FIGHTING CHESTER.

Hawke's Bay Herald, Volume 12, Issue 938, 28 April 1868, Page 3

FIGHTING CHESTER.

A THTTE BTOKY. •"-;*-:'■ " I have no son, sir," said the- old vadno his features growing stern and pale. " Ybji- : plead a dead cause. My son is dcad—riayy '; would to God he had been only dead/:" and with a deep sob, the father covered his face. "I am very sorry for you) Mr. ' Chester; pray/believe me that nothing butr the earnest hope of sparing you further; pain would have induced me to intrude upon you now; Mark Chester will have'-. to go to India, unless " " Nay , sir, in. ' pity spare me. I have three daughters toprovide for; he, whom you plead for hasalready impoverished me. I have not the means, even had I thought it right, to buy - him off. But," after a pause, "if you are going too, and if you see signs of repentance and amendment, then, dear sir, I beg of you, remind him that he has a father who never ceaseth day and night to lift up. the voice of supplication and prayer that he may be turned from his sins, and taught to know the only* true life of peace and happiness." " I shall not fail to do your trust, sir." When his son's messenger was gone, the old man bent his head; the tears rolled down his withered cheeks, for what grief is so bitter as that for a child, whose steps have wandered from the truth ? As Mr. Chester wept, his mind pictured the days long past — the bright-haired, frank-faced boy — the boy he had been so proud of~ whose daring nothing could daunt, and of whose strong, firm will he was wont to prophecy great things. In fancy, he saw him growing up, still the same bright, loving, and brave boy ; still the pride of a fond mother's heart, and the idol of the household. Then came the first sin, arid the cloud no bigger than a man's hand, rapidly increasing until it covered and veiled the very promise of sunshine and Heaven's grace, until the child, the delight and pride of his heart, became an outcast and reproach. Twice, thrice, was he forgiven, and received back ; each time, when health had come again, he returned to his old life, and repaid his father with curses ; and it was for this son a comrade had come to make a last appeal. The regiment was under orders for India, and Mark, having found out that a soldier's life was not' all idleness and pleasure, but that drunkenness and debauchery were strictly punished, was tired of his selfchovsen lot. Weakened by past excess — depressed, discontented, andhalf-desperate I — Mark shrank from the chances of war ; and when the report of the Indian Mutiny was proved authentic, and his regiment received orders to prepare for embarkation, Mark would have given his right hand to escape. In his extremity, he despatched acomrade with an appeal to his father. When this failed, there was still desertion, but for that he would wait until he reached India, where, in the hurry and press of war, he fancied he would have a better chance of getting clear off, and, besides, have- a new life and country open to him. The voyage was, like most voyages, tedious enough. There was nothing I to do but eat, drink, gamble, and sleep. Drink was plentiful, and Mark generally won at cards. So if indulgence in a man s propensities brings happiness, he ought to have been content; but good old Dr. Watts has told us that Satan finds some mischief still For idle Lands to do. And so it proved. Mark was under arrest several times, and so continually in disgrace that he obtained the sobriquet of " Black Mark. ■' The news that greeted the regiment on landing was the horrible massacre at Cownpore. Mark saw the faces of his comrades light up, and a strange burning rush wentdancingthrough, his veins, making him lift his head higher, and, for a while, forget his weakness. But the excitement soon faded ; the heat, the constant use of stimulants, the extra fatigue, and forced marches, brought back all his evil propensities, and when the regiment was encamped at Kussowlie, he put his long-brooded-over plan into execution, and deserted. But every white face was marked. So it came about that, having got as far as Umballa, he was apprehended, and taken into custody by a party sent out to bring in some volunteers. This sergeant to whose lot it fell to arrest Chester, being a kind-hearted man, trusted to the appearance displayed by the prisoner, aud dispensed with handcuffs, and permitted him to march more leisurely than was strictly consistent with his duty. Mark repaid his kindness as might have been expected. When within forty-eight hours' march of head-quarters he made off again. Luck was, however, against him ; he was again taken and brought to a courtmartial. His sentence was flogging, arid a hope was expressed by the colonel that this unavoidably severe sentence would bring the culprit to reason, and show him how deeply reprehensible his conduct had been. Mark laughed in the speaker's face, and bore his punishment "without a groan. From that day the small remaining spark of self-respect and goodfeeling that had remained was wiped out, and when, his stripes being healed, he was once more on duty, his conduct was so flagrantly bad that, had not men been so scarce, he would have been drummed out of his regiment. Things were at as bad a pass as they well could be. Mark was drunk whenever lie could get enough to make him so, and utterly regardless of all appertaining to a good or even ordinary soldier. The relief of the beleagured garrison of Lueknow, by General Havelock, has been justly placed among the greatest achievements of any time. Never was there, to nil appearance, a more forlorn hope, and never will history tell of a more complete success. A portion of the regiment to which Mark Chester was attached formed a part of the relief. The last forced march was over ; men and officers, worn out and foot sore, were lying about in every position, snatching a few hours' rest of sleep before the day of battle, a day which must be the dawn of the long morning of eternity to many a gallant soldier. High overhead spread a dark blue sky, sprinkled by a few strange stars. The thick air lay like a shroud, and upon it boomed incessantly the thunder of big guns. Mark had not fallen asleep. He had been reprimanded, more than once the clay past, and sat doggedly brooding over his lot, laying plans for escape or revenge. A man who was lying near, and had been watching him, suddenly sat up, and creeping along until he was close at his side, whispered : — " When you sent me to your father, Chester, he gave me a message for you. I was only to give it under certain conditions. Now, although I don't see that, according to "the old gentleman's thinking, the time has yet come, I have a dread of to-morrow, and fancy, somehow, that I won't come out of it with breath enough left to talk to you. So here goes. Your father said : ' Tell him' — that's you, you know, Mark — ' tell him that lie hath a father, who never ceaseth, day or night, to lift up the voice of prayer and supplication that he* — meaning you, Mark, again — ' might be brought from his sins, and taught to know the only true life and happiuess.' These were his words, Mark, and for the life of xne I cannot get them, out of my head to-night.". Mark Chester's : faco crimsoned, then became ghastly pal e, v but seeing his watching hinv: eagerly, he broke into a harsh, defiant laugh, saying :—" So you are fighting shy|: i now, Tom?' Tom's fatee i grew "angry;

l^^^p^nop^no tine can say that ; but I : :^on't lie oliv^th'is time -to-morrow. I :feel as sure of that as . l am of , lying here, cjattd it.would be a pity for you not to know ;-i£AiSt]^er©;:was-a.cnance"for;ypu; and, if I !-^tf|^pUyi'4; write aline,, asking the old and' stick it in my .jact6t, ; 4n- case .of; being knocked over. soon be .bugk.JcaU," and Tom crept back to where /Ks^Usket lay... Next day, while he. and Mark -vjrere fighting side by side, a round ■ shptj struck iiin full ih ; the chest. • Mark heard the crash, and turning saw his conirade'splace vacant. The burning stream tha^^as dashing through his veins became Jil^e fiery, lay a. -His hand grasped MsVsword with new strength. Hisiather's words seemed: ringing, in the air, high and clea£, over the horrible din of fight, the eraslLpf guns,, the agonizing shrieks of the woun^ep,!and;the i curses of many a poor lo^t.joiil. ;; On went the gallant force through^ i blood . • and fire. Wherever the figfit^was, or danger most imminent,, there did Mark's voice and couragercheer and-nerve his comrades. And whe^rthe;battle was, over, and Havelock's heroic band was inside the walls of .Luckhow,'men talked^to each other -with glistening eyes Pf Mark's deeds, and called him t/hester,*' ..'a name which stuck to him during the. whole of .the long terrible days and weeks that followed. The events^ of the defence of Lucknow are well knpwh/ r all were brave, it would be unfair to single otit one. Mark's name is enough to show • that he was foremost in every'" duty requiring endurance, ; couragV,,pr]trust ; and, so won, /hot only the admiration, of." commanding officers and comr'adesj. 'But regained his, own almost dead; self : respe9t/.. By the time the mutiny wagiqueUedjii'ighting Chester, had three godd-cpnduct stripes, and had been.promoted to sergeant; ,' , :"■••■. ", Who's .that smart good-looking fellow with the ;stripes?'! asked General-; — ; — , as he stood by the colonel after reviewing the remnant of his old regiment. ",Ohi tha#apfighting Chester— Mark Chester." "You dori ? t mean the man we used to call Black Mark} who was floggedat Umballa?" "Indeed I do. Eather a change, is it not Pf'i. " Oh, then, of course, that accounts foriithe. .qhange— bears out my theory about- flogging" Z'iNot at all, general ; flogging ,made him a , greater reprobate than; {ever. If it hadn't been . that we could not spare a man who could hold a rifle, he'd have, been broke fifty times. Cfanmersherejwill tell you that he dreaded the. sight of the fellow, and fully expected some horrible vending. It was fighting, not-flogging, brought him to his senses. He came out strong at Lucknow. The fellows called him Fighting Chester the first day ;; and when he found they were praising Ju'm, he was not to be stopped by anything ; ihe volunteered for every post of difficulty." It was all true ; Chester was a changed man. But nature was not to be cheated. The extraordinary fatigue, coming upon a, broken constitution, laid him. up -with fever; and just eighteen months after the mutiny, Mark Chester was landed at Portsmouth, with a batch of lean-faced}- shaky invalids, and sent up to Netiey, from whence, in due time, he was discharged with a good service pension. It was. a sunny afternoon, late in thine. The:haymakers were busy in the fields, and everywhere the sweet English landscape was bright with such scenes as are met with in no other country, and bear all the, charm and warmth of home to the •wanderer's heart. Mark saw it all, and many a time during the short walk from ■ thejrailway station to his father's rectory did he pause to drink in with greedy ears and thrilling heart the song of the birds and blithe whistle of the workmen. His last pause was at the garden gate. This time, however, he heard neither voices nor songs ; his eyes were fixed upon an old man,- pho. was sitting upon a bench under a lime tree. A fine old mastiff, with his head resting upon his master's knees, sat gazing gravely in his face. The dog looked round and came bounding down the walk. A minute more, and Mark was in his father's arms, . and the old man, with , trembling lips and happy tears, was thanking the Lord, crying — " For this my son was. dead,, and is alive again ; was lost, and' is found." — The Quiver.