After our cavalry had chased them afar they returned, and the march was commenced back towards Bushire.
It was a long, cold, wet, and weary one, but we saw the sea at last, and never did soldiers stretch their tired limbs in camp, or make their tea with greater pleasure, than did our poor fellows when they found themselves once more in their entrenched position.
Some of our officers were buried next day, but I was so glad to think that neither my dear master, nor Jock, nor I, were among the wounded.
Jock McNab was loud in his praises of what he was kind enough to call my pluck and coolness in the presence of the foe.
“I wadna gie pussy for onything,” he said, “and I’m sure enough she brought us luck, for never a man fell near me, either dead or wounded.”
This was my first battle then, Cracker, but it wasn’t my last by any means.
As master said, the enemy was beaten, but being beaten doesn’t by any means signify that they were conquered.
We remained quiet enough in camp now for many long monotonous days, during which the enemy did not think of disturbing us.
More troops began to arrive from India. The ships lay out yonder at anchor, but a high tumbling sea rolled in upon the beach, and it was difficult indeed to communicate with the vessels, so that the poor horses in camp began to suffer from hunger, and our own rations were sometimes scant enough.
The north-west wind too, blew loud and fierce, and brought with it clouds of dust, and a fine sort of sand that nothing on earth could keep out of camp. The cold at night was still bitter, but we had tents now, and I was cosy enough in master’s arms.