RED TAPE.
"What! back again so soon, Stanny," was Captain Faulks's greeting as McKay stepped on board the Burlington Castle. "I am right glad to see you. Is that a friend of yours?" pointing to Hyde. "He is welcome too. What brings you to Balaclava?"
McKay explained in a few words the errand on which they had come.
"Drift-wood—is that what you're after? All right, my hearties, I can help you to what you want. My crew is standing idle, and I will send the second officer out with them in the boats. They can land it for you, and load up your horses."
Before the afternoon Hyde started for the camp with a plentiful supply of fuel, intending to return next morning to take up any other supplies that could be secured. McKay tackled his uncle on this subject that same evening.
"Blankets? Yes, my boy, you shall have all we can spare, and I daresay we can fit you out with a few dozen jerseys, and perhaps some seamen's boots."
"We want all the warm clothing we can get," said McKay. "The men are being frozen to death."
"I tell you what: there were five cases of sheepskin-jackets I brought up—greggos, I think they call them—what those Tartar chaps wear in Bulgaria.'"
"The very thing! Let's have them, uncle."
"I wish you could, lad; but they are landed and gone into the store."
"The commissariat store? I'll go after them in the morning."
"It'll trouble you to get them. He is a hard nut, that commissariat officer, as you'll see."
Mr. Dawber, the gentleman in question, was a middle-aged officer of long standing, who had been brought up in the strictest notions of professional routine. He had regulations on the brain. He was a slave to red tape, and was prepared to die rather than diverge from the narrow grooves in which he had been trained.
The store over which he presided was in a state of indescribable chaos. It could not be arranged as he had seen stores all his life, so he did nothing to it at all.
When McKay arrived early next day, Mr. Dawber was being interviewed by a doctor from a hospital-ship. The discussion had already grown rather serious.
"I tell you my patients are dying of cold," said the doctor. "I must have the stoves."
"It is quite impossible," replied Mr. Dawber, "without a requisition properly signed."
"By whom?"
"It's not my place, sir, to teach you the regulations, but if you refer to page 347, paragraph 6, you will find that no demands can be complied with unless they have been through the commanding officer of the troops, the senior surgeon, the principal medical officer, the senior commissariat officer, the brigadier, and the general of division. Bring me a requisition duly completed, and you shall have the stoves."
"But it is monstrous: preposterous! There is not time. It would take a week to get these signatures, and I tell you my men are dying."
"I can't help that; you must proceed according to rule."
"It's little short of murder!" said the doctor, now furious.
"And what can I do for you?" said Mr. Dawber, ignoring this remark, and turning to another applicant, a quartermaster of the Guards.
"I have come for six bags of coffee."
"Where is your requisition?"
The quartermaster produced a large sheet of foolscap, covered with printing and ruled lines, a mass of figures, and intricate calculations.
Mr. Dawber seized it, and proceeded to verify the totals, which took him half-an-hour.
"This column is incorrectly cast; in fact, the form is very carelessly filled in. But you shall have the coffee—if we can find it."
Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at last he produced five bags, saying—
"You will have to do with this."
"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are we to roast it?"
"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted just before use."
"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it," said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away grumbling, leaving the bags behind him.
McKay followed him out of the store.
"You won't take the coffee, then?"
"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such stuff."
"May I have it?"
"If you like. It's all one to me."
"Give me the requisition, then."
Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr. Dawber.
"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You can give it to me; I will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition."
The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags according to form.
McKay next attacked him about the greggos. Despairing, after all he had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a stratagem.
"You received yesterday, I believe, a consignment from the Burlington Castle?"
"Quite so. There are the chests, still unpacked. I have not the least idea what's inside."
"You have the bill of lading, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"May I look at it? I come from the Burlington Castle, and the captain thinks he was wrong to have sent you the cases without passing the bill of lading through the commissariat officer at headquarters."
"I believe he is right. Here is the bill; it has not Mr. Fielder's signature. This is most irregular. What shall I do?"
"You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until the proper formalities have been observed."
"You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to you for your suggestion."
A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases. With the help of some of his uncle's crew he moved them back to the seaside, where he waited until Hyde's arrival from the front. Then they loaded up the greggos on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph.
From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off. Their condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea.
Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they were warm, and their heavy seamen's boots kept out the wet. They had a sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde.
He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips of sound brandy, brought straight from the Burlington Castle, freely imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of the Royal Picts.
"He is a first-class cook," said Hyde to his friend McKay, "and was trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris. He could make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe."
"I can't think how you get the materials for the men's meals. That stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork. There was fresh meat in it. Where did you get it?"
Old Hyde winked gravely.
"If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch it."
"You can trust me. Out with it."
"There's lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know where to look for it. Anatole"—this was his French friend—"put me up to it."
"I don't understand, Hyde. What do you mean?"
"I mean that her Majesty's Royal Picts have been feeding upon horseflesh. And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it is not too thin. That is my chief difficulty with what I get."
"It's only prejudice, I suppose," said McKay, laughing; "but it will be as well, I think, to keep your secret."
But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde's soups and savoury stews. Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its numbers in a marvellous way—it even returned more men for duty than corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command.
"I can't tell how you manage, Blythe," said his lordship; "I wish we had a few more regiments like the Picts."
"It is all system, my lord, and I have reason, I think, to be proud of ours—that and an excellent regimental staff. I have a capital quartermaster and a first-rate adjutant."
"I should like to see them," said Lord Raglan.
McKay and Hyde were brought forward and presented to the Commander-in-Chief.
"Mr. McKay, I know your name. You behaved admirably at Inkerman. I have just had a letter, too, about you from England."
"About me, my lord?" said Stanislas, astonished.
"Yes, from Lord Essendine, your cousin. And, to oblige him, no less than on your own account, I must renew my offer of an appointment on the headquarter staff."
McKay looked at the colonel and shook his head.
"You are very good, my lord, but I prefer to stay with my regiment."
"Colonel Blythe, you really must spare him to me," said Lord Raglan. "We want him, and more of his stamp."
"Your wishes are law, my lord. I should prefer to keep Mr. McKay, but I will not stand in his way if he desires to go. I shall not miss him so much now that everything is in good working order."
McKay was disposed still to protest, but Lord Raglan cut him short by saying—
"Come over to headquarters to-morrow, and report yourself to General Airey. As for you, my fine fellow," Lord Raglan went on, turning to Hyde, "you are still a non-commissioned officer, I see."
"Yes, my lord, I am only acting-quartermaster."
"Well, I shall recommend you for a commission at once."
"I do not want promotion, my lord," replied Hyde.
"He has refused it several times," added Blythe.
"That's all nonsense! He must take it; it's for the good of the service. I shall send forward your name," and, so saying, Lord Raglan rode off.
Stanislas took up his duties at headquarters next day. He was attached to the quartermaster-general's department, and was at once closely examined as to his capabilities and qualifications by his new chief, General Airey, a man of extraordinarily quick perception, and a shrewd judge of character.
"You speak French? Fluently? Let's see," and the general changed the conversation to that language. "That's all right. What else? Italian? German? Russian?—"
"Yes, sir, Russian."
"You ought to be very useful to us. But you will have to work hard, Mr. McKay, very hard. There are no drones here."
McKay soon found that out. From daybreak to midnight everyone at headquarters slaved incessantly. Horses stood ready saddled in the stables, and officers came and went at all hours. Men needed to possess iron constitution and indomitable energy to meet the demands upon their strength.
"Lord Raglan wants somebody to go at once to Kamiesch," said General Airey, coming out one morning to the room in which his staff-assistants worked and waited for special instructions. There was no one there but McKay, and he had that instant returned from Balaclava. "Have you been out this morning, Mr. McKay? Yes? Well, it can't be helped; you must go again."
"I am only too ready, sir."
"That's right. Lord Raglan does not spare himself, neither must you."
"I know, sir. How disgraceful it is that he should be attacked by the London newspapers and accused of doing nothing at all!"
"Yes, indeed! Why, he was writing by candle-light at six o'clock this morning, and after breakfast he saw us all, the heads of departments and three divisional generals. Since then he has been writing without intermission. By-and-by he will ride through the camp, seeing into everything with his own eyes."
"His lordship is indefatigable: it is the least we can do to follow his example," said McKay, as he hurried away.
This was one of many such conversations between our hero and his new chief. By degrees the quartermaster-general came to value the common-sense opinion of this practical young soldier, and to discuss with him unreservedly the more pressing needs of the hour.
There was as yet no improvement in the state of the Crimean army; on the contrary, as winter advanced, it deteriorated, pursued still by perverse ill-luck. The weather was terribly inclement, alternating between extremes. Heavy snowstorms and hard frosts were followed by thaws and drenching rains. The difficulties of transport continued supreme. Roads, mere spongy sloughs of despond, were nearly impassable, and the waste of baggage-animals was so great that soon few would remain.
To replace them with fresh supplies became of paramount importance.
"We must draw upon neighbouring countries," said General Airey, talking it over one day with McKay. "It ought to have been done sooner. But better now than not at all. I will send to the Levant, to Constantinople, Italy—"
"Spain," suggested McKay.
"To be sure! What do you suppose we could get from Spain?"
"Thousands of mules and plenty of horses."
"It is worth thinking of, although the distance is great," replied the quartermaster-general. "I will speak to Lord Raglan at once on the subject. By-the-way, I think you know Spanish?"
"Yes," said McKay, "fairly well."
"Then you had better get ready to start. If any one goes, I will send you."
This was tantamount to an order. General Airey's advice was certain to be taken by Lord Raglan.
Next morning McKay started for Gibraltar, specially accredited to the Governor of the fortress, and with full powers to buy and forward baggage-animals as expeditiously as possible.