Gil the Gunner | Page 6

laughing, and this was the signal for me to hurry out of the stiff embroidered uniform as rapidly as I could.
But that night, when I went up to bed!
Well, I was very young then; and I suppose any boy of my age would have been just as proud of his new uniform, all suggestive as it was of sword and flashing steel, trampling horses, and spirit-stirring trumpet and band.
My candle was a long time before it went out that night, but even then I tried to salve my conscience--to make myself believe that it was not all vanity, for I said that the things wanted trying on, and the buttons and buttonholes were stiff. But at last everything was neatly folded up again and put away, and I lay down to sleep and dream of my new career. Somehow I only saw one side of a soldier's life just then. Perhaps if I could have had the slightest idea of the horrors and dangers through which I should have to pass, I might have shrunk away appalled, and been glad to have taken to some more peaceful career.
CHAPTER THREE.
The good-byes were said, and I was sent off with a ringing cheer by my old companions. My luggage had gone to the ship days before, and I had only a couple of tin cases to take with me in the cab when I reached London and was driven to the docks. Here, after going astray several times, I at last found the great towering-sided Jumna, and went on board with my belongings.
Everything was in confusion, for provisions were still being taken on board along with passengers' luggage; and it was some time before I could find any one in the busy crowd which thronged the deck, to show me my cabin, which, to my disgust, I found contained a second berth and several articles of luggage labelled, "Captain Brace, Calcutta," and in smaller letters, "Cabin; wanted on voyage."
"Not much room for two," I thought, as my own luggage was brought in, and I found by the number of my berth that I was to sleep on the shelf-like bed above that on which a portion of the captain's luggage lay.
Then, wondering what he would be like; whether he would be agreeable, or disposed to look down upon me as a boy, I went back on deck, and stood about watching the busy scene, and learning which was the quarter-deck, steerage, forecastle, and the like. By virtue of being an officer, I found myself at liberty to go where I pleased, and noted which were passengers and which were leave-taking friends.
Then I had a good look at the officers and sailors, many of whom were yellow-faced lascars with dark oily-looking eyes, whose whites seemed to have an opalescent tinge.
Every one was busy, and a good many of the dock-men were up aloft giving the finishing touches to the rigging, a great deal of which seemed to be new. But somehow, as an idler, I seemed to be in everybody's way, and was constantly being requested to make way, or stand aside, or my leave was requested in tones rather insulting, as I thought then.
Suddenly I remembered that General Crucie had said that a draft of men was going out in the vessel, in charge of Captain Brace.
"I wonder where the men are," I said to myself; and at last, as I had looked in vain for red or blue uniforms, I asked one of the sailors.
"Swaddies?" he said. "Oh yes. Forrard. There they are."
He pointed toward the head of the vessel as he hurried off in answer to a shout from a red-faced man who was directing a gang of sailors hauling at something up aloft which he called a yard, and I went forward to have a look at the smart detachment of soldiers I was to help to command.
The illusion was soon swept away, for the detachment was composed of about fifty unhappy, thin-looking men in white flannel jackets, sitting about or leaning over the bulwarks, smoking and watching the dock quay where stood a group of slatternly-looking women, staring wearily at the ship; and now and then one of them would wave a hand or a handkerchief to the men in white flannel, a salute as often as not evoking no response, though sometimes a man would take off his ugly blue woollen forage-cap by the red worsted tuft at the top, give it a twist, and put it on again.
"This cannot be the detachment," I thought, and then, thinking that the best way to know was to ask, I said to the nearest man--
"Would you mind telling me whether you belong to Captain Brace's detachment?"
"What?"
A surly, half-insolent question in reply to mine, which I repeated.
"I dunno nothing about