Kitabı oku: «The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood», sayfa 12
CHAPTER XX.
RED TAPE
"What! back again so soon, Stanny," was Captain Faulks's greeting as McKay stepped on board the Burlington Castle. "I am right glad to see you. Is that a friend of yours?" pointing to Hyde. "He is welcome too. What brings you to Balaclava?"
McKay explained in a few words the errand on which they had come.
"Drift-wood—is that what you're after? All right, my hearties, I can help you to what you want. My crew is standing idle, and I will send the second officer out with them in the boats. They can land it for you, and load up your horses."
Before the afternoon Hyde started for the camp with a plentiful supply of fuel, intending to return next morning to take up any other supplies that could be secured. McKay tackled his uncle on this subject that same evening.
"Blankets? Yes, my boy, you shall have all we can spare, and I daresay we can fit you out with a few dozen jerseys, and perhaps some seamen's boots."
"We want all the warm clothing we can get," said McKay. "The men are being frozen to death."
"I tell you what: there were five cases of sheepskin-jackets I brought up—greggos, I think they call them—what those Tartar chaps wear in Bulgaria.'"
"The very thing! Let's have them, uncle."
"I wish you could, lad; but they are landed and gone into the store."
"The commissariat store? I'll go after them in the morning."
"It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat officer, as you'll see."
Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of professional routine. He had regulations on the brain. He was a slave to red tape, and was prepared to die rather than diverge from the narrow grooves in which he had been trained.
The store over which he presided was in a state of indescribable chaos. It could not be arranged as he had seen stores all his life, so he did nothing to it at all.
When McKay arrived early next day, Mr. Dawber was being interviewed by a doctor from a hospital-ship. The discussion had already grown rather serious.
"I tell you my patients are dying of cold," said the doctor. "I must have the stoves."
"It is quite impossible," replied Mr. Dawber, "without a requisition properly signed."
"By whom?"
"It's not my place, sir, to teach you the regulations, but if you refer to page 347, paragraph 6, you will find that no demands can be complied with unless they have been through the commanding officer of the troops, the senior surgeon, the principal medical officer, the senior commissariat officer, the brigadier, and the general of division. Bring me a requisition duly completed, and you shall have the stoves."
"But it is monstrous: preposterous! There is not time. It would take a week to get these signatures, and I tell you my men are dying."
"I can't help that; you must proceed according to rule."
"It's little short of murder!" said the doctor, now furious.
"And what can I do for you?" said Mr. Dawber, ignoring this remark, and turning to another applicant, a quartermaster of the Guards.
"I have come for six bags of coffee."
"Where is your requisition?"
The quartermaster produced a large sheet of foolscap, covered with printing and ruled lines, a mass of figures, and intricate calculations.
Mr. Dawber seized it, and proceeded to verify the totals, which took him half-an-hour.
"This column is incorrectly cast; in fact, the form is very carelessly filled in. But you shall have the coffee—if we can find it."
Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at last he produced five bags, saying—
"You will have to do with this."
"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are we to roast it?"
"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted just before use."
"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it," said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away grumbling, leaving the bags behind him.
McKay followed him out of the store.
"You won't take the coffee, then?"
"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such stuff."
"May I have it?"
"If you like. It's all one to me."
"Give me the requisition, then."
Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr. Dawber.
"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You can give it to me; I will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition."
The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags according to form.
McKay next attacked him about the greggos. Despairing, after all he had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a stratagem.
"You received yesterday, I believe, a consignment from the Burlington Castle?"
"Quite so. There are the chests, still unpacked. I have not the least idea what's inside."
"You have the bill of lading, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"May I look at it? I come from the Burlington Castle, and the captain thinks he was wrong to have sent you the cases without passing the bill of lading through the commissariat officer at headquarters."
"I believe he is right. Here is the bill; it has not Mr. Fielder's signature. This is most irregular. What shall I do?"
"You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until the proper formalities have been observed."
"You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to you for your suggestion."
A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases. With the help of some of his uncle's crew he moved them back to the seaside, where he waited until Hyde's arrival from the front. Then they loaded up the greggos on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph.
From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off. Their condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea.
Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they were warm, and their heavy seamen's boots kept out the wet. They had a sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde.
He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips of sound brandy, brought straight from the Burlington Castle, freely imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of the Royal Picts.
"He is a first-class cook," said Hyde to his friend McKay, "and was trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris. He could make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe."
"I can't think how you get the materials for the men's meals. That stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork. There was fresh meat in it. Where did you get it?"
Old Hyde winked gravely.
"If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch it."
"You can trust me. Out with it."
"There's lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know where to look for it. Anatole"—this was his French friend—"put me up to it."
"I don't understand, Hyde. What do you mean?"
"I mean that her Majesty's Royal Picts have been feeding upon horseflesh. And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it is not too thin. That is my chief difficulty with what I get."
"It's only prejudice, I suppose," said McKay, laughing; "but it will be as well, I think, to keep your secret."
But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde's soups and savoury stews. Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its numbers in a marvellous way—it even returned more men for duty than corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command.
"I can't tell how you manage, Blythe," said his lordship; "I wish we had a few more regiments like the Picts."
"It is all system, my lord, and I have reason, I think, to be proud of ours—that and an excellent regimental staff. I have a capital quartermaster and a first-rate adjutant."
"I should like to see them," said Lord Raglan.
McKay and Hyde were brought forward and presented to the Commander-in-Chief.
"Mr. McKay, I know your name. You behaved admirably at Inkerman. I have just had a letter, too, about you from England."
"About me, my lord?" said Stanislas, astonished.
"Yes, from Lord Essendine, your cousin. And, to oblige him, no less than on your own account, I must renew my offer of an appointment on the headquarter staff."
McKay looked at the colonel and shook his head.
"You are very good, my lord, but I prefer to stay with my regiment."
"Colonel Blythe, you really must spare him to me," said Lord Raglan. "We want him, and more of his stamp."
"Your wishes are law, my lord. I should prefer to keep Mr. McKay, but I will not stand in his way if he desires to go. I shall not miss him so much now that everything is in good working order."
McKay was disposed still to protest, but Lord Raglan cut him short by saying—
"Come over to headquarters to-morrow, and report yourself to General Airey. As for you, my fine fellow," Lord Raglan went on, turning to Hyde, "you are still a non-commissioned officer, I see."
"Yes, my lord, I am only acting-quartermaster."
"Well, I shall recommend you for a commission at once."
"I do not want promotion, my lord," replied Hyde.
"He has refused it several times," added Blythe.
"That's all nonsense! He must take it; it's for the good of the service. I shall send forward your name," and, so saying, Lord Raglan rode off.
Stanislas took up his duties at headquarters next day. He was attached to the quartermaster-general's department, and was at once closely examined as to his capabilities and qualifications by his new chief, General Airey, a man of extraordinarily quick perception, and a shrewd judge of character.
"You speak French? Fluently? Let's see," and the general changed the conversation to that language. "That's all right. What else? Italian? German? Russian?—"
"Yes, sir, Russian."
"You ought to be very useful to us. But you will have to work hard, Mr. McKay, very hard. There are no drones here."
McKay soon found that out. From daybreak to midnight everyone at headquarters slaved incessantly. Horses stood ready saddled in the stables, and officers came and went at all hours. Men needed to possess iron constitution and indomitable energy to meet the demands upon their strength.
"Lord Raglan wants somebody to go at once to Kamiesch," said General Airey, coming out one morning to the room in which his staff-assistants worked and waited for special instructions. There was no one there but McKay, and he had that instant returned from Balaclava. "Have you been out this morning, Mr. McKay? Yes? Well, it can't be helped; you must go again."
"I am only too ready, sir."
"That's right. Lord Raglan does not spare himself, neither must you."
"I know, sir. How disgraceful it is that he should be attacked by the London newspapers and accused of doing nothing at all!"
"Yes, indeed! Why, he was writing by candle-light at six o'clock this morning, and after breakfast he saw us all, the heads of departments and three divisional generals. Since then he has been writing without intermission. By-and-by he will ride through the camp, seeing into everything with his own eyes."
"His lordship is indefatigable: it is the least we can do to follow his example," said McKay, as he hurried away.
This was one of many such conversations between our hero and his new chief. By degrees the quartermaster-general came to value the common-sense opinion of this practical young soldier, and to discuss with him unreservedly the more pressing needs of the hour.
There was as yet no improvement in the state of the Crimean army; on the contrary, as winter advanced, it deteriorated, pursued still by perverse ill-luck. The weather was terribly inclement, alternating between extremes. Heavy snowstorms and hard frosts were followed by thaws and drenching rains. The difficulties of transport continued supreme. Roads, mere spongy sloughs of despond, were nearly impassable, and the waste of baggage-animals was so great that soon few would remain.
To replace them with fresh supplies became of paramount importance.
"We must draw upon neighbouring countries," said General Airey, talking it over one day with McKay. "It ought to have been done sooner. But better now than not at all. I will send to the Levant, to Constantinople, Italy—"
"Spain," suggested McKay.
"To be sure! What do you suppose we could get from Spain?"
"Thousands of mules and plenty of horses."
"It is worth thinking of, although the distance is great," replied the quartermaster-general. "I will speak to Lord Raglan at once on the subject. By-the-way, I think you know Spanish?"
"Yes," said McKay, "fairly well."
"Then you had better get ready to start. If any one goes, I will send you."
This was tantamount to an order. General Airey's advice was certain to be taken by Lord Raglan.
Next morning McKay started for Gibraltar, specially accredited to the Governor of the fortress, and with full powers to buy and forward baggage-animals as expeditiously as possible.
CHAPTER XXI.
AGAIN ON THE ROCK
McKay travelled as far as Constantinople in one of the man-of-war despatch-boats used for the postal service. There he changed into a transport homeward bound, and proceeded on his voyage without delay.
But half-an-hour at Constantinople was enough to gain tidings of the Arcadia and her passengers.
The yacht, he learnt, had left only a week or two before. It had lingered a couple of months at the Golden Horn, during which time General Wilders lay between life and death.
Mortification at last set in, and then all hope was gone. The general died, and was buried at Scutari, after which Mrs. Wilders, still utilising the Arcadia, started for England.
The yacht, a fast sailer, made good progress, and was already at anchor in Gibraltar Bay on the morning that McKay arrived.
"Shall I go on board and tax her with her misdeeds?" McKay asked himself. "No; she can wait. I have more pressing and more pleasant business on hand."
His first visit was to the Convent. "You shall have every assistance from us," said the Governor, Sir Thomas Drummond. "But what do you propose to do, and how can I help?"
"My object, sir, is to collect all the animals I can in the shortest possible time. I propose, first, to set the purchase going here—under your auspices, if you agree—then visit Alicante, Valencia, Barcelona, and ship off all I can secure."
"An excellent plan. Well, you shall have my hearty co-operation. If there is anything else—"
An aide-de-camp came in at this moment and whispered a few words in his general's ear.
"What! on shore? Here in the Convent, too? Poor soul! of course we will see her. Let some one tell Lady Drummond. Forgive me, Mr. McKay: a lady has just called whom I am bound by every principle of courtesy, consideration, and compassion to see at once. Perhaps you will return later?"
McKay bowed and passed out into the antechamber. On the threshold he met Mrs. Wilders face to face.
"You—!" she gasped out, but instantly checked the exclamation of chagrin and dismay that rose to her lips.
"You hardly expected to see me, perhaps; but I was miraculously saved."
McKay spoke slowly, and the delay gave Mrs. Wilders time to collect herself.
"I am most thankful. It has lifted a load off my mind. I feared you were lost."
"Yes; the sea seldom gives up its prey. But enough about myself. You are going in to see the general, I think; do not let me detain you."
"I shall be very pleased to see you on board the yacht."
"Thank you, Mrs. Wilders; I am sure you will. But to me such a visit would be very painful. My last recollections of the Arcadia are not too agreeable."
"Of course not. You were so devoted to my poor dear husband."
Mrs. Wilders would not acknowledge his meaning.
"But I shall see you again before I leave, I trust."
"My stay here is very short. I am only on a special mission, and I must return to the Crimea without delay. But we shall certainly meet again some day, Mrs. Wilders; you may rely on that."
There was meaning, menace even, in this last speech, and it gave Mrs. Wilders food for serious thought.
McKay did not pause to say more. He was too eager to go elsewhere.
His first visit, as in duty bound, had been to report his arrival and set on foot the business that had brought him. His second was to see sweet Mariquita, the girl of his choice.
They had exchanged several letters. His had been brief, hurried accounts of his doings, assuring her of his safety after every action and of his unalterable affection; hers were the artless outpourings of a warm, passionate nature tortured by ever-present heartrending anxiety for the man she loved best in the world. There had been no time to warn her of his visit to Gibraltar, and his appearance was entirely unexpected there.
Things were much the same at the cigar-shop. McKay walked boldly in and found La Zandunga, as usual, behind the counter, but alone. She got up, and, not recognising him, bowed obsequiously. Officers were rare visitors in Bombardier Lane and McKay's staff-uniform inspired respect.
"You are welcome, sir. In what can we serve you? Our tobacco is greatly esteemed. We import our cigars—the finest—direct from La Havanna; our cigarettes are made in the house."
"You do not seem to remember me," said McKay, quietly. "I hope Mariquita is well?"
"Heaven protect me! It is the Sergeant—"
"Lieutenant, you mean."
"An officer! already! You have been fortunate, sir." La Zandunga spoke without cordiality and was evidently hesitating how to receive him. "What brings you here?"
"I want to see Mariquita." The old crone stared at him with stony disapproval. "I have but just arrived from the Crimea to buy horses and mules for the army."
"Many?" Her manner instantly changed. This was business for her husband, who dealt much in horseflesh.
"Thousands."
"Won't you be seated, sir? Let me take your hat. Mariqui—ta!" she cried, with remarkable volubility. The guest was clearly entitled to be treated with honour.
Mariquita entered hastily, expecting to be chidden, then paused shyly, seeing who was there.
"Shamefaced, come; don't you know this gentleman?" said her aunt, encouragingly. "Entertain him, little one, while I fetch your uncle."
"What does it mean?" asked Mariquita, in amazement, as soon as she could release herself from her lover's embrace. "You here, Stanislas: my aunt approving! Am I mad or asleep?"
"Neither, dearest. She sees a chance of profit out of me—that's all. I will not baulk her. She deserves it for leaving us alone," and he would have taken her again into his arms.
"No, no! Enough, Stanislas!" said the sweet girl, blushing a rosy red. "Sit there and be quiet. Tell me of yourself: why you are here. The war, then, is over? The Holy Saints be praised! How I hated that war!"
"Do not say that, love! It has been the making of me."
"Nothing would compensate me for all that I have suffered these last few months."
"But I have gained my promotion and much more. I can offer you now a far higher position. You will be a lady, a great lady, some day!"
"It matters little, my Stanislas, so long as I am with you. I would have been content to share your lot, however humble, anywhere."
This was her simple, unquestioning faith. Her love filled all her being. She belonged, heart and soul, to this man.
"You will not leave me again, Stanislas?" she went on, with tender insistence.
"My sweet, I must go back. My duty is there, in the Crimea, with my comrades—with the army of my Queen."
"But if anything should happen to you—they may hurt you, kill you!"
"Darling, there is no fear. Be brave."
"Oh, Stanislas! Suppose I should lose you—life would be an utter blank after that; I have no one in the world but you."
McKay was greatly touched by this proof of her deep-seated affection.
"It is only for a little while longer, my sweetest girl! Be patient and hopeful to the end. By-and-by we shall come together, never to part again."
"I am weak, foolish—too loving, perhaps. But, Stanislas, I cannot bear to part with you. Let me go too!"
"Dearest, that is quite impossible."
"If I was only near you—"
"What! you—a tender woman—in that wild land, amidst all its dangers and trials!"
"I should fear nothing if it was for you, Stanislas. I would give you my life; I would lay it down freely for you."
He could find no words to thank her for such un-selfish devotion, but he pressed her to his heart again and again.
He still held Mariquita's hand, and was soothing her with many endearing expressions, when La Zandunga, accompanied by Tio Pedro, returned.
The lovers flew apart, abashed at being surprised.
McKay expected nothing less than coarse abuse, but no honey could be sweeter than the old people's accents and words.
"Do not mind us," said La Zandunga, coaxingly.
"A pair of turtle-doves," said Tio Pedro: "bashful and timid as birds."
"Sit down, good sir," went on the old woman: "you can see Mariquita again. Let us talk first of this business."
"You want horses, I believe?" said Tio Pedro. "I can get you any number. What price will you pay?"
"What they are worth."
"And a little more, which we will divide between ourselves," added the old man, with a knowing wink.
"That's not the way with British officers," said McKay, sternly.
"It's the way with ours in Spain."
"That may be. However, I will take five hundred from you, at twenty pounds apiece, if they are delivered within three days."
Tio Pedro got up and walked towards the door.
"I go to fetch them. I am the key of Southern Spain. When I will, every stable-door shall be unlocked. You shall have the horses, and more, if you choose, in the stated time."
"One moment, Señor Pedro; I want something else from you, and you, señora."
They looked at him with well-disguised astonishment.
"I have long loved your niece; will you give her to me in marriage?"
"Oh! sir, it is too great an honour for our house. We—she—are all unworthy. But if you insist, and are prepared to take her as she is, dowerless, uncultured, with only her natural gifts, she is yours."
"I want only herself. I have sufficient means for both. They may still be modest, but I have good prospects—the very best. Some day I shall inherit a great fortune."
"Oh! sir, you overwhelm us. We can make you no sufficient return for your great condescension. Only command us, and we will faithfully execute your wishes."
"My only desire is that you should treat Mariquita well. Take every care of her until I can return. It will not be long, I trust, before this war is ended, and then I will make her my wife."
McKay's last words were overheard by a man who at this moment entered the shop.
It was Benito, who advanced with flaming face and fierce, angry eyes towards the group at the counter.
"What is this—and your promise to me? The girl is mine; you gave her to me months ago."
"Our promise was conditional on Mariquita's consent," said La Zandunga, with clever evasion. "That you have never been able to obtain."
"I should have secured it in time but for this scoundrel who has come between me and my affianced bride. He'll have to settle with me, whoever he is," and so saying, Benito came closer to McKay, whom hitherto he had not recognised. "The Englishman!" he cried, starting back.
"Very much at your service," replied McKay, shortly. "I am not afraid of your threats. I think I can hold my own with you as I have done before."
"We shall see," and with a muttered execration, full of hatred and malice, he rushed from the place.
When, an hour or two later, Mrs. Wilders hunted him up at the Redhot Shell Ramp, she found him in a mood fit for any desperate deed. But, with native cunning, he pretended to show reluctance when she asked him for his help.
"Who is it you hate? An Englishman? Any one on the Rock?" he said. "And what do you want done? I have no wish to bring myself within reach of the English law."
"It is an English officer. He is here just now, but will presently return to the Crimea."
"What is his name?" asked Benito, eagerly, his black heart inflamed with a wild hope of revenge.
"McKay—Stanislas McKay, of the Royal Picts."
It was his name! A fierce, baleful light gleamed in Benito's dark eyes; he clenched his fists and set his teeth fast.
"You know him?" said Mrs. Wilders, readily interpreting these signs of hate.
"I should like to kill him!" hissed Benito.
"Do so, and claim your own reward."
"But how? When? Where?"
"That is for you to settle. Watch him, stick to him, dog his footsteps, follow him wherever he goes. Some day he must give you a chance."
"Leave it to me. The moment will come when I shall sheathe my knife in his heart."
"I think I can trust you. Only do it well, and never let me see him again."
