There was a little shuffling of feet at this, and the men looked uncomfortable.
“I am sorry to say,” continued the major, “that matters have come to such a grievous pass with us, that I have to make a statement, to which I want to hear your reply. I have no occasion to speak to you, for I know that you will to a man obey my orders to the last; but I want to hear what you will say.”
There was a pause here, and then the major went on,—
“Matters have come to this, my lads, that I see you can stagger on no longer with the loads you have to bear. In fact, two more poor fellows are down, and it will take every fighting man to carry the others. So I have been talking the matter over with the doctor, and it has come to this, that our only chance is to leave the sick and wounded, and push on, make for the river, in the hope of getting help, and coming back to save them. What do you say?”
“Lord love you, sir,” cried one of the sailors, “why, afore to-night them niggers would have sarved every one of our poor mates like the doctor, there, sarves the black beadles and butterflies—stuck a pin or a kris through ’em.”
It was a grim subject to jest upon, and it was a serious thing; but there was a roar of laughter from the men, and the doctor chuckled till he had to hold his sides, and then wipe his eyes.
“I hope not so bad as that,” said the major, when he had called Attention! “It is, however, I fear our only hope. Will some man among you speak?”
There was a shuffling and a whispering at this, and every man nudged his neighbour to begin, but no one spoke till the sergeant felt that it was his duty, and going along the front of both ranks he had a few words with the soldiers and the jacks. After this he retook his place and saluted.
“Men seem to be all of one opinion, sir,” he said gruffly.
“And what is that opinion?” inquired the major.