Chapter VI: Jack Makes a Resolve

Every eye was at once riveted on the new-comer. Jack in particular stared at him, and in aftertimes he remembered his first impression of one by whose side he was fated to see many a wild scene, and more than once to stand face to face with death.

This man was dressed in the neat undress of the regiment, and the stripes on his arms and the gold trumpets proclaimed him to be a sergeant-trumpeter. He was thin, and a little knock-kneed, like one who has lived much in the saddle, which indeed he had. On his breast were two ribbons, showing he was one of the few proud possessors of war honours in the regiment. His face was like leather, both in colour and substance; he had a heavy black moustache, great, black bushy eyebrows, which stuck out from under his forage-cap, an enormous beak-like nose, and two little, beady black eyes, which gave him an eagle-like appearance. His uniform was spotless, stripes, facings, and gloves being snowy white, while his buttons quite glistened.

On entering the room he clicked his spurred heels together--one knee as he stood thus slightly overlapping the other--drew himself up to his full height, threw back his head, and glared angrily around.

Getting no answer to his question, Sergeant Linham inquired again in portentous tones, ‘Ha, hum! answer me at once; I want to know.’

‘It’s all right, sergeant,’ said Napper suavely, deftly throwing his whip behind him on to one of the beds, ‘I was just giving this new youngster a word of advice; he’s inclined to be cheeky.’

‘Bandsman Napper,’ said the sergeant, relaxing the tension of his muscles a little, ‘you’re not to give advice with your whip, ha, hum!’ and he cleared his throat, which he did regularly every few seconds while talking. ‘The Queen’s Regulations expressly forbid it; and remember that, all you toads.’

This was a favourite word with Sergeant Linham, every one who offended him in the least being a toad.

The ‘toads’ looked very demure, and began to busy themselves about the room.

Then the sergeant roared, ‘Shun!’

Every one was perfectly quiet, and Linham continued, ‘Bandsman Napper, John Blair, recruit, is placed in your mess. Trumpeter Hodson will take him in hand for a few weeks, and you’ll give him any information in your power. He will go to the trumpet-major’s quarters at six o’clock this evening and get his trumpet, bugle, and cords. He will attend trumpet-practice in the morning, ha, hum!’ And wheeling round, Sergeant Linham disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

‘Yah, old Hooky-beak,’ cried one of the trumpeters, ‘go and get a shave.’

‘Silly fool,’ said Napper; ‘he’s like an old woman. Now then,’ as a trumpet rang out, ‘there’s mess; away for the tea.’

All scuttered for their basins, which with a clatter they laid on the table.

Brown, the trumpeter who had fetched up the dinner, cried out, ‘Anything from the canteen?’

Several voices answered, ‘Yes, I want some butter;’ ‘Bring us a ha’p’orth of jam,’ and such like, and such like.

‘Any one lend me a brown and I’ll treat myself to a bloater,’ said Hodson; but no answer being forthcoming, with a cheery whistle he turned, noticed Parkes on his bed, who continued to snore loudly, gave him a sounding smack on the tightest part of his overalls, and cried out, ‘Wake up, you lazy pig, and shut that row.’

Parkes jumped to his feet and asked who had struck him.

‘Dawes,’ whispered Hodson, pointing to the red-headed, blubber-lipped trumpeter, who was standing with his back to Parkes.

The latter youth, with an angry cry, charged the supposed culprit, and in a second they were trying to tear one another’s head off, while Hodson was looking out of the window.

Jack went off with Brown to the cook-house to get the tea, and on their way they called in at the canteen, where Jack got a stamp, and took the opportunity of posting his letter. He then helped Brown to get the things wanted, and bought a bloater, already cooked of course, which he took back for Hodson.

‘You’ve made a mistake, chummy; I didn’t order it. I’m broke,’ said Hodson, when Jack returned.

‘If you would not mind accepting it from me’---- began Jack bashfully.

‘Mind? Why, I’d accept anything from anybody. Blair, you’re a trump; you’ve got sense. You and me are going to be friends,’ he concluded with a total disregard of grammar, most of the trumpeters knowing far more about the Queen’s Regulations than about the Queen’s English.

Tea passed off quietly, after which Napper went out, never giving Jack a look.

At the time fixed he went to the trumpet-major’s quarters, received his trumpet and bugle, together with a few instructions about the morrow, and then returned to his room.

With the exception of Napper, the trumpeters had to be in barracks early, all of them parading at nine o’clock to sound ‘First post,’ and again at nine-thirty ‘Last post,’ after which they went to their quarters, lights being out at ten-fifteen.

With Hodson’s help, Jack put down his bed, and, not caring to join in the skylarking which was going on, about nine o’clock got quietly into bed.

Some time before ten, Napper, looking very red in the face and walking a trifle unsteadily, came in. He looked round crossly. ‘All in?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Napper.’

‘Then chuck this fooling and turn in, or--hic--you’ll get something.’ He sat on his bed and took off his cap. ‘Callon, Callon, where are you?’ he cried.

‘Here,’ replied that youth.

‘Come here. How many more times shall I tell you you’re to be here when I come in? Get off my boots.’

Trumpeter Gallon came and knelt down by Napper, tugging at the studs which fastened the straps of his overalls down under his boots.

‘Now, then, you young bungler, look sharp; we’ll have lights out in a minute.’

Callon made an effort, undid the stud, and managed to tug off the Wellington boot. He was engaged on the other, Napper holding out his leg, when the boy caught hold of the toe of the boot to pull it off.

‘You clumsy beast!’ cried Napper savagely, ‘I tell you every night to mind my corn.’

With these words he kicked out his foot savagely, the spur catching Callon on the chin, which it badly pricked, and the heel striking him on the mouth and cutting his lips.

Callon uttered a cry and reeled backwards, on which one or two of the trumpeters who had seen what had happened cried ‘Shame!’ and ‘Coward!’

‘Here, draw it mild, Napper,’ said one of the older trumpeters, named Brittain; ‘you don’t want to kick a fellow’s teeth down his throat.’

‘The little ass should mind what he’s doing then,’ muttered Napper rather shamefacedly, and he proceeded to pull off the boot himself and then to get into bed.

There were some angry mutterings from the boys till Napper cried out sharply, ‘Shut up!’

Callon, who slept in the next bed to Jack, undressed and got in, and Jack fancied, after lights were out, he once or twice heard a sound like a stifled sob come from the bed.

He ground his teeth with rage at the sound, and he made a stern resolve. Napper should be stopped, either one way or another, and Jack crept quietly out of bed, and on bended knees prayed for strength and guidance when the decisive moment should arrive.