages later on. You’ll want rough clothes and strong boots, and, for sleeping, a couple of thick rugs. Get a bag to hold your kit, and that will do for your pillow as well. Set your mind easy, Williams. I’ll look after the lad and see that he comes to no harm.”

That day week Phil left the office on the expiration of his notice, having meanwhile written to Mr Western and to Joe. Then he returned to his room, packed the few valuables he possessed, and a couple of changes of clothing in a waterproof bag, and with this under one arm, and a roll of coarse blankets under the other, set out for the menagerie.

“That you, youngster?” Timms asked cheerily. “’Pon my word I hardly expected you. Some fellows back out of a job like this at the last moment. But come along and I’ll show you where you will sleep, and who will be your mate. He’s a good fellow, and will show you the ropes.”

Passing outside the building, Timms led the way to a large yard at the back in which was an assortment of the caravans which usually accompany a circus.

“Jim!” he shouted. “Here, Jim, your new mate’s arrived. Show him round.”

A jovial and dirty face, with a two-days’ growth of beard upon it, was thrust out of a wagon, and a voice called out: “Come right in here, mate. Glad to see yer. Bring your togs along.”

Phil scrambled up the steep steps and into the wagon, where, having grasped the hand extended to him, he looked round with some curiosity, noticing with much interest the two neat little bunks, one above the other, at the farther end, the diminutive table close to one red-curtained window, and the stove on the other side, filled with paper shavings of all colours, and gold tinsel, with its chimney of brightly-polished brass.

“Queer little house, mate, ain’t it?” sang out the man who went by the name of Jim, busying himself with a pot of hot water and a shaving-brush and soap.

“Yes, I’ve never been in a van of this sort before,” said Phil. “It looks comfortable, and at any rate must be a good shelter on wet nights.”

“That it is, mate, and you’ll find it so precious soon. We start at daylight to-morrow on a long trip to the south, and I tell yer it’s mighty pleasant to know as there’s a warm fire, and a dry bed to get into, when the water’s coming down in buckets, and the wind’s that cold it freezes yer to the marrer.”

Phil noted every little article in the van, and listened to the scrape, scrape of the razor as Jim removed his bristles. When this operation was completed, Jim took him round the horses, and having initiated him into the mysterious duties of a stableman, invited him back to the wagon to tea.

“Timms and I sleep here,” he remarked, with his pipe firmly clenched between his teeth, “and you’ll put your rugs down on the floor. We’ll mess together, and you’ll find that five bob a week joined to our two fives will feed us well and leave the rest in our pockets. The other chaps has their own messes. I’ll take yer round to see them soon. They’re a queer lot; some has been sailors and soldiers, and some anything at all. Others has been at this game all their lives. You’ll learn to know them all in a few days, and I’ll give yer a hint – keep clear of the rowdy ones. They soon gets the sack, for the boss is very particular, and won’t have no drinking and such like goings-on.

“Now about your job. What do you know of animals, and what class are yer on top of a horse what ain’t ’xactly a camel?”

“I am sorry to say I am hopelessly ignorant of the first,” Phil answered. “I’ve ridden horses often, and can manage to keep in my saddle as a rule, but cannot boast that I am a good horseman.”

“Oh, you’ll do! besides, I can see you’re willing to learn and has got the grit to stick to things that might bother others of your sort. You’re to be my mate, and for a time, at any rate, we shall be on the move. The gent who runs this business keeps five and six such vans as this moving most of the year, besides the cages, of course, which follow.

“You see, agents in furrin parts collects lions and every sort of animal down to snakes, and sends them to England. No sooner does the ship come alongside the river dock than some of us are there with cages, mounted on wheels and drawn by horses. We unload the animals, slip ’em into the cage, and bring them here. A day or two later, perhaps a week, or even as long after as a month, someone wants one or other of them beasts, and arranges to buy him from the guv’nor. Then in he goes into the travelling-cage again, and off we take him to wherever he’s been ordered. Of course there’s railroads nowadays; but they are risky things at any time, and the wild beasts we deal in catch cold, and fall sick so easy that it’s been found cheaper and safer to take ’em by road. And a very pleasant life it is, to be sure. With two of us on the beat, and drawing our own house, we’re as comfortable as chaps could wish for. Every day there’s something different to look at and ask questions about, and every evening, when yer pull up on some wayside piece of ground and start to water and feed the animals, there’s new scenery and new people around yer, the last always ready to be civil and polite. Yes, it’s a free, easy life, with plenty of change and movement to make yer work come pleasant and light. You’ll like it, lad. By the way – what’s yer name? Ah, Philip Western! Well, Phil, I’ve told yer pretty nigh all I can think about. Timms and me start early to-morrow, as I told yer, so turn in soon to-night. We’ll teach yer all yer want to know while on the road, and if yer only keeps yer eyes open you’ll soon get a hold on the work.” Jim nodded pleasantly, and having invited Phil to sit down for a short time and rest himself, he ran down the steps of the van and went to complete his daily work.

“Of course all this is very different from office life,” mused Phil, looking round, and still finding many little things in the quaint travelling house to interest and amuse him, “I can see that any kind of work is expected of me, and I must not be afraid of dirtying my hands. A few months at this will show me whether or not I shall like the army, for I remember the sergeant-major told me that there too the men have numerous fatigues to do, cleaning barracks and quarters, carrying coal, and a hundred-and-one other things. Yes, I’ve come to rough it, and I’ll do my utmost to prove useful. It seems, too, that this travelling with wild beasts is very much liked by the other men. It will be funny to be constantly on the move, and constantly seeing fresh places. Well, I think I shall like it. It will be what I have hankered after – an open-air life, – and since Jim is to be my companion I feel sure I shall be happy, for he looks an excellent fellow.”

Indeed, though outwardly rough, Jim was a sterling good fellow, with a kind heart beating beneath his weather-stained jacket. Already he had taken a liking to Phil, and seeing that he was altogether different from the new hands usually employed, and moreover having heard something of his story from Timms, he determined to look after his charge and make life as pleasant for him as possible.

That evening the three who were to be companions supped at a little coffee-stall standing close outside the menagerie, and, having returned to the van, indulged in a chat before turning-in. Then Jim and the old soldier Timms climbed into their bunks, while Phil spread his blankets on the floor, and with his kit-bag beneath his head soon fell asleep, to be wakened, however, every now and again by the roaring of a big African lion, which had arrived two days before, and was caged close at hand.

Day had scarcely dawned when Jim turned over in his bunk, yawned loudly, and, sitting up with a start, consulted a silver watch, of the proportions of a turnip, which dangled from the arched roof of the van. “Five o’clock, and not a soul stirring!” he cried. “Up, up yer get, all of yer. Look lively now, or else we’ll be moving before we’ve had a morning meal.”

“What! Time for breakfast! Hullo, where am I?” cried Phil, sitting up with a start and staring round in bewilderment. Then the truth dawned upon him, and, throwing off his blankets, he rose to his feet.

“What orders, Jim?” he asked.

“Come along with me, Phil. That’s the orders. Timms’ll see to the breakfast, while you and me looks to the horses.”

Hurriedly throwing on their coats – for they had discarded nothing more when they turned in on the previous night – they ran down the steps to the stables, where they found other men at work busily grooming their animals. Instructed by Jim, Phil started with a brush upon the smooth coat of a fine draught horse which was to form one of their team. From that he went to another, while Jim looked to the other two. That done the animals were fed, and while Phil returned to the van Jim went to see that the lion they were to transport was safely caged and fed in preparation for the journey.

Meanwhile Timms had not been idle. As Phil reached the van he emerged from a doorway opposite, bearing a kettle, from the spout of which a cloud of steam was puffing. Already he had placed a rough folding-table on the ground, and now he proceeded to infuse the tea. Then he dived into the van, to reappear immediately with plates and knives and enough cups and saucers. Ten minutes later Jim had returned, and, sitting down, the three hastily swallowed thick slices of bread and butter, washing them down with cups of steaming tea.

“That’ll keep us quiet for a few hours, I reckon,” exclaimed Jim, jumping to his feet and hastily filling a pipe in preparation for a morning smoke. “Now, young un, you and me’ll slip off and harness the horses, while our mate cleans up the breakfast things.”

Half an hour later two fine horses had been yoked to the van, while another pair had been harnessed to the large boxed-in cage on wheels, which enclosed the magnificent animal they were to transport. A sack of corn was placed on the van, and a large joint of horse-flesh hung beneath, and then, fully prepared for the journey, the gates were thrown open, and with nodded adieus from the other hands they issued from the yard and took the road for Brighton, Jim driving the horses in the van, with Phil by his side, while Timms went in front in charge of the lion. Trundling over the London cobbles they crossed one of the bridges, and before very long were out of the great city and enjoying to the full the sunshine and sweet breath of the country.