A Loyal Heart: a story of the Crimean War

Front matter

% S. torg of t\t (ftriraratt Wim BY & E NOTTIM " Holy strivings nerve and strengthen, Long endurance wins the crown, When the evening shadows lengthen, Thou shalt lay thy burden down." LONDON REMINGTON & CO PUBLISHERS HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN 1889 [All Rights Reserved] CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. Tom Lester... ... ... ... ... i II. The Hayfield 7 III. Holmwood Farm ... ... ... ... 19 IV. Tom gets into Trouble ... ... ... 30 V. Jeanie's First Sorrow ... ... ... 47 VI. Frank's Duplicity ... ... ... ... 60 VII. The Valley of Death 68 VIII. In a Foreign Land ... ... 87 IX. England and Honour ... ... ... 105 X. Home Again ... ... 115 XI. Peace at Last ... ... ... ...

Chapter I. Tom Lester

Many years ago the army regulations were much laxer than they have since become; the comfort of the men was not properly attended to ; scanty measure and stringent rules were in force. One custom especially caused much discomfort in the ranks — the soldiers' children grew up among the men — and many a boy knew no other home than the barracks from his earliest infancy. The lads so trained usually passed into the army when they were of age, and though they had but a E narrow circle of knowledge, and knew little or nothing of the outer world, they had learnt to extend the right hand of fellowship to everyone — never to cheat, never to " funk," and to obey orders. Among this number was Tom Lester ; he had rather " scrambled " than grown up with the rest of his companions. He was not a sharp-witted boy, and when the others were petted or teased he would stand aloof in a corner.

He never attracted much notice, and was very quiet. Even at eight years old he would rather stand with his solemn eyes wide open listening to the stories circulated round the barrack-room sire than join his little comrades at their games. But if provoked he was ready enough with his fists, and woe to that urchin who called up the lion in him, for Tom was the squarest, sturdiest little lad of his age in the regiment, and ten to one after the first five minutes he would leave his small adversary sprawling on the ground, while he returned to his favourite chimney corner. When he was ten years old he developed a taste for music and entered the band, and was forced to TOM LESTER. 3 attend the regimental school. Here he learnt to read and write and cipher, and won golden opinions from his masters for the pains he took over his tasks.

As soon as he was able he enlisted in a cavalry regiment, and drifted away from his old comrades. He was well contented with the life he led, for he had never known any other occupation, and was devoted to animals of all kinds, especially horses. His ideas were narrow, being limited by the barrack routine ; but what he did know he knew thoroughly. In those days a soldier's life was no bed of roses, and many a time Tom went supperless at night for want of a penny to buy bread and cheese, but he had a sunny disposition and thought lightly of these dis comforts as being all in the day's work. His name was seldom in the defaulters' book, and he became known to his superiors as a steady fellow who could be depended upon. At this time war was going on in the South of Russia, and reports of the engagements were anxiously looked for as they came home from time to time; for the English soldiers expected that they would soon be called upon to take part in the fray.

Tom Lester was always interested in the accounts. He had never been on active service, and he eagerly read any news that he came across. He was scanning a well-thumbed paper during a few minutes of leisure time one spring afternoon ere the hour for stable duty, when one of his comrades entered the room. " Eh, Lester," said the new comer, " what are the fellows about ? Read it oot, man." Tom accordingly began to read the column re ferring to the war aloud ; before he had got halfway through it the spare time was up, and the two friends had to go down for roll-call. Watering and rubbing down the horses were not hard duties, though they occupied some little time, for everything had to be in the pink of neatness, or the sharp eye of the orderly officer was sure to pick out the delinquent in an instant.

As Lester strolled back across the yard he was overtaken by one of his friends. TOM LESTER. 5 "There's a new cruitie," he said, "just come. A swell, I fancy, though he looks the right sort." " Poor chap ! " said Tom, who knew enough of the ways of the outside world to be sure that barrack life would not be agreeable to a " swell." " Is he in our room ? " " Aye, that he is ; next to you," returned his com panion, as they parted each to his respective duty. When Tom went up a little later he found the new recruit sitting upon the end of his bed, with no very dismal face, whistling softly to himself. He went to him kindly, knowing the loneliness of coming to a strange place without one familiar face. "Ye'll find the life here pretty hard," he said. "Eh," said the lad, who seemed to be about one or two-and-twenty, " I suppose so at first, but I don't mean to be beaten.

I knew what choice lay before me when I took the Queen's shilling, and I prefer this to head-work. You will put me up to the ways of the place ? " he asked, with a winning glance from a pair of very bright eyes. Somehow Tom took a fancy to him after that. " Aye, that I will," he answered, his big warm heart responding to something in the slight stripling before him. He kept his promise, and initiated the young fellow into all that was difficult or novel to him, and so it came to pass after a while that the two were " chums " — ever together when they were off duty, and always looking for an opportunity of helping each other. They were utterly dissimilar in disposition, which, perhaps, made them so fond of one another. Tom was steady and painstaking, looking quite his twenty four years, and Frank Linton (as he found the new recruit was called, though that was not his real name) was a bright, light-hearted fellow, little more than a boy in manner, ready to turn his hand to anything, and possessing an irrepressible flow of high spirits that more than once threatened to get him into trouble.

Chapter II. The Hayfield

Before Frank Linton had been six weeks with the regiment he had earned the nick-name of " Carrots," from the crop of red hair that curled round a really good-looking face. Tom soon learned his history, for the lad had a winning way of trusting his big friend ; and on the very first Sunday afternoon that they were both free to do as they pleased they had gone for a walk together. The regiment was quartered at a seaside place, and, ignoring the possible attractions of the town, Tom and Frank went along the top of the unfrequented cliffs; and as they leaned over a railing and rested, the former soon knew all that his companion had to tell. Frank said that his real name was Cameron. He was a younger son of a wealthy man, who had made all his money on the Stock Exchange, and he had been brought up in luxury.

He described graphically the splendid home in the country, where he and his brothers and sisters met in the summer holidays from their different schools and colleges. He spoke of the lax discipline, and still laxer morals; how they betted and attended horse races and billiard matches, and were perfectly free to do what they willed. "My mother is an invalid," he said, slowly, "and never knew what we were doing, and my father used to say that every young man sowed his wild oats. When I left Eton I went to Oxford, and was sent down in a year for some wild prank, and loafed at home until the crash came. My father " (lowering his voice) " managed to escape the misery by his own hand, and the rest of us had to look out for our selves. You know, Tom," he added, "you've often said I trust people, and I believe you're right ; but I got a sharp lesson that time.

Our so-called friends THE HA YFIELD. 9 melted away as if by magic, and tales of my wildness had got about so that no one would have anything to do with me. My choice lay between a high stool in a lawyer's office and the ' Queen's shilling,' and I took the latter. I'm not afraid of the world, old man. I'm young and strong, and full of energy, and I do enjoy life. To exist in itself is a joy. I only wish we were ordered on active service, so that we could have a dash at the Ruskies. Let me see, how does it go ? ' One glorious moment of crowded life is worth an age without a name, ' " and the young fellow's cheek glowed as he turned to his quiet comrade. He took off his forage cap, and the sweet, warm breeze, laden with the scent of the inland hay fields, ruffled his bright hair, and made the short, green grass at his feet quiver in the burning sunshine.

Tom was looking out over the sea, his blue eyes fixed on the distant water-line, where it melted into the sky, and he did not answer at once. " It is not all that think that," he remarked at last. "And though I grant you one would like a dash sometimes, still, after excitement of that kind there's always the piper to pay, and if one escapes one's self unhurt there's terrible gaps in the ranks when one's next companion is missing, or one hears the widow wailing for her husband who will never come back. Seems to me, lad, take it which way you will, the world is on the whole a sad place, though there is fun to be got out of it sometimes. I've had a happier life than most, but I would not live it again if I had the chance." Frank was sobered. " That is just like you, Tom — to think that you have had a happier life than most other men.

You are so contented. Why, I don't suppose you have ever had what I call a day of enjoyment. Haven't you any ambition to join in the race for life, the whirl and excitement, and take the flatness next morning as it comes ? " Tom shook his head, smiling. " Nay, lad, I can't say I have. I don't believe it is good for one to give way to impulses like that. I think he is only half a man who hasn't control over THE HAYFIELD. 11 himself — who is not able to say ' I will not do it,' and abide by it, or if he is provoked cannot keep his passion down. Ye wouldn't think it, but I've got an awful temper when I'm really angered." " Do you mean to say that if a fellow insults you," rejoined Frank, " or makes you feel perfectly mad, you could keep from letting out at him ? I could not, and I don't believe anyone could."

Tom cleared his throat a little, and grew rather red. It isn't always easy for a man to speak of religion even to his dearest friend. " I don't think one could by one's self," he answered, in a very low tone. " But you don't know how one can be helped by asking for it." Frank hung his head a moment. " I didn't know you were like that, Tom," he said. " I never think of these things. We were not taught as children, and" — growing bolder — "a soldier can't be a saint ; religion is more for women than men." " No," returned Tom, " I don't think he can. It is hard enough for the best to be saints, let alone us poor fellows. But, all the same, we soldiers need help as much or more than any man, for we might be called out to the war to-morrow, and there is then a terrible risk of dying unprepared."

Frank was silent for a while. He had a naturally lovable disposition, but he was not without faults, and self-confidence was one of them. At last he remarked " that many people were worse than he was. For his part, as long as a man did his duty, and kept out of disgrace, he didn't think he need trouble himself about much more." "I know very little about it," replied Tom. " But I think there is that in everyone which tells them if they are doing right, and if one disregards it one gets callous and hardened. As a rule, soldiers have to keep pretty straight; but there's something more than that, something besides being fair and square outside." Frank pondered, and then, with that bright laugh which had already won him many friends, he cried — " Yes, I think I know what you mean ; but if one begins to worry one's self about the inside there's no THE HAYFIELD. 13 end to it all.

It is all I can do to keep above board outwardly." Tom did not answer, and they turned back to the town. It was strange how fond he had grown to be of Frank, for he was self-confident and conceited. He had been run after and made much of all his life, and even in his present position almost any lass would leave her lad for the sake of his winning smile and courteous ways. There was much to admire in the courage with which he had faced the reverses of fortune, and something irresistibly attractive in the unfailing good humour he displayed in the hardships of his lot. The Lancers were nearly always free on Sunday afternoons, and many a walk and conversation did Tom and his friend have together. There had been a long spell of lovely weather, and day after day the skies had been unclouded, and the heat tempered by soft breezes.

The country was very quiet, in spite of the excitement about the war and the political disputes going on in the outer world. The farmers were making all haste to get the hay in before the weather broke. Tom and Frank wandered inland one lovely day, enjoying the warmth and colour. As it was Sunday the busy workers had ceased, and the mown grass was left in cocks till the Monday. The friends, after walking some way, stopped, and leaned over a fence separating one of the hayfields from the hard high road. " Let us go among the hay-cocks ; they won't say anything to us," suggested Frank. With him to think was to do, and he lightly vaulted the intervening railing. Tom followed more leisurely, and they sat down against one of the ricks and revelled in the brilliancy, and watched the burn ing air dancing with the heat.

Frank could not remain still for many minutes ; he was soon on his feet again. " Oh, Tom ! " he cried ; " there is someone coming down the field. Such a bonny lass ! " Tom raised himself and looked up. He saw a girl coming across the grass, and heard her singing THE HA YFIELD. 15 softly in a sweet, low tone. With her was a little sister, apparently about four years old. The child was the first to see the intruders. " Sodgers, Jeanie, sodgers ! " she cried, tugging at her sister's dress. Jeanie stopped singing, and a faint pink blush came into her cheeks as she saw the two young men in uniform. Frank, who was never embarrassed under any circumstances, raised his hat and advanced towards her. " I'm afraid we are trespassing," he said, in his most winning manner ; " but the road was so dry and your hay-field looked so tempting — " " Oh ! yes," she replied, " you're welcome to stay.

You are not doing any harm," and shyly she looked first up and then down at the grass. Frank noticed that she had a sweet, modest face, and was as fresh and pretty as a flower. He did not wish her to go away, so he began to talk to her. " Is that your home ? " he asked, pointing to where the red roof of a farmhouse was distinguish able, rising out of a clump of trees. "Yes," she answered, "that is where we live; but I'll tell father you are here, and he won't mind." Meanwhile Tom, who was very fond of children, had been trying to make friends with the little girl. She had at first advanced timidly to where the big lancer lay full length upon the grass, but finding that he took no notice of her (for he was looking at her sister) she became bolder and began to throw flowers at him, whereupon Tom caught her and pretended to worry her, which elicited shrieks of laughter, but now the game came to an end.

" Come, Molly," said her sister, " we must be going." " That is on our way home," suggested Frank, readily. " Can we get out at the end of the field ? " " Oh ! yes," she answered, simply ; " I'll show you. Tom sprang to his feet, and, shaking himself free from the hay, followed in the wake ofthe other two. Frank Linton had plenty of conversation, and found that his fair companion grew much more sociable as her shyness wore off. Still she avoided THE HAYFIELD. 17 raising her eyes to his face. There was an air of perfect freshness about her, as if she had lived in the country all her days and knew naught of the sin and misery of the great towns. This had a charm for Frank, who tried to draw her out to speak about herself. Tom, on the contrary, hardly said a word. He was, unlike the proverbial soldier, not given to flirt ing, and, though fond of women's society, had as yet been entirely heart-whole.

But this girl made him feel bashful and awkward. Frank was so polite and at his ease that Tom fancied she must think that he was a stupid fellow, without a word to say for himself, and yet when she spoke to him he was almost too shy to answer. Long ere they reached the gate Frank had dis covered her name. " Jeanie Stafford," she told him, and freely related as much of the simple home life as interested him. Though he would fain have prolonged the inter view, she turned when she entered the farm-yard, and pointed out a short cut across the fields back to the c town. Then, with a sweet, shy smile from under the flap of her big sun-bonnet, she demurely wished them " Good afternoon," and there was nothing for it but to go. She stood at the gate watching them walk away, with little Molly seated on the stone wall at her side, expatiating on the wonders of the game.

" Such a bid bear worried Molly all up," she said, stretching out her little arms ; " all grand bear." " I'll worry you," cried Jeanie, catching her in her arms, a sunny smile lighting up her face and big blue eyes. " Come, then," and holding her little sister in her arms she " worried " her till both the big sun-bonnets fell off and the two fair heads mingled their curls together till one could scarcely be distinguished from the other, except that the little one's ringlets were a shade darker than those of her elder sister.

Chapter III. Holmwood Farm

After this meeting the little farmstead by the side of the road seemed to have a strange attraction for Tom. His walks on Sunday afternoons generally tended in that direction, sometimes with Frank Linton, but more often alone. Though he saw little or nothing of Jeanie, he was now and then rewarded by catching sight of a flutter of blue print round the corner of the house, or hearing feet moving in the passage, but that was all. One day as he was passing down the road he heard a voice singing, someone who was sitting just inside the doorway, and as he stayed to listen the words and voice seemed to Tom just the very sweetest he had ever heard. " There is a name I love to hear, I love to sing its worth, It sounds like music in my ear, The sweetest name on earth. Jesus, the name I love so well, The name I love to hear ; No saint on earth its worth can tell, No heart conceive how dear."

The soft music reached his ear distinctly, and he recognized the hymn ; he had heard it in church, though it sounded much more striking now. When it ended he caught the sound of feet coming out into the yard, and he felt very much inclined to turn and run ; but he stood his ground manfully, and was rewarded by seeing Jeanie. She gave a little start when she saw him, but came straight towards him. " Good-day," she said, her blue eyes looking frankly up to his, and Tom felt instinctively that it was a good face as well as a pretty one. " Good-day," he responded ; " I heard you singing and couldn't help stopping to listen." " Did you ? " she asked. " Yes, I often sing to HOLMWOOD FARM. 21 my brother. He had an accident about a year ago, and isn't able to move about. He is fourteen now, and it is so hard for him to lie still."

" Is he your only brother ? " asked Tom, with interest. " Yes ; and it is especially hard on him, for he was such an active boy, always about. We do what we can to make things pleasant for him ; but he gets tired of just seeing the same faces." Tom blushed for a minute, then got out steadily — " Would he like me to talk to him ? I haven't seen much of the world, but maybe I could amuse him a little." "Now that's really good of you," cried Jeanie, frankly. " I was just wondering how I could ask you." " It's a pleasure," said Tom, gallantly, as he passed through the gate. A wan, thin-faced lad was lying on a sofa near the window. As they entered he looked up with a gleam of interest. " Don't go away again, Jeanie," he said ; " I'm tired of being alone." " No," replied Jeanie. Then she added, mis chievously, with a sly glance at Tom, " I've brought a real soldier to see you, Freddy.

He is always wanting to talk to a soldier," she explained. Lester sat down beside the boy, and though he would infinitely have preferred talking to his sister, did his best to interest and amuse him, and, for getting himself, was really pleased to see the grey eyes light up at some incident or adventure he related. It was trying work, for the lad was fretful and would often exclaim in the middle of a story, " I don't like that ; tell me another," and, as Tom was slow at thinking, this rather disconcerted him. " Tell the soldier how you got hurt, Fred, dear," said Jeanie, when she at last settled down near the head of the sofa, having been flitting in and out of the room. Fred detailed how, in the height of the haying season, he had been riding on a piled-up cart and fallen backwards and hurt his spine.

" And the HOLMWOOD FARM. 23 worst of it is," he concluded, fretfully, " I did so want to be a soldier and sight, and now I can't ever be." Jeanie bent over him and said, very low (but Tom caught the words) — " You can be a soldier of the Lord Jesus Christ, Freddy." " Yes ; but it is ever so much harder," he an swered, wistfully. Jeanie forgot Tom's presence, and talked as though she were alone with her brother. " Then it is ever so much braver to be one," she said, gently. " Soldiers aren't always on active service, you know ; they have to wait patiently, though perhaps they are longing to be in the thick of the fight, as you also have to lie here waiting. But you have even more to do than they, for you have to conquer giant Selfishness, and giant Temper, and all the rest of them." The boy lay quietly, then turned to Tom Lester — "Thank you for coming," he said.

" Do you think it's as hard to lie here as to be a soldier when you are longing to be up and doing? " " I do," said Tom, earnestly; "much harder. It must take a lot of patience ; but you're brave, laddie, I see." Jeanie turned a grateful look on him, knowing how Fred would prize the words, and Tom thought the afternoon well spent if only for the sake of that look. " I must go now," he added ; " but I'll come again if I may." "We shall be very glad to see you," said Jeanie, as she accompanied him to the gate. " It's time mother and Molly were back," she said, looking somewhat anxiously down the road ; " but I daresay they will be all right. I must go back to Fred. Good-bye, and thank you so much; you can't tell how you have brightened him up." Tom walked down the long road. " Poor little chap !

" he muttered. " I do pity him. I doubt I couldn't bear it ; " and he fell to thinking that there was a deeper something in religion than he had yet grasped. He had always been what is called a good fellow; HOLMWOOD FARM. 25 but there was evidently a real pleasure to the Staffords in talking about these things — something which brightened their daily lives, and made their Lord's will a pleasure, not a duty. After this he went very often on Sundays to see Freddy at Holmwood Farm, and grew quite a favourite there. The handsome farmer in the prime of life, and his fair wife (who, if she looked a little faded beside her daughter, must have been just such another when she was a girl) were always glad to see him, for he cheered Fred wonderfully, and was a devoted slave to Molly, who turned his pockets inside out in the hope of finding peppermint.

Unconsciously the sweet atmosphere of the home life began to make poor Tom other than he had been. He had never had a home, remember, nor realized the family life ; and all the inmates of this farm were so perfectly in unison. A cross word was rarely or never heard ; and if poor Fred sometimes chafed under his hard trial, as a rule he was wonderfully patient. Then the sunny brightness of the girls was constantly about. Jeanie had always a sweet smile or loving word on her lips, and little Molly was a perfect bundle of contented happiness. Small wonder was it that Tom looked forward to his Sundays as the bright spots on an otherwise dark life, and found the jokes of the barrack room empty and flat on the Monday. For several months he did not realize what was to him the chief attraction of the home.

Be thought at times it was simply the simplicity of the inmates, or the atmosphere of goodness and peace which ran through everything. Then, also, he looked forward to his talks with Jeanie (who generally accompanied him to the gate), because he learnt so much from her; and almost imperceptibly the rough fellow began to unfold his difficulties to her, and rely on her for counsel or advice. He knew instinctively that he might do so without reserve, or fear of being laughed at. It was natural to speak of these things to her. So many a time he leant over the gate, and listened as in a dream to her sweet voice. But no topic interested Tom so much as to hear HOLM WOOD FARM. 27 her speak of Christ. It was a revelation to the soldier that she regarded Him as a real presence, who watched over and guided her day by day.

" I always like to think of Him in His quiet home before He began His ministry," she said one peace ful evening. " It may have been something like this, with green fields all round, and blue sky. He must have had some happiness then, I think, though He knew what was coming. He couldn't have been very miserable, looking at the flowers, and the sky, and the distance. I do love the summer so, especially when it is calm like this. It is happiness only to live ! " Tom thought of Frank Linton and his idea of happiness. What a contrast it was ! Then he thought of his own life, and the bad words and coarse jokes always going on around him; and he tried to put the thought into words. " It seems natural for you to live in the country, and have pretty things round you," he said; "but it's very different for most.