"Sit down, my dear lad, and let's have a bit of a chat," continued the
general. "This is a short notice."
"Short, sir?" I said wonderingly.
"Oh yes; very. You are to go out in the Jumna on the twenty-ninth.
There's just three weeks for preparation and the good-byes."
"So soon, sir?" I cried excitedly.
"Yes, so soon. There's a Captain Brace going out in charge of a draft of
men from Warley--recruits, of course. You go under his charge; so you
will have to be brisk in ordering your outfit."
"Yes, sir," I said. "I must write to my father to-day about money."
"By all means," said the general, smiling; and I saw what a stupid thing
I had said. "You sail in three weeks, long before your father could get
your letter, eh?"
"Yes, sir, of course," I said confusedly.
"But that's all right, my boy. Your father authorised me in his last
letters to see that you had a proper military outfit, and draw upon him;
so you need be under no apprehension. You will have to run the colonel
up a pretty good bill; so be careful not to get superfluous things. By the
way, there's a letter for you. Have you got it?"
"No, sir," I said; "I've been in my room. I'll go and--"
"No, no; sit still," said the general, ringing. "I'll have it brought here."
He told the servant to fetch the letter, and sat chatting pleasantly till the
man returned with an old-fashioned-looking missive, ornamented with
a great red seal.
"From my uncle, sir!" I said excitedly.
"Well, open and read it, boy. It may be more news."
I opened the letter with trembling fingers, and read as follows:--
"119, Queen's Square,--
"May 8th, 18--.
"Dear Nephew,--
"I hear that you have your commission. I stirred up some old friends.
You go out with the next draft. Be a good boy, act like a gentleman,
and keep up the honour of your family. You'll find it very hot. I did
when I was out there. Don't eat too much, and don't drink, or you'll
come home with a bad liver, like your affectionate uncle,
"Joseph Vincent.
"Gilbert Vincent, Esq.
"P.S.--I mean Lieutenant Vincent. Don't come to see me, for I'm off
to-night to Carlsbad to drink rusty waters instead of port. Remember
me to your father and mother, if you meet them, and Miss Grace. By
the way, boy, you'll want some clothes and a sword. I've told Ferries
and Harquars to honour your cheques up to two hundred and fifty
pounds, so that you need not draw on your father. You don't deserve it,
because you have such a bad temper; but if ever you can get promoted
into the Horse Artillery, I'll buy you a horse. Mind and get an Arab;
they suit the country. I always rode one; but not in your break-neck
way. I tried to get them to let you have a commission in the horse, but
they wouldn't stand it. Said it was a feather in a man's cap to get that; so
look sharp and grow, and make yourself fit to wear that feather. You'll
get it if you deserve it. I'll see that you do. My postscript is longer than
my letter. So with compliments to General Crucie, I am, etc."
I handed the letter to the general, who read it through and nodded.
"Hah! that's right," he said, handing it back. "Nothing like having an
uncle rich, and a director at the India House. You'll get into the horse
by-and-by. Let's see, what was your uncle?"
"An indigo-planter, sir."
"Hah! that means money, Vincent. Well, I shall not have to draw on
your father. So much the better. There, you had better begin making
your preparations at once, and if there is anything I can do in the way
of help or advice, come to me without scruple. Seems only the other
day that I was ordering my own kit, Vincent, previous to sailing for
Bombay. There, off with you. I'm sure you want to digest the news."
I did--badly, but I could not do it, for the news had already leaked out,
and there was Morton at the head of all the other fellows, ready to raise
a hearty cheer for the new officer about to depart from their midst.
The cheering was followed by a chairing, and when at last I escaped, I
hurried off to my room with the whirl of confusion greater than ever, so
that I began to wonder whether it was not all a dream.
CHAPTER TWO.
I was horribly suspicious about that military tailor in Saint James's
Street. Over and over again I felt that he must be laughing at me, as he
passed his tape round my
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