THE ROUT OF THE WHITE HUSSARS.
It was not in the open fight We threw away the sword, But in the lonely watching In the darkness by the ford. The waters lapped, the night-wind blew, Full-armed the Fear was born and grew, And we were flying ere we knew From panic in the night.
Beoni Bar.
Some people hold that an English Cavalry regiment cannot run. This isa mistake. I have seen four hundred and thirty-seven sabres flying overthe face of the country in abject terror--have seen the best Regimentthat ever drew bridle, wiped off the Army List for the space of twohours. If you repeat this tale to the White Hussars they will, in allprobability, treat you severely. They are not proud of the incident.
You may know the White Hussars by their "side," which is greater thanthat of all the Cavalry Regiments on the roster. If this is not asufficient mark, you may know them by their old brandy. It has beensixty years in the Mess and is worth going far to taste. Ask for the"McGaire" old brandy, and see that you get it. If the Mess Sergeantthinks that you are uneducated, and that the genuine article will belost on you, he will treat you accordingly. He is a good man. But, whenyou are at Mess, you must never talk to your hosts about forced marchesor long-distance rides. The Mess are very sensitive; and, if they thinkthat you are laughing at them, will tell you so.
As the White Hussars say, it was all the Colonel's fault. He was a newman, and he ought never to have taken the Command. He said that theRegiment was not smart enough. This to the White Hussars, who knew theycould walk round any Horse and through any Guns, and over any Foot onthe face of the earth! That insult was the first cause of offence.
Then the Colonel cast the Drum-Horse--the Drum-Horse of the WhiteHussars! Perhaps you do not see what an unspeakable crime he hadcommitted. I will try to make it clear. The soul of the Regiment livesin the Drum-Horse, who carries the silver kettle-drums. He is nearlyalways a big piebald Waler. That is a point of honor; and a Regimentwill spend anything you please on a piebald. He is beyond the ordinarylaws of casting. His work is very light, and he only manoeuvres at afoot-pace. Wherefore, so long as he can step out and look handsome,his well-being is assured. He knows more about the Regiment than theAdjutant, and could not make a mistake if he tried.
The Drum-Horse of the White Hussars was only eighteen years old, andperfectly equal to his duties. He had at least six years' more work inhim, and carried himself with all the pomp and dignity of a Drum-Majorof the Guards. The Regiment had paid Rs. 1,200 for him.
But the Colonel said that he must go, and he was cast in due form andreplaced by a washy, bay beast as ugly as a mule, with a ewe-neck,rat-tail, and cow-hocks. The Drummer detested that animal, and the bestof the Band-horses put back their ears and showed the whites of theireyes at the very sight of him. They knew him for an upstart and nogentleman. I fancy that the Colonel's ideas of smartness extended tothe Band, and that he wanted to make it take part in the regular parademovements. A Cavalry Band is a sacred thing. It only turns out forCommanding Officers' parades, and the Band Master is one degree moreimportant than the Colonel. He is a High Priest and the "Keel Row" ishis holy song. The "Keel Row" is the Cavalry Trot; and the man who hasnever heard that tune rising, high and shrill, above the rattle of theRegiment going past the saluting-base, has something yet to hear andunderstand.
When the Colonel cast the Drum-horse of the White Hussars, there wasnearly a mutiny.
The officers were angry, the Regiment were furious, and the Bandsmanswore--like troopers. The Drum-Horse was going to be put up toauction--public auction--to be bought, perhaps, by a Parsee and put intoa cart! It was worse than exposing the inner life of the Regiment to thewhole world, or selling the Mess Plate to a Jew--a black Jew.
The Colonel was a mean man and a bully. He knew what the Regimentthought about his action; and, when the troopers offered to buy theDrum-Horse, he said that their offer was mutinous and forbidden by theRegulations.
But one of the Subalterns--Hogan-Yale, an Irishman--bought theDrum-Horse for Rs. 160 at the sale; and the Colonel was wroth. Yaleprofessed repentance--he was unnaturally submissive--and said that,as he had only made the purchase to save the horse from possibleill-treatment and starvation, he would now shoot him and end thebusiness. This appeared to soothe the Colonel, for he wanted theDrum-Horse disposed of. He felt that he had made a mistake, and couldnot of course acknowledge it. Meantime, the presence of the Drum-Horsewas an annoyance to him.
Yale took to himself a glass of the old brandy, three cheroots, and hisfriend, Martyn; and they all left the Mess together. Yale and Martynconferred for two hours in Yale's quarters; but only the bull-terrierwho keeps watch over Yale's boot-trees knows what they said. A horse,hooded and sheeted to his ears, left Yale's stables and was taken, veryunwillingly, into the Civil Lines. Yale's groom went with him. Two menbroke into the Regimental Theatre and took several paint-pots and somelarge scenery brushes. Then night fell over the Cantonments, and therewas a noise as of a horse kicking his loose-box to pieces in Yale'sstables. Yale had a big, old, white Waler trap-horse.
The next day was a Thursday, and the men, hearing that Yale was goingto shoot the Drum-Horse in the evening, determined to give the beast aregular regimental funeral--a finer one than they would have given theColonel had he died just then. They got a bullock-cart and some sacking,and mounds and mounds of roses, and the body, under sacking, was carriedout to the place where the anthrax cases were cremated; two-thirds ofthe Regiment followed. There was no Band, but they all sang "The Placewhere the old Horse died" as something respectful and appropriate to theoccasion. When the corpse was dumped into the grave and the men beganthrowing down armfuls of roses to cover it, the Farrier-Sergeant rippedout an oath and said aloud:--"Why, it ain't the Drum-Horse any more thanit's me!" The Troop-Sergeant-Majors asked him whether he had lefthis head in the Canteen. The Farrier-Sergeant said that he knew theDrum-Horse's feet as well as he knew his own; but he was silencedwhen he saw the regimental number burnt in on the poor stiff, upturnednear-fore.
Thus was the Drum-Horse of the White Hussars buried; theFarrier-Sergeant grumbling. The sacking that covered the corpse wassmeared in places with black paint; and the Farrier-Sergeant drewattention to this fact. But the Troop-Sergeant-Major of E Troop kickedhim severely on the shin, and told him that he was undoubtedly drunk.
On the Monday following the burial, the Colonel sought revenge on theWhite Hussars. Unfortunately, being at that time temporarily in Commandof the Station, he ordered a Brigade field-day. He said that he wishedto make the regiment "sweat for their damned insolence," and he carriedout his notion thoroughly. That Monday was one of the hardest daysin the memory of the White Hussars. They were thrown against askeleton-enemy, and pushed forward, and withdrawn, and dismounted, and"scientifically handled" in every possible fashion over dusty country,till they sweated profusely. Their only amusement came late in the day,when they fell upon the battery of Horse Artillery and chased it for twomile's. This was a personal question, and most of the troopers had moneyon the event; the Gunners saying openly that they had the legs of theWhite Hussars. They were wrong. A march-past concluded the campaign, andwhen the Regiment got back to their Lines, the men were coated with dirtfrom spur to chin-strap.
The White Hussars have one great and peculiar privilege. They won it atFontenoy, I think.
Many Regiments possess special rights, such as wearing collars withundress uniform, or a bow of ribbon between the shoulders, or red andwhite roses in their helmets on certain days of the year. Somerights are connected with regimental saints, and some with regimentalsuccesses. All are valued highly; but none so highly as the right ofthe White Hussars to have the Band playing when their horses are beingwatered in the Lines. Only one tune is played, and that tune nevervaries. I don't know its real name, but the White Hussars callit:--"Take me to London again." It sound's very pretty. The Regimentwould sooner be struck off the roster than forego their distinction.
After
the "dismiss" was sounded, the officers rode off home to preparefor stables; and the men filed into the lines, riding easy. That is tosay, they opened their tight buttons, shifted their helmets, and beganto joke or to swear as the humor took them; the more careful slippingoff and easing girths and curbs. A good trooper values his mount exactlyas much as he values himself, and believes, or should believe, that thetwo together are irresistible where women or men, girl's or gun's, areconcerned.
Then the Orderly-Officer gave the order:--"Water horses," and theRegiment loafed off to the squadron-troughs, which were in rear ofthe stables and between these and the barracks. There were four hugetroughs, one for each squadron, arranged en echelon, so that the wholeRegiment could water in ten minutes if it liked. But it lingered forseventeen, as a rule, while the Band played.
The band struck up as the squadrons filed off the troughs and the menslipped their feet out of the stirrups and chaffed each other. The sunwas just setting in a big, hot bed of red cloud, and the road to theCivil Lines seemed to run straight into the sun's eye. There was alittle dot on the road. It grew and grew till it showed as a horse, witha sort of gridiron thing on his back. The red cloud glared through thebars of the gridiron. Some of the troopers shaded their eyes with theirhands and said:--"What the mischief as that there 'orse got on 'im!"
In another minute they heard a neigh that every soul--horse and man--inthe Regiment knew, and saw, heading straight towards the Band, the deadDrum-Horse of the White Hussars!
On his withers banged and bumped the kettle-drums draped in crape, andon his back, very stiff and soldierly, sat a bare-headed skeleton.
The band stopped playing, and, for a moment, there was a hush.
Then some one in E troop--men said it was theTroop-Sergeant-Major--swung his horse round and yelled. No one canaccount exactly for what happened afterwards; but it seems that, atleast, one man in each troop set an example of panic, and the restfollowed like sheep. The horses that had barely put their muzzles intothe trough's reared and capered; but, as soon as the Band broke, whichit did when the ghost of the Drum-Horse was about a furlong distant, allhooves followed suit, and the clatter of the stampede--quite differentfrom the orderly throb and roar of a movement on parade, or the roughhorse-play of watering in camp--made them only more terrified. They feltthat the men on their backs were afraid of something. When horses onceknow THAT, all is over except the butchery.
Troop after troop turned from the troughs and ran--anywhere, andeverywhere--like spit quicksilver. It was a most extraordinaryspectacle, for men and horses were in all stages of easiness, and thecarbine-buckets flopping against their sides urged the horses on. Menwere shouting and cursing, and trying to pull clear of the Band whichwas being chased by the Drum-Horse whose rider had fallen forward andseemed to be spurring for a wager.
The Colonel had gone over to the Mess for a drink. Most of the officerswere with him, and the Subaltern of the Day was preparing to go downto the lines, and receive the watering reports from the Troop-SergeantMajors. When "Take me to London again" stopped, after twenty bars, everyone in the Mess said:--"What on earth has happened?" A minute later,they heard unmilitary noises, and saw, far across the plain, the WhiteHussars scattered, and broken, and flying.
The Colonel was speechless with rage, for he thought that the Regimenthad risen against him or was unanimously drunk. The Band, a disorganizedmob, tore past, and at it's heels labored the Drum-Horse--the dead andburied Drum-Horse--with the jolting, clattering skeleton. Hogan-Yalewhispered softly to Martyn:--"No wire will stand that treatment," andthe Band, which had doubled like a hare, came back again. But the restof the Regiment was gone, was rioting all over the Province, for thedusk had shut in and each man was howling to his neighbor that theDrum-Horse was on his flank. Troop-Horses are far too tenderly treatedas a rule. They can, on emergencies, do a great deal, even withseventeen stone on their backs. As the troopers found out.
How long this panic lasted I cannot say. I believe that when the moonrose the men saw they had nothing to fear, and, by twos and threesand half-troops, crept back into Cantonments very much ashamed ofthemselves. Meantime, the Drum-Horse, disgusted at his treatment byold friends, pulled up, wheeled round, and trotted up to the Messverandah-steps for bread. No one liked to run; but no one cared to goforward till the Colonel made a movement and laid hold of the skeleton'sfoot. The Band had halted some distance away, and now came back slowly.The Colonel called it, individually and collectively, every evil namethat occurred to him at the time; for he had set his hand on thebosom of the Drum-Horse and found flesh and blood. Then he beat thekettle-drums with his clenched fist, and discovered that they were butmade of silvered paper and bamboo. Next, still swearing, he tried todrag the skeleton out of the saddle, but found that it had been wiredinto the cantle. The sight of the Colonel, with his arms round theskeleton's pelvis and his knee in the old Drum-Horse's stomach, wasstriking. Not to say amusing. He worried the thing off in a minute ortwo, and threw it down on the ground, saying to the Band:--"Here, youcurs, that's what you're afraid of." The skeleton did not look pretty inthe twilight. The Band-Sergeant seemed to recognize it, for he began tochuckle and choke. "Shall I take it away, sir?" said the Band-Sergeant."Yes," said the Colonel, "take it to Hell, and ride there yourselves!"
The Band-Sergeant saluted, hoisted the skeleton across his saddle-bow,and led off to the stables. Then the Colonel began to make inquiriesfor the rest of the Regiment, and the language he used was wonderful. Hewould disband the Regiment--he would court-martial every soul in it--hewould not command such a set of rabble, and so on, and so on. As themen dropped in, his language grew wilder, until at last it exceeded theutmost limits of free speech allowed even to a Colonel of Horse.
Martyn took Hogan-Yale aside and suggested compulsory retirement fromthe service as a necessity when all was discovered. Martyn was theweaker man of the two, Hogan-Yale put up his eyebrows and remarked,firstly, that he was the son of a Lord, and secondly, that he wasas innocent as the babe unborn of the theatrical resurrection of theDrum-Horse.
"My instructions," said Yale, with a singularly sweet smile, "were thatthe Drum-Horse should be sent back as impressively as possible. I askyou, AM I responsible if a mule-headed friend sends him back in such amanner as to disturb the peace of mind of a regiment of Her Majesty'sCavalry?"
Martyn said:--"you are a great man and will in time become a General;but I'd give my chance of a troop to be safe out of this affair."
Providence saved Martyn and Hogan-Yale. The Second-in-Command led theColonel away to the little curtained alcove wherein the subalterns ofthe white Hussars were accustomed to play poker of nights; and there,after many oaths on the Colonel's part, they talked together in lowtones. I fancy that the Second-in-Command must have represented thescare as the work of some trooper whom it would be hopeless to detect;and I know that he dwelt upon the sin and the shame of making a publiclaughingstock of the scare.
"They will call us," said the Second-in-Command, who had really a fineimagination, "they will call us the 'Fly-by-Nights'; they will call usthe 'Ghost Hunters'; they will nickname us from one end of the Army listto the other. All the explanations in the world won't make outsidersunderstand that the officers were away when the panic began. For thehonor of the Regiment and for your own sake keep this thing quiet."
The Colonel was so exhausted with anger that soothing him down was notso difficult as might be imagined. He was made to see, gently and bydegrees, that it was obviously impossible to court-martial the wholeRegiment, and equally impossible to proceed against any subaltern who,in his belief, had any concern in the hoax.
"But the beast's alive! He's never been shot at all!" shouted theColonel. "It's flat, flagrant disobedience! I've known a man broke forless, d----d sight less. They're mocking me, I tell you, Mutman! They'remocking me!"
Once more, the Second-in-Command set himself to sooth the Colonel,and wrestled with him for half-an-hour. At the end of that time, theRegimental Sergeant-Major reported himself
. The situation was rathernovel tell to him; but he was not a man to be put out by circumstances.He saluted and said: "Regiment all come back, Sir." Then, to propitiatethe Colonel:--"An' none of the horses any the worse, Sir."
The Colonel only snorted and answered:--"You'd better tuck the men intotheir cots, then, and see that they don't wake up and cry in the night."The Sergeant withdrew.
His little stroke of humor pleased the Colonel, and, further, hefelt slightly ashamed of the language he had been using. TheSecond-in-Command worried him again, and the two sat talking far intothe night.
Next day but one, there was a Commanding Officer's parade, and theColonel harangued the White Hussars vigorously. The pith of his speechwas that, since the Drum-Horse in his old age had proved himself capableof cutting up the Whole Regiment, he should return to his post of prideat the head of the band, BUT the Regiment were a set of ruffians withbad consciences.
The White Hussars shouted, and threw everything movable about them intothe air, and when the parade was over, they cheered the Colonel tillthey couldn't speak. No cheers were put up for Lieutenant Hogan-Yale,who smiled very sweetly in the background.
Said the Second-in-Command to the Colonel, unofficially:--"These littlethings ensure popularity, and do not the least affect discipline."
"But I went back on my word," said the Colonel.
"Never mind," said the Second-in-Command. "The White Hussars will followyou anywhere from to-day. Regiment's are just like women. They will doanything for trinketry."
A week later, Hogan-Yale received an extraordinary letter from some onewho signed himself "Secretary Charity and Zeal, 3709, E. C.," and askedfor "the return of our skeleton which we have reason to believe is inyour possession."
"Who the deuce is this lunatic who trades in bones?" said Hogan-Yale.
"Beg your pardon, Sir," said the Band-Sergeant, "but the skeleton iswith me, an' I'll return it if you'll pay the carriage into the CivilLines. There's a coffin with it, Sir."
Hogan-Yale smiled and handed two rupees to the Band-Sergeant,saying:--"Write the date on the skull, will you?"
If you doubt this story, and know where to go, you can see the date onthe skeleton. But don't mention the matter to the White Hussars.
I happen to know something about it, because I prepared the Drum-Horsefor his resurrection. He did not take kindly to the skeleton at all.