‘I could not leave you more comfortably provided for,’ said their ‘guide, philosopher, and friend.’ ‘Old Dick may be trusted in all such matters as implicitly as the Duke of Wellington. I never knew him at fault yet in this kind of life.’
‘You must positively stay and have afternoon tea with us,’ exclaimed Annabel. ‘It is exactly five, and there is Dick putting a tin cupful of tea into the teapot. What extravagant people you colonists are! I never drank tea in the open air before, but it seems quite the right thing to do. I see Jeanie has made griddle-cakes, like a dear old thing. And I know there is butter. I am so hungry. You will stay, won’t you?’
‘I think, sir,’ said the ex-family coachman, looking indulgently at the special pleader, ‘that we shall have time to get back to the Red Cow Inn to-night, after a cup of tea, as the young lady wishes it. I’ll run you into town bright and early to-morrow.’
‘Very well then, Miss Annabel, I shall have the honour to accept your invitation,’ bowed the old man. ‘I go away more cheerfully than I expected, now that I leave you all so comparatively snug. It will not be for long. Be sure that I shall meet you on the threshold of Warbrok.’
The al fresco meal was partaken of with much relish, even gaiety, after which civilisation – as personified by the reverend gentleman and the carriage – departed. Annabel looked after it ruefully, while Jeanie and Mrs. Effingham took counsel together for the night. It was for the first time in the family history. Never before had the Effinghams slept, so to speak, in the open air. It was a novel adventure in their uneventful lives – a marked commencement of their colonial career. It affected them differently, according to their idiosyncrasies. Rosamond was calmly resolute, Annabel apprehensive, and Beatrice indifferent; the boys in high spirits; Mr. Effingham half in disapproval, despondently self-accusing; while Mrs. Effingham and Jeanie were so fully absorbed in the great bedding question that they had no emotions to spare for any abstract consideration whatever.
The moon, in her second quarter, had arisen lustrous in the pure, dark blue firmament, fire-besprinkled with ‘patines of bright gold,’ before this important matter (and supper) was concluded. Then it was formally announced that the tent was fully furnished, and had turned out wonderfully commodious. The mattresses were placed upon a layer of ‘bush-feathers,’ as Dick Evans called them, and which (the small twigs and leaf-shoots of the eucalyptus) he had impressed Wilfred and his brother to gather. There was a lantern secured to the tent-pole, which lighted up the apartment; and sheets, blankets, coverlets being brought forth, Annabel declared that she was sure they would all sleep like tops, that for her part she must insist on going to bed at once as the keen air had made her quite drowsy. A dressing-table had been improvised, chiefly with the aid of Mr. Evans’ mechanical skill. When the matron and her daughters made their farewell for the night, and closed their canvas portal, every one was of the opinion that a high degree of comfort and effective lodging had been reached.
Mr. and Mrs. Cargill and family retired to the inmost recesses of the upper waggon, where the ends of the tilt, fastened together, protected them. Mr. Effingham and his sons joined Dick Evans at his briskly burning fire, where the old man was smoking and occasionally indulging in a refresher of tea as if he had no intention of going to bed till he reached Warbrok.
‘We are having glorious weather to travel in, Evans,’ said Mr. Effingham. ‘You have been in the service, Mr. Sternworth tells me; what regiment?’
‘I was in the old 50th for many a year, Captain,’ he said, unconsciously standing erect and giving the salute. ‘I served under Sir Hugh Gough in India, where I got this slash from a Mahratta sabre. Didn’t seem a hard cut neither; the fellow just seemed to swing his wrist, careless-like, as he rode by, but it was nigh deep enough to take the “wick” out of me. Their swords was a deal sharper than ours, and their wooden scabbards kept ’em from getting blunt again. I had a great argument with my sergeant about it once,’ continued the old man. ‘I couldn’t a-bear to see our poor chaps sliced up by them razor-edged tulwars, while our regulation swords was a’most too dull to cut through a quilted cotton helment. Ah! them was fine times,’ said the old soldier, with so genuine a regret in his tones that Howard Effingham almost believed he had, for the first time in his life, fallen across a noble private, pleased with his profession, and anxious to return to it.
‘I have rarely heard a soldier regret the army,’ said he. ‘But you still retain zeal for the service, I am pleased to find.’
‘Well, sir, that’s all very well,’ said the philosophical man-at-arms; ‘but what I was a-thinking of was the “loot.” It’s enough to bring tears into a man’s eyes that served his Queen and country, to think of the things as we passed over. Didn’t Jimmy O’Hara and two or three more men of my company get together once and made bold to stick up the priest of one of them temples. No great things either – gold earrings and bangles, and a trifle of gold mohurs, the priest’s own. There was a copper-coloured, bronze-looking idol – regular heathen god, or some such cretur – which the priest kept calling out “Sammy” to, or “Swammi.” The ugly thing had bright glittering eyes, and Jim wanted to get ’em out badly, but the priest said, “Feringhee wantee like this?” and he picked up a bit of glass, and smiled contempshus like. At last we left him and “Swammi,” eyes and all. I don’t ever deserve to have a day’s luck, sir, agin, as long as I live.’
‘Why so?’ said Mr. Effingham, astonished at the high moral tone, which he had not been used to associate with the light infantry man of the period. ‘Not for taking the image away, surely?’
‘No!’ shouted the old man, roused from his ordinary respectful tone. ‘But for leavin’ him behind! That Sammy, sir, was pure gold, and his eyes was di’monds, di’monds! Think o’ that. We left a thousand pound a man behind, because we didn’t know gold when we seen it. It will haunt me, sir, to my dying day.’
The boys laughed at the unsentimental conclusion of the veteran’s tale. Their father looked grave.
‘I cannot approve of the plunder of religious edifices, Evans; though the temptation was too great for soldiers, and indeed for others in those days.’
The chief personages having retired, Mr. Effingham and his sons essayed to make their couch under the waggon.
‘It is many a year since I had any experience in this kind of thing,’ said he; ‘but, if I remember rightly, it was in Spain that I bivouacked last. This locality is not unlike Estramadura. That rocky ravine, with the track running down it, is just where you would have expected to see the muleteer stepping gaily along beside his mules singing or swearing, as the case might be; and they do both with great vigour.’
‘I remember Don Pedro, Captain,’ said Dick. ‘I mind the wine-skins putty well too. It wasn’t bad stuff; but I don’t know as dark brandy doesn’t come handier if ye wants a stir up. But there’s one thing you can’t have forgot, Captain, that beats this country holler.’
‘You must mean the fleas,’ said Effingham; ‘they certainly could not be surpassed. I hope you don’t mean to rival them here.’
‘Well, I don’t deny, Captain, that in some huts, where the people aren’t particular, in a sandy country, in summer you will find a few, and likewise them other reptiles, ’specially where