CHAPTER VIII.

GRANDFATHER GOES ON FURLOUGH--A CHANGE AND MANY A CHANGE--POOR LITTLE RACHEL--BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA--THE GALLANT 42ND--NIGHTFALL ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE.

Late in the year 1800, or early in January, 1801, my grandfather's company were doing duty in Dublin.

He had behaved so entirely to the satisfaction of his officers and colonel, that when a longing came over him to behold once more the scenes of his boyhood, a furlough was at once granted to him, and, in a sailing packet, stormy and cold though the weather was, he left Dublin for Glasgow. The wind was favourable, though high, and in little more than two days he landed at his destination.

The coach road to Edinburgh was clear, and he was lucky enough to find a ship just starting for Inverness. He stopped for nothing, but hurried on board. He was a good sailor now, but, moreover, he was lucky in getting a good ship; and so, on the 10th of January, he found himself again in Inverness. Every street, almost every house, brought back to his mind recollections of his former life, and days of his boyhood. 'T was but a short time ago, after all, for he was now but twenty-one. But there were changes, and some were sad enough.

Naturally he bent his steps towards the house of his old friend, Craig, the staymaker.

He found it deserted, and the windows boarded up.

He entered a shop close by, to make enquiries.

The people had only recently arrived from the south.

But a woman was there shopping.

"I knew the Craigs well," she said. "Indeed, indeed, the pair of stays I'm wearing at this very moment was made by the old man himself."

"And where have they gone?"

"O, dead and buried years and years ago. Old folks, you know. A pound of sugar, Mr. McDonald."

My grandfather thanked her, and walked away, somewhat saddened by the brief interview.

He walked out now towards the river, and down along its bonnie banks, that were green even now, though away on the mountains the snow lay thick and white.

Yes, there was the Lodge. The house itself was looking much the same, but the gardens were ill-kept, and it was evident, from the drawn blinds, that the Frasers had left.

He had had no intention, at any rate, to call, but the deaf old gardener was leaning over the gate, and him he addressed.

"You don't remember me?"

"No, no, not at all. You're a bonnie man yoursel', but she doesna like a red-coat."

"And where have the Frasers gone?"

"Eh? What? O, ay, the Frasers. Well, ochone! the bonnie leddie is dead and away. And the captain is gone to the wars. They tell me he has gone to fight for Charlie. Heigho! it will be bonnie days when the old Stuarts get their own."

My grandfather smiled. This, then, was all that this poor dottled gardener knew about the wars that were then shaking the world to its social foundation.

He knew what a shilling was, though.

Now this old man was seventy if a day, but when my grandfather held out that shilling he drew back with a start.

"She'll no' touch it," he cried. "You'll be wanting me to enlist to fight for George. Na, na, she'd maype fight for Sharlie Stuart, but not for George, no, no, no."

"He would have taken half a crown, though, But had to be content with 'saxpence.'"

Grandfather started off now to walk to Beauly.

There were no leaves upon the birchen trees. The heather was brown, the brachens withered, the voice of song-birds was no longer heard in the woods, only, across the dark waters of the Firth, the white gulls skimmed and screamed. Yet, desolate though the scene was, it cast not a shade of gloom on the young soldier's heart. It was _home_. And

"Hame is hame, howe'er sae hamely."

* * * * *

He remembered, now, the fisherman's little cottage. Ah! that must be visited. So down he went towards the beach. Yes, yonder stood the little cot. But it was roofless and still. Only the sea winds moaned around its deserted walls.

Before he reached Beauly he passed the very spot where, years ago, he had knelt in prayer. Someone unseen seemed to beckon him there to pray again, and willingly he obeyed.

He had much to be thankful for, and thankful he was, just pouring out his heart silently before the Unseen God, and praying that, as he had hitherto been mercifully preserved, the same kind Father would thenceforth keep his eyes from tears, and his feet from falling.

Well, poor young fellow, he needed some consolation; for, on calling at the little inn at Beauly, where he had been a prisoner, he found Ellen, but little changed.

They talked away right merrily for a time, till at last she asked:

"Does your people know you are coming?"

"No, Ellen; I want to give them a happy surprise."

"I suppose you know your old dominie has left and gone to Glasgow?"

"No--o--o; that is news indeed. And Rachel, she----"

"Ah! yes; your little sweetheart, she is dead and gone."

Grandfather felt as if a shot had struck him. He reeled and staggered backward into a chair. Ellen was shocked at her own rashness. She put her arms around his neck as if he were still a boy.

"Poor Ian, poor Ian. Oh, I didn't know you loved her so much."

He dashed away the tears, and rose slowly from his seat. The sudden news was, indeed, a shock to him, and one from which he did not recover for weeks.

* * * * *

Should I apologise, my dear boy and girl readers, for thus letting our little heroine Rachel die? I think not. Because you must remember that the story I am writing is not mere fiction. You will, doubtless, believe me when I say that I am more sorry than anyone else could be. An author ever loves his heroines as well as his heroes.

Sorrow for the dead is a grief--a chastening grief--for which there is no antidote in life, save time, that levels all things.

John Robertson went sorrowfully, sadly up the hill. He took out Rachel's little letter from its case, and read it over again once more. The sight of that little four-bladed clover, that his child-sweetheart had given him, brought tears to his eyes once more. He replaced it in his bosom.

"Yes," he told himself, "I will always keep it there."

At a distance he saw the little school and schoolhouse, ay, and even the peat-stack from which little Rachel had waved him adieu.

But a new dominie taught and tawsed the boys there now, and he wouldn't have gone near it for the world.

He went on and up the brae.

A collie dog came running down to accost the strange soldier. It was Dash, somewhat hoarse and stiff with age.

Would the dog know him?

He did. His barking was changed to cries of joy as he jumped and played around our hero. In fact, Dash, for the time being, hardly knew what to do with himself, or how to behave.

But a happy thought seemed suddenly to occur to him, and off he went trotting into the house, and, in his own way, conveyed to the young soldier's parents the news that Ian, his master, had returned.

Both ran out to meet him.

No--I shall skip the description. Suffice it to say that Ian's mother wept for joy.

"Ah! but they were not to have me long," said my grandfather, as he told me of this joyful meeting, "for in three days' time the runner from Beauly brought me a letter, laddie, on the King's service. I was told thereby that I must join my regiment at once, for it was ordered on foreign service."

So away went my soldier grandfather.

Would he ever see his parents again? That was a question none could answer.

It is well at times we are not permitted to look into the future.

The present alone is ours. The past is no more. Our futures are with God.

My grandfather joined his company. His company joined his regiment; and by the 1st of March, 1801, they landed with others, under Sir Ralph Abercromby, at Aboukir Bay, or, rather, they reached the bay.

It was a pity for Britain, and a pity and even disgrace for the British Navy, that Napoleon was ever allowed to leave Egypt. But he had escaped, and had been lucky enough not to meet a British ship on his way to Corsica.

When we landed at Aboukir Bay, it had been arranged that we were to be supported by Turkish troops from Syria, as well as by a division of British and Indian troops. But both were late, and Sir Ralph, with his army of seventeen thousand, began the fun, as our soldiers termed it, all alone.

Now, the French general had no less than twenty-seven thousand troops at Cairo. He lacked courage and dash, however, and only sent detachments, which were speedily placed _hors de combat_ before our gallant fellows.

One cannot help feeling a little sorry at the mistakes of even one's enemies. Why, we cannot help asking, did not the French general concentrate?

Had he done so, he would have had some chance of victory, but he would have been defeated just the same, and there would have been all the more honour and glory for our country.

I remember, boys, right well, how my dear Auld-da's description of this glorious fight stirred my young blood as I sat by his knee one winter's evening, and watched his face.

"I recollect," he said, "that 7th day of March as if it were but yesterday.

"We were all in fine fighting form, so Captain, now Major, Drake told me, as I stood beside him, gazing landwards over the bulwarks, while the sun sank slowly towards the blue sea.

"'Ah, Sergeant, my boy,' he said, laughing, and rubbing his hands, 'we're going to have a touch of the real thing to-morrow.'

"'Sure and we are,' put in O'Reilly, 'and it is myself that wishes it were only to-night. What an Irishman can't stand is the waiting for it.'

"Big Dr. McLeod was there also, towering like a giant in his might above them all. Near him stood little Blood and dashing Jones--quite a muster of officers, and all as merry as May bees.

"'Yes, it's going to be to-morrow morning, Sergeant,' said the surgeon, 'and I hope your cheese-knife is ready and sharp enough to cut a head off. I'm going to sharpen my sword, and my gum-lancet too, and do my duty among you to the end of the chapter.'

"'I wonder,' said little Blood, drawing himself up to his full height, which wasn't much, 'if there is a man in our gallant regiment whose blood does not thrill as he looks around him here this night, and remembers that we are anchored in the very bay where Nelson fought the battle of the Nile?'

"'Go it, Blood,' cried O'Reilly, 'I like to hear you talk. It sort o' strengthens one's nerves.'

"'I'll go bound for it,' said Drake, 'that Blood will fight to-morrow as well as he talks to-night. Sergeant Robertson,' he continued, 'I'll keep my eye on you to-morrow too, if I can open it, just to see how well a young Highlander can fight.'"

"And were you afraid, Auld-da?" I asked.

"Well, no, laddie, I can't say I was, and I remember thinking to myself it was odd that I wasn't. I slept soundly enough, for I had turned in early.

"We had a hurried breakfast, boy, and the boats were called away before it was light. We embarked with as little noise as possible. Not that this mattered much. But the sun had not even risen, though his beams were reddening the long low clouds that lay along the eastern horizon.

"What a dash that was for the shore! Five thousand strong we were. That was all, but we were called the flower of Sir Ralph Abercromby's little army.

"I remember the even-down and regular plash with which our oars took the water, and how the boats, almost without hitch, darted shorewards.

"I remember the wild cheer with which we started, and something else as well, for among the first five thousand troops landed were the 42nd Highlanders. I was in flank a boat, and coming from one near me, I heard a voice I knew right well.

"'Hurro! Preen Mhor, here we are again. See you later on, when we lick the Froggies.'

"And this, as you will guess, was none else than brave Tom Grahame. I could not help lifting my cap, and waving it over my head, for the dear fellow's voice quite cheered me.

"'Shoulder to shoulder, Tom,' I cried, in Gaelic, and more than Tom raised a cheer at these words, which, you must know, dear laddie, form one of the mottoes of our fighting Scottish soldiers all the wide world over.

"If I had felt fear before, boy, Tom's brave Highland voice would have banished it all.

"But presently every thought was concentrated on the shore, for suddenly puffs of white smoke, balloon-shaped, and with wicked tongues of fire, rolled up from Aboukir Castle, and from the French artillery posted on the hill.

"Not a shot was returned, although the cannon-balls tore up the water, and the grape pattered like hailstones around us. I saw a shot alight close to Tom's boat and envelop it in white spray. I felt my heart leap with anxiety, but next moment I saw my friend's red face once more, and I thanked God.

"No, laddie, I never feared for myself that day. I was but a humble sergeant, but I think I did my duty beside my men.

"Our leader was General (afterwards Sir John) Moore, and bravely indeed did he lead us on.

"It was a tough climb up that sandy hill, and almost too much for some of our younger English lads.

"On and on we pushed, keeping well in line. I saw Drake with his sword drawn in front, cheering, as he pointed to the heights.

"Next moment a round shot tore up the ground in front, and he fell. I was the first on the spot, my laddie, and glad I was to help my friend to his feet. He was unwounded, and we climbed the hill together.

"The French general had brought ten or maybe twelve thousand men to meet us. But so irresistible was our dash that we mowed them down before us, and they fled like chaff before the wind. I think I hear our slogans yet. I think I see the darting bayonets, the clash of sword and sabre, and the round sun looking down on the carnage, lurid and red in the rolling smoke of battle."

"And the French ran away, Auld-da?"

"It was more than a mere retreat, laddie; they fled helter-skelter, with the fear of death at their hearts, blocking the narrow roads that led to Alexandria.

"There were many dead and wounded among our ranks, however. It is always thus. In war, my boy, victory has ever to be paid for in blood.

"Among the numerous daring deeds done that day I must mention one, for it came under my own observation.

"Dr. McLeod, our splendid and spirited surgeon, had followed his company closely, and did his duty well. But in the very heat of the battle he had spied brave little Blood hurled beneath a carriage with the ram-rod of the huge gun. Next moment the wounded officer would have been sabred, had not the giant--bare-headed, and with blood streaming from his brow, that is how I can see him even at this moment in the peat-fire there, laddie--rushed to his rescue. Man after man went down before the fury of this giant's attack. Next minute he was bearing the insensible form of the tiny officer triumphantly to the rear.

"He had hoisted him on his shoulder just as he had hoisted me as a boy, on the night I danced the hornpipe on the dinner-table.

"Blood looked dead enough. But I may tell you he survived, and the surgeon's wound, though it looked bad enough, did not keep him from duty.

"I saw the doctor that night, as I passed through the battle-field to visit Tom Grahame, and asked for Blood.

"'He'll live, Sergeant, he'll live, and the Lord be praised, for, if you'll remember, I pitched him through a window once in Edinburgh Castle, and now we're square, for I think I've saved his life.'

"Tom Grahame and I had a long talk together about olden times, my boy, but I went back early, and slept soundly on the battle-field among the falling dew.

"One of the events of that battle morning had been a charge of French cavalry, but this we had staved off by forming a rallying-square, and we soon emptied their saddles for them.

"I often think," continued Auld-da, "that we might have followed up our victory even on the 8th. But then the gallant Moore, no doubt, knew better. We were but a small force, and in warfare, although much may be done by dash and daring, the true general will always use precaution.

"We kept the ground we had taken until the 12th, when all the rest of our men and stores being now landed, we were ordered to march.

"'March to the battle-field, The foe is on before you.'

You mind that old song, laddie? Well the foe really was on before us that day."

"Ah, yes, Auld-da, because you'd driven him on."

"That's it, laddie, that's it. But then, you know," he added with a smile, "they were only Frenchmen; and frogs are not much to fight upon.

"We were off for Alexandria itself.

"On the 13th I heard firing, and was told by O'Reilly that we might be wanted at any moment.

"But we were not. The 90th and 92nd (Highlanders) had had a tough brush with the enemy, and driven him in, that was all.

"The real battle had to come. I think, laddie, we were eighteen or nineteen regiments strong.* But for seven weary days, boy, we lay inactive. The French position was terribly strong, and they were being reinforced.

* General Cust speaks thus concerning the disposition of our forces:--"The army took up a position on the skirt of a sandy plain--within sight of the great Egyptian city, the lake of Aboukir on the left, and the sea on the right. The 42nd occupied an eminence close to the sea-shore. From right to left the regiments ranked thus--In the first line 58th, 42nd, 40th, Guards, Royals, 92nd, 54th, 8th, 18th, 90th, and 13th. In the second line, Minorca regiment, De Rolle's, Dillon's, the Queen's, 44th, 89th, 130th, 22nd, and 29th Dragoons, the 27th, 50th, and 79th. The French occupied a parallel position on a ridge of hills, their centre protected by Fort Cretin, their right extending to Pompey's Pillar, and their left to Cleopatra's Needle."

"But early on the morning of the 21st, dear laddie, much to the joy of O'Reilly, at all events, the silence was broken on the French side by the roar of cannon. It was so early, that when we got the order to advance, darkness still prevailed, lit up, every now and then, by the brilliant flashes of the enemy's guns.

"It is said that the 42nd were first to the front, and that their steady fire checked, for a time, the fury of the advancing French. I only know my own part, and that I was far too busy to think of anything but my own men, many of whom went down before the storm of iron hail.

"The most awful charge of the day was that by the French Invincibles. It was furious in the extreme, laddie. But bravely did we receive it, and fearful indeed was the carnage.

"Indeed this French Legion was all but annihilated.

"Nothing, I think, but the individual coolness of our regiments enabled us to hold our own and defeat the foe.

"But while the Invincibles littered the ground with their dead and their bleeding wounded, and finally laid down their arms and surrendered, fresh French troops were being hurled against us, and for a time victory wavered in the balance.

"The charge and charges of the 42nd were grand in the extreme. They were led on by brave Moore, and their wild slogan could be heard from end to end of the battle-field, high above the rattle of musketry and shouting of other combatants.

"And, laddie, there was the skirl of the bagpipes as well: that martial music, that never fails to steel the hearts of our Scottish soldiers on the day of battle.

"But the 42nd suffered terribly. As theirs was the first charge, laddie, so theirs, aided by the brigade brought up by Stewart, was the last.

"The sons of Caledonia had won a glorious fight, and no prouder name is attached to their standard than 'Alexandria.'

"In this battle, boy, fell the gallant Sir Ralph, and much indeed was his loss deplored.

"One more strange adventure did I myself have on this day, and this I must tell you, laddie, ere you go.

"I was looking for our wounded in company with brave Surgeon McLeod. Looking for the wounded we were, and sometimes bending down to close the eyes of the dead."

The old man paused a moment.

"O, such ghastly sights, boy," he said, "may you never, never witness! Even the dead sat or lay in such strange positions that often one could scarcely believe that life was extinct.

"Then the pitiable condition of the dying and the wounded, the moaning, the groaning, the maudlin cries, and the mournful appeals for water.

"But of this last there was, alas! scarcely enough to wet the throats of those who needed it most.

"Every now and then the flapping of hideous wings overhead would be heard, and we could tell that the birds of prey had already commenced their ghastly work.

"I had left the doctor for a few minutes, and was among the hillocks where the French dead lay side-to-side with the kilted warriors of the north, as some poet called them.

"Morning was already beginning to break, and things were, dimly seen. Across the eastern horizon were spread the first rose-tints of dawn. I had my hand to my eyes to hide some ghastly sight, when I could distinctly hear my name called, but in tones so faint and low that at first I could not tell whence the sound proceeded.

"'Ian Robertson. Ian, Ian.'

"My heart beat tumultuously. The voice, I thought, must be that of Tom Grahame.

"'Ian, it is I. Come.'

"A figure half-raised itself from a hole in the sand.

"I saw at a glance, now, it was none other than my cousin, Captain Fraser.

"He was dying, that was evident.

"'Have you--water?' he gasped.

"I knelt down, and he drank from my canteen, and seemed to revive just a little.

"'Ian, I--I--used you badly--unfairly. You can pardon a dying man?'

"'Don't name it, dear cousin. Nor are you dying. I will get assistance at once.'

"'Too late--listen. Have me carried away--when all is over. Give the letter to--my little daughter, Ailie. How dark it is--how dark--God bless you--dark, dark!'

"Ay, it was the darkness of death, laddie.

"I closed his eyes, and stretched his limbs.

"Poor Fraser, my kinsman. He had his faults, but he meant well, laddie, and he died a hero's death."

* * * * *

"When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, And gentle peace returning, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, And mony a widow mourning; I left the lines and tented field, Where lang I'd been a lodger, My humble knapsack a' my wealth, A poor and honest sodger."

We had re-conquered Egypt then, reader, and the French. Right bravely had our soldiers done their work, and Britain borne the brunt in the terrible struggle that convulsed Europe.

Negotiations for peace were then entered into at London and were signed early in the year 1802.

Napoleon was now First Consul of France and President of Italy.

It was about this time, and for his gallantry in action, that my grandfather was made colour-sergeant. It is a question whether he was not as proud of his promotion as Napoleon was of his. I am certain of one thing: he had more right to be.

Well, peace had come.

Query: How long would it last?

Book III.

From War to Gentle Peace.

Book III.

_FROM WAR TO GENTLE PEACE._