He smoked all day long, and even at nights there was an eternal globe of fire glowing through his curtains—he evidently was not destined to be prematurely cremated.
CHAPTER VIII.
UNDER ORDERS.
“He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cæsar,
And give direction.”
Shakespeare.
Facile est descensus! It was one thing to be pulled against a strong stream; quite another to have it in our favour. It was one thing to ascend the river, a solitary European in the company of many natives, but very different to be one of a fleet going down with some two hundred Europeans fully armed, men of training and renown, who had won many a hard-contested fight in the face of fearful odds.
I do not suppose that any regiment had seen more active service than the old 1st Bengal Fusiliers, or had been more instrumental in conquering and defending our vast Asiatic possessions.
In physique they could not on the whole compare with their brother regiment on the Madras side. The reason was obvious; the constant gaps occurring in their well-tried ranks had to be filled by an annual supply of young recruits, while the Madras contingent were, from their position, deprived of the opportunities of seeing such service till the Mutiny broke out, when they demonstrated unmistakably that their fighting qualities were only lying dormant, and waiting for an opportunity to come to the fore.
With either regiment you might go anywhere and accomplish anything that lay within the power of man; and, though several decades now lie buried with the past, I doubt not but they are still the same, only called by different names.
We had approached Pegu under difficulties, creeping along in a nervous, spasmodic manner, and on the look-out for unknown dangers at every turn; we left it at such a pace, that even the monkeys looked askance at us, all their former anger now changed to sheer amazement.