While he was in the West Indies, Denham Ivor, then a young subaltern of eighteen, was first thrown under the fascinating influence of Moore, having been for years one of his warmest admirers. As usual, numberless opportunities occurred for the display of personal bravery, in which Moore always shone. On one occasion he had a most narrow escape. At the storming of the all but impregnable fortification of Morne Fortuné in St. Lucia, as he led a desperate charge against the French, shouting till nearly voiceless, "Forward, forward! We have almost gained the heights!" a musket was aimed point-blank at him. One half second more, and Moore's career would have been ended; but a private grenadier, seeing his peril, flung himself between, received the bullet meant for him, and was caught in Moore's arms as he fell dead.
Ivor too had won laurels and promotion in those days of hard fighting. Moore's influence over the younger officers was unrivalled; and many a one besides Ivor could look back, long years after, with the knowledge that John Moore had been the making of him, not only as a soldier, but as a man. Moore shaped the characters of those with whom he had to do.
Somewhat later, when St. Lucia had been wrested from the French, he was appointed Commandant and Governor of the island; no easy post, for the negroes had revolted, in imitation of the recent French Revolution, and they were fearfully cruel and barbarous in their methods of warfare. Abercrombie kept Moore there, long after the latter had, on account of illness, begged to be released from the charge, because he knew of no other man capable of taking his place.
While striving to put down the rebels, or "brigands," as they were called, Moore had a dangerous attack of fever. On his recovery from it and from a severe relapse, he was again hard at work, rising at six in the morning and often undertaking a thirty-miles march in the day, till again laid low with a desperate attack of yellow fever, which all but carried him off. But for the devotion of Anderson and of his own French servant François,[3] he could not possibly have struggled through. Then, with broken health, he was ordered home; and he reached London a mere wreck of his old self.
(To be continued.)
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