The Roll of the Drum.

Clutha Leader, Volume XXI, Issue 1042, 13 July 1894, Page 7

The Roll of the Drum.

By Mounteney Jephson.

A STORY OP THE CRIMEA.

Author of "Tom Bulkier of Lissington," etc.

CHAPTER 111. One of the greatest amusements of Charlie Dare's boyhood was a flagstaff of which Captain Jack Pay titer was proprietor. In connection with this wonderful flagstaff Charlie was, much to his delight, constituted a sort of signal midshipman and signalman combined. It was hardly less a delight to Captain Paynter himself. Jt was the toy of his old age. He would have been much insulted at its being called a toy; and to do it justice, it was not altogether whithotit some use. Captain Jack Payntpr was always sweeping thft horizon with a telescope, and tapping barometers, and generally keeping his weather eye as wide open .as if he were commanding a brig in the hurricane latitudes. Consequently, he was more weatherwise than anyone in Clumberstone, and he made a beneficial use of his knowledge. He drew up a code of storm signals which he distributed amongst the fishermen, and any atmospheric commotion was predicted from the flagstaff long before the less gifted mortals in the village had detected any signs of the samp. The most opinionated old fish pi man in Clumberstone was not above casting his eye up at 1 Old Bloomin' Politeful's ' flagstaff, and taking its warnings. ' Old Bloomin' Politeful ' was a nickname which the sailors who sailed under him had conferred upon Captain Paynter many years before, on the lucus anon lucendo principle, and it had stuck to him ever since. Nearly everyone who sailed the seas in the British navy 30 or 40 vears ago knew who ' Old Bloomin' Politeful ' was ; and when Captain Paynter settled down in the quiet little village on the Devonshire coast, the name somehow followed him there. It must be explained that this pet sobriquet -was only used behind Captain Paynter's back. To his face, he was treated as a sort of Great Mogul. The littlp village of Clumberstone looked up to Captain Payntpr's flagstaff iu every sense, of the phrase. It was quite an institution in Clumberstone. In addition to the practical purposes it served, as above explained, it kept alive in the untutored minds of the village folk the memory of many a glorious deed of England's sons. When the morning sun would shine on the flagstaff gay with bunting, some fisherman would remark, * Halloo ! Old Bloomin' Politeful's at it again. Now what battle is this here day the hanniversary of, I wonder ?' Theu would follow a long discussion, and conjecture would be rife in the village, until the knotty point was settled, whether the subject of commemoration was the Battle of the Nile, or Trafalgar, or Waterloo, or Salomanco, or the storming of Seringapata.n. Captain Jack Paynter did not think much of fights on land compared with those which had taken place on the sea. I am not sure whether he did not look upon Waterloo as rather a minor affair when compared with some cutting-out expedition, with a couple of pinnaces and a launch, under a lieutenant. Out of eompliment, however, to his old friend and crony, all the actions in which Sir George Dare had taken part received as much honor and glory in way of flags as Trafalgar itself, which, in Captain Paynter's opinion, was, of course, the greatest earthly event that had ever happened. At a very early age Sir George Dare commenced Charle's military education and by the time the boy was 12 years of age he knew all about Vauban's, • First System of Fortification,' and could go through the Manual and Platoon and the Bayonet Exercise with all the dexterity and precision of an old soldier. He also learned to play on a bugle all the different calls. This was an accomplishment in which he took especial delight, and the hills about Clumberstone often resounded to the blast of the { Assemble ' or the ' Retire,' or some other call. Of course, many a yarn, naval and military, did Charlie listen to with open eyes and ears. •' Of most, disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of bair-breadth ? scapes i' the imminent deadly breach," the two old men gave him his fill. He was never tired of hearing from his grandfather's lips the story of that protracted and gallant struggle in the Peninsula, and the color would mount into his cheeks and his eyes would flash as he listened to the recital of some deed of daring, and he would long for the time to come when he too should be able to seek fhe bubble reputation at the cannon's mouth. 1 No, no, Charlie,' the old man would say, as he noted the boy's look, * don't long for war, ray dear boy. When it comes, do your duty, and always bear in mind that " the paths of glory lead but to the gravp." ' * Sometimes Sir George's stories would he laid in more peaceful scenes, and he would talk of the time when the joint armies occupied France, and our soldiers lived peaceably and happily for more than two years in the cottages of the French peasantry. Then the scene would change again to India, to. the

■auMMIakMMiaIiMnaMkHHMaMIIIIIHBCMa^^IMaKBMMMMMMaMatM ! storming of fortified pagodas and Burmese stockades ; to Afghan and the CaViul pass, to tiger-shooting and pigsticking. No wonder Charlie Dare was a soldier at heart while he was yet a child, and thus did his longing for a soldier's life grow with his growth and increase with his strength. CHAPTER IV. • Run 'em up, my boy, run 'em up ! That's it. Now let 'em float out to the breeze. Now belay ! That's it. Now then, take your time from me. Hip, hip, hip, hooray ! One more, Hooray ! Though they were lobsters, bv the living jingo, they did their work well ! Hang it, if they had been bluejackets they couldn't have done better. Give 'em another. Now then, my lads, we'll serve out grog all round and drink to their jolly good healths.' The speaker was Captain Paynter, or, rather I should say, the roarer, for the above was roared out at the top of his voice, ' Old Bloomin' Politeful ' was at it again with his flagstaff. Around him on this occasion were Sir George Dare, Charlie — now a handsome manlylooking boy between 15 and 16 years of age — and a group of fishermen. 1 What was the name of the river again, George f asked old Jack Paynter as he mopped up the perspiration engendered 1 by excitement and five minutes' frantic cheering. 'The Alma, Jack, the Alma,' replied Sir George, with a strange mixture of enthusiasm and sadness on his furrowed face. 4 Ay, the Alma. And they crossed the river, eh, under a galling fire did you say, George V ' Yes, Jack, thank God they fought nobly for old England.' 1 And they stormed the heights above and thrashed the Russians, eh 1 Do you hear that, my lads V said Captain Jack Paynter, turning to the group of fishermen, who having cheered themselves hoarse were anxiously awaiting the next act in the performance, that of drinking their gallant countrymen's healths. Jack Paynter did not keep them long in suspense. Rum-and-water was served out all round to them, and then after a hurried and subdued consultation amongst themselves, one of their number, who evidently was very averse to having the greatness thrust upon him, was shoved to the front. ' Cap'en Paynter, sir, and Sir George,' said the rough old fisherman. ' I ain't got the gift o' the gab pertickerlerly strong. When the gab was hem' served out, I suppose the lawyers and parsons was in front, and got a double allowance, and the fishermen and sailors, and such like was a long way behind and com'd badly off. But what me and my mates was say in' amongst ourselves is this here. We thought that while we was drinkin' the health of them brave chaps as didn't mind goin' through danger and death for the old country, we should drink the health too of Major George Dare, your son, Sir George, what's been in the thick of it, and behaved hisself, I'll be bound, as a son of his father, and as the father of young Master Charlie there would , behave hisself. I ain't quite got the name of the place where oil this figh tin's been goin' on ■' ' The Alma, Jamieson,' said Sir George. ' Ay, the Alma. It sounds a bit soft-like, too, for a place where all this shootin' and cuttin's been goin' on. But what I have to say is this here. Here's success to Major George Dare, and may he get lot's of promotion and come home a colonel ; and here's success and long life to all them brave chaps as fought and was killed at the Alma.' The old fisherman waved his cap and a hoarse cheer was just about to rise to the heavens when Sir George interposed with ' Don't forget our gallant friends who fought side by side with us.' ' Bravo, Mossoo !' roared Captain Paynter. 'Yes, my lads, we must give him a cheer too. Though he's an accomplished chap and speaks French just as well as you or I can speak English, he can fight too, by the living jingo, he. can !' The toast was drank enthusiastically, and then Sir George spoke a few words. cMy friends, I am very tnuch obliged to you for thinking of my son. That he has done his duty I feel certain, and God grant that he has been spared to do it again.' (Here the old soldier's voice trembled.) 'No victory can be won without the loss of manv valuable lives, and though the news of this glorious victory is going through England like wildfire, and the bells are ringing, and flags flying, and men cheering, there are later particulars yet to come which will turn the rejoicing of many of ns into mourning. We will shortly receive a dreaded list which will cast a gloom over many a home in ; Old England — the list of the killed > and wounded. Thank you all very much for the kind words you have i spoken, of me and mine. Before we part, let me remind you that though we naturally feel a thrill of pride in the deeds of our countrymen, yet we \ must remember that their stout hearts • were merely instruments in the hands • of God Almighty, who has seen fit to : give us this victory.' 1 1 Sir George's words had rather a > j quieting effect on the group, and it

speedily retired to continue the discussion of the subject in the alo-house. The flags fluttered gaily from « Old Bloomin 1 Politof ul's ' flagstaff all that day, and even the. fishing smacks in tho primitive little harbor beneath tried to follow its brilliant example, and dressed themselves out with any little bit of finery in the way of bunting they could get hold of. Towards the evening, Captain Jack Paynter was preparing to ' haul down ' at sunset His usual assistant, Charlie, was out of the way. The boy had gone off by himself for a solitary ramble amongst the rocks. That dreaded list his grandfather had spoken of was on his mind, and he wished to be alone. Captain Jack Paynter sat smoking his pipe and keeping a sharp eye on the declining sun. To have a single rag of bunting flying one moment after the sun had gone down was an enormity the old sailor had never been guilty of. He was just knocking the ashes cut of his pipe and preparing for work, when a messenger, who had been sent into the post-town, brought him a stained and soiled letter, With a gloomy foreboding, hfi tore open the envelope, and read as follows : — ' Alma Heights, Crimea, 'September 20th, 1854. ' Dear Sir, — I have often heard of you, and know you to be the most intimate friend Sir George Dare possesses. In fact you live together. My object in writing this is to request you I to hand the enclosed letter from me to Sir George, and to beg of you to prepare him for the sad intelligence it will convey to him of the death of his son, and my dear old friend George Dare, who was shot through the heart while rallying the men this day when climbing these heights. 1 Believe me, dear Sir, 'Very truly yours, 'Leonard Oarruthers, • Major,.- — th Regiment.' Half stunned, tho old sailor sought his friend. He found him in his room, sitting at the open window, in the light and warmth of the setting sun, reading his Bible. The reader rose at the other's entrance, with a searching gazo in his eyes. ' Jack, you bring me news V Old Jack Paynter in silence took both George Dare's hands in his. 1 Jack, bad news V For the first time in his life Jack Paynter dared not look a man full in the face. Still holding his friend's hands in his, he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and a tear rolled down his weather-beaten, hard-bound face. ' Jack, my boy's killed V ' Ay, George, shot through the heart' Good blunt old Jack Paynter ! That was his idea of breaking the news gently. George Dare laid his hand upon the open Bible near him, bowed his white head, and said, in a voice soft and gentle as a woman's — ' God's will be done.' ' Amen,' growled Jack Paynter, in tones none the less reverent for being gruff. ' Here's the letter, George,' said Captain Paynte.r, after a few moments' pause, 'here's the. letter from his friend, which will give you all the particulars.' ' Stay, Jack, stay, and let us read it together,' said Sir George, as the other with true delicacy of feeling, notwithstanding his rough manners, was preparing to leave the room. ' Alma Heights, • September 20th, 1854. ' Dear Sir George, — With a heart heavier than I have ever known it to be, I take up a pencil to scrawl a few lines as best I can, on an old envelope. By the fortune of war you have this day lost the best of sons, England the bravest of soldiers, and I the dearest of friends. His end was a glorious one. He died wielding the sword v.'hich he prized so dearly, and which in your hands has so often flashed on many a glorious battle-field in the Peninsula and in India. Our colonel was one of the first to fall, and George assumed the command. One of our regiments, some way on our left, was being hard pressed by the Russians, and seemed on the point of falling back before an overwhelming superiority of numbers. George, seeing this, ordered our left wing to wheel a quarter circle j to the left for ths pm*pose of pouring a I flanking fire into the enemy. It .was ! while conducting this manoeuvre as j coolly as if he had been on parade, that j George was shot To you who are a I true soldier at heart, it will be some little comfort to know that your son's prompt and cool conduct was the salvation of the regiment threatened with annihilation. I have no time for more.. We have had a hard day, but, God be. praised, success has crowned our efforts. We are all, officers and men, dead beat • but still there is' thankfulness in every heart. The men are lying about me all exhausted ; but : they are not silent, and the one burden i of their remarks seems to be, ' What will they jsay in old England !' If I have not said much, dear Sir George, it i is not because my heart is not full, but i because duty calls me elsewhere,. An ; attempt with fresh troops may be made > under cover of the darknesss to "drive our exhausted little force from the position we have taken, and my regiI ment is for picket duty, I must now

superintend the work of posting the pickets. ' Believe me, dear Sir George, 'Your most sincere friend, 'Leonard Carruthers. 'P.& —We found George after the action was over. He held his sword still tightly clasped. I shall send it home to you by the first opportunity.' To say that Sir George Dare read the above with the same outward composure which had previously marked his submission to the Almighty decree, would be to say of him that he was not flesh and blood. More than once during the perusal a sob choked his.utterance ; but when he had finished reading he murmured a short prayer for strength to bear the trial, and became calmer. * Through the open window they saw Charlie returning from his stroll. ' The boy s usually bright face was clouded with anxious thoughts. In a few moments he know all. Just one passionate sob burst from him, and then Charlie compressed his lips clenched his hands, and bore his anguish in silence. Then George Dare took him by the hand, led him away to the open window, and spoke words of comfort to the bruised young heart quivering in its first agony. ' Dear old grandfather,' said Charlie, some hours later in the evening, « don't think I would willingly add to your grief, but my mind is made up. lam going to leave you, kindest and best of parents, in the midst of your sorrow.' ' Going to leave me, Charlie 1 Going where V « To the Crimea.' The old man looked wistfully into the young face. 'To the Crimea,' repeated the boy. 1 1 am big, lam strong, and, thanks to you, I know my duty as a soldier as well as if I had been one for years. My duty is to take my father's place before the enemy. His sword will soon be here, and I shall carry it back.' There t was much laughter in the village that evenuig. Regardless of ' the going down to the sur, ' Old Bloomin' Politeful's ' flag fluttered on until dark. ' Blowfid' if I don't think Old Bloomin' Politeful will try hisself by courtmartial, and sentence hisself to four dozen for neglect of duty,' observed old Jamieson, the spokesman of tho day. There was no laughing amongst the villagers the next morning, however, when they looked up at the flagstaff. Instead of the flags of all nations which had so gaily fluttered from it the previous evening, there was V>ut one flag now — the flag of England—and that was half-mast high.

(To be Continued.) '