Chapter XV: Jack Meets an Old Friend

Jack had the true cavalryman’s love for his horse. He had so trained Dainty that she would lie down when told, follow when called or whistled for, and do several tricks which soldiers delight to teach their horses.

On the third morning after their arrival at Varna, while Jack was busy grooming Dainty, Napper, the new gold chevrons on his arms, came up to Jack, and with an ill-concealed grin of satisfaction said, ‘Trumpeter Blair, the horse you are grooming, D 27, is to be taken over to the lines of A Troop. My nag having died, I’m taking yours.’

Jack’s face flamed scarlet, and an angry answer rose to his lips. But he knew that Napper was only waiting for him to be imprudent or to forget himself in some other way to at once have him put under arrest for insubordination, and so strict was the discipline of the day that severe punishment would surely follow. Therefore Jack curbed his temper and said, ‘By whose authority do you demand my horse?’

‘By my own, you saucy cub, and don’t forget I’m your superior officer.’

Again the hot blood surged into Jack’s face; but he went on with the grooming of the horse, while Napper stood by making remarks.

‘It’s about time the nag was given to some one who’ll look after her,’ he said; ‘her back’s sore already. Sheer neglect.’

Jack took no notice, and Napper began again, ‘Brush her fetlocks, man; brush her fetlocks.’

Jack turned angrily and said, ‘I don’t require any instructions from you on how to groom a horse.’

‘Don’t you? Well, you’ll get some, and you’ll get yourself into trouble if you give me any more back answers.’

Jack bit his lip, and just then Sergeant Barrymore came by. Jack immediately hailed him and told him what Napper had said.

Sergeant Barrymore frowned. ‘But it’s quite out of order to take a horse from one troop to another,’ he said to Napper.

‘I can’t help that,’ replied Napper impudently. ‘I must have a horse that’s used to trumpet and bugle, and a good nag too, as I’m the colonel’s orderly. I’ve got permission from the riding-master. Of course, if you can override his decision I’ve nothing more to say.’

‘You’ve said quite enough as it is,’ growled Barrymore. ‘I’ll see Captain Norreys about it.’

He went off, and Jack saw him talking to the captain of his troop, the two going off to find the riding-master. Presently Barrymore, his face wearing a look of annoyance, came striding back.

‘I’m sorry, Blair,’ he said; ‘but it seems Corporal Napper has represented that yours is the only horse in the regiment up to the work he wants it for. He’s made a special point of obtaining it, and the riding-master has consented. Captain Norreys went to see him; but having given his word the riding-master won’t alter it.’

Napper grinned. ‘Just take her over to our troop-lines,’ he said to Jack.

‘You take her yourself,’ said Sergeant Barrymore; ‘Blair’s got something to do for me.’

Jack could have cried with grief and vexation when he saw Napper take hold of Dainty’s headstall and lead her away. The horse, too, seemed to resent it, for she suddenly bared her teeth and made a grab at Napper’s arm. He, however, dodged back and gave the mare a sharp blow across her velvet muzzle with the back of his hand.

‘I’ll cure you of biting, you brute,’ he said as he tugged savagely at her headstall, and Jack walked away, for he feared if he saw any more he should throw caution to the winds and give Napper the thrashing he deserved.

That night more transports arrived, having another cavalry regiment aboard, and the first thing in the morning their disembarkation was commenced.

As the first troop, having got all their horses and baggage ashore, marched up towards the camp, Jack saw the regiment was one of Hussars, and as they were passing him he heard his name shouted out, ‘Blair, Blair, shure it’s the bhoy himself;’ and, looking up at the trumpeter who rode behind the officer leading the troop, Jack saw the roguish eye and laughing features of Larry O’Callaghan.

‘Hallo!’ cried Jack, ‘I didn’t know this was your regiment.’

‘You can always reckon that the ould 8th are where there’s work to be done,’ said Larry. ‘Come and hunt me up when ye’ve a minute, and tell us all about this land of haythens.’

Directly Jack was free he went over to the Hussars’ lines. ‘And how are you, Larry?’ he said, shaking the Irish trumpeter’s hand.

‘Never so happy in all me loife,’ replied Larry. ‘And how ‘a that little mare that jolly nearly cooked your pigs for you at Chobham?’

Jack’s face fell when he spoke of Dainty, and he told Larry what had happened.

The Hussar gave an angry exclamation. ‘Bad cess to that Napper; he ‘s a baste,’ he cried. ‘But there, on active service ye need never be bothered for long with a man who bullies ye.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Jack.

Larry looked round him cautiously. ‘I mane,’ he said, ‘that ye should have heard some of the tales me ould grandfather used to tell of his fighting days in the Peninsula and then ye’d understand what I mane.’

The men of the 8th fraternised jovially with the 17th, the most friendly relations having always existed between them. The two regiments lay close beside one another, and Larry came over in the evening to see Jack. They were talking with Will Pearson and one or two others when Sergeant Linham was seen approaching.

‘Hallo!’ cried Larry, ‘here’s old Leather Face. Shure he’s got the dryest throat of any man I ever met in me life, and we’ve got one or two long-necked ones in the 8th.--Good-evening, sargint.’

Linham gave Larry a stony look; then, without answering him, said to those of his own regiment, ‘Ha, hum! orders have just been issued that we parade at seven in the morning to march inland to a fresh camp. If you’ll take the tip of an old campaigner you’ll turn in and get a good night. It may be a long time before you’ll have another chance.’

At that moment the trumpets of the 8th were heard ringing out for sergeant-majors to attend for orders.

‘By the piper, I must be off,’ said Larry, starting towards his own lines. ‘If there’s going to be a move I hope the ould 8th will be in it.’

At three o’clock next morning the tents of the Light Division were struck, and after breakfast they started in marching order. The infantry consisted of the 97th, 88th, and other line regiments--the 7th and 23rd Fusiliers, and a battalion of Rifles. A battery of artillery accompanied them.

Jack was mounted on the horse of a private of his troop who had been left behind in hospital. Napper, on Dainty, passed and repassed him, spurring the mare and riding her with a heavy hand on the curb. Jack bit his lips hard and pretended to take no notice; but the trial was a bitter one.

The march was through a splendidly wooded country, abounding in clear, sparkling streams, the verdure being of the richest and greenest. After a march of about nine and a half miles they reached Aladyn, where the infantry were left behind. The cavalry and artillery went on another nine miles, at first through a fertile but deserted country, eventually pitching tents at Devna. After the fine country they had passed through it was a bare spot, situated on the banks of a muddy river, very little grass for the horses, and no trees within a mile or two.

‘Just like our blessed arrangements,’ said Will to Jack; ‘march half a day through a fine country to find a dust-hole like this.’

The heat was almost unbearable. The flies were an absolute pest, as they almost worried the horses to death, and in the day-time men had to be employed to do nothing else but keep frightening off the swarms which settled on every part of the poor beasts.

The commissariat arrangements were fearful; there was absolutely no system, and many a day all Jack could get to eat was one biscuit and four ounces of half-raw pork, washed down with muddy water from the river, and that when thousands of tons of provisions were lying at Varna, eighteen miles away. There was plenty of fruit to be obtained cheap from the villagers, who after a time began to swarm in the camp; and the wine of the country, a poisonous and highly intoxicating compound, was plentiful and cheap. Every one was warned against the fruit and wine, as sickness and dysentery began to get prevalent; but many men ignored these orders, with evil results, as will presently be seen.

Napper did everything in his power to make Jack’s life miserable, and he pretty nearly succeeded. He also took to drinking heavily of the native wine, and was often half-tipsy, though never sufficiently so to prevent him carrying out his duty.

One of the amusements of those in camp was bathing, and such was the terrific heat and the longing to get into the cool water that many who could not swim ventured into the lake. Life was very monotonous. There was little to do; men pined at the inactivity. Illness began to appear; at first sickness, then that dread scourge cholera, and death commenced its havoc, a havoc that was to exact a toll nearly ten times as heavy as the enemy’s lead and steel.

One evening Larry O’Callaghan, who spent much of his spare time with Jack and Will, came bursting into the former’s tent, where Will was writing a letter.

‘I say, bhoys,’ he cried, ‘I’ve got a grand idea. I’ve applied for a day’s leave, and I’m going up into the country to have a look round. What do ye say to joining me; we’ll all go together, and if we don’t raise a shpree that’ll bate a first-class wake my name’s not Larry.’

Both Jack and Will entered into the idea, and applied for and obtained leave for the day after next.

At seven o’clock in the morning they all met and started, little dreaming of the adventure which lay before them.