Christmas Story

Waikato Argus, Volume VII, Issue 532, 23 December 1899, Page 1 (Supplement)

Christmas Story

THREE 'CHRISTMASES.

"PET," OP THE "PLUMPICKERS." Christmas, 1893. " Have a thoroughly good time, Harry Go where you like, see what you like, and, as for money, there need never be any question about that between us. Try Sydney first, then London, Paris—where you please. See the world, ami, when " you're tired, whether soon or late, come back to the old home, to your mother and me !' Thus saidGibbs-Heneage the elder, lord of that rich principality the Boomdown station, New South Wales, to his only son. ' I'm not going to burden you with advice, my hoy, because the memory of the days when I was young and hot and foolish is pretty strong upon me to-night,' continued the father ; ' but one caution I may give you, and that is, don't entangle yourself with a woman ! There are numbers of female rascals knocking about the world who'll think you worth powder and shot—plenty of them come out hero on spec. If you were to bring back a specimen of the undesirable female immigrant for a wife, I think -for we're proud people in our way, and our_ women folk have always run straight—it would be the death of the mother and me.' Harry laughed gaily. ' I'm not very susceptible, and I shall be hard to please, for I'm not likely to be as lucky, even if I wanted a wife, which I don't, as you were, dad.' The elder man smiled, pleased at the lad's implied compliment to his mother. After a pause Harry said, in a more serious tone, " If I should be a fool and marry someone who would disgrace mother and you, believe me I should never come back to dear old Boomdown.' «No fear—no fear of that, Harry. You'll bring back a girl we shall be proud of.' And so next clay, Harry, his pockets full of money, started out with a roving commission to see the world. His knowledge of all that pertained to station life was that of an expert, for he had been born and educated on the station and had hardly ever left it. His inexperience of the world that lay beyond was vast and comprehensive. He arrived in Sydney six weeks before Christmas day of 1893. A month later he met his fate. On Christmas Day there were leagues of ocean between him and Australia, and the history of GibbsHeneage the younger was practically closed, Christmas, 1891.—India. 'Who yer goin' to mash, Pet f demanded ' Tatter " Walsh, ' Plumpicker ' Hussars. ' Pet ' sat contemplatively on his cot. He was clad in a snowy jean, silk necktie, shiny shoes, and other" adjuncts of tropical military dandyism. ' Daddy,'' commanding the Plumpickers, encouraged his hussars to ornateness in fatigue dress. Pet 'No one. Why?' ' Notice you've got 'em all on. Yer 'air looks 's if you'd curled it with a farrier's firin' iron.' ' I'm going to the prayer meeting at the chaplain's bungalow.' ' Goin' where ?' snarled Tatter, grizzled veteran of a cantankerousness passing all understanding— Pet'3 comrade and military mentor. ' To the chaplain's. Want change of scene. Even your sweetness cloys, Tatter—in time' ' You ! You ! ! Goin' to join them blue lights 1 I never could have thought you would have joined that crowd, or I'd never have taught you soldierin', and you little better than a 'cruity now. Oh go ! Go and psalm-snivel and disgrace me ! Sncakin' down to O'ly Joe's bungalow ! I's sickenin', that wot it is—sickenin'.' Pet smiled tolerantly and flipped his comrade a rupee. ' Drink double-tides at the canteen to-night, old man.' Tatter lit bis pipe, girded his loins, and departed, snorting a disgust too deep for language, and the younger man proceeded to the prayer meeting, to which resorted, when sober &nd sorry, a handful of her Majesty's harder bargains, lightly esteemed of the Plumpicker3, which was a corps with no reputation for pronounced piety. Pet was unfortunate. He was received in tho Chaplain's garden by bis pastor's exceedingly un-pleasant-looking bull terrier, a dog much respected in the regiment, owing to its combative and evil reputation. This guardian of a Bengal Eden, with fangs for flaming sword, so yearned to eat Pet that the latter presented the rim of his cap, and, when the animal's teeth closed therein, deftly lifted it by throat and tail, dropped it into an adjacent melon frame, drew the sash, and advanced towards the bungalow with the demeanour of a just man made perfect. Here a Khitmatr/ar explained that tho Padre Sahih was eating khano, the rattle of plates and odour of viands attesting the statement, and ushered him into a large and airy room partitioned down the centre by chairs, on some of which the assembled " Blue Lights " sat. In the other division of the loom was a grand piano—open. The

flock barkened to the popping corks in the adjacent dining-room, the light of wild, but hopeless, expectancy of being invited to take a drink in their eyes. Pet's glance fell upon the piano. He approached it, looked at the music, resisted, succumbed to, and sat down before temptation, beginning, pianissimo, Liszts 'Ave Maria.'

A hush in the dining-room ! Then a young lady with an interrogative and imperious expression, soft white muslin frock, a pretty lithe figure, and roses in her hair, bosom, and on her cheeks, swept lightly in. Pet rose and bowed, regarding that pleasing and rare vision with candidly admiring eyes. She looked at him. Her demeanour relaxed. Not unpleasant to look at was Pet, of H.M.'s plumpickers. 1 Uncle has no idea you are here. Won't you come into the diningroom V Pet bowed again. 'My name is Pettit, Private Pettit "-he emphasised his lofty rank. ' I have come to the prayer meeting. I fear I took a liberty in touching the piano. Having supposed Pet some strange subaltern, she was a trifle disconcerted, but remained tactful. 'Oh, no liberty. You have a charming touch.' Then, to the Blue Lights—' Good evening !'. They rose as one man —in drill time. ' Good ovenin', miss!' ' Pray be seated,' she said, and vanished. . . t » There entered presently the Bev. Joseph Porcus, whom, irreverently —for no rank, in the - British soldier's opinion, exempts the holder from a pseudonym -thePlumpickers knew as ' 'Oly Joe.' The men sprang to attention in the manner military, and the chaplain returned their salute in martial fashion, for army chaplains hold military rank, and are essentially of the Church Militant. 'Sit down, men, sit down —glad to see you.' A bearer brought in the parson's book, and, while the latter was mechanically arranging them, he took stock of his congregation. He noticed Pet, and regarded him with some attention, perceiving that he was of a different order to the usual frequenters of the meeting. * I have not seen you here before I think,' he remarked to the young fellow. 'Well, better late than never.' Here some ladies rustled in, and following them, the nymph of the roses—Ethel Quintin. The ladies gathered under the wing of the clergyman, and the barricade of chairs separated them from a ' brutal and licentious soldiery,' which is what civilians in India call Thomas Atkins—until next mutiny or the Bussian invasion. After Mr Porcus had prayed singing was reached. Pet lacked hymn book. Miss Quintin, by a gesture, invited him to the barricade to share hers. He piped a cheerful tenor, and when the young lady, whose voice was fresh and sweet, happened upon a painfully false note and raised her eyes to his and smiled, naturally, he smiled responsive. ' My dear Ethel,' said—his flock departed—the chaplain, ' you should not have shared your book with a common soldier.' The military chaplain is never permitted by the authorities to ignore the exigencies of discipline. My dear Ethel flushed, and her eyes grew dangerously brilliant. ' I am not versed in military etiquette yef, uncle ; but that common soldier struck me as speaking and acting like a gentleman; his manners, I fancied, were even nicer than those of some of the baby brigadiers one meets after after mess dinner.' She added, with feminine illogicality, ' And I'm sure he sings and plays beautifully.' Her uncle dropped the subject. Mentally and pecuniarily Miss Ethel was an independent young lady. ' Your niece is a little difficult, a trifle too unconventional, my dear,' he remarked subsequently to his wife. But he had unwittingly succeeded in causing imperious Ethel Quintin to think of Pet —or of Private Pettit, Plumpicker Hussars ! A subdued Private Pettit returned to his troop bungalow that night. 1 'Oly Joe's latest convert, chaps ! The noo Scripter reader !' explained Tatter Walsh,'with a lofty wave of his hand in ret'sdirection, a blushing nose and sixteen annas' worth of alcoholic scorn in his voice. But at chill of dawn, whon Tatter awoke—old soldiers sleep little and lightly, waking early to ponder, maybe, on a final reveille, or perhaps to reflect with disgust on the amount of ' barrack damages " in their last month's account—and heard the youngster sigh, and saw that be shivered in dreams, the gnarled satirist threw his own blanket over his comrade and raised the lad's head, softly, as a mother might her son's. When next prayer-meeting night arrived, Pet, in full glare of Tatter's inquisitorial eye, dressed with much care, and —didn't go. He went to this canteen instead, but there was neither song nor smile in him, and duu'ng the'whole of the ensuing

week he was loathsomely irritable. On the following night of meeting he made no attempt to go. A Bluelight, fallen from grace and treating his resuscitated Old Adam to too much canteen arak, subsequently told Pet that the ' young woman with flower arrangements in 'er 'air asked whether Mister Pettit 'ad gone sick seein' as he didn't come to the meetin's V And he added' 'Blow the meetin's; •I'm full up of 'em ! ' Ave a tot with me, Pet.' It fell on the afternoon of Christmas Eve that the orderly sergeant warned Pet for fatigue—a species of duty which, of all other, the horse soldier abominates. The. serge'ant, however, explained—and that is not the custom of sergeants, but Pet was the Plumpickers' 'white-haired boy'—'lt's only to help Holy Joe's ladies decorate the chapel, Pet. You'll be done in a couple of hours.' Pet jumped up with alacri y, to tho sergeant's surprise, for there was no existent tradition of alacrity in a Plumpicker warned for fatigue. In the chapel he found other fatigue men, various ladies, Miss Quintin, and many baskets of flowei'3. The ladies bunched blossoms languidly, discussing absent female friends energetically. Miss Quintin seemed in charge. She raised her pretty eyebrows as Pet entered, flushed a little, hesitated, and then coldly : 'Kindly assist me to place this large wreath over the altar.' ■ Pe.t followed her, arranged the steps for her, assisted her ascent, and handed up tacks with docility. These she industriously hammered, with frequent variations, after the manner of her sex upon her fingers —catastrophes elicting feminine equivalents of profanity. She treated Pet as if he were _an automatic tack-feeding machine. When he pointed out that the wreath was crooked, she merely remarked, ' Another tack, please !' Presently she said, with considerable hauteur in her tone, ' Be good enough to walk back a little and see if I have nailed this straight.' ' It is eighteen inches out,' replied he, without stirring. She looked quite angry, ' You might have told me so before, I think.' Pet smiled. ' I did. You hardly encouraged advice.' She placed the hammer on the top of the steps, gathered her dainty skirts around her—they did not obliterate her charming ankles—sat down beside the hammer, and, with appalling suddenness, inquired : ' Why don't you come to the prayer meetings?' Pet hesitated. 'l 1 was afraid of the bull-dog,' he said, with selfevident lack of candour. ' He —he nearly ate me last time.' ' You dreadful boy ' Then it was you who shut that wretched Snow in the cucumber frame. He broke all the glass. I s'lall tell uncle.' ' Pray, don't.' They both laughed. ' Com« to next meeting, and I won't.' Thereafter, far from the madding crowd, they chatted between tho intervals of nailing, quite amicably, until Miss Quintin would have descended dignifiedly. Her band was about to rest on the top of the steps, when Pet, catching her, sans ceremonie, in his arms, whisked her to the floor. She crimsoned to the temples, ' How dared you take such a liberty ; how dare : !' But he, having seized the hammer was smiting savagely something writhing on tho top of the steps. Her quick eye noted that he had killed a small death adder, just dropped from the greenery above the altar ; her quick wits realised that but for Pet's brusque intervation her hind would have touched tho deadly thing. She turned whito and a little faint, Pet said simply, ' I beg your pardon ; there was no time to talk.' •It is for me to ask pardon,' .she, trembling, said. He was rather flushed ; her apology or accompanying look added deeper tint to his face. That night Ethel revolved events. 'He is very hahdsome, and, I'm sure a gentleman. I wonder what brought him into the ranks ! How strong he is!' She flushed; a tremor shook her—maybe she remembered the adder. ' She has lovely eyes !' thought Pet, and sighed. But the next day, being Christmas Bay, when Miss Quintin looked across from her place in church, and with quick vision picked out Pet, where he sat among his comrades, she noted how sad was his expression and what a far-away, wistful look was in bis eyes. A feeling almost of jealously possessed her. ,Ho thinks of other Christmas Days and other faces,' she thought. Which was true, for Pet's thoughts bad flown o'er land and sea to another land—a sun-kissed Southern land. But. once their eyes met, and into both young faces rushed the red tide of emotion. But. that night, after the somewhat triste festivities of an Indian Chri-tnias Day, Ethel Quintin, a youn : lady who did her own thinking, I'elt that she—for youth is sudden and India a sudden land —was beginning to tread a foolish path. To such romance as beckoned at the end thereof there could be,

she thought, no happy ending. The result of her cogitation was unconsciously embodied in the note a native bearer brought Pet some few days after. It ran thus : 'I am leaving India for a long time, ljut I cannot go without thanking you, as 1 full unable to do on Christmas Eve, for what you then so bravely and promptly did. May I ask you to accept the enclosed as some slight momeoto of your presence of mind ? Yourß, sincerely, Etiiklj Quintin.' An Indian gold ring in the form of a snake was enclosed.

Christmas, 1595. Ethel departed. For Pet, the dull, mill-grind of Indian military daily life went dully on. Blazing heat suciieeded unmitigated heat. The milestones of existence were parades or courts-martial. Later, cholera, blue-funk, and deaths slightly varied the creeping monotony. Through all Pet moved modestly and quietly, doing what one man might to help the living, the fearful, the ailing, and the dying ; so that, as the time went, every Plumpicker, sick, sorry, or afraid, came to him naturally and as of a right for the aid, counsel, and grave sympathy hi never refused. After cholera there arrived, as is not seldom in cantonments on the plains, an epidemic of suicide or attempted suicide. And, when a man commenced to neglect his diurnal beer, to sit about on his cot, looking with fervour at the bungalow pavement and occasionally fidgeting with his carbine, the whisper would go round the troop ; ' Pass the word for Pet. Good man, Pet.' And he, by some means or another, would draw the brooding horseman away from the Valley of the- Shadow. But, as Christmas came round again, the Plumpickers shook themselves together and shook off the heat, misery, and sudden death. The green mounds in the station, ' Happy Valley,' alone marked those episodes. Suddenly, late in September, Ethel Quintin returned to India and to the roof of the Rev. Porcus. Pet, whose temper with and hand on a horse were the boast of tho regimental riding-master, first heard of the young lady's return through that functionary. 1 1 want you,' said the riding master, 'to teach a young lady equitation. She can ride fairly, but she wants thorough and systematic teaching. She's the padre's niece, Miss Quintin. I'll get you struck off other duties. You can start to-morrow.'

Now there ivere stringent reasons apart from discrepancy of station, reasons known to Pet, why he and Miss Quintin should not ho thrown much together. Therefore he attempted to evade the task. But kismet, ever arranging complications that stories may be written, threw them together. The riding-master, as the instrument of fate, triumphed. So it befell that for weeks —hours.after daybreak and in tho evening's cool the girl and he strayed miles away from the station on horseback. And, as he was but 'common soldier,'and consequently until wanted for fighting purposes something less than man, no one dreamt a chaperon necessary. He, honest as day, determined rigilly to play the role of teacher. But she magnified the small mystery which surrounded him, as women will, and the service he had rendered her—as women seldom do. She saw he was ' educated ' and in the ranks. Why ? She did not know that many ' gentlemen rankers ' have histories neither really mysterious nor prettily woven. In their long rides she talked many things, books, travel, music, poetry, herself occasionally. And she waf always delightful, though she talked of a world he had lost. But, when she would have led the conversation to him, and perchance to his ante-cedeuts, she encountered a wall of reserve which she determined to penetrate. The more uncommunicative he, the more eager she -1 . This also is the way of a woman. * * * * Once, after a long gallop, they halted in a tope to breathe their horses. She reined up in front of him. 'Whatever made you enlist V she said, abruptly. She had never previously attempted the point-blank method. Pet, sitting rigid as a vidette, toyed with his bridle reins mechanically. ' Miss Quintin, I must again remind you, that a horse's education is never complete. Even when resting you can be suppling his neck and mouth. Pick up your snaffle reins, please.' She looked mutiny and—obeyed. 'You will not tell me, then !' 'Your curb wants taking up.' He dismounted and did it. ' Now, if you're ready, we'll return. Rein hack a little. Now, forward ! Strike your horse into a canter. On the right leg—so—lightly with those bit reins—very good !' She never spoke going home. For three days she declined to ride. Then she appeared, smiling, amiable —more determined than ever,

' Why are you wearing your sword 1 To protect yourself from my feminine inquisitiveness V she demanded, as they rode out of cantonments on the morning of Christmas Eve.

' He's a young charger and a trifle shy yet of the sword,' he answered. Presently she : ' Why do you remain in the army V ' Perhaps I cannot help myself. ' Would you like to leave it V ' There is much one would like, 1 he said. ' Yes, indeed,' she answered impulsively. '■ Is it, pardon me '- and she coloured —' a matter of money 1 ?' Pet smiled. 'No, I have that.' ' But are you not ambitious' — and here she trombled a little—' for a different, a higher career V Something in her tone compelled Pet to look at her. Their glances met. Each read something in the eyes of the other. Wherefore silence befell. They had left some hundreds of yards behind an evil smelling native village, whence now came on the breeze a sudden terrific din screaming, yelling, and a strange sound unclassifiable. The noise recalled Pet. ' Canter please,' he said, mechanically, vainly striving to steady his voice. The road stretched, white and dusty, miles ahead, its straightness accentuated by elephant grass, higher than their heads, stubborn as cane, walling them on each hand. Abruptly, far behind, the clatter of hcofs in fierce gallop! Pet turned. ' What is it V she asked, for his face was whito and drawn. He looked to right and left. Then in tone of command, ' Gallo •* ! steady, steady V Some contagion of excitement had seized their horses, .vhich bounded against their bits, ' There is a loose horse —-keep your hands down ! —•behind, a rather wicked horse; he must not overtake us.' The loose hoi'3e was a mad, maneating stallion, terror of the coun-try-side, broken away from the Maharajah's lines. A tiger would have been a sweeter road mate. ' Let your horse out!' They were racing now. Pet glanced back. The man-eater gained ! The girl, partially realising the danger, yet kept head high, hands low. 'As I taught her thought Pet, The mad brute behind, unburdened, coming up quickly, screaming. Pet bent forward in his saddle, ' Let your horse go for all he's worth !' But he took a pull at his own bit reins. ' Y"ou come too,' she .called, He softly drew his sword and cruelly smote her horse with the flat, and the high-couraged creature bounded to the front. ' She couldn't pull him now for three miles, if she tried,' thought Pet, The crazed entire was now but four hundred yards behind, coming But Ethel's horse thun* dered far ahead.

* * #• * What happened thereafter Pet never clearly knew. He had a confused recollection of a mad rush, of the fetid stench of the mad horse some dazed remembrance of his own horse lashing out viciously, of the two entires rearing to meet each other with squeals of rage, of a foul baptism of spume and blood, of thrusting madly at neck and belly of . the man-eater, of a crushing blow on his own chest, and after—darkness. When his senses returned he was on the ground, his head on Ethel's bosom. She cried softly and kissed him. His broken, blood-stained sword was by his side; a native lad who had seen all from an old well among the grass, held their horses, while the Maharajah's mad stallion lay still and dead upon the road a hundred yards away. Presently they brought a bamboo litter from the village and carried Pet to the station hospital. Ethel rede beside him. Ero they came within the cantonments she bent over her horse's neck and whispered,' ' Get better quickly; your life is mine now.' He smiled faintly, knowing it could never have been ; knowing nothing mattered much now. The regimental surgeon came out as the litter reached the hospital. He glanced at Pet-first, then lifted his hat to the girl. ' Fighting with the Maharajah's devil horse, eh ?' Then, to the bearers, ' Take him inside, quickly.' He turned again to the girl, his face grave. 'That will be all right, Miss Quintin, horse kicks seldom kill Plumpickers. Don't talk now ; get home and lie down.' Ethel rode home, overwrought by the agitation of the day. The ayah darkened her chamber, saying to all inquirers, ' Mvssiealdb sleeps , you no can come in !' And, for long, tho girl, worn by fatigue and emotion, was lulled by the quiet, sleep. But at nightfall she woke under a great fear. Then there came an old soldier with white lips and shaking voice. To him the ayah brought, her mistress. He saluted. ' What is it V she asked, though her woman's subtle instinct answered. • Please Miss, my—please Pet is dyin'. And would jyou, says he, if not askin' too much, see him V The ayah brought a wrap, which she threw over her head. ' Your name is Walsh V she said, 'he was very fond of you. You will take me"to him? and she placed her slim white hand upon the old soldier's, sleeve. The vJbetor met her aud took het

to the ward in which Pet lay. There were no other patients there. ' May I bo alone with him V she asked the doctor; 'he was hurt, you know, protecting me. He has —has something he wishes to say to me alone.' The doctor nodded. ' Ah, yes ; he has a history, poor youngster. Go in, Miss Quintin, ] will seo to the rest.' She went in. The ayah sat on guard outside the door. Tatter Walsh paced the outer verandah and shivered at the early cry of the jackal. ret couldn't speak much, but he smiled. •How kind you ar?,' he gasped. She raised his head with one arm with the other hand smoothed his hair from his damp forehead, then kissed and held him tenderly to her heart. He lay so a long time. Then he said, suddenly, 'lt is good that it should finish so, I—loved you from the first moment I saw you. I shaU love you for ever—and for ever.' A long pause. He struggled back to life. ' You ask me why I enlisted. I will tell you.' She would have stayed him, but he went on, ' Walsh, poor old Walsh, will give you all my papers. You will see they know at home, won't you ?■' Then he told, brokenly, his story. The old story which had crushed many men fools, has sent some to prison, some to the gallows. The story of the devil of the female gender ; clever enough to ape sainthood until she had entangled and married an inexperienced boy ; but not clever or patient enough to continue deception for one week after marriage. Pet left his wife four days after he stood at, the altar with her. But Ethel bent and kissed him. ' Ah, never mind, dear. This is only time ; there will be all eternity, in which to clear up mistakes.' Through the long Christmas Ere ho lay dying ; the doctor came and went. Towards dawn Pet woke, ' Is Tatter Walsh there V he asked. She called the old soldier in from his self-imposed sentinel watch. Pet feebly put out his hand, ' Thanks for teaching me soldiering, old Tatter.' Just then the blare of trumpets in the great square sounded reveille on Christmas morning. ' Christmas Day,' said Pet, ' Come, Ethel—let us go home — home to old—Boomdown. Father, —this—this is to be—my wife—this will bo Ethel—Gibbs-Hene-age!'