‘Have you caught him?’
‘No, sir.’
‘If you do, put him, white sheet and all, in the guardroom. I should very much like to see the gentleman,’ remarked the colonel as he closed the sash of his window and returned to bed.
That morning, at orderly hour, Colonel Morgan remitted the unfortunate fellow who, like me, had been scared by the mysterious visitant, for trial by court-martial, declaring that he would put an effectual check on these absurd fancies of the sentries; and immediately before the usual parade he delivered a most characteristic warning to the regiment on the subject. After describing the condign punishment which any practical joker, whether officer or private, might expect if caught in the act of playing the ghost, the commanding officer furiously exclaimed: ‘When a soldier is on duty, I expect that he will stick to his post, even supposing the Evil One himself should make his appearance; and I will try by court-martial any man who dares to act contrary to my express injunctions.’
That afternoon, however, when the guard mounted, the adjutant privately gave orders that the oldest soldier should be detailed for the second relief on the haunted post; and this selection fell on a brawny Yorkshireman, a Crimean and Indian veteran named Sykes. Sykes at once intimated it as his intention to have a shot at the spectre; and being filled with a superstitious belief in the efficacy of a silver bullet when fired at a visitor from the world of spirits, vowed that he would hammer up his day’s pay of sixpence and place it in a cartridge, to make sure of ‘doing for’ the ghost, even although he knew the operation referred to would spoil the price of a quart of beer.
The sergeant of the guard having seriously inquired at the adjutant, whether, in the event of the figure again making its appearance, the sentry would be empowered to fire at it—
‘I think not,’ the officer laughingly observed. ‘If it is a real ghost, then I’m afraid a bullet won’t be of much service. If it is a practical joker, then we’ll make it “hot” enough for him without shooting him.’
That evening at mess, the appearance of the spectre was the general theme of conversation among the officers; but all of them, however, expressed their incredulity with regard to the story. A few of the youngsters, whose curiosity was strongly excited on the subject, made up their minds to keep watch beside the sentry, so as to pounce on the spirit when it made its appearance, and arranged to take with them a pet bulldog belonging to the colonel, to assist in the operation.
‘Won’t you join us, sir?’ asked a young ensign, addressing the commanding officer.
‘I think not,’ he replied. ‘I am tired, and shall go to bed. If you catch the ghost—which I suspect is likely to be one of the men—clap him in irons and put him in a cell. I’ll attend to him to-morrow.’