George Fenn - Fix Bay'nets - The Regiment in the Hills

“Didn’t they get through?” cried Bracy.

“Get through? No. They wouldn’t let any messengers get through. Never mind. You’ve all come, and if we don’t have a jollification to-night my name’s something else.”

“Then you’re all right for provisions?”

“Oh yes, for some time to come. Ammunition was his weak point. We’ve blazed away till the men’s barrels have been hot.”

“It seems as if the men of your regiment are beggars to fight too,” said Bracy dryly, “judging by the appearance of some of you.”

“Fight? Obliged to,” said the subaltern, laughing. “Talk about practising the art of war; we ought to pass any examination. But, joking apart, it has been an awful time for the poor women and children.”

“Ah!” cried Bracy. “You have women and children yonder?”

“Yes, any number, bless ’em! The ladies and the men’s wives have worked like slaves – hospital work, you know. As to our doctor, he’ll be mad with joy to meet yours to share the work with him. Ah! there they go.”

For just then a burst of cheering came from the grim walls of the old fort, which were lined by its occupants; and mingled with the enthusiastic cries came the strains of music.

“You have your band, then?” said Roberts.

“Bits of it,” said the subaltern dryly. “The brass instruments are battered horribly; and as for the wood, they are all cracked and bandaged like wounded men; while the drums are nearly all as tubby as tom-toms, through the men having mended them with badly-cured goat-skins. I say, though, talk about goat-skins, I ought to have added sheep.”

“Why?” said Bracy.

“Are you fellows fond of shooting?”

“Yes,” said Bracy eagerly. “Is it good up here?”

“Grand, when there’s a chance of the shooting being all on your side.”

“The beggars try to stalk you, then, sometimes?” said Roberts.

“Sometimes? Nearly always.”

“But what have you got here – tiger?”

“Never saw one. Plenty of bear.”

“All! that will do.”

“Chamois-like deer, goats, and splendid mountain sheep. Pheasants too. Ah! I can give you some glorious pheasant shooting. Here they come. Oh, I say, what a pity for the old man to march our poor ragged Jacks out to see you! They’ll look – ”

“Glorious,” cried Bracy. “I should be proud of being one of your regiment. By George; what shrimps our lads seem beside them!”

“Your lads look perfection,” cried the subaltern enthusiastically. “Don’t you run them down. If you’d been looking despairingly for help for a whole month you’d feel as I do. Here, I must trot back to my chiefs. Just fancy; my captain and lieutenant are both down, non com , and I’m in command of my company. Isn’t it disgusting for the poor fellows? But they behave very well. So glad to have met you, dear boys. Ta-ta for the present. We’ve got a splendid feed ready for you all, and we shall meet then. – Don’t forget about the boots, old chap. You shall have these to present to the British Museum. Label ’em ‘Officer’s Foot-gear. End of Nineteenth Century. Rare.’”

The subaltern trotted off, and with the regiment going half-mad and cheering wildly in response to the cries of welcome which greeted them, the boyish ranks marched on, solid and stiff, for a time, their rifles sloped regularly, and step kept in a way which made even Sergeant Gee smile with satisfaction. But directly after, as caps and helmets, mingled with women’s handkerchiefs, began to wave from the walls, the strong discipline of the corps was quite forgotten, helmets came out of their proper places and were mounted on the ends of rifles, to be carried steadily at the slope, to be held up on high at arm’s-length, and even danced up and down, in the wild joy felt by the whole body, from the Colonel down to the meanest bugle-boy, that they had arrived in time to succour the brave and devoted men, marched out of the dark gateway and formed up in two lines for their friends to pass in between them. Hardly a dark face, lined, stern, and careworn, was without something to show in the shape of injury; while nearer the gate there was a body of about two-score badly wounded and bandaged men who had hobbled or been carried out, ready to add their faint share of cheering to that of their comrades.

As Roberts and Bracy led their company towards the gate, and the young officers caught sight of the ladies standing in a group ready to greet them with outstretched hands, one of them – never mind which – perhaps it was Bracy – felt half-suffocated, while the thin, careworn faces, many of them wet with the coursing tears, looked dim and distorted as if seen through bad spectacles on a wet day; and when, after having his hand shaken a score of times and listening to fervent greetings and blessings, he got through the gateway to the great inner court, where the baggage and pack-mules, camels, and the rest were packed together in company with the native servants, the said one – as aforesaid, never mind which – said to himself:

“Thank goodness that’s over! If it had lasted much longer I should have made a fool of myself. I never felt anything like it in my life.”

“Bracy, old chap,” said Roberts just then, “we mustn’t forget about that fellow’s boots. I’ve a pair, too, as soon as I can get at my traps. I say, I know you’ve got a mother, but have you any sisters?”

“Yes; two.”

“I’ve three. Now, can you explain to me why it was that as soon as I was marching by those poor women yonder I could think of nothing but my people at home?”

“For the same reason that I did,” replied Bracy rather huskily. “Human nature; but thank Heaven, old man, that they’re not here.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Roberts thoughtfully. “It would be very nice to see them, and I know my dear old mother would have been very proud to see us march in. My word, this has been a day!”

“Yes, and here we are. Shall we ever get away?”

“Of course we shall. But, hullo! what does that mean?”

Bracy turned at the same moment, for rather faintly, but in a pleasant tenor voice, there came out of a long box-like ambulance gharry, borne on two mules in long shafts at either end:

“When Johnny comes marching home again – Hurrah!”

And from another voice a repetition of the cheer:

“Hurrah! Hurrah! When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah!”

“Ah, Mr Bracy, sir, just having a bit of a sing-song together.”

“Why, Gedge, my lad, how are you – how are you getting on?”

“I don’t look in, sir, and I’ll tell yer. Doctor says it’s all right, but my blessed head keeps on swelling still. I don’t believe I shall ever get my ’elmet on agen. My mate here, though, is getting on swimming.”

“That’s right. You’ll lie up in hospital for a hit and soon be well.”

“Orspital, sir? Yes; but it’s longing to be back in barracks, tents, or the ranks as worries me. But never say die, sir. We’ve got here. – How do, Captain? Thank ye for asking. Yes, sir; getting on, sir. We’ve got here with on’y us two knocked over. Now then, sir, what next?”

“Yes, Gedge,” said the young officer thoughtfully; “what next?”

“I’ll tell you,” said Roberts cheerily; “find our traps and that fellow’s hoots.”

There was rest and refreshment in the old fort of Ghittah that night such as the regiment had not enjoyed since their march up-country; and to have seen the occupants of the stronghold, no one could have imagined that a few hours before the beleaguered were in a state of despair.

But they had cause for rejoicing, since, after a month’s brave resistance, with heavy losses, they were now strengthened by the presence of nearly a thousand light, active young fellows, perfectly new to warfare, but well officered, in a high state of discipline, and eager to prove themselves against the enemy, whatever the odds.