‘Say no more, Mrs Callon. What I did for Tom he would have done for me. We all did our best in the war.’
‘It’s most kind of you to say so, sir, and coming from one who this very day I saw our blessed Queen, with her own hands, present a medal to, I take the liberty of saying it’s a great honour, and if you would shake hands with me’——
‘I’ll do more, Mrs Callon; I’ll kiss you,’ and Jack suited the action to the word, and then said, ‘You must see my mother and sisters, Mrs Callon, and have a cup of tea, while Tom and I have a talk.’
Over a glass of wine Tom related how he had his arm amputated at Scutari and been invalided home, and how, while he had been in hospital, Colonel Leland and his daughter had visited the place, and seeing his name and regiment above his bed had asked him if he knew Jack Blair. Then he had told his tale, and the colonel had taken an interest in him, and when he was well had given him a position as a sort of under-bailiff on his estate.
‘So you see, Jack,’ he concluded, ‘as you say I may still call you so, I’m far better off, and quite as happy as if I’d remained in the service, and also I am able to keep the old mother in comfort, which I could not otherwise have done.’
‘Tom, you’ll dine with me to-night,’ said Jack; and so Tom Callon was of the party.
When after dinner the ladies had retired—which Captain Leland seemed to be in no hurry that they should do, holding open the door for them, and his eyes following Miss Molly up the stair—the gentlemen, all soldiers, most of whom had ridden in that fatal and historic charge, settled down to their wine and cigars. The toast of the Queen was duly drunk, and then Sergeant Linham, who was a little flushed, rose to his feet. He looked round him and blew violently down his nose.
‘Gentlemen and comrades,’ he said, ‘there are some here who never served in the glorious old 17th, some who did not share the dangers of the charge at Balaclava; but these I am sure will be as ready to drink my toast as those who did. Gentlemen, I give you the gallant four hundred who gave their lives for their country on that day.’
The toast was drunk amidst dead silence, and then Linham, filling his glass again, continued, ‘Ha, hum! gentlemen, though most here are officers, you will grant a plain soldier a word. I want to give you the health of one whom I’m proud to call friend—Jack Blair. The Queen, God bless her, has honoured him to-day, has honoured me, has honoured the old “Death or Glory Boys,” has honoured us all in honouring him. She bestowed on him the greatest prize a soldier can win, the Victoria Cross, and I ask you—I ask you all—who is there more worthy to be honoured?’
There was no answer.