It was on a fine April morning that Jack and his troop were returning from exercising the horses when they saw coming along the road towards them a Lancer in full-dress, his plume and lance-flags fluttering in the wind. On reaching Cornet Leland, the trooper reined in, brought his lance to the ‘carry,’ and handed the officer a long blue official envelope.
Cornet Leland read quickly; then turning to his men cried, ‘Hurrah, boys, we’re under orders for the East; we’ve got the route. We join headquarters at once.’
For a moment the troopers gazed at one another; then a cheer burst from them that made the occupants of the houses around come running to their windows to see what was the matter.
The orderly returned to Hounslow the richer by half-a-crown, and Cornet Leland, giving his troop the word, started at a trot for their quarters.
From the moment the news was received there was but one topic of conversation—war was declared and the 17th were going. Jack went over to Rose Cottage that evening and found a sorrowful family. They had already seen in the papers that Jack’s regiment was under orders for the East, and the news filled them with consternation.
Jack had to reason with his relatives. ‘It’s a soldier’s duty to fight,’ he said; ‘that is what we are paid and trained for.’
But his arguments did little to console his relatives. It was all right for others to go; but for their own Jack—that was different. Still, the parting had to come, and it was so painful that Jack felt he could not endure another such ordeal before he embarked. It unnerved him, and for worlds he would not appear downcast before his comrades.
Jack’s troop rejoined headquarters and found everything in a state of great excitement. Will was delighted to have Jack with him again, and told him all the news. The next morning headquarters, with which was Napper, started for Portsmouth, whence they were to embark; the scenes of parting before the men mounted—wives, fathers, children, snatching a last embrace, a final kiss, as the trumpet sounded the parade—being very painful.
When next morning Jack’s troop paraded, the scenes of the day before were repeated. As they passed through the gates with the band of a Dragoon regiment playing ‘Annie Laurie,’ pale-faced women clung to the stirrup-leathers of many of the men and went with them among the cheering thousands outside. About a mile from the barracks the trumpet sounded the ‘trot,’ and these poor wretches were left behind.
After a time the ‘walk march’ was again resumed, and the men broke out into a song at that time very popular, the words of which the troops slightly altered to suit the war-fever: