The Roll-Call of The Reef | Page 8

the King!'
"So the trumpeter went down the line; and when he had finished, the
drummer took it up, hailing the dead Marines in their order. Each man
answered to his name, and each man ended with 'God save the King!'
When all were hailed, the drummer stepped back to his mound, and
called:
"'It is well. You are content, and we are content to join you. Wait, now,
a little while.'
"With this he turned and ordered my father to pick up the lantern, and
lead the way back. As my father picked it up, he heard the ranks of the
dead men cheer and call, 'God save the King!' all together, and saw
them waver and fade back into the dark, like a breath fading off a pane.
"But when they came back here to the kitchen, and my father set the
lantern down, it seemed they'd both forgot about him. For the drummer
turned in the lantern-light--and my father could see the blood still

welling out of the hole in his breast--and took the trumpet-sling from
around the other's neck, and locked drum and trumpet together again,
choosing the letters on the lock very carefully. While he did this, he
said.
"'The word is no more Corunna, but Bayonne. As you left out an "n" in
Corunna, so must I leave out an "n" in Bayonne.' And before snapping
the padlock, he spelt out the word slowly--'B-A-Y-O-N-E.' After that,
he used no more speech; but turned and hung the two instruments back
on the hook; and then took the trumpeter by the arm; and the pair
walked out into the darkness, glancing neither to right nor left.
"My father was on the point of following, when he heard a sort of sigh
behind him; and there, sitting in the elbow-chair, was the very
trumpeter he had just seen walk out by the door! If my father's heart
jumped before, you may believe it jumped quicker now. But after a bit,
he went up to the man asleep in the chair and put a hand upon him. It
was the trumpeter in flesh and blood that he touched; but though the
flesh was warm, the trumpeter was dead.
"Well, sir, they buried him three days after; and at first my father was
minded to say nothing about his dream (as he thought it). But the day
after the funeral, he met Parson Kendall coming from Helston market;
and the parson called out: 'Have 'ee heard the news the coach brought
down this mornin'?' 'What news?' says my father. 'Why, that peace is
agreed upon.' 'None too soon,' says my father. 'Not soon enough for our
poor lads at Bayonne,' the parson answered. 'Bayonne!' cries my father,
with a jump. 'Why, yes;' and the parson told him all about a great sally
the French had made on the night of April 13th. 'Do you happen to
know if the 38th Regiment was engaged?' my father asked. 'Come,
now,' said Parson Kendall, 'I didn't know you was so well up in the
campaign. But, as it happens, I do know that the 38th was engaged, for
'twas they that held a cottage and stopped the French advance.'
"Still my father held his tongue; and when, a week later, he walked in
Helston and bought a 'Mercury' off the Sherborne rider, and got the
landlord of the 'Angel' to spell out the list of killed and wounded, sure
enough, there among the killed was Drummer John Christian, of the

38th Foot.
"After this there was nothing for a religious man but to make a clean
breast. So my father went up to Parson Kendall, and told the whole
story. The parson listened, and put a question or two, and then asked:
"'Have you tried to open the lock since that night?'
"'I haven't dared to touch it,' says my father.
"'Then come along and try.' When the parson came to the cottage here,
he took the things off the hook and tried the lock. 'Did he say
"Bayonne?' The word has seven letters.'
"'Not if you spell it with one "n" as he did,' says my father.
"The parson spelt it out--'B-A-Y-O-N-E' 'Whew!' says he, for the lock
had fallen open in his hand.
"He stood considering it a moment, and then he says: 'I tell you what. I
shouldn't blab this all round the parish, if I was you. You won't get no
credit for truth-telling, and a miracle's wasted on a set of fools. But if
you like, I'll shut down the lock again upon a holy word that no one but
me shall know, and neither drummer nor trumpeter, dead or alive, shall
frighten the secret out of me.'
"'I wish to heaven you would, parson,' said my father.
"The