Part 12 (1/2)
That he was a gentleman by birth n.o.body doubted. There was nothing unusual in that, for all the cavalry regiments contain a considerable number of gentlemen in their ranks; men of this cla.s.s generally enlisting in the cavalry in preference to the other arms of the service.
It was, however, unusual for one to enlist at Edgar's age. Many young men, after having failed to gain a commission by compet.i.tion, enlist in hopes of working up to one through the ranks. Another cla.s.s are the men who having got into sc.r.a.pes of one kind or another, run through their money, and tired out their friends, finally enlist as the only thing open to them.
The first cla.s.s are among the steadiest men in the regiment, and speedily work their way up among the non-commissioned officers. The second cla.s.s are, on the other hand, among the wildest and least reputable men in the ranks. They are good men in a campaign where pluck and endurance and high spirits are most valuable, but among the worst and most troublesome when there is little to do and time hangs heavily on hand.
There were two of the sergeants who had failed in the examination for commissions, and were hoping some day to obtain them. One had been five years in the regiment, the other three. Their attention had first been called to Edgar by his getting a first-cla.s.s in the examination, which at once stamped him as having had an education greatly superior to that of the majority of recruits. His position in the regimental cricket team further attracted their attention, and they took an opportunity to speak to him when it happened they were walking together and met Edgar returning from an afternoon's ramble across the country.
”Well, Smith, how do you like soldiering?”
”I like it very well; I don't think that there is anything to complain of at all.”
”It is better than grinding away at Latin and Greek and mathematics, and that sort of thing,” the younger of the two sergeants said with a smile.
”There are advantages both ways, sergeant.”
”So there are, lad. Of the two I like drill better than grinding at books, worse luck; if I had been fond of books I should not be wearing these stripes. I asked the band-master if you were learning an instrument. He said you were not. So I suppose you mean to give up your trumpet and join the ranks as soon as you get to eighteen?”
”Yes. I should not care about being in the band.”
”Your cricket is not a bad thing for you,” the elder of the two men said. ”It brings you into notice, and will help you to get your stripes earlier than you otherwise would do; as a man who does his regiment credit either as a good shot or as a cricketer or in the sports is sure to attract notice, and to be pushed on if he is steady and a smart soldier. If you won't mind my giving you a bit of advice, I should say don't try to push yourself forward. Sometimes young fellows spoil their chances by doing so. Some of the old non-commissioned officers feel a bit jealous when they see a youngster likely to make his way up, and you know they can make it very hot for a fellow if they like. So be careful not to give them a chance. Even if you are blown up when you do not deserve it, it is better to hold your tongue than to kick against it.
Cheeking a non-commissioned officer never pays.”
”Thank you, sergeant,” Edgar said quietly; ”I am much obliged to you for your advice.”
”An uncommonly good style of young fellow,” Sergeant Netherton, who was the son of a colonel in the army, and had been educated at Harrow, said to his companion. ”Comes from a good school, I should say. Must have got into some baddish sc.r.a.pe, or he never would be here at his age.”
”It does not quite follow,” the other replied. ”His father may have died or burst up somehow, and seeing nothing before him but a place at a clerk's desk or enlisting he may have taken this alternative; and not a bad choice either. For, putting aside altogether the chance of getting a commission, which is a pretty slight one, there is no pleasanter life for a steady, well-conducted young fellow who has had a fair education than the army. He is sure of getting his stripes in a couple of years after enlisting. A non-commissioned officer has enough pay to live comfortably; he has no care or anxiety of any sort; he has more time to himself than a man in any other sort of business. There are no end of staff appointments open to him if he writes a good hand, and does not mind clerk work. If he goes in for long service he has every chance of being regimental sergeant-major before he has done, and can leave the service with a pension sufficient to keep him in a quiet way.”
”Yes, that is all very well, Summers, but he cannot marry. That is to say, if he has, as we are supposing, been born and educated as a gentleman, he cannot marry the sort of woman he would like as a wife.”
”No, there is that drawback,” the other laughed. ”But then, you see, if he had been obliged to take a small clerks.h.i.+p leading to nothing, he could hardly invite a young countess to share it with him.”
As Edgar walked back to barracks he thought over the advice that had been given him, and recognized its value. He knew that the chances of his ever obtaining a commission were exceedingly small, and that even young men whose fathers were officers of high standing and considerable influence seldom obtain a commission under six or seven years' service, and that the majority of commissions from the ranks are given to old non-commissioned officers who were made quarter-masters or pay-masters.
He had not entered the service, as had the two non-commissioned officers with whom he had been speaking, for the express purpose of gaining a commission, but simply because he had always had a fancy for soldiering, and because it seemed at the time he left Cheltenham the only thing open to him.
He had resolved from the first that he would regularly put by a portion of his pay, so that he could at any time purchase his discharge if he wished to, should he see any opening in which he could embark by the time he reached the age of three or four and twenty. He would have gained experience, and might then, if he liked, emigrate to one of the colonies. He resolved that when winter came he would go into one of the regimental workshops and learn a trade, either saddlery or farriery, which would enable him to earn his living for a time abroad until he saw something better to do. At school Edgar had held his place rather by steady work than by natural talent. Rupert was the more clever of the two, but Edgar's dogged perseverance had placed him in a more advanced position on the modern side than Rupert held on the cla.s.sical, and in whatever position he might find himself his perseverance, power of work, and strong common sense were likely to carry him through.
Edgar was conscious himself that he had acted hastily and wrongly in leaving Cheltenham as he had done, and yet he felt that if again placed in the same circ.u.mstances he should do the same. Captain Clinton had certainly a right to have a voice in his future, and yet he felt so keenly the dishonour of the fraud in which he had been an unconscious accomplice, that he could not have brought himself to accept any a.s.sistance at Captain Clinton's hands. Still he knew that those at home--for he still thought of it as home--would be feeling much anxiety about him, and once a month he wrote a short letter to Captain Clinton saying that he was well and was keeping himself comfortably. These letters he gave in charge of comrades going up for a day's leave to London to post there for him.
One day Edgar had gone with a dozen others to bathe in the ca.n.a.l. After doing so they had returned to barracks, and he had gone for a walk by himself. On his return he was walking along a lane at a distance of about a mile from the town, when he heard a scream. He at once started off at the top of his speed, and at a turn of the lane he came upon a group of two tramps and two frightened ladies. One of these was in the act of handing over her purse to a tramp, while the second man was holding the other by the wrist, and was endeavouring to tear off her watch and chain, which she was struggling to retain. Just as Edgar turned the corner he struck her on the face, and she fell backward on to the bank.
Another moment and Edgar was up to them. The tramp turned with a savage oath. Edgar, who was carrying his riding-whip, struck him with it with all his strength across the eyes, and the man staggered back with a shriek of pain. The other stood on the defensive, but he was no match for Edgar, who was in hard exercise, and in regular practice with the gloves, and whose blood was thoroughly up. The fight lasted but a minute, at the end of which time the tramp was lying in the road roaring for mercy, and shouting to his comrade to come to his a.s.sistance.
The latter, however, was stamping with pain, and was still unable to use his eyes.
Edgar turned to the ladies. ”If you will kindly walk on to the town,” he said, ”and send the first man you meet here to me, I will take care of these two fellows until he arrives, and then we will hand them over to the police. Do not be alarmed,” he went on, seeing that they hesitated, ”I think they have had enough of it.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”EDGAR STRUCK HIM WITH ALL HIS STRENGTH.”]
The ladies hurried off, and before going many hundred yards came upon three infantry men, who, when they heard what had happened, set off at a run to Edgar's a.s.sistance. They arrived just in time. The man on the ground had recovered his feet, and he and his companion had attacked Edgar with fury, and it needed all the latter's skill and activity to defend himself. As soon as the soldiers arrived upon the scene the combat ceased. As a measure of precaution the tramps were first knocked down; they were then dragged on to their feet and conducted by their captors into Aldershot, where they were lodged at the police station.