Chapter Seven.
Good-Bye to Old England
What excitement there was! What bustle and hard work! Though the brigade of Guards had for long expected, and indeed anxiously awaited, orders to prepare for embarkation, when at last the time did actually arrive, they found still hosts of matters to be dealt with.
Men had to be examined as to their physical fitness for rough work in the field; kits had to be looked to, new boots issued, and a hundred-and-one points attended to. Then there were good-byes to be said, for many of those fine, brave lads, the last they would ever have an opportunity of saying, for the Crimea was to claim them, and the deep-trodden mire and mud of the heights round Sebastopol was destined to form a covering for thousands – thousands, alas! of England’s bravest soldiers. And the Queen – God bless her! – she too must take leave of her Guards, and wish them a safe return.
Ah! it was a grand time, and books on Russian were forgotten in the whirl Phil had too many other things to think about. True, he had few friends to part with, and in that he was to be congratulated, for partings are ever painful; but he had hosts of duties to carry out, and his services in the office of the orderly-room were daily in requisition.
“I never see such a time,” grumbled Tony disgustedly. “I never get a word with yer now, young un. You’re stuck in that office or on some other job all day and every day. I for one shall be jolly glad when we’re off, and then I expect every one of us will be precious sorry for a time. The Guards makes a fine show on parade, but aboard a ship, about the size of one of these here barrack-rooms, they’ll have to be squeezed like herrings, and then if it blows won’t there be a scene! I remember I went for a week in a fishing-boat once, and spent about as miserable a time as I ever did. Lor’, how jolly ill and wretched I was!”
“Yes, I expect it will take a little time to get our sea-legs, Tony,” Phil replied cheerily; “but once the Bay of Biscay is passed we ought to have fine weather, I’m told, and then we shall enjoy it. As to never seeing me, the job is now practically finished. To-morrow the Queen reviews us, and on the twenty-eighth we sail from Southampton. That’s only a few days away. Then hurrah for Russia and a campaign!”
How loyal every one of those stalwart Guardsmen felt as he stood paraded before Queen Victoria on that eventful day. How he fixed his eyes on that figure standing on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, and swore silently that he would fight and die if need be for her and for the country she ruled. Gone, in the excitement and fervour of the moment, was all thought of coming misery and privation. Gone all fear of death or injury by cannon-shot or bullet. Before them was the Queen, and beyond them, far across the sea, the Russian enemy. Ere they returned they would humble the Czar’s pride, or perish in the attempt.
And the good and beloved Queen Victoria, as she scanned the long lines before her, did she forget what her soldiers might meet with? Did she know of the horrors ever associated with war that must inevitably fall upon some of the devoted fellows standing proudly erect before her? Yes, she knew, and she did not forget. She knew, too, the need for England to assert herself in support of the oppressed, and though it filled her heart with grief to think that many of those she looked at, many of those stalwart officers from amongst the highest in the land, and lads from amongst the bravest, must fall in the fight, yet she sent them forth with smiling face and words of God-speed and encouragement, for such is the duty of a queen.
But at length it was all over. With colours flying and bands clashing before them, the Grenadier Guards marched through a seething crowd which filled the streets of London, and entrained for Southampton. It was a day to be remembered. The masses were full of excitement, and cheered till they were hoarse. Those on foot pressed forward, and, defying all regulations, marched beside their heroes. Sweethearts struggled to clutch the arms of lovers, and wives, poor things! held up their babes and gazed fondly and with tearful eyes at departing husbands. Ay, and it was a time full of trials for the higher as well as the humbler in the land. How many of those fair damsels, dressed in all the finery that money could buy, waved a handkerchief to some devoted lover, and how many women sent all they cared for away to war and duty with dry eyes and an encouraging smile, while surrounded by their sisters, only to retire later and weep in private as if their hearts would break? God knows! Only such things are, and ever will be, when men go out to fight. But at last it was all done with. The train was off, and the din and shouts, the cheers and strains of the National Anthem left far behind.
“Thank goodness, we’re off!” exclaimed one big fellow who happened to be in the same carriage with Phil and Tony, and who had just waved a last adieu to quite a number of girls. “I wouldn’t go through it again for the wealth of the Queen. It makes yer almost wish there wasn’t such things as sweethearts.”
“Get along, George, old man!” another man replied, with a poor attempt at a laugh, as he hastily drew his sleeve across his eyes. “Yer know yer wouldn’t be without ’em, bless their little hearts! It’s fine to think as there’ll be someone at home a-thinking of yer; and just yer wait till we’re back again. My eye, what a time we’ll have! What do yer say, Corporal Western?”
“I fancy I haven’t an opinion to give, Billy,” Phil said, with a smile. “I haven’t a sweetheart yet, you see.”
“Then yer ought’er, Corporal. You’re smart. Why, blow me if you aren’t one of the smartest in the regiment, and if yer liked yer could have ten of ’em, and all thinking they was the only one. You’ve been wasting opportunities.” Billy looked quite reproachfully at Phil.
“Then I’ll have to wait, Billy, I expect. Sweethearts are not to be found in Russia,” was the laughing answer.
“No, I d’say not. You ought to know, Corporal, for I hear yer can speak the Russian lingo; and knows lots about the country. What’s all this row about? None of us chaps knows, and you’d be doing all of us a good turn if you’d tell us.”
Nothing loth, Phil promptly commenced, and a heated argument following as to the real intentions of Russia, and as to the merits of the French soldiery compared, with the British, the time slipped by, and Southampton was reached before anyone expected it.
The men at once tumbled out, and lined up on the platform, kit-bag and rifle in hand. Then in perfect order, and as if performing an every-day movement, they filed up the gangway on to the decks of the Orinoco, which lay alongside the wharf, with the Ripon and Manilla astern of her. Weapons were passed from hand to hand along the decks, down the gangways, and into the hold, where they were secured in racks. Then bearskin helmets were collected and stored in an out-of-the-way room, and in less than half an hour every man had disappeared into the hold, and had taken possession of his hammock.
“It’s a pretty close fit,” remarked Tony, looking round; “but I expect we shall be comfortable.”
“We ought to be, Tony. I hear the Guards have been given extra room owing to their size, and as far as I can see, we shall have just sufficient room to sling our hammocks and lie in them without touching one another.”
This was the case. From beams screwed to the deck, and supported by pillars, rows of big iron hooks depended in such a manner that, when slung, the hammocks were only a few inches apart, while the foot end of each of the next row just protruded between them as far as the head of the occupant.
“Now, we’ll stow our kits here,” said Phil, “and go on deck. I heard the captain telling the colonel that he should cast off at once, so we may as well see as much of the old country as possible. Who knows when we shall set eyes on it again? Perhaps it will be a year or more before the war is over and we are at liberty to return.”
“Then we’ll say good-bye to it, though I tell yer, Phil, I’m fair tired of this yelling. It makes yer feel curious just here,” and he pointed to his throat. “I ain’t got no friends to bother about, but I feels for the poor chaps as has, and I hates to see the girls a-blubbering. Poor things! They was just a-crying their pretty eyes out back there in Lunnon.”
“Yes, it’s a trying time for sweethearts, husbands, and wives, Tony, but let’s hope all will meet again, though I suppose that isn’t possible, unless we find that the troubles have been settled before we reach the Black Sea. It would be a merciful thing, though bad luck for us.”
“Bad luck! I should think it would be, Phil. Why, remember what we’re after, you and me. Promotion – quick promotion. You’ve got to get that commission and become a toff of an orfficer, and I’ve got to win me stripes; and how’s it all to be done unless we smell powder? No, there’s going to be a jolly war, and we Guards are going to be in the thick of it;” and having settled the matter, as it were, Tony gave a grunt, expressive of the disgust he might feel if the troubles really were to disappear in smoke, and, turning on his heel, climbed up the gangway ladder to the deck.
There were numbers of soldiers already lining the rails, and a crowd of people on the quay, all chattering, calling to one another, and attempting to look cheerful and gay under obviously depressing circumstances.
Then a man with a grey beard, upright carriage, and a general appearance which did not need the row of medals displayed on his waistcoat to proclaim him an old soldier, stepped forward, and, producing a cornet, played “The British Grenadiers.”
Already the hawsers had been cast off. Two panting little tugs were slowly towing the paddle-ship into the open water, and hoarse voices sounded from the bridge. The tune changed to the National Anthem, and hats were doffed by the crowd, while every lad on board stood at attention. Then the strains of “Auld Lang Syne” came across the water, at first loud and distinct, but gradually getting fainter, cheers passed from deck to quay, handkerchiefs and sticks were waved, the railway-engine screeched a last farewell with its whistle, and the Orinoco trembled from stem to stern at the beat of her paddles, like some powerful animal making a terrific struggle to escape its bonds.
The parting was over. Men gazed at the rapidly receding shore, and then turning, dived below decks and busied themselves in arranging their hammocks. What was the good of being downcast? Who could look into the future? As well make the best of matters and take things cheerfully. Soon all were laughing and joking, perhaps a little more soberly than before, but still far more happily than an hour ago.
“Now, my lads,” cried the sergeant-major, “each man to his hammock, and we’ll serve out to-day’s allowance of rum. It’ll cheer you up and keep the cold out.”
One by one the men were served with the spirit, and soon after, having been joined by the sailors off duty, Jack Tar and Thomas Atkins sat themselves down to a convivial evening. Pipes were produced, and some thoughtful fellow extracting a concertina from the depths of a kit-bag, an impromptu concert was commenced and kept up till “lights out.”
“This kind of thing won’t be allowed every night, I expect,” said Phil, as he sat by Tony’s side, for many of the sailors, liberally helped to a portion of the soldiers’ rum, were reeling away to their quarters.
“Ah! well, it’s only the first night out, mate, mind that. The officers, I expect, knows about it as well as we do, but they knows the boys want cheering. But I expects there’ll be a change.”
And as a matter of fact there was, for on the following day, when the hour for the serving out of grog came round, the men were drawn up in their several messes. Then under the eye of the sergeant-major one mess was served, and at the order, “Men served one pace forward and swallow,” the spirit disappeared.
It was a strange feeling to lie for the first time in a hammock, but the men took to it like ducks to water.
“It’s jolly comfortable, and ever so much softer than a barrack-bed, ain’t it, Phil?” remarked Tony, as he lay full length close beside his friend, with only his face showing, and a pipe projecting from his lips.
“I’ve slept in a harder bed many a time,” laughed Phil. “But I’m tired; so good-night, Tony!”
At 6:30 a.m. the next morning reveillé sounded through the ship, and the men tumbled out, to find a fresh, cold breeze blowing and a nasty sea on. Faces fell, for soldiers, like other mortals, fall victims to mal de mer. Breakfasts were looked at askance, and scarcely touched, and soon the rails were almost as thickly crowded as on the previous day.
“Lummy! How jolly bad I feel!” groaned Tony. “I’m off to me bunk as fast as me feet will take me.”
Phil nodded curtly, and very soon followed his example, for he too was not exactly enjoying himself.
On the following day the ship was on an even keel once more, and bright faces and merry jokes were everywhere. In seven days Gibraltar was reached, but no one was allowed to land, and no sooner had the ship coaled than she paddled on to Malta. Arrived there, the troops disembarked, to hear the welcome news that France and England had declared war on Russia on the day after their sailing.
“That’s all right, then!” exclaimed Tony with a grunt of satisfaction. “We shall soon have a taste of fighting, and the sooner it comes the better. See them coves over there, Phil? Ain’t they smart, just. Wonder how they’ll tackle the Russians!”
He alluded to a ship-load of French artillery which had arrived only a few hours before in the harbour. Smart, athletic men they looked, as they crowded the decks and shouted back greetings to the British.
“They are said to be amongst the finest gunners trained by any nation,” answered Phil, “and I’ve no doubt they will do well. But look out, Tony; there goes the bugle. I expect we shall have to disembark.”
The bugle notes rang out clear, waking the harbour of Valetta with the echo; and the hoarse voice of the sergeant-major penetrated to every hole and corner of the Orinoco.
“Fall in, lads,” he shouted. “Smartly now; by companies.”
Phil and Tony soon found their places, and then for half an hour were busily engaged in passing rifles and bearskin helmets and in securing their kit. When all were ready, the disembarkation proceeded apace, and in an hour the Grenadier Guards were ashore and comfortably housed in casemates of the forts.
“I wonder how long we shall stay here,” remarked Phil about a week later, as he and Tony stood on the ramparts and gazed at the town. “The sooner we leave the better. Our men are having a splendid time, and have struck up a great friendship with the Frenchies, but at this rate it won’t do. Look at those fellows over there.”
“They are pretty bad; you’re right, Phil,” Tony grunted, as he watched a tiny French artillerist staggering down towards him, with two burly British linesmen on either side, with arms firmly linked in his, and all three roaring a refrain to be heard in any café in the town.
“Pretty bad! I should think so, Tony. But it won’t last. Our officers know what is going on, and we shall sail very shortly. The new life and excitement here and the low price of spirit make it easy for our men to get intoxicated and behave in a riotous manner. After all, one cannot exactly blame them. They are going to a rough country probably, and are making the most of the present time. But much of this sort of thing will play havoc with them in the end. Only yesterday I heard our doctor say that disease was far more dangerous to armies than bullets, and that men who entered upon a campaign in indifferent health were certain to go under if hardships had to be faced. I mean to take plenty of exercise, and beware of eating too much fruit.”
“Then I’m with yer, mate. Yer know drink ain’t nothing to me now, and I can see as the feller what keeps himself fit, takes walks and plenty of fresh air, and don’t eat nor drink too much, finds himself better able to enjoy his life. Why, ever since that ugly old bear gave me a mauling I’ve been a different man. I have, Phil. A different and a better man. But come along, mate, let’s take a stroll about and see what’s happening. Some of those French blokes is going to do a gun drill, I hear, and we may as well look at ’em.”
It was a wise resolution on Phil’s part to keep himself in good trim, for no one possessed of common sense can doubt that nothing is more prejudicial to a young man than riotous living. For a time an excellent constitution may stand the unusual strain, but sooner or later health is shattered, and with additional strain, when met by cold and exposure, and perhaps insufficient food, disease finds a ready victim, and another patient falls into the hands of doctors already heavily pressed by work.
Fortunately for all, orders were not long in coming, and soon the Grenadiers were on the sea again. A short and most interesting voyage followed till they reached the entrance to the Dardanelles and dropped anchor.
It was pitchy dark, and the outlines of the forts which guard the narrow entrance could not be made out; but excited shouts and an occasional blue flare which lit up a limited area, showing gesticulating figures clad in Turkish costume, proved that the coming of the Orinoco had not passed unnoticed.
On the following morning the ship weighed anchor, and, steaming into the Bosphorus, drew up opposite Scutari, fated to prove the scene of awful misery to the British. That evening Phil and his comrades were ashore, and were safely housed under canvas. Two days later they obtained permission to visit Gallipoli, where the bulk of our army had landed, with numbers of the French, and, hiring a native craft, were rowed across.
“Looks like a fairy place, don’t it, Phil?” remarked Tony as, seated in the boat, he gazed at the shore of Gallipoli. “Look at them things like white fingers a-sticking up into the sky, and those white houses amongst the green trees.”
And, indeed, seen from a distance, and, above all, from the sea, Gallipoli with its immediate surroundings is a paradise. It consists of a collection of all sorts of houses scattered here and there hap-hazard on the foreground, other houses built on the hill behind, and the whole swathed in green patches of luxuriant tree-growth, and backed by the distant hills. It was an enchanting spot, and its charm was greatly increased by the fact that it was situated in a strange land, where large domed mosques and white-washed minarets reared high in the air, and reflected the rays of a glorious sun from their glistening surfaces.
Phil and Tony were delighted with it, but as the boat drew nearer, and dirt and squalor became visible, their faces fell.
“Pah! It’s worse than a farmyard,” exclaimed Tony, with disgust, as he sniffed the air. “And look at that mud!”
“Wait a minute, and let us see what the streets are like. Perhaps they will be interesting,” answered Phil, with a laugh. “Certainly this part of Gallipoli is rather unsavoury, and the sooner we are away from it the better.”
The boat touched the shore, and, having paid the small sum demanded, the two set off, and were soon in the centre of the town. Every moment some new sight arrested their attention, and in the excitement of the moment they quickly forgot the dirt and foul gutters to be seen everywhere. Grave Turks accosted them, politely stepping on one side to allow room for them to pass; Greeks weighed down with huge baskets of merchandise staggered past; and ever and anon a swarthy, unclean-looking Armenian Jew flitted down some by-street as if fearing to be seen. Soldiers in every variety of uniform, Highlanders, lithe, plucky-looking little riflemen, and daintily-dressed Zouaves came by singly and sometimes arm-in-arm, a burly Englishman fraternising with some dapper little Frenchman, and endeavouring vainly to carry on a conversation with him.
Phil and Tony were greatly interested, but to their astonishment, though the sight of foreign soldiers must have been a rare one indeed to the Turks, not a single inhabitant of this oriental spot showed any curiosity or looked up when they passed. In every little shop or doorway a Turk was seated cross-legged on a low divan, puffing moodily at his chibouk, each and every one, whether grey-bearded or otherwise, motionless, immovable, and absolutely uninterested.
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Phil. “Did you ever see such a sleepy lot, Tony? They look as though an earthquake would not move them; and the children, too, seem just as little upset by the arrival of the troops.”
“They are about the sleepiest lot I ever see,” growled Tony in reply. “That old cove over there might be made of wax; and what’s this a-coming down the street? I suppose it’s a woman, but she might just as well be a sack. Ugh! Give me England and English girls! Let’s get on, old man, and see what these here Frenchmen are up to.”
Everywhere the streets were labelled with French names, and indeed the French seemed to be far more en evidence than the British. They had inaugurated a café, the best building in the town was utilised as their hospital, and their general had his quarters in a prominent position. One might have thought that the British were not there at all, save that Highlanders stepping briskly along the pavements, and an occasional infantry-man or a mounted orderly passing through the streets showed that our forces too were represented.
“It is curious to see so much that is French and so little that is English,” remarked Phil in a disappointed voice. “Everywhere it’s Rue this or Rue that; never an English name, from the landing-stage to the edge of the town. What can our people be doing?”
“They’re awake. You trust ’em for that,” Tony answered with conviction, “Just because they haven’t christened all the streets and painted their names everywhere, don’t you think they’re not every bit as good as these here Froggies.”
It was almost nightfall when Phil and Tony reached Scutari again and rejoined their comrades, and there they remained until early in June, passing the greater part of their days in drills and musketry practice, and in exploring the surrounding country.