Shall I assist you? said Miles, stepping into the shed and seizing a loaf and a knife.
Thank you. Go ahead, said Brown.
Put another lump of butter near the fire, said the missionary to our hero; not too close. I melted the last lump altogether.
A cup o coffee for my Terence, an wan for mesilf, my dear, exclaimed a loud voice outside.
There was no mistaking the speaker. Some of the men who crowded round the counter laughed, others partially choked, when the strapping Terence said in a hoarse whisper, Whist, mother, be civil; dont ye see that its ladies, no less, is sarvin of us?
Please, maam, can I ave some coffee? asked a modest soldiers wife, who looked pale and weary after the long voyage, with three children to look after.
A cup was promptly supplied, and three of the newly-arrived buns stopped the mouths of her clamorous offspring.
Can ye give me a cup o tea? demanded another soldiers wife, who was neither so polite nor so young as the previous applicant.
It is probable that the ladies did not observe the nature of her demand, else they would doubtless have explained that they had no tea, but a cup of coffee was silently handed to her.
Ah! this is real home-tea, this is, she said, smacking her lips after the first sip. A mighty difference tween this an what weve bin used to in the ship.
Yes, indeed, assented her companion. Whether it was tea she had been accustomed to drink on board the troop-ship we cannot tell, but probably she was correct as to the mighty difference. It may be that the beverages supplied in foreign lands had somewhat damaged the power of discrimination as to matters of taste in these soldiers wives. At all events an incident which occurred about the same time justifies this belief.
Mr Miles, said the missionary, pausing a moment to wipe his brow in the midst of his labours, will you fetch the butter now?
Miles turned to obey with alacritywith too much alacrity, indeed, for in his haste he knocked the plate over, and sent the lump of butter into the last prepared brew of coffee!
Hallo! I say! exclaimed Brown, in consternation. More coffee, Brown, demanded the ladies simultaneously, at that inauspicious moment.
Yes, Miss, IIm comingdirectly, cried Brown.
Do be quick, please!
Whats to be done? said Brown, making futile endeavours to fish out the slippery mass with the stirring-stick.
Shove it down and stir it well about, suggested Miles.
Whether conscience was inoperative at that moment we know not, but Brown acted on the suggestion, and briskly amalgamated the butter with the coffee, while the crowd at the port-hole politely but continuously demanded more.
Dont be in a urry, Tom, cried a corporal, removing his pith helmet in order to run his fingers through his hair; its a eavenly state o things now to what it was a few years ago, wen we an our poor wives ad to sit ere for hours in the heat or cold, wet or dry, without shelter, or a morsel to eat, or a drop to drink, till we got away up town to the grog-shops.
Well, this is civilisation at last! remarked a handsome and hearty young fellow, who had apparently been ignorant of the treat in store for him, and who sauntered up to the shed just as the butter-brew was beginning to be served out.
Why, I declare, its chocolate! exclaimed one of the women, who had been already served with a cup, and had resolved to go in, as she said, for another pennyworth.
So it is. My! aint it nice? said her companion, smacking her lips.
Whether the soldiers fell into the same mistake, or were too polite to take notice of it, we cannot tell, for they drank it without comment, and with evident satisfaction, like men of simple tastes and uncritical minds.
We turn now to a very different scene.
In one of the private sitting-rooms of the Institute sat poor young Mrs Martin, the very embodiment of blank despair. The terrible truth that her husband had died, and been buried at sea, had been gently and tenderly broken to her by Miss Robinson.
At first the poor girl could notwould notbelieve it. Then, as the truth gradually forced itself into her brain, she subsided into a tearless, expressionless, state of quiescence that seemed to indicate a mind unhinged. In this state she remained for some time, apparently unconscious of the kind words of Christian love that were addressed to her.
At last she seemed to rouse herself and gazed wildly round the room.
Let me go, she said. I will find him somewhere. Dont hinder me, please.
But you cannot go anywhere till you have had food and rest, dear child, said her sympathetic comforter, laying her hand gently on the girls arm. Come with me.
She sought to lead her away, but the girl shook her off.
No, she exclaimed, starting up hastily, so that the mass of her dark hair fell loose upon her shoulders, contrasting forcibly with the dead whiteness of her face and lips. No. I cannot go with you. Fred will be getting impatient. Dyou think Ill ever believe it? Dead and buried in the sea? Never!
Even while she spoke, the gasp in her voice, and the pressure of both hands on her poor heart, told very plainly that the young widow did indeed believe it.
Oh! may God Himself comfort you, dear child, said the lady, taking her softly by the hand. Comecome with me.
Mrs Martin no longer refused. Her spirit, which had flashed up for a moment, seemed to collapse, and without another word of remonstrance she meekly suffered herself to be guided to a private room, where she was put to bed.
She never rose from that bed. Friendless, and without means, she would probably have perished in the streets, or in one of the dens of Portsmouth, had she not been led to this refuge. As it was, they nursed her there, and did all that human skill and Christian love could devise; but her heart was broken. Towards the end she told them, in a faint voice, that her Fred had been stationed at Alexandria, and that while there he had been led to put his trust in the Saviour. She knew nothing of the details. All these, and much more, she had expected to hear from his own lips.
But he will tell me all about it soon, thank God! were the last words she uttered as she turned her eyes gratefully on the loving strangers who had found and cared for her in the dark day of her calamity.
Chapter Five.
Difficulties met and overcome
Miles and his friend Brown, after their work at the jetty, had chanced to return to the Institute at the moment referred to in the last chapter, when the poor young widow, having become resigned, had been led through the passage to her bedroom. Our hero happened to catch sight of her face, and it made a very powerful impression on himan impression which was greatly deepened afterwards on hearing of her death.
In the reception-room he found Armstrong still in earnest conversation with his wife.
Hallo, Armstrong! still here? Have you been sitting there since I left you? he asked, with a smile and look of surprise.
Oh no! answered his friend; not all the time. We have been out walking about town, and we have had dinner herean excellent feed, let me tell you, and cheap too. But where did you run off to?
Sit down and Ill tell you, said Miles.
Thereupon he related all about his days experiences. When he had finished, Armstrong told him that his own prospect of testing the merits of a troop-ship were pretty fair, as he was ordered for inspection on the following day.
So you see, continued the young soldier, if you are acceptedas you are sure to beyou and I will go out together in the same vessel.
Im glad to hear that, anyhow, returned Miles.
And I am very glad too, said little Emily, with a beaming smile, for Willie has told me about you, Mr Miles; and how you first met and took a fancy to each other; and it will be so nice to think that theres somebody to care about my Willie when he is far away from me.
The little woman blushed and half-laughed, and nearly cried as she said this, for she felt that it was rather a bold thing to say to a stranger, and yet she had such a strong desire to mitigate her husbands desolation when absent from her that she forcibly overcame her modesty. And I want you to do me a favour, Mr Miles, she added.
Ill do it with pleasure, returned our gallant hero.
I want you to call him Willie, said the little woman, blushing and looking down.
Certainly I willif your husband permits me.
You see, she continued, I want him to keep familiar with the name Ive been used to call himfor comrades will call him Armstrong, I suppose, and
Oh! Emmy, interrupted the soldier reproachfully, do you think I require to be kept in remembrance of that name? Wont your voice, repeating it, haunt me day and night till the happy day when I meet you again on the Portsmouth jetty, or may-hap in this very room?
Miles thought, when he heard this speech, of the hoped-for meeting between poor Mrs Martin and her Fred; and a feeling of profound sadness crept over him as he reflected how many chances there were against their ever again meeting in this world. Naturally these thoughts turned his mind to his own case. His sinful haste in quitting home, and the agony of his mother on finding that he was really gone, were more than ever impressed on him, but again the fatal idea that what was done could not be undone, coupled with pride and false shame, kept him firm to his purpose.
That evening, in barracks, Miles was told by his company sergeant to hold himself in readiness to appear before the doctor next morning for inspection as to his physical fitness for active service in Egypt.
Our hero was by this time beginning to find out that the life of a private soldier, into which he had rushed, was a very different thing indeed from that of an officerto which he had aspired. Here again pride came to his aidin a certain sense,for if it could not reconcile him to his position, it at all events closed his mouth, and made him resolve to bear the consequences of his act like a man.
In the morning he had to turn out before daylight, and with a small band of men similarly situated, to muster in the drill-shed a little after eight. Thence they marched to the doctors quarters.
It was an anxious ordeal for all of them; for, like most young soldiers, they were enthusiastically anxious to go on active service, and there was, of course, some uncertainty as to their passing the examination.
The first man called came out of the inspection room with a beaming countenance, saying that he was all right, which raised the hopes and spirits of the rest; but the second appeared after inspection with a woe-begone countenance which required no interpretation. No reason was given for his rejection; he was simply told that it would be better for him not to go.
Miles was the third called.
As he presented himself, the doctor yawned vociferously, as if he felt that the hour for such work was unreasonably early. Then he looked at his subject with the critical air of a farmer inspecting a prize ox.
How old are you? he asked.
Nineteen, sir.
Are you married?
Miles smiled.
Did you hear me? asked the doctor sharply. You dont need to smile. Many a boy as long-legged and as young as you is fool enough to marry. Are you married?
Miles flushed, looked suddenly stern, squared his shoulders, drew himself up with an air that implied, You wont catch me tripping again; and said firmly, yet quite respectfully
No, sir.
The doctor here took another good look at his subject, with a meaning twinkle in his eye, as if he felt that he had touched a tender point. Then he felt his victims pulse, sounded his chest, and ordered him to strip. Being apparently satisfied with the result of his examination, he asked him if he felt all right.
Reflecting that his mother had often told him he was made up of body, soul, and spirit, and that in regard to the latter two he was rather hazy, Miles felt strongly inclined for a moment to say, Certainly not, but, thinking better of it, he answered, Yes, sir, with decision.
Have you anything to complain of? asked the doctor.
The mind of our hero was what we may style rapidly reflective. In regard to the decrees of Fate, things in general, and his fathers conduct in particular, he had a decided wish to complain, but again he laid restraint on himself and said, No, sir.
And do you wish to go to Egypt?
Yes, sir! was answered with prompt decision.
Then you may go, said the doctor, turning away with an air of a man who dismisses a subject from his mind.
When all the men had thus passed the medical examination, those of them who were accepted mustered their bags and kits before Captain Lacey, commander of the company to which they were attached, and those who wanted anything were allowed to draw it from the stores.
Captain Lacey was a fine specimen of a British soldiergrave, but kind in expression and in heart; tall, handsome, powerful, about thirty years of age, with that urbanity of manner which wins affection at first sight, and that cool, quiet decision of character which inspires unlimited confidence.
As the troop-ship which was to convey them to Egypt was to start sooner than had been intended, there was little time for thought during the few hours in England that remained to the regiment. The men had to draw their pith helmets, and fit the ornaments thereon; then go the quartermasters stores to be fitted with white clothing, after which they had to parade before the Colonel, fully arrayed in the martial habiliments which were needful in tropical climes. Besides these matters there were friends to be seen, in some cases relatives to be parted from, and letters innumerable to be written. Miles Milton was among those who, on the last day in Portsmouth, attempted to write home. He had been taken by Sergeant Gilroy the previous night to one of the Institute entertainments in the great hall. The Sergeant had tried to induce him to go to the Bible-class with him, but Miles was in no mood for that at the time, and he was greatly relieved to find that neither the Sergeant nor any of the people of the Institute annoyed him by thrusting religious matters on his attention. Food, lodging, games, library, baths, Bible-classes, prayer-meetings, entertainments were all there to be used or let alone as he chose; perfect freedom of action being one of the methods by which it was sought to render the place attractive to the soldiers.
But although Miles at once refused to go to the class, he had no objection to go to the entertainment.
It was a curious mixture of song, recitation, addresses, and readings, in which many noble sentiments were uttered, and not a few humorous anecdotes and incidents related. It was presided over by Tufnell, the manager, a soldierly-looking man, who had himself originally been in the army, and who had, for many years, been Miss Robinsons right-hand man. There could not have been fewer than a thousand people in the hall, a large proportion of whom were red-coats and blue-jackets, the rest being civilians; and the way in which these applauded the sentiments, laughed at the humour, and rejoiced in the music, showed that the provision for their amusement was thoroughly appreciated.