Chapter 4: Starting For The Vosges
The day for the departure of the corps was near at hand. The party at the Barclays were all filled with sadness, at the thoughts of separation; but all strove to hide their feelings, for the sake of the others. Captain and Mrs. Barclay were anxious that the boys should leave in good spirits, and high hope; while the boys wished to keep up an appearance of merely going upon an ordinary excursion, in order to cheer their parents.
The day before starting, the whole corps marched to the cathedral; where mass was celebrated, a sermon preached, and a blessing solemnly prayed for for them. The boys had asked their father if he had any objections to their taking part in this ceremonial, in a Roman Catholic Church; but Captain Barclay had at once said that, upon the contrary, he should wish them to do so. Protestants might not approve of many things in the Catholic Church; but that could be no reason, whatever, against a Protestant taking part in a solemn prayer to God, wherever that prayer might be offered up.
The young Duburgs were unaffectedly glad that the time for their departure had come, for the month that had passed had been a most unpleasant one to them. Their mother had in vain tried to persuade them to stay; first by entreaty, and then by anger and, finding these means fail, she had passed her time either in sullen silence, or in remaining in bed; declaring that her nerves were utterly shattered, and that she should never survive it. She had refused to see Mrs. Barclay when the latter called, a day or two after their visit to the cottage, and she had not been near her since. Julie and Justine were forbidden to go in to see Milly and, altogether, there was quite an estrangement between the two families.
The boys however were, of course, constantly together; and Monsieur Duburg came in as usual, every day or two, for a chat with Captain Barclay.
September the fifteenth–the day of separation–arrived. They were to march at eight in the morning; and left home, therefore, at seven. This was so far fortunate that it left less time for the painful adieus. Captain Barclay had a long talk with the boys the night before, repeating all the hints and instructions which he had before given them.
It is not necessary to describe the parting. Every one of my readers can imagine for themselves how sad was the scene. How Milly sobbed aloud, in spite of her efforts; how Mrs. Barclay kissed her boys, and then ran up to her own room to cry alone; how their father wrung their hands and, after giving them his blessing, turned hastily away, that they might not see the tears which he could not keep back; and how the boys, in spite of their uniform and their dignity as soldiers, cried, too. Tim Doyle had gone on an hour before, taking their blankets; so they had nothing to do but to snatch up their guns and hasten away, half blinded with tears, towards the town. They reached it just as the bugle sounded the assembly. By this time they had steadied themselves and, in the work of preparing for the start, soon lost all feeling of despondency.
It would be difficult to find a more workmanlike little corps than the franc tireurs of Dijon as, with the band of the national guard at their head, playing the Marseillaise, they marched through the old city. Their uniform was a brownish gray Their blankets–rolled up tight and carried, like a scarf, over one shoulder and under the other arm–were brown, also. Their belts and gaiters were of buff leather. Their caps had flat peaks, to shade their eyes; but round the cap was rolled a flap lined with fur, which let down over the ears and back of the neck, tying under the chin. On the outer side of the fur was thin India-rubber, to throw the rain off down over the light waterproof cloaks; which each man carried in a small case, slung to his belt. The waterproof on the caps, when rolled up, did not show; the caps then looking like fur caps, with a peak.
Slung over the shoulder, on the opposite side to the blanket, was a haversack–or stout canvas bag–brown like the rest of the equipments. Each bag was divided into two compartments; the larger one holding a spare shirt, a few pairs of socks and handkerchiefs, a comb, and other small necessaries. In the other, bread, biscuits or other provisions could be carried. Each man had also a water bottle, slung over his shoulder.
On either side of the ammunition pouch, behind, was strapped a new boot; so placed that it in no way interfered with the bearer getting at the pouch. Next was fastened the tin box; the lid of which forms a plate, the bottom a saucepan or frying pan. On one side hung the bayonet; upon the other a hatchet, a pick, or a short-handled shovel–each company having ten of each implement.
It will be judged that this was a heavy load, but the articles were all necessaries; and the weight over and above the rifle and ammunition was not–even including the pick or shovel–more than half that ordinarily carried by a French soldier.
At the head of the corps marched its commandant. The French term commandant answers to an English major, and he will therefore in future be termed Major Tempe. Each of the four companies was also headed by its officer. Major Tempe had chosen for these posts four men who, like himself, had served–three in the army, and one in the navy. He had written to them as soon as the corps was organized, and they had arrived ten days before the start. One or two only of the franc tireurs–who had entertained a hope of being made officers–were at first a little discontented but, as it was evidently vastly to the advantage of the corps to have experienced officers, the appointments gave great satisfaction to the rest of the men. Fortunately, there were in the ranks several men who had served as privates or non-commissioned officers; and from these Major Tempe selected a sergeant, and a corporal, for each company.
Behind the corps followed the cart; loaded with the stores of the corps, a considerable amount of ammunition, two or three cases of gun cotton for blowing up bridges, several small barrels of powder, a large quantity of fine iron wire, three or four crowbars, bags of coffee and rice, and a keg of brandy, four kettles and as many large saucepans, together with all sorts of odds and ends. By the side of the horse walked Tim Doyle; dressed in the uniform of the corps, but without the equipments, and with a long blouse worn over his tunic. He was, in fact, already enrolled as an active member of the corps. This was done, in the first place, at his own earnest request; and upon the plea that thus only could he escape the chance of being seized as a spy, whenever he might for a moment be separated from the corps; and also that, unless he had a uniform like the rest, how could he take any vacancy in the ranks, even when it should occur?
Major Tempe, in exceeding the hundred and twenty determined upon, was influenced partly by these arguments; but more by the fact that difficulties would arise about food, cooking, and various other points, if the driver were not upon the same footing as the rest of the corps.
The march was not a long one–only to the railway station. A few carriages, with a truck for the cart, and a horse box, were drawn up alongside the platform in readiness; and in ten minutes more all were in their places, the carriages attached to the ordinary train and–amidst great cheering and waving of handkerchiefs and hats, from hundreds of people collected in the station to see them off–they started for the Vosges.
Railway traveling, at no time rapid, was extremely slow at this period; and it was evening before they arrived at Epinal, where they were to pass the night. The journey, shortened by innumerable songs and choruses, had scarcely seemed long. The railway ran throughout its whole distance through pretty, undulating country; indeed, towards the end of their journey, when they were fairly among the Vosges, the scenery became wild and savage. At Vesoul, which was about halfway, the train had stopped for two hours; and here wine, bread and cheese, cold sausages, and fruits were distributed to the men by the inhabitants–who were assembled in large numbers at the station, and gave the corps an enthusiastic reception. They were the first band of franc tireurs who had passed through, and the inhabitants regarded them as protectors against the wandering Uhlans; whose fame, although as yet far off, had caused them to be regarded with an almost superstitious fear.
At Epinal, a similar and even warmer greeting awaited them; Epinal being so much nearer to the enemy that the fear of Uhlans was more acute. The station was decorated with green boughs; and the Maire, with many of the leading inhabitants, was at the station to