There Moore occupied his time in such splendid training of the regiments under his control, that throughout the long years of the Peninsular War, after he himself had passed away, the stamp of his spirit rested upon them, the impress of his enthusiasm and of his magnificent discipline made them the foremost soldiers in the British Army. Among these were the regiments which, as "The Reserve," bore the brunt of the fighting in Moore's famous "Retreat," and which were known in Spain and at Waterloo as Wellington's invincible "Light Brigade." Wellington used those regiments for the saving of Europe; but Moore made and tempered the weapon which was to be wielded by Wellington.
To the delight of Jack Keene, an opportunity offered itself whereby he might effect an exchange into one of the Shorncliffe regiments.
His semi-worshipping admiration for Moore was a reflection, an echo, of Ivor's deeper devotion. As yet he had seen little of the General, having met him but a few times. But long before they came together he had cherished a warm interest in the man—an interest awakened first in boyish days by Ivor's vivid descriptions of campaigning in the West Indies; descriptions of which Moore was always the chief figure. Jack had seized with avidity upon all such details.
When at length the two met, he could feel no wonder at Ivor's intense and reverent love for Moore. He counted himself thenceforward ready to live or to die for him, and one day in a fit of confidence he said so to Polly.
"Nay, Jack; live for him. Do not wish to die for him," pleaded Polly. "That will be the best."
Jack was not so sure. He could not forget a story told him long before by Ivor, of a certain heroic Guardsman in the West Indies—a man who had flung himself between Moore and the musket which was aimed pointblank at the latter, thus giving his life for that of his officer. But it was not needful for Jack to explain how readily he would do the same. He merely smiled, and remarked, "In all England there is no other his equal. Of that I am assured."
To Jack's disappointment General Moore had been summoned away from Bath on important duty; and intercourse between them came for the moment to a close. The young subaltern, however, found it possible to pursue acquaintance with the General's mother and sister; and gentle old Mrs. Moore had a great deal to say about this most idolised son of hers, where she found a sympathetic listener. Few listeners could have been more sympathetic than Jack Keene, who never grew tired of the subject. Mrs. Moore had other sons besides the General; but it was noticed that when she referred to him he was always distinctively—"My son," —not "My eldest son," nor "My son, John." This did not touch the close friendship between Moore and his brothers, one of whom was a Naval officer of mark.
Through these summer weeks of 1803 Polly was longing for Captain Ivor to come home. It was sad to think of him as a prisoner, forced to stay in a foreign land. She knew too that any day Jack might be ordered off; and one day, as she had feared, he rushed in, to tell them that he would be leaving immediately for Shorncliffe Camp, there to await Napoleon's first attempt to land on English soil.
The news was less a matter for congratulation to them than to Jack himself. At Sandgate he would be in the very forefront of the peril which threatened the land. Mrs. Fairbank had to rub her large horn spectacles more than once; and she was disposed to blame Jack for not referring the question to herself, before he accepted the offer of an exchange. Molly looked curiously at Jack, and asked, "Are you glad to say good-bye to us all?"
"Not glad to say good-bye, but glad to be going. People must say good-bye sometimes, Molly. And I shall be fighting under the best and bravest man that ever lived. Cannot you understand that?"