Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

“You miserable, ugly, lazy nigger, take that, and that, and that.”

There was the sound of blows at each that, and then a volley of abuse as I neared the officers’ quarters, and every word and blow came through the open windows.

“Confound you! do you think I keep you to do nothing but sleep? I’ll have my horses look better than any one else’s, and they look worse,” came clearly; and there were more blows, while a group of white-clothed syces, two of whom held horses, looked at one another, and I saw that their faces wore a troubled aspect, as they whispered as soon as the English sentry on guard by the gateway turned his back to march steadily in the shade to the end of his beat, but as soon as he faced round they stood like bronze statues.

Then came more blows, and it was evident to me that the trouble, or whatever it might be, was taking place in the quarters to which I had been directed; but I wanted to make sure, and I turned out of my way to meet the sentry, who halted and saluted as I drew near.

“Which are Lieutenant Barton’s quarters?” I said.

“Straight in front, sir. Through that door where the horses stand.”

“Is there something the matter?”

The man grinned. “Lieutenant’s licking his syce, sir, for being dirty.”

“Oh!” I said; and I was about to turn away, when the man said respectfully—

“Beg pardon, sir; you don’t know me again.”

“No,” I said, looking at the man in a puzzled way. “Yes, of course; you are Denny. I did not expect to find you here. How are you?”

“Nicely, sir, thank ye. I was picked with two more to enter this troop. Very glad, sir, you are appointed to it.”

“Thank you, Denny,” I said. “It is pleasant to see the same faces.”

“Beg pardon, sir,” continued the man eagerly. “I oughtn’t to talk like this, perhaps, but I got a letter from London yesterday, and she’s all right, and ain’t no worse for being pretty nigh drowned; and she said if ever I see the young gent as saved her life, as she’d always pray for him that he might live long and die happy.”

“Oh, don’t talk about it, Denny,” I said hastily. “Thank you. That door where the syces are with the horses?”

“Don’t stand sulking there, you black-looking scoundrel. It won’t do with me; I’ll cut it out of you.”

There was the sound of more blows, and then, as I nearly reached the doorway, where the native servants made way respectfully, I heard what was evidently the final blow, and the words, “Now get out.”

Directly after, a tall native in white came out, with his face convulsed and the blood streaming down one cheek from a cut on the left temple, and staining his white cotton garment; but as he came upon me, his countenance suddenly grew unnaturally calm, and he drew up on one side and saluted, as if nothing was the matter, though I could see that he was trembling like a leaf.

Discipline had already taught me that I had no right to interfere with the actions of my superior officers, but human nature had made me already resent the way in which overbearing Englishmen bullied and ill-used the patient, long-suffering natives; and as I had heard the sounds of abuse and blows coming across the compound, a curious sensation of shame and annoyance made me feel hot and uncomfortable; and now as I came suddenly face to face with the good-looking, dark-faced man, with his bleeding temple, I hurriedly drew out a clean white handkerchief, doubled it into a bandage, and signing to the man to bend down, tied it tightly, bandage fashion, over what was a very severe cut.

The man shrank from me for a moment, as if my action repelled him, but the next he had crossed his hands humbly over his breast, and bent forward.

The act on my part was very quickly done, and then he raised his head, and his eyes met mine with a look that I could not read, but I could see that his lips were quivering, and the side of his head left uncovered was full of lines.

The next moment I had remembered that I was an officer, and drew myself up stiffly.

“Is Lieutenant Barton in his rooms?” I said, in what I meant to be sharp, authoritative tones.

“Yes; what do you want?” came out through the window; and I stepped forward, catching one peculiar look from the injured man again, and noticing that the other syces salaamed to me as I passed out of the glare of sunshine, into the comparative darkness of a mat-hung passage, and from thence into a comfortable room well-furnished with cane chairs, gay Indian rugs, and curtains, and with a light table, on which stood a cigar-box, a bottle or two, and glasses. Between them lay a stout, silver-topped malacca cane, evidently the instrument with which the native groom had been chastised.

But the principal object in the room was a fair-haired, supercilious-looking young man of seven or eight and twenty, in the lightest of pyjamas, and with a scarlet sash about his waist.

He was lolling back in a reclining-chair as I entered, and he wrinkled his face, half-closing his eyes, and drawing his heavy moustache close up under his nose in a very unpleasant way, as he stared at me.

“Oh, you’re our new fire-eater,” he said, in a bantering tone. “I heard you had come while I was away. How are you? Sit down and have a cigar. Here, hi!”

He clapped his hands, and a grave-looking native in white entered, salaamed, and said softly—

“Sahib?”

“Mix two cool drinks, and put in plenty of ice. Look sharp!”

“Don’t order anything for me,” I said, as the man bowed and left the room.

“Don’t object to my having one, do you?” was said sneeringly, as I sat down; and then the officer laughed. “Take a cigar.”

“Thank you. I don’t smoke.”

“Don’t drink—don’t smoke? Ah, well, I dare say we can teach you before we’ve done. Well, how do you like Rambagh?”

“I haven’t been here long enough to tell yet. It is very hot.”

“Pooh! this is nothing. Ninety. Wait a bit, and we’ll give it to you up to twenty.”

“No, that’s too cold,” I said, laughing.

“Is it? Wait till you try.”

“Oh, you mean a hundred and twenty.”

“I do. You will not be so ready to use a lot of words when one will do, after you’ve been here a while.”

“I suppose it does make you languid.”

“Yes, and you can’t get a thing done by the lazy hounds you have for servants. The more you keep, the less there is done. I had to thrash my new syce this morning to bring him to his senses.”

“Yes, I heard you,” I said. “Are you allowed to knock people about like that?”

He opened his eyes, and then squeezed them up again, as he stared at me wonderingly.

“Allowed? Who’s to prevent it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m new to the place.”

Just then the native servant brought in two glasses of some cool-looking drink, and handed them to his master.

“Now, idiot! how often am I to tell you to go to the visitors first?”

“Ask pardon, master,” said the man; and he brought the brass tray to me, but the lieutenant took his own first.

“Health,” he said shortly, and half drained his glass. I sipped mine, and set it down as the man left the room.

“Let’s see; you came over with Brace, didn’t you?”

“Yes; in the Jumna. He advised me to call and see you this morning, as you were out when we came.”

“Much obliged to him. Fond of shooting?”

“I dare say I should be. I have had no opportunity so far.”

“Fishing, then?”

“Oh yes. I have had a little trout and bottom fishing.”

“Ah! we can give you some mahseer fishing here. Trying after big ones that can pull you in.”

“Thank you. I shall be very glad.”

“But you will not have much time yet. Nice grind you’ve got before you to master your drill.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” I replied.

“Don’t drink, don’t smoke, and I suppose you can’t ride?”

“Yes, I can ride,” I said quickly.

“I suppose so—in a riding-school. Wait till you are going at full gallop over the plain, with six or eight guns bumping and jumping after you; you’ll find out then whether you can ride. Well, how do you like Brace?”

The question startled me.

“I—I hardly know yet,” I said.

“With him long enough, anyhow!”

“I thought him very gentlemanly and kind.”

“Bah! You don’t want a man to be gentlemanly and kind. You have got to learn to be a soldier—an artilleryman, not a molly. But, there, don’t you be uneasy about that. I’ll see that you are not spoiled. Got your servants yet?”

“No; there is nothing settled. I have only just come.”

“No horses, I suppose?”

“No. Captain Brace said he would help me to get a couple.”

“Hum! Deal he knows about horses. Better let me buy them for you. I know just the thing for you: plenty of speed, showy, and grand action—sort of a charger that wouldn’t do for me. Not up to my weight, but it would carry you splendidly. Brace always was the worst mounted man in the brigade. Better try a cigar.”

I declined again, and sat chatting to my brother-officer till I thought I had been with him long enough, when I rose to go.

“What! off already?” he said. “Oh, well, if you can’t stay. But you haven’t swallowed your drink.”

I declined that too, feeling that he must be looking down upon me with the most utter contempt; but he said nothing till I had shaken hands.

“Then I shall look out for a charger for you?”

“Please no; not till I have spoken to Captain Brace.”

“What for? Oh, he’ll be glad to be saved the trouble. That will be all right. You stick to me, and I’ll see you through.”

I left my brother-officer’s quarters soon afterwards, feeling very glad to get away, and certainly under the impression that he thought me very stupid and boyish.

“I suppose I’ve been keeping him in,” I thought, for outside I found the syces still waiting with the horses I had noticed on entering, and there, too, was the man who had been punished by the lieutenant; but my handkerchief was not tied round his head now, his wound having been bathed and covered with a scrap of plaister. I observed, too, that he must have changed the slight white garments he wore, for the ugly stains were gone.

He salaamed as I passed and went back to my own quarters, thinking that I should have to alter a good deal if I used the native servants as I had seen the man treated that day.