The lively adventures of Gavin Hamilton

by Molly Elliot Seawell

For Gavin, it was a time as nearly free from care and sorrow as often comes on this planet. He had got his promotion, and blossomed forth as a full lieutenant. He ardently loved the soldier’s life; he appreciated greatly his extreme good fortune, and although he had but little money, he required but little while the campaign lasted. It is true he was beginning to acquire tastes very much above the rigid poverty in which he had been reared, and sometimes thought rather ruefully of the slenderness of his pay if he should be in Vienna the next winter, which he ardently hoped he would. But with the joyous carelessness of youth, he considered it settled that as soon as he was twenty-one, which would be in December, he would demand his mother’s recognition by his father, and force Sir Gavin to make Lady Hamilton a handsome allowance. Gavin did not trouble himself very much with the details and difficulties of this brilliant scheme, but only figured out how he would manage to live when it would be no longer necessary for him to divide his scanty pay with his mother. He sometimes talked about it to St. Arnaud, but St. Arnaud could enlighten him very little as to his rights under the English laws. However, it is very easy at twenty, with health and strength and an officer’s commission and a good horse, to throw future perplexities to the winds. This was what Gavin Hamilton did. He was made happy by frequent letters from his mother, who always wrote cheerfully, and to whom, Gavin knew, her present time of rest and peace and hope was blessed. To live upon a little money, and to spend a part of every day in teaching Freda and Gretchen, was no hardship to one who had known Lady Hamilton’s sad vicissitudes. Unlike Gavin, she did not look for any redress from Sir Gavin Hamilton for a long time to come. Not until Gavin himself had reached maturity and considerable rank did she think he would he able to enter into a contest for his rights; but it was enough for her to know that she was at last recognized as Sir Gavin Hamilton’s lawful wife, and that Gavin was tacitly allowed the position that was his by every right.

In August the battle of Zorndorf had been fought, in which Frederick had very handsomely beaten the Russians under General Fermor, and Marshal Daun, with his usual caution, had fallen back behind Dresden to Stolpen, where he took up, as always, a strong position. There, for four weeks, he faced Frederick, and withstood much provocation to do battle, knowing that every day Frederick’s supplies were getting shorter, and the longer the battle was delayed the worse the case of the King of Prussia.

Loudon’s corps had the extreme outpost, and barred the road to Bautzen, where the Prussians had their magazines of food and ammunition. During all the month of September there was continual manœuvring and fighting for this road to Bautzen. But General Loudon managed to dispose of all whom Frederick sent against him, until one October day, Frederick himself, with his whole force, took up his march for Bautzen. Then there was great commotion in the whole Austrian army, and in Loudon’s corps especially. There was much riding to and fro in the mountain roads and passes, quick mustering of the grenadiers, but it was known tolerably early that the movement was one in force, and that General Loudon could by no means stop it, and could only harass and delay it, which was done with a will. But by sunset the attempt was given over, and it was seen that the next move in the game must be by Marshal Daun with his whole army.

Toward night, as Gavin and St. Arnaud were making ready to bivouac with their men, General Loudon and his staff rode by. The general stopped and beckoned to Gavin.

“Your horse appears to be fresh,” said he, “and I wish to send a last dispatch to Marshal Daun to-night. Take a small escort, and carry this to Stolpen as quickly as possible. You should be able to bring me a reply before daylight to-morrow morning. Marshal Daun will provide you with fresh horses;” and tearing a leaf out of his pocket-book, and using his hat for a writing-desk, he scribbled a few lines in pencil, addressed them to Marshal Daun, and rode on.

It did not take Gavin five minutes to mount and be off, with a couple of troopers trotting behind him. The night was falling, and it grew dark in the mountain fastnesses; but so much had Gavin and his men ridden over those tortuous and rocky roads in the last few weeks, that not only they, but their horses, knew the way perfectly. They rode on steadily, occasionally meeting with returning couriers; but by nine o’clock they seemed to be the only travellers on the road. They were passing through a dense woodland, hemmed in on each side of the road by rocky walls, when suddenly a small party of men appeared in their path, swiftly and silently, as shadows rising from the earth. Gavin had no apprehension of an enemy, and supposed he was meeting a belated party of Austrians. This was confirmed when the person, apparently an officer, at the head of the number, rode up to Gavin, and said:

“I presume that you are an officer, and going toward Stolpen.”

“You are right,” answered Gavin, trying to make out in the half darkness the uniform of the person addressing him.

“Then, may I ask you to deliver a letter to Marshal Daun? I am not at liberty to say from whom it is, but it will be a favour to Marshal Daun if you can contrive it into his hands.”

Gavin hesitated for a moment as the stranger drew a letter from his breast; and then, to Gavin’s infinite surprise, threw the letter on the ground, and the whole party galloped off. One of Gavin’s troopers, dismounting, picked the letter up, and striking his flint, the address was easily read. It was to his Excellency, Field-Marshal Daun.