Part 35 (1/2)
With a tightly beating heart he waited for their recognition. . . .
No sign of recognition came. They eyed him curiously. It seemed to them that he spoke with something of a foreign accent. To be sure he articulated oddly--owing to his wound, of which his cheek bore the visible scar.
He knew them all. Had they not, each one of them, aforetime saluted him their commander, raising their hand to the peaks of these very shakos? Had they not marched, doubled, halted, presented arms, stood at attention, all as he bade them? He recognised the victim of the accident, too--a little tailor, Tadd by name, who in old days had borne a reputation for hard drinking.
”I reckon they must ha' stationed you here for a relay,” suggested Gunner Sobey (ever the readiest man, no matter in what company he found himself) after eyeing the Major for a while.
”I beg your pardon?”
”I beg _yours_. Seemin' to me I've seen your features before, somewhere, though I can't call up your name.” It is a point of honour with the men of Troy (I may here observe) to profess an ignorance of their less-favoured neighbours across the harbour.
”I can't call up your name for the moment, dressed as you be--but 'twas thoughtful of 'em, knowing Tadd's habit, to post up a second figger for a relay. The man seems to be shaken considerable,” he went on. ”'Twould be a cruelty, as you might say, to ask him to go on playin' Boney, with a wife and family dependent and his heart not in it.”
”He certainly isn't fit to mount again, if that is what you mean,”
said the Major, and glanced up the road where one of the troop (Bugler Opie) had ridden in pursuit of the yellow horse and now reappeared leading back the captive by the bridle.
”That's just what I'm saying,” agreed Gunner Sobey; ”and you'll do very well if you change hats.” He stooped and picked Tadd-Bonaparte's _tricorne_ out of the dust and brushed it with the sleeve of his tunic. ”Here, let's see how you look in it.”
He flipped off the Major's tarpaulin hat, clapped on the subst.i.tute, and fell back admiringly. ”The Ogre to the life,” he exclaimed; ”and _with_ a wooden leg! Hurroo, boys!”
Before the Major could expostulate a dozen hands had lifted him into the saddle astride the yellow horse.
”But--but I don't know in the least, my friends, what you intend!
I cannot ride; indeed I cannot!”
”_With_ a wooden leg! The idea!” answered Gunner Sobey, cheerfully.
”Never you mind, but catch hold o' the pommel. We'll see to the rest.”
The riders closed in and walked him forward down the hill, Gunner Sobey pressing close and supporting him, holding his wooden leg tight against the saddle-flap. The Major cast a wild look about him and saw Bugler Opie and another Gallant (Gunner Warboys--he knew all their names) lifting the half-unconscious Tadd and bearing him towards the fountain, to revive him. What was happening? Should he declare himself, here and now?
The company broke into cheers as they set their horses in motion.
Had they indeed recognised him? The procession was a.s.suredly a triumph, of some sort or another. But what did they intend?
From across the harbour the bells of Troy were ringing madly.
The Major shut his teeth. If this were indeed the town's fas.h.i.+on of welcoming him, well and good! If it were a mistake--a practical joke (but why should it be either?)--he had not long to wait for his revenge. . . .
Let _The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph_ narrate, in its own succinct language, what followed:
”The Corsican tyrant coming to grief in an attempt to elude the righteous wrath of his pursuers, another impersonator was speedily found, with the additional touch of a wooden leg, which was generally voted to be artistic. This new Boney on being conveyed down to the water's edge was driven into a boat, his countenance eliciting laugher by its almost comic display of the remorse of fallen ambition. A pair of his _soi-disant_ supporters leapt in and affected to aid his escape, and were followed by pursuing boats in every direction, which had a most pleasing effect. At length, being hemmed in and made captive, he was taken to an island near the sh.o.r.e, supported by two officers of the Troy Volunteers, who affixed a board over him, upon which was printed, in large letters, 'ELBA.' We regret to say that in his vivacious efforts to reproduce the feelings of the fallen tyrant, the impersonator--who by latest accounts is a seaman recently paid off and impressed, almost at a moment's notice, for the _role_ he sustained with such impromptu spirit--slipped on the wet seaweed and sustained a somewhat serious injury of the hip. Being with all expedition rescued, he was conveyed ash.o.r.e to the Infirmary, which, founded by the late Major Hymen as a War Hospital, henceforward will open its doors to those diseases and casualties from which even Peace cannot exempt our poor humanity. By latest advices the invalid is well on his way to recovery. In the evening there was a grand display of fireworks on the Town Quay, conducted by the Magistrates, to whom every praise is due for their efforts to promote conviviality and order.”
CHAPTER XX.
IN WHICH THE MAJOR LEARNS THAT NO MAN IS NECESSARY.
For six days Troy continued to rejoice, winding up each day with a dance. We will content ourselves, however, with one last extract from _The Plymouth and Dock Telegraph_:
”At noon on Thursday the town a.s.sembled again and escorted its Mayor and Mayoress to the Hymen Hospital, where, in the presence of a distinguished company, Mrs. Hansombody (ward and heiress of the late S. Hymen) unveiled a bust of her gallant kinsman, whose premature heroic death Troy has never ceased to lament.
Sir Felix Felix-Williams made eulogistic reference to the deceased, remarking on the number of instances by which the late war had confirmed the truth of the Roman poet's observation that it is pleasant and seemly to die for one's country. The Mayor responded on behalf of his amiable lady, whom Sir Felix's tribute had visibly affected. The sculpture was p.r.o.nounced to be a lifelike image, reflecting great credit on the artist, Mr. Tipping, R.A. The pedestal, five feet in height, is of polished black Luxulyan granite, and bears name and date with the words 'Take Him for All in All We shall not Look upon his Like again.' The bust, executed in plaster of Paris, will be replaced by marble when funds allow. The crowd dispersed in silence after the ceremony. Dancing in the street followed at 6 p.m., and was kept up with spirit for some hours, during which a large quant.i.ty of beer was given away.”