Shireen and her Friends Part 25

"Weel," said Jock, "if you'll gie me leave, sir, I'll soon drill her to that."

So Jock took me in hand that very evening after we reached camp, and began to teach me what he called "knapsack drill."

It was very simple. I was put on top of the knapsack and Jock fixed the bayonet on his gun and commenced plunging about up and down, and high and low, as if in front of the enemy. But I set my nails firmly into the knapsack and nothing could shake me off.

"That'll do fine for a beginning," said Jock.

There were British soldiers in the entrenched camp before Bushire, when we landed there, and marched to it, and right hearty welcome they made us.

The camp was in the middle of a vast plain, on which grew here and there some clumps of palm trees, and here and there a ruin stood. To our left was the blue sea, with the far-off shipping. Some distance in front of us was the walled town itself, built upon a long spit of land, and washed nearly all round by the sea. Far away behind the town were the lofty mountains, their snowy heads rising-high into the azure sky.

"Poetry again!" said Warlock.

"A spice of poesy," said Shireen grandly, "sometimes adds attraction to a scene. Don't you think so, Cracker?"

"Well, Shireen, to tell you the truth I can't say I understand it like.

My mother used to say to me 'Cracker,' she said, 'in your journey through this vale of tears, always make a better use of your teeth than your tongue.'"

"Very good," said Warlock. "Your mother must have been a brick, Cracker."

"A brick, Warlock. What a funny idea! No, no, my mother was a Bingley terrier. But go on, Shireen, when did the fur begin to fly?"

Not yet a bit, Cracker. Well, at night, I found my way to master's tent, and was glad to snuggle up in his arms, for though the days were warm the nights were bitterly cold.

Just before I fell asleep, Jock McNab came to the tent.

"I'm sayin', sir," he said.

"Yes, Mac, what is it?"

"Is Shireen wi' you?"

"That she is. Thank you, McNab, for being so mindful."

"That's a' richt then," said Jock. "Good-nicht."

And away the faithful fellow went.

Now although we were lying in camp here before Bushire, we weren't going to attack this town. Indeed, the people seemed very glad to see us, and sold us all kinds of nice things. So our brave General Outram soon got ready to make a terrible attack upon an entrenched camp of the Persians, fifty miles distant, and we had to walk all the way.

What a beautiful sight it was, I thought, to see all those brave soldiers in lines and lines, outside the camp; horses, Highlanders, and even fighting sailors and artillerymen. Of course you won't understand all I am saying, Cracker, but I am a soldier's cat, you know, and cannot help feeling a little martial ardour when I think of that splendid campaign.

Well, off we marched at last, my master at the head of his company, and I, perched on Jock McNab's knapsack, but keeping master in my eye all the time.

What a long weary, dreary march that was to Char Kota!

"Eh? Eh? What is it?" said the starling. "What d'ye say?"

"I said Char Kota, d.i.c.k, but I'm not going to use any hard names if I can help it, you may be sure."

Well, continued Shireen, the village I mentioned is twenty-six miles from the sh.o.r.e, but after a long halt we fell in again, and it was ten o'clock at night before we got to the place where we were to rest till morning.

Oh, how tired and weary the poor fellows were, for all the afternoon a cruel high cold wind had been raising dust-clouds around us, and buffeting us till we could hardly get on!

During a great part of the march I trotted by my master's side.

The night turned out bitterly cold, and as we lay on the ground the rain fell in torrents. The thunder roared and lightning flashed, till I thought surely we would be all drowned. As it was we were drenched to the skin.

Firing took place next morning, and I was a bit frightened; but Jock told me the men were only tiring off their pieces to make sure they were all right, after the heavy night of drenching rain.

The fight was to begin to-day, this very forenoon, for the enemy with all his guns was but five miles away, in his fortified camp at Brasjoon.

"The fur would soon fly," said Cracker, beginning to get much interested.

"Ah! but, Cracker, the fur didn't fly, for the enemy did."

"They weren't real terriers," Cracker said, "you bet."

No, and so they ran, and we took their camp, and their guns, and a lot of other things, and settled down for a bit, after destroying all the stores we didn't want.

It was a cold, clear night, with the moon shining very brightly on the plain and camp, and on the great mountains rising in rocky terraces high into the starry sky, and not very far from us. We expected the great battle would be fought next day, at least the men said so, and I listened eagerly to all their conversation.

But the fur didn't fly next day after all, and now we set out to walk back to Bushire, after doing the enemy's camp all the damage we could.

We started on the march towards the sh.o.r.e at eight o'clock, and marched on and on, singing and talking till midnight came.

Then, Cracker, the fun commenced, and the fur did begin to fly at last.

"Tell us! Tell us!" cried Cracker.

Oh, it is evident, Cracker, you are not a soldier's dog, else you would know that no single person can see more than a very little bit of a battle, although he may be right in the midst of it. But if I didn't see much I heard plenty.

It was sometime past midnight, and the moon was shining, though sand was blowing and getting into our eyes, when shouting and yelling, and awful firing was heard in the rear of our army. In less than half-an-hour the moonlight battle was raging its very fiercest. Hors.e.m.e.n were galloping here and there, yelling forth words of command, big guns roared out on the night air, bugles rang, and musketry roared, and fire flashed in every direction.

Of course, Cracker, being only a cat, I was terribly afraid, and sometimes I could not see my dear master at all for the smoke, only his flashing sword; but I often heard his brave voice high above the din of the battle, and this gave me courage and hope.

But my greatest trial came when the wild hors.e.m.e.n of the enemy came dashing on towards the Highlanders, and attempted to break their ranks.

Even at this terrible moment poor Jock McNab put up his hand and smoothed me.

"Hold on, p.u.s.s.y," he said. "Dinna be feared. The tulzie will soon be ower when the grim-faced foreigners get a taste o' Highland steel."

And a terrible tulzie that was, Cracker, and I saw much blood, and flashing of fire and steel, and cries and groans and shrieks. Oh, it was awful!

Then the heat of the fight seemed to surge away from us, and Jock found time to put up his hand once more and say,--

"Are ye still there, Shireen? Bravo! p.u.s.s.y."

The firing of the foe was much farther away now, and kept on thus all night long, till day at length broke pink and blue over the lovely snow-clad mountains.