A BARRACK GHOST STORY.
‘Prisoner, have you any objection to be tried by me as president, or by any member of this court-martial?’ asked the field-officer who had been detailed for the duty of presiding over the court.
‘No, sir,’ I answered; for it was my most unenviable situation that morning to be brought to the courtroom for trial, having been ‘put back’ by my commanding officer a few days before on a charge of having been asleep on my post while on sentry; an offence characterised in my indictment as ‘conduct in prejudice to good order and military discipline.’
The members composing the court were then sworn, and the trial proceeded in the cumbrous fashion peculiar to military tribunals, the president laboriously writing down every word of the evidence as it was uttered. The sergeant who had been in charge of the guard at the time of my alleged offence was the principal witness against me, and he began to describe, with grotesquely ungrammatical volubility, how he had found me stretched on the ground asleep; but was at once pulled up short by the president, who ordered him to say what he had to say in as few words as possible.
‘Was the prisoner sober?’ asked one of the officers when the sergeant had finished his evidence.
‘Quite sober, sir,’ replied the man of stripes.
The men who composed the relief having corroborated the sergeant’s statement, I was called upon for my defence.
I therefore narrated to the court, that shortly before my two hours on duty had expired, I saw a white figure carrying a drawn sword pass close to my post; and that, being of a nervous, excitable temperament, I was so frightened that I fell to the ground in an unconscious state, and only recovered when I was roused by the sergeant of the guard.
‘Prisoner,’ remarked the president, ‘in my twenty years’ experience of the army, I have served on numerous courts-martial, and have heard all kinds of ingenious defences put forward by men in your present position in excuse of the offences with which they were charged; but your line of defence is the most remarkable that has come under my observation. Who, do you think, will credit a story of that description? Assuredly not I, for one.—Now, prisoner,’ continued the major in a kindly tone, ‘I must advise you that your action in submitting to the court a statement of that description is extremely injudicious. You will do yourself a positive injury by persevering in it, not only with regard to the probable extent of your punishment, but also to your reputation as a soldier. It will be far better for you simply to own that you were asleep. You are a young man who has served but six months in the regiment; so, under the circumstances, assuming that you adopt my suggestion, which is assuredly meant for your good, the court may think fit, consistently with the duty demanded of it by the hard and fast requirements of military law, to recommend a much lighter sentence of imprisonment than would be administered to an older and more experienced member of the service.’
‘I can only tell the truth, sir,’ I urged.
‘That, then, is your defence—that you were frightened by the figure you saw?’ asked the officer in a tone of vexation.
‘That is my defence, sir,’ I replied.
‘Very well,’ said the president, writing down my statement.—‘Escort, remove the prisoner.—Stop! About his character? Call the captain of his company.’
My captain answering the summons, stated that my conduct had been most exemplary; after which I received the command: ‘Left turn, quick march!’ and was removed to the guardroom; and the members of the court-martial began their deliberations on the duration of the period of imprisonment which they meant to administer to me.
I shall now relate the facts in connection with the appearance of the ‘figure’ before alluded to. At one o’clock on the morning of my arrest, I was posted on sentry in front of a wall which had been built on the face of a cliff overhanging the beach. Why that particular spot required guarding, when any attempt on the part of a soldier to break out of barracks would be equivalent to committing suicide, as the rock had a sheer unbroken descent of one hundred and fifty feet, was a matter of puzzling speculation to the men of all the regiments which in turn occupied the quarters I refer to. A tradition, however, which was retailed to me by an aged veteran who officiated as a barrack labourer, threw some light on the subject. Many years before, the colonel of a regiment which was about to leave the town in order to embark for India, placed a sentry on the spot, to prevent his men from throwing over the cliff the rubbish that accumulates in changing quarters; and the relieving regiment finding this man on duty, had supplied his place without troubling themselves about the why and wherefore; the post became in consequence a permanent institution, and a sentry guards the wall to this day.
The morning on which I was on guard was exceedingly cold and frosty. The moon shone brightly, throwing the dark shadow of the adjoining officers’ quarters half-way across the parade-ground in front. In the valley beneath I could see distinctly every gable and chimney of the houses of the old-fashioned town that nestled so cosily in the hollow between the precipitous cliffs. The moon was reflected brightly in the ocean to the south, and by its light I could even see the glittering bayonet of the sentry who guarded the government stores on the pier, a mile distant. Our gallant soldiers on duty, however, have but little regard for the picturesque; and like most men similarly situated, I was wearying for the termination of my two hours’ vigil, and little inclined to admire the surrounding scenery. At length the clock struck three; and I was at once filled with a feeling of cheery satisfaction at the immediate prospect of being relieved, and of returning to the warm guardroom and drinking a cup of hot coffee before turning off to sleep.
I heard the sentry on the gate lustily shout ‘Sentry-go!’ as a summons for the relief to turn out; and just as I was preparing to take a last turn on my post, I perceived, at the extremity of the shadow cast by the officers’ quarters, a ghostly figure in a long white robe, bearing in its hand a drawn sword. I endeavoured to shout for assistance, but was so ‘harrowed with fear and wonder,’ that I was unable to articulate a single word, but stood perfectly transfixed, staring at the apparition. It moved slowly past me; but when it turned round and raised its disengaged hand to its white head-covering, as if in salute, its aspect so filled me with terror, that being, as I mentioned before, of a nervous temperament, I fell to the ground, and only recovered consciousness when, a minute or two afterwards, I was vigorously shaken up by the sergeant of the guard.
That non-commissioned officer along with the men of the relief laughed heartily when I described the fright I had received, and remarked that I had been dreaming. The sergeant, however, performed the duty required of him by the rules of discipline in a most inexorable fashion. He deprived me of my arms and belts, and confined me in the prisoners’ quarters in the guardroom.
Next day, I was taken before the commanding officer, a hot-headed Welshman, whom I shall call Colonel Morgan, charged with having been asleep on my post. To him I related particulars of the mysterious figure I had seen; but my statement, instead of proving a satisfactory excuse for my offence, as I hoped it would, threw the worthy colonel into a state of great indignation, and he at once remitted me for trial by court-martial.
On the third day after the sitting of the court, I was informed that my sentence would be promulgated at forenoon parade. With a sinking heart, I heard the ‘assembly’ sounded, then the ‘fall in;’ and shortly afterwards the band played merrily, as if in mockery of my agitation.
Escorted by a file of the guard, I marched to the centre of the hollow square into which the regiment had been formed; and the adjutant read out my sentence, which was, that I should be imprisoned with hard labour for a period of eighty-four days. Appended to the confirmation of the proceedings of the court-martial by the general commanding the district was a note to the following effect: ‘Considering the nature of the prisoner’s defence, which was calculated to excite an uneasy feeling among the men of his regiment, I consider the punishment inflicted quite inadequate to the enormity of his offence.’
The next day, I was escorted, handcuffed, to a military prison about six miles distant, where, after having been medically examined and weighed, I was introduced to a most select assemblage of erring brethren of the sword, who were engaged in the exhilarating occupation of picking oakum, alternated with the agreeable muscular exercise of ‘shot’-drill.
The humiliating and degrading situation in which I found myself, through no fault of my own, made me, naturally enough, deeply regret my folly in having joined the army, and excited within me many unpleasant reflections on the good prospects in civil life which I had thrown to the winds. Like Mickey Free’s father, in Lever’s Charles O’Malley, I heartily ejaculated: ‘Bad luck to the hand that held the hammer that struck the shilling that listed me!’
Now for the sequel to my ghost story, which was related to me when I was released from durance vile.
Between two and three o’clock on the morning of the day after I was taken to prison, a man came screaming into the guardroom of the barracks, exhibiting symptoms of the most extreme terror, and declaring that he, too, had seen the figure while on sentry; and his description of its appearance was precisely similar to mine.
The sergeant of the guard at once rushed to the officers’ quarters, woke up the adjutant, and informed him of the ghost’s alleged reappearance. A hue-and-cry was at once instituted; and the orderly sergeants having been roused, a ‘check-roll’ was called, to ascertain whether any man had left his room for the purpose of playing a practical joke. Every nook and cranny in barracks, from the officers’ quarters to the wash-houses, were rigidly examined; but the spectre had apparently vanished into thin air, leaving all the regiment in a state of unpleasant suspense.
‘What’s all the row?’ shouted the colonel from the window of his room, he having been awakened by the unusual commotion in barracks.
‘The ghost has appeared again, sir,’ replied the adjutant.
‘Have you caught him?’
‘No, sir.’
‘If you do, put him, white sheet and all, in the guardroom. I should very much like to see the gentleman,’ remarked the colonel as he closed the sash of his window and returned to bed.
That morning, at orderly hour, Colonel Morgan remitted the unfortunate fellow who, like me, had been scared by the mysterious visitant, for trial by court-martial, declaring that he would put an effectual check on these absurd fancies of the sentries; and immediately before the usual parade he delivered a most characteristic warning to the regiment on the subject. After describing the condign punishment which any practical joker, whether officer or private, might expect if caught in the act of playing the ghost, the commanding officer furiously exclaimed: ‘When a soldier is on duty, I expect that he will stick to his post, even supposing the Evil One himself should make his appearance; and I will try by court-martial any man who dares to act contrary to my express injunctions.’
That afternoon, however, when the guard mounted, the adjutant privately gave orders that the oldest soldier should be detailed for the second relief on the haunted post; and this selection fell on a brawny Yorkshireman, a Crimean and Indian veteran named Sykes. Sykes at once intimated it as his intention to have a shot at the spectre; and being filled with a superstitious belief in the efficacy of a silver bullet when fired at a visitor from the world of spirits, vowed that he would hammer up his day’s pay of sixpence and place it in a cartridge, to make sure of ‘doing for’ the ghost, even although he knew the operation referred to would spoil the price of a quart of beer.
The sergeant of the guard having seriously inquired at the adjutant, whether, in the event of the figure again making its appearance, the sentry would be empowered to fire at it—
‘I think not,’ the officer laughingly observed. ‘If it is a real ghost, then I’m afraid a bullet won’t be of much service. If it is a practical joker, then we’ll make it “hot” enough for him without shooting him.’
That evening at mess, the appearance of the spectre was the general theme of conversation among the officers; but all of them, however, expressed their incredulity with regard to the story. A few of the youngsters, whose curiosity was strongly excited on the subject, made up their minds to keep watch beside the sentry, so as to pounce on the spirit when it made its appearance, and arranged to take with them a pet bulldog belonging to the colonel, to assist in the operation.
‘Won’t you join us, sir?’ asked a young ensign, addressing the commanding officer.
‘I think not,’ he replied. ‘I am tired, and shall go to bed. If you catch the ghost—which I suspect is likely to be one of the men—clap him in irons and put him in a cell. I’ll attend to him to-morrow.’
When Colonel Morgan left the messroom, he visited the haunted post before retiring to his quarters, which were close at hand. After replying to the sentry’s challenge, he asked Sykes: ‘Have you seen anything as yet?’
‘Not yet, sir,’ replied the man.
‘I don’t think that it is likely you will either,’ remarked the colonel with a laugh as he retired to his room.
Shortly afterwards, when the clock struck two, the young officers left the messroom and cautiously stole over the barrack square to the place where ‘the spirit held his wont to walk.’ Poor Sykes was very glad of their company; for, though he was a man of undoubted pluck, and greatly respected in the regiment for his pugilistic prowess, he was not at all bright at the prospect of tackling the ghost all by himself. He paced about on his post, keeping a sharp lookout, and the officers crouched under the shadow of the wall; while the dog took up its quarters in the sentry-box. A little before three, they were startled by the abrupt appearance of the apparition, which carried as before a drawn sword.
‘Who comes there?’ shouted Sykes, bringing his rifle to the ‘charge.’
The spectre made no answer, but slowly raised its left hand to its forehead.
The dog, with a loud growl, sprang out of the box and rushed open-mouthed at the figure; but when he approached it, he began to wag his tail, and evinced symptoms of great satisfaction. The officers and the sentry at once surrounded the ghost, and found, to their most intense astonishment, that it was no other than Colonel Morgan himself, attired in his night-dress, in a state of somnambulism!
Aware of the danger of waking him while in that condition, they followed him to his room, whither he almost immediately returned, and there they saw him sheathe his sword and return to bed seemingly oblivious of their presence.
Next morning, he was apprised of the circumstances of the case; and the poor colonel was naturally very much concerned on learning the nature of the malady of which he had been an unconscious victim. Of course his first action was to write an explanation to the general, with a request for my release; and his next, to publish in regimental orders his regret for the trouble he had unwittingly occasioned.
Several red-tape formalities had to be gone through; and it was some days before I was astonished and delighted by an intimation from the prison governor that I was free; and was handed over to the charge of a corporal, who had been sent to bring me to my regiment. Whenever I entered the barracks, I was ordered to proceed at once to the commanding officer’s quarters. Colonel Morgan shook hands with me, and expressed his extreme concern that he had been the innocent cause of my having been subjected to such ignominy.
‘No wonder that I frightened you, my lad,’ he observed with a smile. After informing me that he was about to proceed on leave—with the intention of undergoing a course of medical treatment to cure him of his dangerous propensity to walk in his sleep—he presented me with five pounds by way of solatium; and further gratified me by saying, that having ascertained I was of good character and well educated, he had that day placed me in orders as having been appointed lance-corporal. ‘Always behave yourself, my lad, and I shan’t forget you,’ said the colonel; and I left his quarters perfectly overjoyed with my good-luck, scarcely believing that the pleasant, affable, kindly gentleman with whom I had conversed was the hectoring, bullying commander, who was the terror of his regiment.
The colonel faithfully kept his word to me. When he rejoined the corps, completely cured of his complaint, I was promoted rapidly; and eight years subsequently, through the influence of my patron, General Morgan, I was gazetted as quartermaster of my regiment.