The Seven Poor Travellers | Page 9

know what must happen. I know even better than you can imagine, that, after that has
happened, you are lost. No man who could shed those tears could bear those marks."
"I fully believe it, sir," in a low, shivering voice said Private Richard Doubledick.
"But a man in any station can do his duty," said the young Captain, "and, in doing it, can
earn his own respect, even if his case should be so very unfortunate and so very rare that
he can earn no other man's. A common soldier, poor brute though you called him just
now, has this advantage in the stormy times we live in, that he always does his duty
before a host of sympathising witnesses. Do you doubt that he may so do it as to be
extolled through a whole regiment, through a whole army, through a whole country?
Turn while you may yet retrieve the past, and try."
"I will! I ask for only one witness, sir," cried Richard, with a bursting heart.
"I understand you. I will be a watchful and a faithful one."
I have heard from Private Richard Doubledick's own lips, that he dropped down upon his
knee, kissed that officer's hand, arose, and went out of the light of the dark, bright eyes,
an altered man.
In that year, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine, the French were in Egypt, in
Italy, in Germany, where not? Napoleon Bonaparte had likewise begun to stir against us
in India, and most men could read the signs of the great troubles that were coming on. In
the very next year, when we formed an alliance with Austria against him, Captain
Taunton's regiment was on service in India. And there was not a finer non-commissioned
officer in it,--no, nor in the whole line--than Corporal Richard Doubledick.
In eighteen hundred and one, the Indian army were on the coast of Egypt. Next year was
the year of the proclamation of the short peace, and they were recalled. It had then
become well known to thousands of men, that wherever Captain Taunton, with the dark,
bright eyes, led, there, close to him, ever at his side, firm as a rock, true as the sun, and

brave as Mars, would be certain to be found, while life beat in their hearts, that famous
soldier, Sergeant Richard Doubledick.
Eighteen hundred and five, besides being the great year of Trafalgar, was a year of hard
fighting in India. That year saw such wonders done by a Sergeant-Major, who cut his
way single-handed through a solid mass of men, recovered the colours of his regiment,
which had been seized from the hand of a poor boy shot through the heart, and rescued
his wounded Captain, who was down, and in a very jungle of horses' hoofs and
sabres,--saw such wonders done, I say, by this brave Sergeant-Major, that he was
specially made the bearer of the colours he had won; and Ensign Richard Doubledick had
risen from the ranks.
Sorely cut up in every battle, but always reinforced by the bravest of men,--for the fame
of following the old colours, shot through and through, which Ensign Richard
Doubledick had saved, inspired all breasts,--this regiment fought its way through the
Peninsular war, up to the investment of Badajos in eighteen hundred and twelve. Again
and again it had been cheered through the British ranks until the tears had sprung into
men's eyes at the mere hearing of the mighty British voice, so exultant in their valour;
and there was not a drummer-boy but knew the legend, that wherever the two friends,
Major Taunton, with the dark, bright eyes, and Ensign Richard Doubledick, who was
devoted to him, were seen to go, there the boldest spirits in the English army became wild
to follow.
One day, at Badajos,--not in the great storming, but in repelling a hot sally of the
besieged upon our men at work in the trenches, who had given way,--the two officers
found themselves hurrying forward, face to face, against a party of French infantry, who
made a stand. There was an officer at their head, encouraging his men,--a courageous,
handsome, gallant officer of five-and-thirty, whom Doubledick saw hurriedly, almost
momentarily, but saw well. He particularly noticed this officer waving his sword, and
rallying his men with an eager and excited cry, when they fired in obedience to his
gesture, and Major Taunton dropped.
It was over in ten minutes more, and Doubledick returned to the spot where he had laid
the best friend man ever had on a coat spread upon the wet clay. Major Taunton's uniform
was opened at the breast, and on his shirt were three little spots of blood.
"Dear Doubledick," said he, "I am dying."
"For the love of Heaven, no!" exclaimed the