Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 May 1900 — Captain Brabazon [ARTICLE]

Captain Brabazon

BY B. CROKER

CHAPTER Xlll—(Continued.) Four days later the Portugal had cast anchor just outside the bar of Durban, and the marchers were at the end of their frayage—all but the two miles which intervened between them and the shore. It (was too late to disembark or do anything that evening, although boats with disSatches were soon alongside. After dinner files came up on deck for a smoke, rested his arm on the bulwarks and gazed on the scene before him*. Although it was night, it was not dark; the sky was Jit up with millions and millions of stars, that seemed closer and brighter than in our own Northern region. The troop ship lay just outside the bar, and a tine bay, evidently fringed with trees; at one extremity blinked a lighthouse, and far away toward the middle of the curve were the lamps of the tpwn of Durban. J. “And so this is Africa,” thought Miles. ’“A new country to me, and a hard nut ifor the Government to crack. 1 wonder what I shall find there'/” he asked himself, as he looked at its distant, silent shores, clothed with the dignity of night. “Shall I come home as I landed? shall I find a medal or a grave?” And that other fellow, what would he find? in a few months’ time—perhaps even now, he was a spruce young lancer officer; he ilooked just the sort to shove along and distinguish himself; have his name in all the papers, and go home to receive his reward at Esme’s hands. “If he does,” muttered Miles, half aloud, “may I never iUve to know it." . Next morning the regiment embarked for the shore in tugs and boats. Durban •town, with its green turf, wild flowers and trees and hedges, reminded one of home, although its long, sandy streets • and curiously built houses were more colonial than English. It boasted several places of worship, two clubs and some good shops, and the marchers, as they passed through en route to the station, were not likely to see anything so civilized again for some time. ; The marchers traveled by rail as far as the trail went, and then the real campaigning business commenced, then they began to understand what was meant by “the tented field,’“"trek oxen, dongas, dust, mosquitoes, laagering; it was march, march, march, steadily march, day after day. The new arrivals speedily learned how to make the most of commissariat flour and beef, to pitch and strike tents, to out-span and in-span; but we need not pause to describe their route, as this story deals more with the fortunes of Miles and Teddy Brabazon than with the Boer campaign; which has been aptly and abundantly related elsewhere. Long, l monotonous, stretching plains, covered with high grass, bowlders and ant-hills, and vexed with aggravating dongas. Here and there along the track a dead bullock, dead a week, another, dead a fortnight, another, oh blessed change, a skeleton. We see no sign of life—no cattle, no «moke, no trees, no villages, nothing but the broiling sun overhead, the baking veldt underfoot. One, just one or two ominous objects we do pass, near the end of the march—one or two skeletons, and one or two knapsacks lying at the side of the track, in the long, coarse yellow grass. I CHAPTER XIV. In due time the column came to a halt and real camp life commenced. It was duU work enough; this waiting for orders to more to the front was trying to those who, to use their own phraseology, were eager to be “talking to the natives." There was nothing to be* done but grin and bear it, and the time was put in in mending kits, making forays for food on Kaffir kraals and Boer farms, cutting wood and grumbling—there is a great luxury in a good grumble. Captain Brabazon and Gee had pitched their little tents side by side, and were almost as much together as in the old days. The nights were cold, the dew was heavy, and white, chill fogs of constant occurrence. Visiting the outposts and pickets was a duty that fell to Captain Brabazon about once a week. Between eleven and twelve o'clock one night he was going round the sentries in a dense fog which had come on quite suddenly and obscured the moon most completely, swathing every object in a cloak of thick, white mist. r “I heard a noise just now, sir,” said one of the sentries, in a lonely spot; “something like a lot of men on horses trampling below us in the valley. There it goes again," and, sure enough, Miles made out the uncertain scrambling of hoofs, scattering stones hither and thither as they made their way up the hill. “Challenge,” he said, promptly. “Halt! who goes there?” sentry, in one long word, bringing his rifle tfl the charge. And out of the fog a bold English voice replied, “A friend." "Stand, friend; advance one, and give the countersign." And very shortly a trotting sound was heard through the soppy grass, and from the midst of the surrounding milk-white fog suddenly loomed a man and a horse, lancer officer—in short, Teddy 1 Oh, happy Teddy! a lieutenant at last, though the glories of your uniform are concealed betcath a cape, and the water is streaming rom your helmet, and your very muskache is limp and wet. “Are these the outposts of the Royal Marchers?” he asked, In a cheery voice, as he reined up his charger. , “Yes, sir,” responded the soldier. “I’ve been rambling over the whole country, lost in this beastly fog,” to Miles, Who now came forward, “and only 1 heard the challenge of your sentries, I'd be rambling still,” dismounting from his blowing hone and following Captain Brabazon to the picket fire. As he came within*the light thrown by the brushwood, his companion, had he noticed it, started perceptibly; and no wonder, for he recognized, standing before him In the just the very one person in the

world he never wished to see again—- “ Gentleman Brown.” “I’Ve dispatches from Lord Cbalmsford for your chief,” proceeded Teddy, unconscious of the sudden and ominous change that had come over his companion’s face. “Will you show me the way to his diggings?" "Yes, if you will follow me. This way,down to the left, and look but for the tent ropes,” said the marcher officer, in a hard, mechanical voice. “Come on then, Kitty, old girl,” taking her by the bridle, “and mind yourself. We have been among the bogs and holes and ant hiHs for the/last couple of hours,” he went on, speaking to his guide, who was walking a few paces before him, “and, upon my word, I thought we were lost. Two or three times I’d have come to awful grief only for the mare here,” patting her affectionately; “she's very quick on her pins; ain’t you, old lady?” “You seem to have a good-sized camp,” he continued, as they steered and stumbled their way back to the tents. “The marchers’ column must be pretty strong.” What a silent beggar the marcher was. “Pretty well,” laconically. “Here is the colonel’s tent,” and he was going to add, “now I’ll leave you,” but this would ndt have been marcher manners or form; he would have to look after this cub and his horse, too—finders are keepers. The colonel was a veteran who considered four hours of sleep ample for any man. He was sitting up writing, when Miles introduced the young lancer officer bearing dispatches. Having made a lew inquiries about the route he had come, the condition of the roads, etc., the colonel dismissed him by saying: “Well, 1 shall see you again to-morrow morning; you must be pretty well done up now. Brabazon, you will look after him and see that he has a comfortable shake-down for the night, and that his horse is attended to.” And Miles muttered something rather indistinct, which was meant to convey the fact that it would be all right, of course, and he would be delighted. "My servant is in bed, but I’ll have him out in a minute,” he said. “He will look after your horse, and I’ll see what I can find you in the way of supper; you must not expect anything very gorgeous.” “Don’t mind routing up your fellow. I’ll do up the mare myself, if you’ll just let me have a feed and a sheet and a picket rope." And, sure enough, he set to work in the most professional manner, unsaddled her, groomed her a bit, fed her and made her up, while Miles stood by with a lantern in his hand and a sneer under his mustache, and told himself contemptuously that “Gentleman Brown had certainly not been in the ranks for nothing.” This business accomplished, Captain Brabazon conducted the stranger to his own tent, and set the best fare he could .find before him; cold stewed beef, eold tea in a silver mug, a bunch of bread, and—oh, luxury!—a tin of sardinds. And Teddy sat on he side of his host's bed, and did ample justice to the fare in question, for he was hungry, having traveled far and fast, and very, very tired. Captain Gee was a light sleeper, and had been aroused by this strange, loud voice in Miles’ tent. Who was it? There was but one means of discovering the fact, and that was to go and sec. For a time he struggled in his own mind between laziness and curiosity, but in the end the latter gallantly carried the day. He, like every one in camp, slept nightly in his clothes, so in two minutes his sandy head was presented in the doorway, and his familiar voice was heard demanding “What’s the row?” His blinking eyes quickly took in a broad shouldered young man sitting upon Miles’ bed, busily engaged in polishing off their last tin of sardines. "This officer has just ridden in from Lord Chelmsford’s camp with dispatches,” said Miles to his friend, by way of an introduction. “But what ailed Miles?" thought that astute little man, as he glanced sharply over at his brother officer. "Why did he speak in such a curiously ‘company’ voice? Why was ah usual bonhommie absent from his manner? Why did that manner convey an idea of mere frigid forbearance?” Mr. Dicky had not been called "a cute little beggar” without good reason; he could x>nt two and two together better than most people. “In the cavalry, in this country,” and Miles face told the whole story. He took in the scene before him with a cool, discerning eye, and informed himself that "this lancer, sitting on Miles’ bed, playing havoc with their European stores, this good-looking chap with the merry eyes, who looked as if when once he began (o laugh he could never-leave off, was the other fellow!” CHAPTER XV. At daybreak the bugles sounded the reveille, and found Miles still awake. He got up, made a hurried toilet, and, leaving “Gentleman Brown" fast asleep, he hastened out to his work. His morning rounds of inspection over, he strolled away down the hill from camp, and seated himself on the wall of a deserted mealie field, where he could have the full benefit of the rising sun. "No need to return till that fellow has gone," he said. He had done all that hospitality required, had given him a good supper and his own bed, and now let some other marcher “speed the parting guest.” But what was this he saw? This lancer himself, hurrying down the hill, looking wonderfully spruce end smart, his kit a painful contrast to Miles’ shabby serge coat and wentherstained leggings. “What does he want now?” said Captain Brabazon to himself. Irritably. "1 believe he’s looking for me." “Ilulloa! I say, Brabazon,” he hailed, cheerily, from some distance, “1 want to have a word with you before I go,” clattering quickly down over the loose stones. “With me?” returned the other, in a surly tone and most unpromising man-

ner, not rising, not showing any alacrity to gyeet him. “Yes, with you, of course. 1 was too dead-beat to talk to you last night. Don’t you know who I am, old chap?” accompanying the question with a violent slap on the back. “Yes, I know who you' are right enmigh,” morosely. v>h, you do, do you? Well, you might seem a bit more pleaserd to see me, instead of sitting there like an old bear with a sore head,” in a tone of surprise. “Look here, ybung fellow,” said Miles, suddenly rising. “I’d advise you to leave me alone; I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Don’t provoke me too far, or we might both bo» sorry for the consequences.” “Hullo! hullo! Easy does It. You are on the wrong track; you evidently don’t know who I am; come, now, where did you ever see me?” “On board the Resistance. Will that do?” looking rather dangerous. “Oh!" quite coolly. “I suppose you recognized me by being with Esriie. She was very plucky to come all that way. Poor girl, she was in a terrible state. 1 thought she would never let me go. How she cried!” To this remark Miles preserved an ominous silence. “Tell me one thing," continued this undaunted lancer, squaring himself before his now boiling companion. “Why did you not marry her? What has happened? I declare when I recognized yon last night in the colonel’s tent you might just have knocked me down with a feather. Why did you not marry Esme?” he reiterated, persistently. “I should think that no one knows the reason better than yourself,” ferociously. “You forget that 1 witnessed the affecting parting between you and her,” he added, in a tone of scorching contempt. “And what harm if you did?” indignantly. “I say, you know, if you are going to be jealous of a girl’s brother you must be a most ” “Brother! brother!” was all his companion dould ejaculate, as he leaned against the wall and stared nt Teddy with a dazed, white face, and, in so staring, brought conviction home to his very soul. For was not Teddy looking at him with Esme’s own dark-blue eyes? “Don’t you know that I’m Teddy Brabazon?” exclaimed the lancer, seizing his cousin by the arm and giving him a vigorous shake. “No, I don’t,” returned Miles, at last rousing his mental faculties (rom the shock they had sustained. “Mrs. Brabazon told me that Teddy was dead,” speaking in a strange voice. “Yes, she said he was dead.” “Oh, Mrs. B. would say anything!” contemptuously, “but all the same I’m alive and kicking,” giving his relative another little shake. “Why, man, you look as dazed as if I had knocked you on the head. Just listen to me, and I’ll tell you all about it,” still holding him by the arm as though he were afraid he would escape. "You must know, in the first place, that I’m as stupid as a fish, brains, nil; was plucked three times from the line, and as Mrs. B. cut up awfully rough I went off and enlisted; was, in consequence, disowned by the family and given out as dead,” speaking so rapidly that the words seemed to tumble over one another in their eagerness to be uttered. "The only one that stuck to me was Esme; she clung to me like a limpet from first to last.” ■“And why was I never told?” interrupted Miles, fiercely, suddenly wrenching himself away from Teddy’s eagerly detaining hand. “Why did she never speak of you?” “Because I would not let her,” replied the other, frankly. “Over apd over again she begged and implored leave to let you into the secret of ‘Sergeant Brown,’ but I would not listen to her. 1 said, time enough when I could take your hand as an equal, aud as a brother officer. It' was just a whim of mine,” now possessing himself Miles’ reluctant fingers and shaking them very heartily as he spoke. “A whim of yours has cost me pretty dear,” said his cousin, bitterly. “Forty thousand pounds and Esme." “How? What do you mean?’! ly"How?” angrily. “Why, when I saw her down at Portsmouth that day,-on the sly, taking an agonizing farewell of a sergeant of lancers, was not that enough?" Teddy was now the one whose face expressed incredulous amazement and blank dismay. “I—l ” proceeded Miles, with a catch in his breath, “rushed after her to the station, feeling like a madman, and no doubt looking the character; had just time to tell her that I had done with her forever; then I exchanged out here within forty-eight hours; and to think,” clinching his hand, “to think that, after all, it was her brother.” He stopped, unable to utter another word. (To be continued.)