Private Lawrie and his love. A tale of military life

Chapter I

The sun was shining brightly, one spring morning in the month of April 186 — , on the square in the Raglan Barracks, Devonport, where stood a regiment of infantry drawn up in column, having just been marched thither from the wharf, where they had disembarked an hour or two since, on arrival from Aldershot. The officer in com mand was Lieutenant-Colonel Walter Merton, a thin, wiry little man, but upright and soldierly, and tanned, too, with service in hotter countries than his own. The outgoing regiment had not yet completed handing over the quarters the 2— th was to occupy. This fact having been communi cated to him, Colonel Merton's clear, shrill, and, truth to tell, somewhat squeaky voice gave two or three sharp words of command. There was a stepping back of rear ranks, a facing about of front ranks, a rattle of rifle-butts on the hard ground of the square, a clatter of ramrod-heads interlocking, and the arms stood piled, the butts apart, the muzzles crossing each other in sets of four.

Then the front ranks were faced about again to bring them to their former position. " No man to leave the square, or enter the canteen, until the barracks are taken over," cried Colonel Merton, running his eye over the regiment, a survey which his seat in the saddle on the back of his favourite charger, " Bala clava/' made easy, while his order was being taken up and repeated by the captains at the heads of their respective companies. Seeing the regiment as steady as so many statues, not a muscle moving, all eyes straight to the front, every face expressionless, as only the faces of soldiers on parade can be — seeing this, his lips twitched, there was a look of pride and satisfaction on his weazened little visage. For a moment or two he held motionless this mighty machine, made up of so many hearts and brains and bodies — and souls, too, it almost seemed, to judge from the apparent abandon of every will and faculty except to hear and obey.

Then the words rang out : " To the right face — dismiss." The front and rear ranks of each company, already sepa rated by the piled rifles, made a turn to the right, stepped yet another pace apart, accompanying the movement with a smart, ringing clap of the hands, and the next moment the statues awoke, the machine was gone, and in its place were some eight hundred men of various ages, from eighteen to forty, but, for the more part, in all the vigour and strength of manhood, laughing, chatting, grumbling, yawn ing, as they made for the colonnade like a swarm of bees. There each man, slipping a hand behind him, with a dexterous touch released a buckle — a half-hitch, a halfshrug of the shoulders, and the knapsack, flung off the back, was hanging in the hand by one of its straps. To "get off his pack" was always a relief to "Tommy Atkins" in those days when, although much had been done to lessen the discomforts ofthe old-fashioned tunic and horse collar stock, the valise, made to throw its weight on the hips, had not been invented, or, at least, the Circumlocution Office had not thought fit to adopt it.

One tall, rather thin young fellow in No. 1 Company — the Grenadier Company, as it was called in the days of Wellington, and for many years afterwards — instead of flinging off his pack at the first attempt, struggled with it vainly for ten or a dozen seconds, provoking a light, good natured laugh at his expense. He took the laugh in ex cellent part, smiling back again, and even said, when a comrade put out a hand to help him : " No, no ; I '11 do it myself. I '11 have to learn some day." A desperate wriggle of the shoulders, his fingers caught the buckle at last, and the trick was done. The knapsacks were put neatly against the barrack wall. The men looking in at the windows, lounging against the pillars of the colonnade, or standing about any way, were eagerly talking over the new town they were come to, congratulating themselves on their release from Aldershot and the " Long Valley " — a sandy Purgatory, close to Aldershot Camp, where field days are held — and "taking stock " of their new quarters.

At the same time, five out of every six of them were filling and lighting, with very evident satisfaction, clay pipes of various hues and sizes, but mostly thick Irish " dudeens," with stems of a length convenient for the tunic hind-pocket; and as to half the bowl either of a rich brown or a jetty black colour, the result and the proof, this, of a steady use 1 * of the " Limerick twist " that soldiers love. It is a strong, dark-hued tobacco, sold in a twisted strand or pig-tail. They whose pipes were not already charged were cutting up the tobacco, and then rolling it between the palms of the hands with a touch that only long practice could have brought to such perfection. Meanwhile the officers had gathered in small groups, and were chatting on much the same subjects as the men, if in lower voices and with more reticence of thought and expression.

The Colonel had dismounted, and "Balaclava" was led away to the stables by the groom — a soldier in full regimentals — being soothed and petted and "made much of" on the way, a concession to the horse's offended dignity called for by the displeasure he still felt and showed at being put on board ship and made to suffer the torments of a sea passage on a rough night, from Portsmouth to this new home. The Colonel stretched his legs and strutted to and fro, five or six paces in either direction, before the Adjutant and Sergeant-major, who had dutifully attended upon him to receive his instructions and make their reports. The sky had grown suddenly clouded. The mid-day gun, booming forth its record of the hour, seemed to give the signal to the heavens, which opened, and down came a heavy pouring rain such as is but too well known the year round in Devon, but oftenest of all in the month of April.

At this moment the barracks were reported to be ready for occupation by their new tenants. The order was given to fall in, the men stood to their arms. But Colonel Merton, who would have scorned to hurry his commands by a breath, allowed his regiment the full benefit of the shower, which, though it lasted not more than ten minutes, lasted just long enough to drench them all, from colonel to drummer-boy, before they got into their rooms, whither they were marched by companies. There was grumbling enough and to spare ; but the dinner-bugle restored good humour, and the bustle of settling down, choosing bed steads and positions in the rooms, filling palliasses with straw, getting at the squad-bags, and the thousand and one other things to be done when shaking down into new quarters, left no time for anything but jokes and rough play such as soldiers the world over delight in.

The young fellow whose difficulty with his knapsack had provoked a laugh among his comrades, was a recruit of a couple of months' standing, who had just joined head quarters with the rest of the " depot," on the regiment's arrival home from India. At the nightly roll-call he an swered to the name of John Lawrie. In the books of the regiment he was described as " twenty-two years of age, fair hair, hazel eyes, five feet eleven inches in height, 39£ inches round the chest, education superior," together with other particulars of less moment. His " medical history sheet" was clear, showing that he had not been any trouble to the doctor since enlistment ; his " defaulter's sheet," equally clean, testified to his good behaviour. Private John Lawrie being detailed this day for neither guard nor picket, for both of which he was qualified, having been dismissed his recruit's drill, might have imitated the example of the majority of his comrades and gone out into the town to explore the unknown land.

He preferred, it seemed, to sit on his cot and read a book that he took from his knapsack. Even the canteen had no attractions for him, and he was one of the rare few who sought no solace, if solace, indeed, he needed, in the charms of tobacco. Probably he was thoughtful ; at least he was silent. At 8 o'clock he prepared his bed for the night, a task that did not take him long, as it consisted merely in pulling out the iron cot to its full length, unrolling the narrow mattrass, or palliasse, as it is called, and spreading thereon the bed-clothes, in due order of sheets, blankets, and rug. The couch was not Sybaritic by any means. A coarse palliasse, filled with new hard straw, needing to be slept on for two or three weeks before some of the cruelty is worn out of it, and a pillow similarly stuffed, do not make a luxurious bed.

But, wearied with the day's work, and finding little in his book to interest him, notwithstanding that his eyes remained fixed on it, amid the rattle of voices going on around him, Private John Lawrie, stretching himself, still dressed, on the bed he had made, waited with impatience for the "first post," as the bugle-sound is called that warns soldiers to prepare for bed. Half an hour later the " last post " sounds, by which time all are supposed to be snugly tucked in ; and fifteen minutes later yet, " lights out." The "first post" had sounded, the canteen had closed its doors, and the men were making the best of their way to their barrack-rooms, the strangeness of tbe buildings, and, perhaps, too, their potations causing some of them to feel rather uncertain where it was they ought to lie that night.

However, matters were righting themselves. In the room that Private John Lawrie occupied together with some two dozen other soldiers, half the men were already in bed, and half of this half fast asleep, despite the. loud talk and laughter of three noted members of the company who had returned from the canteen flushed in face and a trifle less steady in gait than their colonel would have approved of on parade, or, indeed, at that moment, could he have seen them. The subject of their conversation was no less a person than the Colonel himself, " old Parchment Face," as one of the three, a big, raw-boned fellow named Ryan, called him. Lawrie, who happened to sleep next bed to this man, frowned slightly at the talk of the three, but said nothing, leisurely undressing himself. Presently, as he folded up his tunic and placed it on the rack above his cot, the remarks took a new turn.

" Well, Harry, lad/' said Ryan, " you can jaw till you 're speechless about your Lancashire lasses, but to my think ing there's not one of -"em can hold a candle to that girl of the Colonel's. What eyes she has got, surely, Miss Helen. They seem to go right through you when she looks at you." Private John Lawrie was rather pale as he interposed in a low, quiet voice: " Please don't speak of Miss Merton here, Ryan." " And who 's to hinder me, I 'd like to know ? I 'm saying no harm about her. We can talk of the Queen, can't we, ' God save her ! ' That 's no treason any more 'n it is to say that the prettiest, sweetest, most scrumptious lass in all Devon at this moment " "Hold your jaw, you drunken hound, or I '11 " " What '11 you do, my young cock-robin ? What 11 you do ? Let's hear it. It'll frighten us to death, I 'm afeared."

" Get into bed and don't make an ass of yourself." " Ass, yourself. Who 's made you boss of the shanty ? So we 're not to hear what awful things you '11 do to, us?" " That 's enough. Let 's have no more words about it." " About what ? About Miss " There were in fact no more words about it at that moment ; for Private John Lawrie, springing on to his bed to get at him, lifted his clenched hand, and with one blow straight from his shoulder sent Mr. Ryan clean over his own cot, where he fell in a heap on the other side. He lay there for a moment half stunned ; then rising, shook his head, a little rivulet of blood flowing down the face from a wound in the temple where the skin was clean cut — a nasty gash — and rushed at his assailant. They met at the foot of the two cots. There was a quick rally of blows, and down Ryan went again, while Lawrie staggered back from a mighty blow in the chest that nearly knocked him out of time.

However, he kept his feet and stood ready for a renewal of the fight, when he was suddenly pinned from behind. Ryan, likewise, as soon as he rose, was seized by friendly hands, and held back from getting into further mischief. The two men glared at each other, and Ryan, cursing his captors, put forth all his strength to writhe from them, but he was firmly grasped and advised in soothing tones to " drop it for to-night." Hereupon, the door opening, the colour-sergeant ofthe company appeared upon the threshold. "What's all this about!" he exclaimed. "Fighting again, Ryan ? And you, Lawrie ! I should have thought you would have known better than to mix yourself up in such affairs. Where 's Sergeant Williams ? " "Here !" said that person, appearing behind the colour sergeant. " It 's a pity, then, you were not here a hit sooner, to hinder this disgraceful row.

The company can't be a single night in the place, it seems, without something of this kind occurring. See these two men to the guard-room, Ryan and Lawrie." " Give them a chance, Sergeant, this once/' cried a chorus of voices, even the men just disturbed from their first sleep instinctively joining in the litany. "Take them off! " said the colour-sergeant, sternly. " Oh ! Sergeant, do give 'em a chance this time." " If I hear another word of tbe sort, the man who says it shall keep them company. That is all the good he'll do them." So speaking the colour-sergeant turned on his heel and left the room, into which he had advanced only a few paces. " Now, then, look sharp, you fellows ! " cried Williams, angrily. "Brown and Simpson take Lawrie; you other four, Ryan." " I don't see what I 've done,0 grumbled Ryan, mopping his face and looking very much more sober than he did ten minutes before.

" I 've had a good crack on the head for nothing, and now I 'm to be put in the guard-room. Bless me " — only he didn't say " bless " — " if there 's any sort of justice in this world ; leastways, not in this blessed " — but it wasn't " blessed " — "regiment now-a-days." Thus relieving his feelings, Ryan huddled on his tunic, and snatching up his great coat, " fell in " amid the four men and betook himself off in charge. Just as he reached the door through which the other prisoner had passed already, and was now half-way to the guard-room — " Hi ! " cried a little squeaky voice, a small bullet head peeping up from beneath the bed-clothes of a cot at the further end of the room ; " hi ! Ryan — Monkey Ryan ! " " Well ! " growled that worthy, not heeding the nick name, which he had borne so long that the omission of it rather than its addition to his name would have upset him ; " well, what is it ?

" " There 's that young duffer of a Lawrie gone off without his great-coat. Take it him." " That 's a good 'un. He 's to wallop me, is he, and then I 'm to valet him, am I ? I like that, I do." "Why, what 's the odds! You don't bear no malice, do you ? " " No, I don't bear no malice ; only I 'd like to see the colour of his blood as he 's made me show the colour o mine," replied Monkey Ryan, gazing half tenderly, half ruefully at his blood-stained fingers. " Go on now, you fellows. Off with him! " said Williams impatiently. "Carry him if he won't go quietly." " I 'm a-going, Sergeant. You 're in such a hurry. Gi' me the thing," he added; and, catching up the coat of his late enemy, he flung it over his arm and marched ofl' attended by his escort, and followed by the sergeant.

Chapter II

Next morning Colonel Merton, not less punctual in appearing than the sun itself, marched into the orderly-room, touching the peak of his shako in acknowledgment of the more elaborate salutes of the adjutant, sergeant-major, and others, whose business it was to be in attendance there ; then, taking his seat at the table, he made a sign for the first prisoner to be brought in. The case disposed of, and three or four others also, privates Lawrie and Ryan were marched in bare-headed, halted before the table, " fronted " to the Colonel, and charged with " conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline in having at the Raglan Barracks, Devon port, on the night of the 9th April 186 — ," fought with each other. "Ahem!" coughed the Colonel — a little dry cough pecu liar to him at this stage of an inquiry — having heard the evidence of the colour-sergeant in silence.

" Any other witness ? Ah ! I see, Sergeant Williams. But I suppose the facts are not disputed. You, Ryan, with that orna mental plaister across your temple, will scarcely venture to deny that you were fighting. It is not the first time either, I 'm sorry to say, that you 've been here on a similar charge. What have you to say ? " " Very sorry, Sir. Didn't mean any harm." " No, I suppose not ; you never do. At the same time, it 's very disgraceful conduct. What was the cause of quarrel ? " Monkey Ryan kept a discreet silence. " Well, Sir ! " cried the Colonel impatiently, after half a moment's pause, " did you hear me ? Why don't you answer ? What was the cause of quarrel ? " " I don't rightly mind me, Sir, what it was," said Ryan, stiff aud erect as a bar of iron, but with an unusual, creepy sort of feeling down the spine of his back, and some vague but terrible apprehensions of what might not be the punishment if the truth came out.

" Oh ! you don't remember. Perhaps your memory is better, what 's your name ? Ah, Lawrie ! I 'm sorry to see you here, Lawrie. You 're the sort of young fellow that ought to do credit to the regiment ; at least, you ought to try your best. And here I find you, with only two months' service, fighting in the barrack-room. It's a bad way to begin." " I 'm truly sorry, Sir. I hope it will never occur again. " I hope not, too. What was the occasion of it this time?" " I would rather not say, Sir ; if you would have the great kindness not to order me." " Humph ! Colour-sergeant ? " " Yes, Sir." " What sort of a young fellow is this Lawrie ? " " Never had any reason to complain of him before, Sir ; he has been very quick at his drill, and is quite steady in conduct, I believe." The Colonel mused for a moment or two, knitting his brows.

Not a sound was heard, except a short, husky cough from Monkey Ryan. Then the Colonel spoke. " Ryan, here, has been so often warned against this sort of thing that he ought to be severely punished. But I can't very well punish him if I let you off, Lawrie, as I am inclined to, this being your first offence ; and still less, if I don't know the cause of quarrel. Maybe you were in the wrong, and Ryan — though it 's very hard to believe that — in the right." "Perhaps so, Sir," said Lawrie, in a low voice. "I don't excuse myself at his expense." " A good thing, too ; for if you had, and his mouth was closed, I should not have thought any better of you. Admonished, both. Go to your duty ! " " To the right — face ! quick — march ! " cried the Ser geant-major, in a voice as clear as a silver bell, and the secret envy of the Colonel's life, who, however, thought his own voice the next best after the Sergeant-major's in all the regiment, whereas, in truth, it was almost the very worst, that unenviable distinction — let justice be done — belonging to the senior captain.

" You 're a good sort not to let on on me," said Monkey Ryan, as the two released prisoners hurried off to their barrack-room to get ready for commanding-officer's parade. " I won't forget it." " You can repay me if you will, Ryan ; don't do the same thing again. It's not right to make a lady the talk of a barrack-room. Yes, yes ! I know you meant no harm," added the young fellow testily, as his companion began a blundering explanation, " but that is not the point. It is wrong, I tell you. Can't you take my word for it? " " Yes, I can," said Ryan, repentant. " You 're not one of our sort. You know best about this, of course. There . I 'm blessed sorry,"— one of Monkey Ryan's " blesseds," " for what happened. You gave me a good hammering, and I deserved it. Give us your hand. So, that 's all right.

And now look sharp : there's the first bugle." After the parade, Colonel Merton, as was his custom, went to the mess-room for half an hour and thence back to his quarters, where he changed his uniform for mufti, being as shameless a contravener of the Queen's regulations in respect of dress as the youngest and most foppish of his ensigns. The regulations say that an officer shall wear uniform always when about the barracks, even though not strictly speaking on duty But regimentals might be as disgraceful a garb as the convict's, if dislike for the dress be measured by the eagerness with which it is shuffled off the backs of our officers ; yet they pay, or in those days paid, heavy sums for the privilege of wearing it. Helen Merton, the Colonel's only daughter, the subject of Monkey Ryan's enthusiastic admiration on the previous evening, and of Private John Lawrie's chivalric protection, was in fact as beautiful a girl as one need wish to meet with in a day's march.

Rather above the middle height, she was exquisitely shaped, and had all the freedom and grace of movement that we are apt to claim as peculiarly English. Her mouth, perfectly cut hut not insipidly small, was soft and ruddy and sweet ; yet there were lines about it indicating something of the firmness, or the obstinacy, of her father. The eyes were a dark shade of blue, in piquant contrast with the wealth of lovely dark brown hair, so soft and fine that it could be compressed into a neat clump of braids on the delicate white neck, and at the same time so abundant that, loosened, it swept, a thick dusky cloud, to the knee. Her mother, Mrs. Colonel Merton, a languid, rather timid little woman, was very proud of this beautiful young daughter of hers, whom she had not seen, until within the last month, for ten years.

Helen had been educated in England while her parents were abroad. She would have left school eighteen months or two years sooner than she did, had not the 2-th been in constant expectation of orders for home. The Colonel de termined, his wife acquiescing — for when dared she to differ from him ? — that Helen should await their return instead of coming out to them in India. The Colonel, too, was very proud of his beautiful young daughter, but rather patronising with her and as yet somewhat undecided on what footing to treat her. One truth was dawning on him, that in the daughter there was far more determination of character than in the mother. Events in the not distant future were to confirm his idea iu a fashion he little dreamt of. "Well, Papa dear," cried Helen, giving him an affec tionate hug when he entered the room dressed in tweeds and not looking nearly so well as he looked in his uniform, " what do vou think of the room ?

Isn't it better and brighter now ? — more habitable ? " "Yes, my dear," replied the Colonel, "I think it will do very well. We must not pamper ourselves too much though, or we shall not be fit for the wars, when they come/' " Oh ! the horrid wars ! Do you think there will ever be any more fighting ? It seems as if there never would. Everything is so quiet now." " Well, I hope there is some spirit left in us yet. We don't know what luck there may be in store." " Really, Walter," said Mrs. Merton, in her slow timid voice, " I think that with the Crimea, and Abyssinia, and those dreadful hill tribes, you have had a very good share of what has been going on in the way of fighting. For my own peace of mind I hope there won't be any more while I 'm alive." " Nonsense, Matilda," he snapped in reply, " what are soldiers for, and where are we to look for promotion if the world is to be peopled with Quakers."

" Perhaps so, dear. Had you a heavy morning at the Orderly-room ? " " No, not on the whole, considering the men had the run of the town for the first time last night. I was put out about one case, however." " What was that, Papa ? " said Helen, stepping back from the mantelpiece, her head on one side, to judge of the effect of the two vases she had been arranging. " Oh ! a vulgar brawl between that Ryan — you know Ryan, my dear, the man who was such trouble in India when he got drinking that abominable arrack in the bazaars — between Ryan and a young fellow from the depot. He only joined the regiment with some others the day we left Aldershot, and already he gets into this mess. I was very vexed to see him before me, a prisoner ; more so than I cared to betray, for he is just the kind of young man we want, tall, smart, clean-limbed, and evidently a gentleman.

However, he had a clear defaulter's sheet, so I was able to let him off with ' admonished.' As a rule I don't approve of the Colonel transacting regimental business of the kind anywhere except in the proper place, the Orderly-room ; but I feel such interest in this young fellow, and so desirous that he should not go wrong for the want of a piece of friendly advice, that I have left word for him to be brought up here this morning, and I intend to speak to him seriously. It may be the saving of him." " What did they quarrel about, Papa ? I suppose there was a quarrel to raise the brawl ? " "Yes, no doubt. I asked, but Ryan didn't 'properly mind ' what it was ; and Lawrie begged not to he made to Good gracious, Helen ! what have vou done ? " Good gracious, Helen ! what have you done ? " The question was superfluous, for what Miss Merton had done was plain to both eye and ear.

One of the two beau tiful vases lay shattered to bits in the fire-grate ; it had fallen with a dreadful crash. The young girl stood pale and troubled, one hand pressed to her heart, the other resting on the back of a chair close by. " I have broken the vase, Papa. How clumsy of me ! I 'm so sorry." " It startled me terribly," murmured Mrs. Merton, using her smelling-salts. " Well, never mind. The loss is not irreparable," said the Colonel. " Why, how startled you look, Helen ! " " No wonder either. It — it — frightened me." " Pooh ! nonsense, child," said the little Colonel, swell ing ; " fear is not a word for a soldier's daughter." " No, Papa. But, you know, I have not been among the military very long." " Well, well ! You must try to pluck up a bolder spirit. I have a good mind to make you break the other vase, to try you."