XXIII. MILITARY PREPARATIONS ON AN EXTENDED SCALE
Christmas had passed. Dreary winter with dark evenings had given
place to more dreary winter with light evenings. Rapid thaws had
ended in rain, rain in wind, wind in dust. Showery days had come--
the season of pink dawns and white sunsets; and people hoped that
the March weather was over.
The chief incident that concerned the household at the mill was that
the miller, following the example of all his neighbours, had become
a volunteer, and duly appeared twice a week in a red, long-tailed
military coat, pipe-clayed breeches, black cloth gaiters, a
heel-balled helmet-hat, with a tuft of green wool, and epaulettes of
the same colour and material. Bob still remained neutral. Not
being able to decide whether to enrol himself as a sea-fencible, a
local militia-man, or a volunteer, he simply went on dancing
attendance upon Anne. Mrs. Loveday had become awake to the fact
that the pair of young people stood in a curious attitude towards
each other; but as they were never seen with their heads together,
and scarcely ever sat even in the same room, she could not be sure
what their movements meant.
Strangely enough (or perhaps naturally enough), since entering the
Loveday family herself, she had gradually grown to think less
favourably of Anne doing the same thing, and reverted to her
original idea of encouraging Festus; this more particularly because
he had of late shown such perseverance in haunting the precincts of
the mill, presumably with the intention of lighting upon the young
girl. But the weather had kept her mostly indoors.
One afternoon it was raining in torrents. Such leaves as there were
on trees at this time of year--those of the laurel and other
evergreens--staggered beneath the hard blows of the drops which fell
upon them, and afterwards could be seen trickling down the stems
beneath and silently entering the ground. The surface of the
mill-pond leapt up in a thousand spirts under the same downfall, and
clucked like a hen in the rat-holes along the banks as it undulated
under the wind. The only dry spot visible from the front windows of
the mill-house was the inside of a small shed, on the opposite side
of the courtyard. While Mrs. Loveday was noticing the threads of
rain descending across its interior shade, Festus Derriman walked up
and entered it for shelter, which, owing to the lumber within, it
but scantily afforded to a man who would have been a match for one
of Frederick William's Patagonians.
It was an excellent opportunity for helping on her scheme. Anne was
in the back room, and by asking him in till the rain was over she
would bring him face to face with her daughter, whom, as the days
went on, she increasingly wished to marry other than a Loveday, now
that the romance of her own alliance with the millet had in some
respects worn off. She was better provided for than before; she was
not unhappy; but the plain fact was that she had married beneath
her. She beckoned to Festus through the window-pane; he instantly
complied with her signal, having in fact placed himself there on
purpose to be noticed; for he knew that Miss Garland would not be
out-of-doors on such a day.
'Good afternoon, Mrs. Loveday,' said Festus on entering. 'There
now--if I didn't think that's how it would be!' His voice had
suddenly warmed to anger, for he had seen a door close in the back
part of the room, a lithe figure having previously slipped through.
Mrs. Loveday turned, observed that Anne was gone, and said, 'What is
it?' as if she did not know.
'O, nothing, nothing!' said Festus crossly. 'You know well enough
what it is, ma'am; only you make pretence otherwise. But I'll bring
her to book yet. You shall drop your haughty airs, my charmer! She
little thinks I have kept an account of 'em all.'
'But you must treat her politely, sir,' said Mrs. Loveday, secretly
pleased at these signs of uncontrollable affection.
'Don't tell me of politeness or generosity, ma'am! She is more than
a match for me. She regularly gets over me. I have passed by this
house five-and-fifty times since last Martinmas, and this is all my
reward for't!'
'But you will stay till the rain is over, sir?'
'No. I don't mind rain. I'm off again. She's got somebody else in
her eye!' And the yeoman went out, slamming the door.
Meanwhile the slippery object of his hopes had gone along the dark
passage, passed the trap which opened on the wheel, and through the
door into the mill, where she was met by Bob, who looked up from the
flour-shoot inquiringly and said, 'You want me, Miss Garland?'
'O no,' said she. 'I only want to be allowed to stand here a few
minutes.'
He looked at her to know if she meant it, and finding that she did,
returned to his post. When the mill had rumbled on a little longer
he came back.
'Bob,' she said, when she saw him move, 'remember that you are at
work, and have no time to stand close to me.'
He bowed and went to his original post again, Anne watching from the
window till Festus should leave. The mill rumbled on as before, and
at last Bob came to her for the third time. 'Now, Bob--' she began.
'On my honour, 'tis only to ask a question. Will you walk with me
to church next Sunday afternoon?'
'Perhaps I will,' she said. But at this moment the yeoman left the
house, and Anne, to escape further parley, returned to the dwelling
by the way she had come.
Sunday afternoon arrived, and the family was standing at the door
waiting for the church bells to begin. From that side of the house
they could see southward across a paddock to the rising ground
further ahead, where there grew a large elm-tree, beneath whose
boughs footpaths crossed in different directions, like meridians at
the pole. The tree was old, and in summer the grass beneath it was
quite trodden away by the feet of the many trysters and idlers who
haunted the spot. The tree formed a conspicuous object in the
surrounding landscape.
While they looked, a foot soldier in red uniform and white breeches
came along one of the paths, and stopping beneath the elm, took from
his pocket a paper, which he proceeded to nail up by the four
corners to the trunk. He drew back, looked at it, and went on his
way. Bob got his glass from indoors and levelled it at the placard,
but after looking for a long time he could make out nothing but a
lion and a unicorn at the top. Anne, who was ready for church,
moved away from the door, though it was yet early, and showed her
intention of going by way of the elm. The paper had been so
impressively nailed up that she was curious to read it even at this
theological time. Bob took the opportunity of following, and
reminded her of her promise.
'Then walk behind me not at all close,' she said.
'Yes,' he replied, immediately dropping behind.
The ludicrous humility of his manner led her to add playfully over
her shoulder, 'It serves you right, you know.'
'I deserve anything, but I must take the liberty to say that I hope
my behaviour about Matil--, in forgetting you awhile, will not make
ye wish to keep me ALWAYS behind?'
She replied confidentially, 'Why I am so earnest not to be seen with
you is that I may appear to people to be independent of you.
Knowing what I do of your weaknesses I can do no otherwise. You
must be schooled into--'
'O, Anne,' sighed Bob, 'you hit me hard--too hard! If ever I do win
you I am sure I shall have fairly earned you.'
'You are not what you once seemed to be,' she returned softly. 'I
don't quite like to let myself love you.' The last words were not
very audible, and as Bob was behind he caught nothing of them, nor
did he see how sentimental she had become all of a sudden. They
walked the rest of the way in silence, and coming to the tree read
as follows:--
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ADDRESS TO ALL RANKS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF ENGLISHMEN.
FRIENDS AND COUNTRYMEN,--The French are now assembling the largest
force that ever was prepared to invade this Kingdom, with the
professed purpose of effecting our complete Ruin and Destruction.
They do not disguise their intentions, as they have often done to
other Countries; but openly boast that they will come over in such
Numbers as cannot be resisted.
Wherever the French have lately appeared they have spared neither
Rich nor Poor, Old nor Young; but like a Destructive Pestilence have
laid waste and destroyed every Thing that before was fair and
flourishing.
On this occasion no man's service is compelled, but you are invited
voluntarily to come forward in defence of everything that is dear to
you, by entering your Names on the Lists which are sent to the
Tything-man of every Parish, and engaging to act either as
ASSOCIATED VOLUNTEERS BEARING ARMS, AS PIONEERS AND LABOURERS, or as
DRIVERS OF WAGGONS.
As Associated Volunteers you will be called out only once a week,
unless the actual Landing of the Enemy should render your further
Services necessary.
As Pioneers or Labourers you will be employed in Breaking up Roads
to hinder the Enemy's advance.
Those who have Pickaxes, Spades, Shovels, Bill-hooks, or other
Working Implements, are desired to mention them to the Constable or
Tything-man of their Parish, in order that they may be entered on
the Lists opposite their Homes, to be used if necessary. . . .
It is thought desirable to give you this Explanation, that you may
not be ignorant of the Duties to which you may be called. But if
the love of true Liberty and honest Fame has not ceased to animate
the Hearts of Englishmen, Pay, though necessary, will be the least
Part of your Reward. You will find your best Recompense in having
done your Duty to your King and Country by driving back or
destroying your old and implacable Enemy, envious of your Freedom
and Happiness, and therefore seeking to destroy them; in having
protected your Wives and Children from Death, or worse than Death,
which will follow the Success of such Inveterate Foes.
ROUSE, therefore, and unite as one man in the best of Causes!
United we may defy the World to conquer us; but Victory will never
belong to those who are slothful and unprepared. *
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* Vide Preface.
'I must go and join at once!' said Bob.
Anne turned to him, all the playfulness gone from her face. 'I wish
we lived in the north of England, Bob, so as to be further away from
where he'll land!' she murmured uneasily.
'Where we are would be Paradise to me, if you would only make it
so.'
'It is not right to talk so lightly at such a serious time,' she
thoughtfully returned, going on towards the church.
On drawing near, they saw through the boughs of a clump of
intervening trees, still leafless, but bursting into buds of amber
hue, a glittering which seemed to be reflected from points of steel.
In a few moments they heard above the tender chiming of the church
bells the loud voice of a man giving words of command, at which all
the metallic points suddenly shifted like the bristles of a
porcupine, and glistened anew.
''Tis the drilling,' said Loveday. 'They drill now between the
services, you know, because they can't get the men together so
readily in the week. It makes me feel that I ought to be doing more
than I am!'
When they had passed round the belt of trees, the company of
recruits became visible, consisting of the able-bodied inhabitants
of the hamlets thereabout, more or less known to Bob and Anne. They
were assembled on the green plot outside the churchyard-gate,
dressed in their common clothes, and the sergeant who had been
putting them through their drill was the man who nailed up the
proclamation. He was now engaged in untying a canvas money-bag,
from which he drew forth a handful of shillings, giving one to each
man in payment for his attendance.
'Men, I dismissed ye too soon--parade, parade again, I say,' he
cried. 'My watch is fast, I find. There's another twenty minutes
afore the worship of God commences. Now all of you that ha'n't got
firelocks, fall in at the lower end. Eyes right and dress!'
As every man was anxious to see how the rest stood, those at the end
of the line pressed forward for that purpose, till the line assumed
the form of a bow.
'Look at ye now! Why, you are all a crooking in! Dress, dress!'
They dressed forthwith; but impelled by the same motive they soon
resumed their former figure, and so they were despairingly permitted
to remain.
'Now, I hope you'll have a little patience,' said the sergeant, as
he stood in the centre of the arc, 'and pay strict attention to the
word of command, just exactly as I give it out to ye; and if I
should go wrong, I shall be much obliged to any friend who'll put me
right again, for I have only been in the army three weeks myself,
and we are all liable to mistakes.'
'So we be, so we be,' said the line heartily.
''Tention, the whole, then. Poise fawlocks! Very well done!'
'Please, what must we do that haven't got no firelocks!' said the
lower end of the line in a helpless voice.
'Now, was ever such a question! Why, you must do nothing at all,
but think HOW you'd poise 'em IF you had 'em. You middle men, that
are armed with hurdle-sticks and cabbage-stumps just to
make-believe, must of course use 'em as if they were the real thing.
Now then, cock fawlocks! Present! Fire! (Pretend to, I mean, and
the same time throw yer imagination into the field o' battle.) Very
good--very good indeed; except that some of you were a LITTLE too
soon, and the rest a LITTLE too late.'
'Please, sergeant, can I fall out, as I am master-player in the
choir, and my bass-viol strings won't stand at this time o' year,
unless they be screwed up a little before the passon comes in?'
'How can you think of such trifles as churchgoing at such a time as
this, when your own native country is on the point of invasion?'
said the sergeant sternly. 'And, as you know, the drill ends three
minutes afore church begins, and that's the law, and it wants a
quarter of an hour yet. Now, at the word PRIME, shake the powder
(supposing you've got it) into the priming-pan, three last fingers
behind the rammer; then shut your pans, drawing your right arm
nimble-like towards your body. I ought to have told ye before this,
that at HAND YOUR KATRIDGE, seize it and bring it with a quick
motion to your mouth, bite the top well off, and don't swaller so
much of the powder as to make ye hawk and spet instead of attending
to your drill. What's that man a-saying of in the rear rank?'
'Please, sir, 'tis Anthony Cripplestraw, wanting to know how he's to
bite off his katridge, when he haven't a tooth left in 's head?'
'Man! Why, what's your genius for war? Hold it up to your
right-hand man's mouth, to be sure, and let him nip it off for ye.
Well, what have you to say, Private Tremlett? Don't ye understand
English?'
'Ask yer pardon, sergeant; but what must we infantry of the awkward
squad do if Boney comes afore we get our firelocks?'
'Take a pike, like the rest of the incapables. You'll find a store
of them ready in the corner of the church tower. Now then--
Shoulder--r--r--r--'
'There, they be tinging in the passon!' exclaimed David, Miller
Loveday's man, who also formed one of the company, as the bells
changed from chiming all three together to a quick beating of one.
The whole line drew a breath of relief, threw down their arms, and
began running off.
'Well, then, I must dismiss ye,' said the sergeant. 'Come back--
come back! Next drill is Tuesday afternoon at four. And, mind, if
your masters won't let ye leave work soon enough, tell me, and I'll
write a line to Gover'ment! 'Tention! To the right--left wheel, I
mean--no, no--right wheel. Mar--r--r--rch!'
Some wheeled to the right and some to the left, and some obliging
men, including Cripplestraw, tried to wheel both ways.
'Stop, stop; try again! 'Cruits and comrades, unfortunately when
I'm in a hurry I can never remember my right hand from my left, and
never could as a boy. You must excuse me, please. Practice makes
perfect, as the saying is; and, much as I've learnt since I 'listed,
we always find something new. Now then, right wheel! march! halt!
Stand at ease! dismiss! I think that's the order o't, but I'll look
in the Gover'ment book afore Tuesday.' *
* Vide Preface
Many of the company who had been drilled preferred to go off and
spend their shillings instead of entering the church; but Anne and
Captain Bob passed in. Even the interior of the sacred edifice was
affected by the agitation of the times. The religion of the country
had, in fact, changed from love of God to hatred of Napoleon
Buonaparte; and, as if to remind the devout of this alteration, the
pikes for the pikemen (all those accepted men who were not otherwise
armed) were kept in the church of each parish. There, against the
wall, they always stood--a whole sheaf of them, formed of new ash
stems, with a spike driven in at one end, the stick being preserved
from splitting by a ferule. And there they remained, year after
year, in the corner of the aisle, till they were removed and placed
under the gallery stairs, and thence ultimately to the belfry, where
they grew black, rusty, and worm-eaten, and were gradually stolen
and carried off by sextons, parish clerks, whitewashers,
window-menders, and other church servants for use at home as
rake-stems, benefit-club staves, and pick-handles, in which degraded
situations they may still occasionally be found.
But in their new and shining state they had a terror for Anne, whose
eyes were involuntarily drawn towards them as she sat at Bob's side
during the service, filling her with bloody visions of their
possible use not far from the very spot on which they were now
assembled. The sermon, too, was on the subject of patriotism; so
that when they came out she began to harp uneasily upon the
probability of their all being driven from their homes.
Bob assured her that with the sixty thousand regulars, the militia
reserve of a hundred and twenty thousand, and the three hundred
thousand volunteers, there was not much to fear.
'But I sometimes have a fear that poor John will be killed,' he
continued after a pause. 'He is sure to be among the first that
will have to face the invaders, and the trumpeters get picked off.'
'There is the same chance for him as for the others,' said Anne.
'Yes--yes--the same chance, such as it is. You have never liked
John since that affair of Matilda Johnson, have you?'
'Why?' she quickly asked.
'Well,' said Bob timidly, 'as it is a ticklish time for him, would
it not be worth while to make up any differences before the crash
comes?'
'I have nothing to make up,' said Anne, with some distress. She
still fully believed the trumpet-major to have smuggled away Miss
Johnson because of his own interest in that lady, which must have
made his professions to herself a mere pastime; but that very
conduct had in it the curious advantage to herself of setting Bob
free.
'Since John has been gone,' continued her companion, 'I have found
out more of his meaning, and of what he really had to do with that
woman's flight. Did you know that he had anything to do with it?'
'Yes.'
'That he got her to go away?'
She looked at Bob with surprise. He was not exasperated with John,
and yet he knew so much as this.
'Yes,' she said; 'what did it mean?'
He did not explain to her then; but the possibility of John's death,
which had been newly brought home to him by the military events of
the day, determined him to get poor John's character cleared.
Reproaching himself for letting her remain so long with a mistaken
idea of him, Bob went to his father as soon as they got home, and
begged him to get Mrs. Loveday to tell Anne the true reason of
John's objection to Miss Johnson as a sister-in-law.
'She thinks it is because they were old lovers new met, and that he
wants to marry her,' he exclaimed to his father in conclusion.
'Then THAT'S the meaning of the split between Miss Nancy and Jack,'
said the miller.
'What, were they any more than common friends?' asked Bob uneasily.
'Not on her side, perhaps.'
'Well, we must do it,' replied Bob, painfully conscious that common
justice to John might bring them into hazardous rivalry, yet
determined to be fair. 'Tell it all to Mrs. Loveday, and get her to
tell Anne.'
