CHAPTER XXVI.
THE ROUTE.
The time was approaching now, when my comrades and I would have "to go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with manly hearts;" for orders came from the Horse Guards that the regiment should be held in readiness for foreign service in a tropical climate. The depôt was formed; kits were carefully inspected and reduced. The officers provided themselves with those suits of white jean or linen, which our more limited means denied the poor rank and file; but our lieutenant-colonel, the Earl of Kildonan (who had returned to Scotland to be married), was generous as he was brave and noble, and from his own purse supplied the regiment with many necessary articles of comfort which the niggard government we served withheld. He gave to every man a white canvas frock, or fatigue dress, for boardship, with a pint of port on the day the route came, to drink the health of his young countess, which we all did, with three cheers, in the barrack-yard of Kingston-upon-Hull, and with joyous hearts; for a little kindness goes a long way in the army, and no men's regard is more easily won than that of soldiers.
I write from experience, for I know them well. Every soldier has a comrade, who brings his dinner when on duty, or attends to his little wants when sick, for all these kind offices are reciprocal; and it was my good fortune to find one, than whom no better or braver fellow ever wore the scarlet and blue of the old fusiliers. This was honest Tom Telfer, the same runaway lad whom Sergeant Drumbirrel had concealed in the sack near Compton Rennel, and who fell to my lot at Hull, under rather chivalrous circumstances, though he was deemed a very raw recruit, and as such was ordered to remain with the depôt.
When the order to prepare for foreign service came, it stated that only two married women would be permitted to go for every hundred men; and as we had many wives in the fusiliers, the balloting caused serious anxiety in the barrack. That it might be fairly and justly conducted in our company, old Captain Glendonwyn, who had spent the best years of a long life in the regiment, and was loved by us all, attended in person. Tickets in proportion to the number of married women were put into Sergeant Drumbirrel's bearskin cap. Two of these were marked "to go," the rest were blanks. It was a heart-rending scene to witness the pale and trembling women put in their hands, and lingeringly draw forth the paper, which, when unfolded, made them perhaps shriek and cast themselves on their husband's breast. Poor old Captain Glendonwyn said and did all that was possible to console the disappointed and afflicted; but all proved fruitless. One woman, a drunken and worthless character, detested by the whole company, uttered a loud and coarse hurrah, adding,—
"Luck and ould Ireland for ever!"
She was Mahoney's wife, who had drawn a prize "to go," and all present exchanged glances of disappointment; for "Mother Mahoney," as we named her, could very well have been spared.
The next who advanced was a poor young English girl, a lance-corporal's wife, in a few weeks to become a mother.
Thrice she put in her trembling hand, while her eyes were closed, and her teeth clenched. I looked at her husband. Pale as death, the poor fellow was watching her with, nervous anxiety.
"Take courage, my bairn," said Glendonwyn, who always spoke Scotch, patting her kindly on the shoulder.
"Oh, sir, I need it sorely," said she.