Chapter XLIX: Among the Bull-Pups

And now force of circumstances left the cavalry stranded high and dry, with nothing to do but range the valley now and again in quest of enemies who never showed face, and growl continually at the untowardness of their lot.

They had indeed had little enough to do so far, but always in front of them had been the hope of active employment and its concomitant rewards. But what use could cavalry be in a siege? And had they lived through all those hideous months at Varna, and come across the sea only to repeat them outside Sebastopol? They grizzled and growled, and expressed their opinions on things in general with cavalier vehemence.

And the worst of it was that the other more actively employed arms were inclined to twit them with their--so far--showy uselessness.

What had they done since they landed, except prance about and look pretty? Why hadn't they been out all over the country bringing in supplies? Where were they at the Alma, when hard knocks were the order of the day?--asked these others.

And, indeed, among themselves they asked bitterly why they had been chained up like that and allowed to do nothing. They had held all the Russian cavalry in check, it is true; but that was but a negative kind of thing, and what they thirsted for was an active campaign and glory.

But now it was Jack's turn, and the Engineers were in their element. Not a man among them but devoutly hoped the place would hold out to the utmost and give them their chance.

It was almost too good to be true--an actual siege on the latest and most approved principles! And they tackled it with gusto, and were planning lines and trenches in their minds' eyes before their tents were up.

As a matter of fact, tents were still things to be looked forward to with such small faith in commissaries and transport as still lingered in their sorely tried bodies, for it had long since left their hearts; food was so scarce that for a couple of days one whole division of the army had tasted no meat; and every morning the first sorrowful duty of the living was to gather up those who had died in the night of cold and cholera, with bitter commination of those whom they considered to blame.

However, all things come in time to those who live long enough, and the tents came up from the ships at last, and rations began to be served out with something like regularity. The busy Engineers traced their lines, and, as soon as it was dark each night, the digging parties went out and set to work on the trenches, and the siege was fairly begun, and Jack and his fellows were as busy and happy as bees.

But Jim, if officially relegated a comparative inaction, found no lack of employment.

He was intensely interested in all that was going on. He rode here and there with messages to this chief and that. For when he reported himself to Lord Raglan at Balaclava, according to instructions, his lordship was pleased to compliment him in his quiet way.

"You did well, Mr. Carron," he said. "I am glad you both got through safely. Much depended on you. By the way, you know my old friend Deseret, I think."

"Lord Deseret was very kind to me in London, sir."

"I remembered, after you left last night, that he had spoken to me of you. And surely," said his lordship musingly, "I must have known your father. Is he still alive?"

Jim hesitated for half a second, and then said simply: "Yes, sir; he is on the staff of Prince Napoleon."

"With Prince Napoleon?" said his lordship, and stared at him in surprise. And then the old story came back to his mind. "Ah, yes! I remember. Well, well! . . . And I suppose you're growling like the rest at having nothing to do?"

"We would be glad to have more, sir."

"I'm afraid it won't be a very lively time for the cavalry. But you seem to like knocking about. I must see what I can do to keep you from getting rusty."

"I shall be very grateful, sir."

And thereafter many an odd job came his way, for the allied lines, from the extreme French left at Kamiesch Bay in the west, to the British right above the Inkerman Aqueduct on the north-east, covered close upon twenty miles, and within that space there was enough going on to keep a man busy in simply acting as travelling eye to the Commander-in-Chief--in carrying his orders and bringing him reports.

And this was business that suited Jim to the full. He saw everything and was constantly meeting everybody he knew, and many besides.

He was galloping home from the French lines one evening, through the sailors' camp by Kadikoi, just above the gorge that runs down to Balaclava. The jolly jacks were revelling in their lark ashore, and showed it in the labelling of their tents with fanciful names. Jim had already seen "Albion's Pets," "Rule Britannia," and "Windsor Castle," and every time he passed he looked for the latest ebullitions of sailorly humour. This time, to his great joy, he found "Britain's Bull-Pups," and "The Bear-Baiters," and "The Bully Cockytoos."

The Bull-Pups and the Bear-Baiters and the Bully Cockytoos, and all the rest, fifty in a line, were hauling along a Lancaster gun, with a fiddler on top fiddling away for dear life, and they all bellowing a chantie that made him draw rein to listen to it. The bands in the French camp were playing merrily as he left it, but in the British lines there was not so much as a bugle or a drum, and the men were feeling it keenly.

So the rough chorus struck him pleasantly, and he stopped to hear it out.

When the gun was up to their camp, the men cast loose and began to foot it merrily to the music, just to show what a trifle a Lancaster gun was to British sailormen. And Jim, as he sat laughing at their antics and enjoying them hugely, suddenly caught sight of a familiar face. Not one of the dancers, but one who stood looking on soberly--it might even he sombrely, Jim could not be sure.

He jumped off his horse and led him round.

"Why, Seth, old man!" he said, clapping the broad shoulder in friendly delight. "What brings you here?"

And young Seth turned and faced him, and had to look twice before he knew him.

"Ech--why, it's Mester Jim!" he said slowly.

"Of course it is. And but for you he wouldn't be here, and he never forgets it. But how do you come to be here, Seth?"

"I come with the rest to fight the Roosians, Mester Jim."

"I wish they'd give us a chance, but it's going to be all long bowls, I'm afraid."

But there was that to be said between them which was not for other ears.

The tars had watched the meeting with much favour, for greetings so friendly between officer and man were not often seen among them in those days, though more possible between sailormen than in the army. When they saw Jim slip his arm through Seth's and draw him along with him, they started a lusty cheer. "Three cheers for young Fuzzy-cap! Hip--hip!" And Jim grinned jovially and waved his hand in reply. And Seth Rimmer, in spite of the taciturnity which they could not understand, was a man of note among them from that day.

"Did you hear all about your poor old dad, Seth?" asked Jim quietly.

"Yes, Mester Jim. Th' passon told me all about it."

"It was a grievous thing. But I don't think I was to blame, Seth. He would go out and ramble about. I did all I could for him."

"I know. I know."

"And Kattie, Seth! _You_ surely never thought I had anything to do with that matter?"

"No, Mester Jim. I knowed it wasn't you."

"Do you know who it was, Seth? I would hold him to account if ever I got the chance. But she would not tell me."

"You found her?" asked Seth, with a start that brought them both to a stand.

"She came to me in the street the very last night before we left----"

Seth gave out something mixed up of groan and curse.

"She said she had heard we were going in the morning, and she wanted to say good-bye."

"Th' poor little wench! . . . What did you say to her Mester Jim?"

"I was knocked all of a heap at meeting her like that, Seth. But when I got my wits back I did the only thing I could. I took her to a lady friend who had been very kind to me, and she promised to look after her. And I am quite sure she will. If Kattie only stops with her I think she may be very comfortable there."

"It were good o' yo'. . . ." And then, reverting to Jim's former question, "I know him," he said hoarsely, "an' when th' chance comes----" And the big brown hands clenched as though a man's throat were between them. And Jim thought he would not like to be that man.

"I'm afraid I feel like that too, Seth, though I suppose--I don't know. Poor little Kattie!"

And presently he wrung the big brown hands, that were meant for better work than wringing evil throats, and swung up on to his horse.

"I must get along, Seth. But I'm often through here, and we'll be meeting again. We're about two miles out over yonder, you know. Good-bye!" And he galloped off to his quarters.

He frequently rode across of a night for a chat with Jack, but Jack was a mighty busy man these days, and nights too. He had an inordinate craving for trenches and gabions and facines and parallels and approaches, and could talk of little else, and confessed that he dreamed of them too. And if he could have accomplished as much by day as he did by night, when he was fast asleep--though as a matter of fact it ought to be the other way, for most of the actual work had to be done under cover of darkness and he slept when he could--Sebastopol would have been taken in a week.

As the trenches began to develop, he would take Jim through them for a treat, and explain all that was going on with the greatest gusto. And at times Jim found it no easy matter to conceal the fact that it was all exceedingly raw and dirty, though he supposed it was the only way of getting at them.

And at times shot and shell would come plunging in over the sand-bags and gabions, and then every man would fling himself on his face in the dirt till the flying splinters had gone, and Jim would go home and try to brush himself clean--for Joyce had died of cholera two days out from Varna--and would thank his stars that he belonged to a cleaner branch of the service.

Still, it was fine to watch the shells come curving out from the town with a flash like summer lightning, and hear them singing through the darkness, and see the fainter glare of their explosion; and when he had nothing else on hand he went along to the trenches almost every night to watch the fireworks.