One of the Six Hundred: A Novel
horses, the crash of the band, with cymbals and kettledrums, the cheers
of the soldiers and of the people, seemed faint and far away. I heard
Louisa's voice alone.
But now a loud and reiterated hurrah--the full, deep, hearty cheer of
warmth and welcome, of joy or triumph, which comes best from English
throats, and from English throats alone--rose from the multitudes
without, as the head of the column defiled slowly through the street;
and I must own that three hundred mounted lancers--all handsome young
men, well horsed, and in gay uniform, blue faced with white, and with
all their swallow-tailed red and white banneroles fluttering in the
wind--presented a magnificent spectacle.
Thousands of handkerchiefs were waved from the windows, and many laurel
branches and flowers were flung among us. Other troops, both horse and
foot, were on the march that morning, and the crash of other bands,
heard at a distance, came over the sprouting cornfields and hop-gardens
of beautiful Kent. I had pressed Louisa's hand for the last time, and
she had returned to her friends. We had separated at last, and with all
the love that welled up in our hearts, we had parted, as some one says,
"without the last seal upon the ceremony of good-bye, which it is
unlawful to administer in public to any but juvenile recipients."
I was alone now, and yet not quite alone, for my uncle, though his
military career had been confined to the ranks of the Kirkaldy troop of
Yeomanry, accompanied me for some miles, mounted on a stout cover-hack,
though sorely tempted to spur after some Highland regiment, whose
bagpipes we heard ringing on some parallel road, as we marched along the
highway to Tunbridge, _en route_ for Portsmouth, where our transports
lay.
Sir Nigel bade me farewell at Tunbridge, and turned to ride back to
Chillingham Park, whither my heart went with him. The fine old man's
voice faltered and his eyes grew very moist, as he pressed my hand for
the last time, and reined aside his horse, looking among the troop for
Willie Pitplado, whom he had known from infancy, and with whom he also
shook hands.
"Good-bye, Willie," said he. "Remember you are your father's son.
Dinna forget Calderwood Glen, and to stick to my nephew."
Willie's heart was full, and as he gnawed his chin-strap to hide his
emotion, I heard him send a farewell message to his father, the old
keeper.
And then, as the sturdy baronet rode slowly to the rear, adopting at
once the old hunting seat, several of our lancers cheered him, for he
was the last specimen of his class they would probably see for many a
day to come.
I now remembered, with keen reproach, that in the fulness of my emotion
at parting from Louisa--in fact, the selfishness of my love--I had
forgotten to bid adieu to Cora and to Lord Chillingham. About the
latter omission I cared little; but to leave Cora--kind, affectionate
Cora--whose sad and earnest face I seemed still to see, as she gazed so
wistfully from the carriage window, and to leave her, it might be for
ever, without a word of farewell, was a fault almost without remedy now.
However, I lost no time in writing my excuses from our first
halting-place, which was at Mayfield, though some of our troops remained
at Tunbridge Wells, and others had to ride to the market town of
Cranbrook for quarters and stabling. Proceeding through the great
hop-growing district of England, we frequently marched between gardens,
where the little plants were beginning to creep up those tall and
slender poles of ash or chestnut, which (before the hops gain their full
growth, in September) present so singular an appearance to a stranger's
eye. When those green hops were gathered, and when the hop-queen was
decorated in honour of the harvest home, we were moving towards the
passage of the Alma. Kent was wearing its loveliest aspect now, in the
full glory of hedgerows, copse, and meadows, in the last days of spring,
under a clear blue sunlit sky. The birds, in myriads, filled the hedges
with melody; the purple and white lilacs were already in full bloom, and
the grass was spotted with snow-white daisies and golden buttercups,
while primroses and violets grew wild by the side of the chalky and
flinty roads.
The quaint, tumble-down cottages, covered to their chimney tops with
ivy, woodbine, and wild hop-leaves; the fair, smiling faces that peeped
at us from their lozenged lattices; the sturdy fellows who lounged and
smoked at the turnpike; the red wheeled waggons on the road; the laden
wains, and the canvas-frocked yokels far a-field; the lowing cattle that
browsed on the upland slope; the square white tower of the little
village church on one side; the red-brick manor-house on the other, with
all its gables and oriels peeping above the woodlands; the whistle of
the distant railway train, and its white smoke curling up in the
sunshine, were all indicative of happy, peaceful, and prosperous
England, and of a soil long untrodden by a hostile foot. From every
port in the United Kingdom; between Portsmouth and Aberdeen, troops were
quickly departing now. Being cavalry, on our route through Kent,
Sussex, and a little part of Hampshire, we overtook and passed several
corps of infantry and artillery, which were marching by the same roads
for the same place of embarkation, and stirring were the cheers with
which we greeted each other.
We remarked that the bands of the Scottish and Irish regiments were
almost invariably playing the national quick marches peculiar to their
own countries, while those of English corps played German, and even
Yankee music.
The Black Watch, the Cameron Highlanders, the Scotch Fusiliers, &c.,
stirred each other's hearts by such airs as "Scots wha hae," "Lochaber
no more," and so forth; the Connaught Rangers and the 97th made the
welkin ring to "Garryowen," and similar airs, which are more inspiring
to the British soldier than those of Prussia or Austria can ever be;
and, as our colonel remarked it, it would have been better taste had the
English bands played the quicksteps of the sister countries than foreign
airs, with which an Englishman can have no sympathy whatever.[*]
[*] The same defect was observed on that great day when Her Majesty
distributed the Victoria Cross. The bands of the Guards played Scottish
airs for the Highlanders, and "Rule Britannia" for the Marines; but
otherwise "favoured the troops and the people with a great deal of
German music, to which no attention was paid. National airs would have
gratified both, and stirred up the patriotism of the people. The
Enniskilling Dragoons and Rifles were chiefly composed of Irishmen; but
the bands did not venture upon a single air peculiar to
Ireland."--_Nolan's History of the War_, p. 770.
I remembered a pleasant little incident during our march through Sussex.
As we passed a village parsonage--a quaint old gable-ended house,
secluded among moss-grown trees--the sound of our kettledrums and
trumpets, the tramp of the horses, and the clatter of the chain bridles
and steel scabbards, drew forth the inmates--an aged clergyman and his
two daughters--to a green wicket in the close-clipped holly-hedge, where
the group stood, as in a green frame of leaves, looking with deep
interest at the passing lancers, who were riding in what was then the
order--sections of three. White-haired and reverend, with his thin locks
shining in the sun, the curate took off his hat, and lifted up his hands
and eyes in a manner there could be no mistaking. The old man was
evidently praying for us. His face was expressive of the finest
emotion; he felt that he was looking on many a man he would never see
again. Perhaps he had a son a soldier, or was himself a soldier's son;
or he felt that he, though old and stricken with years, was destined to
survive many of the young, the hale and hearty in our ranks, who were
still "on life's morning march." Some of our officers lifted their caps
and bowed to the little group, and I am sure that Frank Jocelyn kissed
his hands to the girls, who were waving their handkerchiefs, while more
than one of ours cried, "God bless you, old boy!" and frequently, long
after, in the snows of Sebastopol and the terrors of the valley of
death, the face and form of that good old man, and the kindness of his
mute prayer, came to the memory of some of us. It formed one of our
last and most pleasing incidents connected with England.
In four days we reached Portsmouth, which presented a scene of
indescribable bustle and activity; and the fifth day saw my troop,
consisting of fifty men, with sixty horses, and with the colonel,
Studhome, M'Goldrick, one surgeon, the sergeant-major, and rest of the
staff, embarked from the dockyard jetty at eleven A.M., on board a
splendid clipper ship, the _Pride of the Ocean_, Captain Robert
Binnacle, bound for Turkey. The other five troops of the corps were
embarked on board the transports _Ganges_, _Bannockburn_, and other
vessels.
We had not been without hope of going in the _Himalaya_, which would
have taken the entire regiment in her capacious womb, and which,
moreover, is our only cavalry ship; but the authorities had declared
otherwise.
The morning of our embarkation was beautiful; the scene animated,
picturesque, and bustling, such as Portsmouth alone could exhibit at
such a time; but we were sorely troubled by our horses. Some were
conveyed on board in stall-boxes, others were lowered down the hatches
by bellybands and slings, in which, being spirited and young, they were
very restive, lashing out, to the imminent danger of the brains and
bones of those in their vicinity, until they found themselves in the
tow-padded stalls below the maindeck.
Adding to the bustle and interest of the scene, several ships of war
were taking in stores and preparing for sea; boats, manned by seamen and
marines in white jackets, were shooting to and fro between Portsmouth on
one side and Gosport on the other. A strong detachment of the 19th (1st
Yorkshire) Regiment was embarking on board the _Melita_, a Cunard
steamer; the _Euxine_, a Peninsular and Oriental liner, was receiving
many of the staff, a number of horses, and nearly twenty tons of ball
cartridges. A squadron of the 8th, or Royal Irish Hussars, under Major
de Salis, were stowing themselves on board of the _Mary Anne_ transport;
and a great body of Woolwich Pensioners, a numerous staff of veterinary
surgeons, members of the ambulance, ordnance, and transport corps, were
all embarking at the same time. Thus the hurly-burly was prodigious, and
the whole of the quays were encumbered by baggage, stores, field-pieces,
mortars, shot and shell, chests of arms, tents and camp equipage,
guarded by marines with fixed bayonets, or seamen with drawn cutlasses.
With all this apparent activity there was, of course, the counteracting
influence of that red-tapism which is the curse of the British service.
When war was declared the Royal Arsenal did not contain a sufficient
quantity of shells to furnish the first battering train that went to
Turkey, and the fuses then issued had been in store ever since the
battle of Waterloo! Even the mattocks and shovels issued to the troops
had been sent home from the Peninsula by the Duke of Wellington as
worthless!
Here at Portsmouth we saw many a bitter--also to too many it proved a
final--adieu. With all my soul I loved Louisa; and yet, when, standing
on the dockyard jetty there, I saw the partings of husbands from their
wives, and fathers from their children, I thanked Heaven in my heart
that in this, to them, most bitter hour, I had only my good black
charger to care for.
Midday was past ere all the passengers for the _Pride of the Ocean_,
with their baggage, &c., were on board. I had personally to see the