Regimental bands.—Drum.—Trumpet.—Bugle.—Kettle-drum of the life-guards.—Kettle-drum of the royal artillery.—Qualities in British soldiers.—The Rhine! The Rhine!—Love of country.—Cowardice.—Death of Admiral Byng.—Native cavalry in India.—Daring intrepidity of a seaman.—Preparations for an engagement.—Battle of the Nile.—Superstitious seamen.—Saragossa.—Missolonghi.

“You may never have heard, boys, the tread of a thousand men, all putting down their feet to the ground at the same moment? There is something arresting and awful in it—it goes to the heart at once. Whether marching on the hard ground or on the soft green sod, in either case there is no other sound like it, that I know of in the world. The earth seems to shake beneath it.”

“Ay, when a whole regiment march together they must make a fine tramping.”

“It is not so much the noise they make, as it is the particular sound that I allude to; a lone, dull, heavy, and ponderous tread. A soldier distinguishes it from every other sound in an instant. Some regiments have excellent bands; but trumpets, bugles, drums and fifes, are the prevailing musical instruments in the army. The spirit-stirring voice of the trumpet, the stormy music of the rattling drum, and the blast of the mellow bugle, sound grateful in a soldier’s ears. The kettle-drums of the life-guards are silver, presented by King William IV.”

“Of silver! Why, what a deal of money they must be worth!”

“The kettle-drum belonging to the royal regiment of artillery would surprise you. It is mounted on a very superb waggon, richly gilt, whereon is a seat for the drum-major-general, and it is drawn by four, and sometimes by six, richly caparisoned white horses.”

“They must look very grand indeed. Can you tell us why drummers and fifers wear such odd dresses? Their coats and jackets are very different to what are worn by other soldiers.”

“I have heard that these odd dresses were originally intended to prevent military musicians from playing in public houses, as they used to do when they wore plain clothes.”

“Oh! oh! If they went into public houses to play now, every one would know them directly.”

“The qualities in British soldiers that recommend themselves to all, may be said to be cleanliness, order, obedience, fidelity, and invincible courage; to which, among the officers, may be added enterprize, and that quality so susceptible of injury and disgrace, and so emulous of reputation, called honour. The love of country is strong in almost every bosom, from the recruit to the commanding officer. The Egyptians idolize the Nile, and the Hindoos worship the Ganges, but their reverence and affection for their native rivers is hardly greater than what is felt by the Germans for the Rhine. When the armies of Austria and Prussia came in view of the Rhine, after beating back the invader of their country Napoleon Buonaparte, they fell down on their knees, and shouted, as with the voice of one man, ‘The Rhine! the Rhine!’ Englishmen love their country as much as the Germans love the Rhine!”

“Every one ought to love his country.”

“Ay, boys! while you can pronounce her name, so long as your hearts throb, and the ruddy drops run through your veins, love your country!”

“Whether we are soldiers or not, we ought to do that.”

“Very true; and I hope you will find means to serve her without unscabbarding a sword in her cause. True courage is not confined to the army and navy; though cowardice is one of the blackest marks that can be set on the brow of a soldier or a sailor. Admiral Byng was shot at Portsmouth, suspected of cowardice, though he had given many proofs of determined courage. The second regiment of native cavalry fled before the Affghan horse, in the affair of Parwun Durra, in Kohistan, changing, as it were, a triumph into a scene of humiliation. The government of India could not brook this dishonour without visiting it with its heaviest displeasure. Lord Auckland directed that the dastardly troops and officers should be disgraced, by obliterating the number of their regiment from the roll of the army, by expelling them ignominiously from the service, and by declaring them for ever incapable of serving the state in any capacity whatever.”

“It would never do for soldiers and sailors to want courage. Do you think Admiral Byng was really a coward?”

“No, I do not think he was. He met his end with great resolution, and that was not cowardly. The following inscription to his memory may be read in the church of South Hill, Bedfordshire: ‘To the perpetual disgrace of public justice, the Honourable John Byng, vice-admiral of the blue, fell a martyr to political persecution on March 14th, 1757, when bravery and loyalty were insufficient securities for the life and honour of a naval officer.’”

“Well, now, that was very hard. Poor Byng! What he must have felt as a brave man, on being shot for a coward!”

“Cowardice is not often to be found in the British army and navy. Even in merchant ships courage abounds.”

“There are thousands and thousands of ships on the sea, are there not?”

“Yes, the ships of Old England, in her Majesty’s service, and the merchantmen, sailing from the east to the west, from the north to the south, would indeed astonish you, could you see them assembled. Long may commerce flourish, and the British flag be unfurled with honour in every part of the world.

“When speaking of courage, I might have told you of the daring intrepidity of a seaman, but I will tell you now. When his Majesty’s ship Tonnant was in close action with the French rear-admiral’s ship Algesiras, the latter had her bowsprit over the chess-tree of the former, so as to admit of a raking fire from the Tonnant, which did great mischief to the enemy. The fore-top of the Algesiras was full of French riflemen, who commanded, by an incessant fire, the upper decks of the Tonnant, which the marines on the poop, and officers and men on the quarter-deck were suffering from considerably. In the midst of this carnage an ordinary seaman, named Fitzgerald, made his way from the main rigging of the Tonnant, by the sprit-sail-yard of the enemy, to the bowsprit of the Algesiras, and with his knife cut down the French jack, amidst the loud cheers of his shipmates and the shouts and groans of the Frenchmen. Notwithstanding the heavy fire of musketry, and many hand-grenades thrown out of the fore-top of the enemy, he had regained the main rigging of the Tonnant, where his gallant exploit terminated from a grenade, which struck him in the back: he sunk between the two ships, with the tri-coloured winding-sheet under his arm, accompanied by the admiration and regret of every officer and man in the ship. This fine fellow was an Irishman, of the humblest origin; but the greatest man of the great house of Fitzgerald never displayed more intrepidity or coolness in the hour of danger than this poor Fitzgerald did.”

“He was indeed a bold fellow! When ships are out at sea looking about for the enemy, how do they manage?”

“Seamen, under the orders of the lieutenant, are kept at the mast-heads during the day, and in proper stations during the nights, to be continually on the look-out; and if a stranger, that is, an unknown sail, should be seen in the night, the captain has intelligence of it directly, for a midshipman is sent to him by the lieutenant, who is to prepare the ship for action, taking care that the vessel is kept out of gun-shot of the strange ship until all is ready for an engagement. In doing this he must be sure not to run any risk of losing sight of the stranger.”

“When an enemy’s ship is seen, no doubt there is a pretty bustle on board.”

“If you mean that the hands are pretty busy, you are right; but there is very seldom any confusion on board a king’s ship on the sight of an enemy.”

“And what is done by sailors when they see an enemy’s ship?”

“They give chase, and when they come up with her, prepare for the battle. In the orders given by the admiral there is often some pithy expression, to animate the men, such as that given by Nelson: ‘England expects every man to do his duty!’ or, ‘No captain can do wrong who places his ship alongside of an enemy.’”

“Ay! Those are likely to make men fight, if anything will.”

“After taking up stations, finding the sails, and clearing for action, the pause sometimes is an awful one, but the roar of the first broadside puts a different face on the matter. The thundering peals rapidly follow one another, and there is no going to sleep till the battle is ended.”

“It must be terrible work; and there can be no running away.”

“No; that is quite out of the question: British sailors are not of the running sort. Just before the battle begins, you may see men stripping themselves to their duck-frocks for more liberty of limb, some girdling their loins and binding their heads with a neckcloth of black silk, and here and there one with a bandage round his left knee; and you hear the captain sing out to those descending the shrouds, ‘Quick, my hearties, to your guns!’ or, ‘Now, my lads! down to the main deck and fire away!’ The men give a cheer, off go the guns; the deafening sound and stunning recoil of the ship thrill through your heart. The cannonade goes on—crash! crash! crash! and clouds of smoke rise up, hiding from view the ships of the enemy.”

“We can fancy ourselves in the battle; and it is very dreadful!”

“If you have time to snatch a glance at the men, you will see that some are flushed, some pale, and some press their lips hard together, and have a frown on their brows; but whether flushed, or pale, or frowning, all are doing their duty—not a man flinches—not a hand idle. As the battle goes on, and the men fall, the dead are dragged amid-ships, the wounded cry out for water, the powder-boys flit from one gun to another with their supplies; the broadsides of the enemy strike the ship like the smashing of a dozen doors with crow-bars, and the captain shouts, at the top of his voice, down the waist from the quarter-deck, ‘Go it, my lads! for the honour of old England!’”

“We never heard of such a description as this before. Why do the wounded cry out for water? Do their wounds make them thirsty?”

“Almost all the wounded suffer from thirst; but whether it be from faintness or from the fever occasioned by pain, or from both, I cannot tell. The battle of the Nile was a very severe fight.”

“It was Nelson who commanded the English, was it not?”

“Yes. In the bay of Aboukir the French fleet was moored in a half circle, so close to the shore that their admiral felt certain he could only be attacked on one side, and that the favourite manoeuvre of the English of breaking the line, was altogether out of the question; but he little knew the daring spirit of his opponent.”

“Why, what did Nelson do, then, if he could not break the line?”

“By forcing a way between the shore and the French fleet, to the surprise and consternation of the French admiral, he was enabled to throw two of his ships upon every one of the weathermost of the enemy’s line, thus attacking his foe in the very way that he most dreaded. The battle was fearful, lasting through the night, with the exception of a short pause at midnight—a fearful pause.”

“Why did they stop fighting at midnight?”

“There was good reason for it, for the French admiral’s ship L’Orient, a beautiful vessel of a hundred and twenty guns, was set in flames, and blew up with so dreadful an explosion, that, for a season, the rage of battle was suspended, and every one was struck with awe. The horrors of war were then indeed seen in the fearful destruction which had taken place. The French admiral had perished.”

“What a number must have been killed in that ship!”

“There were only two ships out of the whole fleet of the enemy that made their escape! And thus was the better part of the French navy destroyed, the coast blockaded, and Buonaparte, who had invaded Egypt, cut off from holding communication with France. When the Orient blew up she had plunder on board, obtained from Malta, amounting to more than half a million of money. But what is money compared with human life!”

“What would Buonaparte do when he knew the best part of his navy was destroyed?”

“When Buonaparte heard of what had taken place he heaved a sigh. ‘To France,’ said he, ‘the Fates have decreed the empire of the land; to England that of the sea.’ Nelson said, that victory was not a word strong enough for the occasion. He sent orders through the fleet that a general thanksgiving might be offered up to Almighty God for the success which had attended his Majesty’s arms.”

“He never forgets that.”

“It was an odd thing, that Captain Hallowell should have had a coffin made out of the mast of the Orient, but so it was, and he sent it to Nelson, with the following letter:—

“‘I have taken the liberty of presenting you a coffin, made of the main-mast of L’Orient, that when you have finished your military career in this world, you may be buried in one of your trophies. But that that period may be far distant is the earnest wish of your sincere friend,

“Nelson accepted it kindly, in the spirit in which it was sent.”

“It was a very odd present to make.”

“It was, and the more so because sailors are very superstitious. I knew an instance myself wherein the better part of a ship’s crew were thrown into consternation by a noise which they heard day and night; a shrill tapping against the ship’s side. This turned out to be no more than a suspended frying-pan tapping, with the motion of the vessel, against an iron or a copper bolt.”

“What brave fellows they must have been!”

“About the middle of the war which commenced in 1672, a party of French officers, dressed as fiends, with large tails, and pitchforks, presented themselves at midnight on the glacis of Valenciennes, then garrisoned by a Spanish corps. The terrified guards abandoned the covert way, and sought shelter in the town. Closely the French pursued, and secured one of the gates before the portcullis could be lowered. The garrison fled at their approach, and permitted them, without resistance, to occupy two of the bastions. Joined by a regiment of dragoons, Vauban, who commanded the party, took possession of what was then deemed the strongest fortress in Flanders.

“At the siege of Saragossa, in 1709, the Conde del Pueblo, who commanded for King Charles, succeeded in persuading the garrison and the citizens that the investing army consisted only of phantoms, raised by enchantment. For several days the people continued under this delusion; nor were they undeceived till a party of them, making a sortie, contrary to the orders of the court, had their heads cut off by the French light horse.

“It is not generally known that the capture of Missolonghi by the Egyptians, was owing to the superstition of the Greeks. One of their augurs, looking through the blade-bone of a newly-killed sheep, prognosticated that all attempts to relieve it would be baffled. The Spezziote fleet immediately sailed away, leaving the brave Suliots to their fate.”