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The Queen's Scarlet, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. The Lads In Red |
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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE LADS IN RED If Richard Frayne had stopped to look back, his career would have been very different; but he had fully and stubbornly made up his mind, and he looked forward as he walked on and on through the apparently endless streets of what he found to be a trio of towns; and as he approached the great barracks he was conscious of the shrieking of fifes and the roll of drums, which suddenly ceased as a crowd of rough-looking boys and people came along a side-lane, down which, and rapidly approaching, was the shining and glittering of a long line of bayonets, while in front came the gleam of brass instruments. As the head of the regiment marching into the town reached the main street, _boom_--_boom_--_boom_--came the heavy thunder of the big drum; and then, in full burst of the brass instruments, the first bars of the grand March from _Tannhauser_, sending the first thrill of pleasure he had felt for days through Richard's breast, as he naturally fell into step and marched along side by side with the men. But the thrill soon passed off, and as he tramped on he could not help thinking, in a low-spirited way, that the men looked dusty and fagged. The chalky white powder clung to their blue trousers and scarlet coatees; their shakoes, too, were whitened, and their hot faces were grimed and coated with perspiration and dust. In spite of the music, there was something wanting; and in a few minutes Richard Frayne slackened his pace, so that the regiment went on past him, and he followed more slowly, for there was nothing attractive about the men. But he had not come down there spurred on by any boyish admiration for the army. His was a set purpose, and, after letting the marching regiment disappear, with a peculiar sensation of sadness affecting him as he stole a glance--he could hardly bear to look--at the officers, he turned off along one of the side-streets and passed through the great gates of one of the barracks. Here he could see a round-faced, fat man, whose clothes looked ridiculously tight, hurrying to and fro before a double line of men in flannel jackets, and at whom he seemed to be barking loudly. He was a peculiar-looking man for a soldier, suggesting, as he did at a distance, an animated pincushion, one huge pin being apparently stuck right through his chest, though a second glance revealed the fact that it was only a cane with a gilt head passed, skewer fashion, in front of his elbows and behind his back. Then a few evolutions were gone through, and Richard Frayne thought the men looked a melancholy set of dummies, more like plasterers than soldiers, till at the loudly-shouted word "Dis--miss!" they trotted off readily enough. Just then a couple of sergeants marched a squad of twelve or fourteen shabby-looking young fellows into the barrack yard, the whole party wearing the ribbons of the recruit, and toward this group, as it they were an attraction, the fat drill-sergeant and some half-dozen more from different parts of the yard walked slowly up. Richard's pulses beat fast as he stood looking on, conscious the while that a tall, keen-looking non-commissioned officer who passed him was watching him curiously. Then followed a little loud talking and laughing, and the party of recruits were marched across the yard and disappeared, leaving the group of sergeants chatting together, till one of them seemed to have said something to his companions, who, as if by one consent, turned to stare at Richard Frayne. "Now for it," muttered the lad, and, drawing a deep breath, he pulled himself together, feeling as if he were going to execution, and walked straight toward them, feeling the blood come and go from his cheeks. The men stood fast, looking at him in a half-amused, good-tempered way, as if he was not the first by many a one who had approached them in that fashion, and the keen-faced man said in quick, decisive tones the words which ended one of the boy's difficulties-- "Well, my lad, want to 'list?" Only those few hours ago and people touched their hats to him and said, "Sir Richard;" now it was, "Well, my lad, want to 'list?" But he answered promptly-- "Yes; I want to enlist." "Hah!" ejaculated the sergeant, looking him over keenly, and grasping him by the arm as if he were a horse for sale. "How old are you?" "Turned seventeen." "Hah! Yes," said the sergeant, with a keen look; "old story, eh? Run away from home?" Richard's face turned scarlet. "That'll do, my lad; don't tell any crackers about it. See these chaps just brought in?" "Yes." "Well, there isn't one who doesn't stand two or three inches higher than you, and is as many more round the chest. Men are plentiful now of the right sort. Why, you'd look as thin as a rake in our clothes." "But I'm young, and I shall grow," said Richard, hurriedly. "Then go home and grow bigger and wiser, my lad; and if you still want to join the service, come and ask for me, Sergeant Price, 205th Fusiliers, and I'll talk to you." "Only he might be at the Cape," said another of the sergeants, smiling. "Or in India," said another; and there was a general laugh, which irritated the would-be recruit, and, feeling completely stunned by his reception, after taking it for granted that all he had to do was to hold out his hand when a shilling would be placed therein: after that he was a soldier. Giving a sharp, comprehensive glance round, he turned upon his heels and walked away towards the entrance, feeling ready to go back indignantly, for there was a roar of laughter apparently at his expense. "Am I such a contemptible-looking boy?" he thought; and then he felt better: for there was evidently someone following him, and the laughter was not at his expense, but at that of the man coming in his direction, for someone cried-- "Wait a bit, Lambert!" "Yes; steady there, Dan'l!" "Hi! you sir, don't you stand anything. He eats and drinks more than is good for him already." "I say, Brummy, take him to the King's Head, and we'll join you." "Dan'l and Lambert," thought Richard. "Why, it's the fat sergeant coming after me; they're laughing at him!" But he did not turn his head to see, only went steadily on towards the gate, with his pulses beating rapidly once more, for the hope rose now that this man had repented and was, perhaps, going to enlist him, after all. Telling himself that it would be better to seem careless and independent, he kept on to the gate, passed out, and heard the steps still behind him, but so close now that he noticed a rather thick breathing. Then he started as if thrilled by an electric touch, for there came in sharp tones-- "Hold hard, my lad!" and then, in military fashion, "Halt! Right about face!" Richard obeyed the order on the instant, and in such thorough soldierly style that the fat sergeant stared. "Humph! Volunteers!" he muttered: and then, coming close up, he looked pleasantly in the lad's face, and clapped him on the shoulder. "So you wanted to 'list, did you?" he said. "Yes. Will you have me?" "No, my lad," said the sergeant, smiling. "I only wanted a word with you before you go into the town. I don't want to pump you. We can see plain enough. We often get young customers like you." "I didn't know I was too young," said Richard, hoarsely. "Nobody said you were, my lad; but you're not our sort. We want a rougher breed than you." "Very well," said Richard. "No, it isn't, my lad. You take a bit of good advice: be off back home--sharp! Don't stop in the town here, or you'll get picked up. There's a lot outside ready to be down upon you, and they'll humbug and promise everything till they've sucked every shilling you've got out of you and made you sell your watch." Richard's hand went sharply to his chain, and the sergeant laughed. "I know what it is: bit of a row at home, and you've cut off to 'list; and, if you could have had your way, you'd have done what you'd have given anything to undo in a month." There was something so frank and honest in the plump, good-humoured face before him that Richard's hand went out directly. "Shake hands? Of course," said the sergeant, grasping the lad's. "White hand!--Ring on it!" he cried, laughing, "There! go back home." Richard snatched his hand back, colouring deeply, like a girl. "Thank you!" he said. "You mean well, sergeant; but you don't know all." "And don't want to. There, don't stop in the town; get off at once." "I'm going to have some dinner," said Richard. "Come and have something with me." "Had mine, my lad," said the sergeant, laughing. "What's the use of me giving you good advice if you don't take it. There, good-bye, my lad. Banks was quite right." He nodded, faced round, and marched away, leaving Richard Frayne gazing at the black future before him as he muttered-- "Beaten! Why did I fight my way out of the flood?" His next thought made him shudder: for a river was below there in the town, and he had crossed a bridge, beneath which the deep water flowed fast to where there was oblivion and rest. He spoke mentally once more: "Why not?" As Richard Frayne gazed after the fat sergeant he failed to see the ridiculously fat back in the tight jacket for somehow he was looking inside at the man's heart. "But he does not know--he does not know," muttered the lad, as he turned now and walked back toward the town street, down which he hurried with the intention of finding a quiet place where he could have a meal, and turned at last into a coffee-house, where he ordered tea and bread-and-butter, drinking the former with avidity, for he was feverishly thirsty, but the first mouthful of food seemed as if it would choke him, and he took no more. Half an hour later he had another cup of tea, for his thirst seemed greater, and after that he went and wandered about the town, finding most rest in the shade of the great ruined Castle Keep, where the jackdaws sailed round, and cawed at him as if they were old friends from Primchilsea who recognised him and called out to their companions that he was below. "What should he do," he thought; "what should he do?" For his plan had been completely checked, and in the most unexpected way. He was sick at heart and faint in body, but his spirit was not crushed. He had laid his hand to the plough, and if a hundred good-tempered well-meaning fat sergeants came or gave their advice he could not look back. No; he must sleep at Ratcham that night, and make for Quitnesbury in the morning. There was a cavalry depot there; and if he failed again, he could go on to Ranstone. "There must be regiments where they would take me," he muttered, as he walked back toward the town in the pleasant sunny evening; and, as if attracted by the place, he made his way again towards the barracks, thinking of the fat sergeant, and in his utter loneliness feeling a yearning to meet him again for a friendly chat, if it were possible. "What did they call him--Lambert?" thought Richard. "Absurd! That was only banter on the part of his companions. I wonder whether I shall ever see him again!" _ |
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