Ensign Knightley | Page 4

"Branded, d'ye see? Branded. There's
more besides." He set his foot on the chair and stripped the silk
stocking down his leg. Just above the ankle there was a broad indent
where a fetter had bitten into the flesh. "I have dragged a chain, you see;
not like you among the Moors, but here in Tangier, on that damned
Mole, in sight of these my brother officers. By the Lord, Knightley, I
tell you you have had the better part of it."
"You!" cried Knightley. "You dragged a chain on Tangier Mole? For
what offence?" And he added, with a genuine tenderness, "There was
no disgrace in't, I'll warrant."
Major Shackleton half checked an exclamation, and turned it into a

cough. Scrope leaned right across the table and stared straight into
Knightley's eyes.
"The offence was a duel," he answered steadily, "fought on the night of
January 6th two years ago."
Knightley's face clouded for an instant. "The night when I was
captured," he said timidly.
"Yes."
The officers drew closer about the table, and seemed to hold their
breath, as the strange catechism proceeded.
"With whom did you fight?" asked Knightley.
"With a very good friend of mine," replied Scrope, in a hard, even
voice.
"On what account?"
"A woman."
Knightley laughed with a man's amused leniency for such escapades
when he himself is in no way hurt by them.
"I said there would be no disgrace in't, Harry," he said, with a smile of
triumph.
The heads of the listeners, which had bunched together, were suddenly
drawn back. A dark flush of anger overspread Scrope's face, and the
veins ridged up upon his forehead. Some impatient speech was on the
tip of his tongue, when the Major interposed.
"What's this talk of penalties? Where's the sense of it? Scrope paid the
price of his fault. He was admitted to the ranks afterwards. He won a
lieutenancy by sheer bravery in the field. For all we know he may be
again a captain to-morrow. Anyhow he wears the King's uniform. It is a
badge of service which levels us all from Ensign to Major in an
equality of esteem."
Scrope bowed to the Major and drew back from the table. The other
officers shuffled and moved in a welcome relief from the strain of their
expectancy, and Knightley's thoughts were diverted by Shackleton's
words to a quite different subject. For he picked with his fingers at the
Moorish robe he wore and "I too wore the King's uniform," he pleaded
wistfully.
"And shall do so again, thank God," responded the Major heartily.
Knightley started up from his chair; his face lightened unaccountably.
"You mean that?" he asked eagerly. "Yes, yes, you mean it! Then let it

be to-night--now--even before I sup. As long as I wear these chains, as
long as I wear this dress, I can feel the driver's whip curl about my
shoulders." He parted the robe as he spoke, and showed that underneath
he wore only a coarse sack which reached to his knees, with a hole cut
in it for his head.
"True, you have worn the chains too long," said the Major. "I should
have had them knocked off before, but--" he paused for a second, "but
your coming so surprised me that of a truth I forgot," he continued
lamely. Then he turned to Tessin. "See to it, Tessin! Ensign Barbour of
the Tangier Foot was killed to-day. He was quartered in the
Main-Guard. Take Knightley to his quarters and see what you can do.
By the way, Knightley, there's a question I should have put to you
before. By what road did you come in?"
"Down Teviot Hill past the Henrietta Fort. The Moors brought me
down from Mequinez to interpret between them and their prisoners. I
escaped last night."
"Past the Henrietta Fort?" replied the Major. "Then you can help us, for
that way we make our sortie."
"To relieve the Charles Fort?" said Knightley. "I guessed the Charles
Fort was surrounded, for I heard one man on the Tangier wall shouting
through a speaking trumpet to the Charles Fort garrison. But it will not
be easy to relieve them. The Moors are entrenched between. There are
three trenches. I should never have crawled through them, but that I
stripped a dead Moor of his robe."
"Three trenches," said Tessin, with a shrug of the shoulders.
"Yes, three. The two nearest to Tangier may be carried. But the third--it
is deep, twelve feet at the least, and wide, at the least eight yards. The
sides are steep and slippery with the rain."
"A grave, then," said Scrope carelessly; "a grave that will hold many
before the evening falls. It is well they made it wide and deep enough."
The sombre words knocked upon