The lively adventures of Gavin Hamilton

by Molly Elliot Seawell

“And shouts of victory, and the knowledge of having done one’s duty, and the sweet acclaims of all we love when we return,” answered Gavin.

“I am older than you, and have seen more of war,” was St. Arnaud’s reply.

Day broke next morning upon a fair and cloudless world. It continued cool for the season, and the sun was not too warm to drive away the freshness of the air. By sunrise they were on the march again, and by noon Frederick, at his great camp of Prossnitz, saw through his glass masses of Austrians appearing through the trees and taking post on the opposite heights, and turning to his aide, said:

“Those Austrians are learning to march, though!”

In the Prussian army it was thought that battle was meant, and troops were hurried forward to that side of the fortress. But Loudon, stealthily creeping up on the other side, engaging such force as was left—eleven hundred grenadiers—without firing a shot or losing a man double-quicked it into the fortress. By the afternoon the Austrians had melted out of sight, and the garrison was stronger by eleven hundred men.

In this demonstration on the other side of the fortress St. Arnaud’s command had taken part. It was well understood that the action was a mere feint to cover the grenadiers who were running into the fortress, and St. Arnaud had privately warned Gavin against leading his troop too far, knowing that a single troop may bring on a general engagement. Gavin promised faithfully to remember this, and did, until finding himself, for the first time, close to a small body of Prussian infantry, in an old apple orchard, he suddenly dashed forward, waving his sword frantically, and yelling for his men to come on. The Prussians were not to be frightened by that sort of thing, and coolly waiting, partly protected by the trees and undergrowth, received the Austrians with a volley. One trooper rolled out of his saddle; the sight maddened the rest, and the first thing St. Arnaud knew he was in the midst of a sharp skirmish. The Prussians stood their ground, and as the Austrians had no infantry at hand, it took some time to dislodge them. Nor was it done without loss on the Austrian side. At last, however, the Prussians began a backward movement, in perfect order, and without losing a man. St. Arnaud, glad to have them go on almost any terms, was amazed and infuriated to hear Gavin shouting to his men, and to see them following him at a gallop, under the trees, toward the wall at the farther end of the orchard, where the Prussians could ask no better place to make a stand. In vain the bugler rent the air with the piercing notes of the recall. Gavin only turned, and waving his sword at St. Arnaud plunged ahead. St. Arnaud, wild with anxiety, sent an orderly after him with peremptory orders to return; but Gavin kept on. St. Arnaud, sending a number of his men around in an effort to flank the Prussians, was presently relieved to see some of Gavin’s troopers straggling back. And last of all he saw Gavin, with a man lying across the rump of his horse, making his way out of the orchard. At that moment General Loudon, with a single staff-officer, rode up.

“Captain St. Arnaud,” said he in a voice of suppressed anger, “I am amazed at what I see. If this firing is heard, it may bring the Prussians on our backs in such force that not only our grenadiers will not get into the fortress, but they may be captured. My orders were, distinctly, there should be no fighting, if possible. Here I see a part of your command following the enemy into a position where a hundred of them could hold their own against a thousand cavalry.”

St. Arnaud was in a rage with Gavin, and thinking it would be the best thing in the world for Gavin to get then and there the rebuke he deserved, replied firmly:

“It is not I, sir, who has disobeyed your orders. Lieutenant Hamilton’s impetuosity led him into this, and I have been trying to recall him for the last half hour. Here is Lieutenant Hamilton now.”

Gavin rode up. An overhanging bough had grazed his nose and made it bleed, and at the same time had given him a black and swollen eye. And another bough had caught in his coat and torn it nearly off his body. But these minor particulars were lost in the vast and expansive grin which wreathed his face. The thought that illumined his mind and emblazoned his countenance was this: