The Thin Red Line; and Blue Blood Part 22

The use of a great length of this Woronzoff road was forbidden, and the British were restricted to the insufficient tracks through Kadikoi. A princ.i.p.al cause this of the difficulties of supply during the dread winter now close at hand.

Another lesser result of the Russian advance was that McKay and his men that afternoon were unable to rejoin their regiment by the road they had travelled the day before. He returned to camp by a long and circuitous route, through Kadikoi, instead of by the direct Woronzoff road.

It was late in the day, therefore, when he was once more at his headquarters. He had much to tell of his strange adventures on these two eventful days, and the colonel, who had at once sent for him, kept him in close colloquy, plying him with questions about the battle, for more than an hour. It was not till he had heard everything that Colonel Blythe handed the sergeant-major a bundle of letters and papers, arrived that morning by the English mail.

"There is good news for you, McKay," said he. "I was so interested in your description that I had forgotten to tell you. Let me congratulate you; your name is in the _Gazette_," and the Colonel, taking McKay's hand, shook it warmly.

McKay carried off his precious bundle to his tent, and, first untying the newspaper, hunted out the _Gazette_.

There it was--

"The Royal Picts--Sergeant-Major Stanislas Anastasius Wilders McKay to be Ensign, _vice_ Arrowsmith, killed in action."

They had lost no time; the reward had followed quickly upon the gallant deed that deserved it. Barely a month had elapsed since the Alma, yet already he was an officer, bearing the Queen's commission, which he had won with his own right arm.

His letters were from home--from his darling mother, who, in simple, loving language, poured forth her joy and pride.

"My dearest, bravest boy," she said, "how n.o.bly you have justified the choice you made; you were right, and we were wrong in opposing your earnest wish to follow in your poor father's footsteps--would that he had lived to see this day! It was his spirit that moved you when, in spite of us all, of your uncles' protests and my tears, you persisted in your resolve to enlist. They said you had disgraced yourself and us. It was cruel of them; but now they are the first to come round. I have heard from both your uncles; they are, of course, delighted, and beg me to give you their heartiest good wishes. Uncle Ralph said perhaps he would write himself; but he is so overwhelmed with work at the Munitions Office he may not have time. Uncle Barto you will, perhaps, see out in the Crimea; he has got command of the _Burlington Castle_, one of the steamers chartered from his Company, and is going at once to Balaclava.

"Oh, my sweet son be careful of yourself!" went on the fond mother, her deep anxiety welling forth. "You are my only, only joy. I pray G.o.d hourly that He may spare your precious life. May He have you in His safe keeping!"

The reading of these pleasant letters occupied Stanislas till nightfall. Then, utterly wearied, but with a thankful, contented heart, he threw himself upon the ground, and slept till morning.

When he issued forth from his tent it was to receive the cordial congratulations of his brother officers. Sergeant Hyde came up, too, a little doubtfully, but McKay seized his hand, saying--

"You do not grudge me my good luck, I hope, old friend?"

"I, sir?"--the address was formal, but the tone was full of heartfelt emotion. "You have no heartier well-wisher than Colour-Sergeant Hyde.

Our relative positions have changed--"

"Nothing can change them, or me, Hyde. You have always been my best and staunchest friend. It is to your advice and teachings that I owe all this."

"Go on as you have begun, my boy; the road is open before you. Who knows? That field-marshal's baton may have been in your pack after all!"

While they still talked a message was brought to McKay from General Wilders; the brigadier wished to see him at once.

"How is this, Mr. McKay?" said the general. "So you pretend to be a cousin of mine? Sir Colin Campbell has told me of his meeting with you, and now I find your name in full in the _Gazette_."

"It is no pretence, sir," replied Stanislas, with dignity.

"What! You call yourself a Wilders! By what right?"

"My mother is first cousin to the present Lord Essendine."

"Through whom?"

"Her father, Anastasius Wilders."

"I know--my father's brother. Then you belong to the elder branch. But I never heard that he married."

"He married Priscilla c.o.xon in 1805."

"Privately?"

"I believe not. But it was much against his father's wish, and his wife was never recognised by the family. His widow--you know my grandfather died early--married a second time, and thus increased the breach between the families."

"It's a strange story. I don't know what to think of it. These statements of yours--can they be substantiated?"

"Most certainly, sir, by the fullest proof. Besides, the present Lord Essendine is quite aware of my existence, and has acknowledged my relations.h.i.+p."

"Never openly: you must admit that."

"No, we were simple people; not grand enough, I suppose, for his lords.h.i.+p. At any rate, we were too proud to be patronised, and preferred to go our own way."

"I acknowledge you, Mr. McKay, without hesitation, and am proud to own so gallant a young man as my relative. You have indeed maintained the soldierly reputation of our family. Shake hands!"

"You are very kind, sir; I hope to continue to deserve your good opinion," and McKay rose to take his leave.

"Stay, Cousin McKay, I have more to say to you. What is this Sir Colin tells me about your speaking Russian?"

Stanislas explained.

"It may prove extremely useful; we have not too many interpreters in the army. I shall write to headquarters and report your qualifications. Do you speak any other languages?"

"French, Spanish, and a little Turkish."

"By Jove! you ought to be on the staff; they want such men as you. Can you sit on a horse?"

"I have ridden bare-backed many a dozen miles across the moors at home."

"Faith! I will take you myself. I want an extra aide-de-camp, and my cousin shall have the preference. I will send to Colonel Blythe at once; be ready to join me. But how about your kit? You will want horses, uniform, and--Forgive me, my young cousin: but how are you off for cash? You must let me be your banker."

McKay shook his head, gratefully.

"Thank you, sir; but I have been supplied from home. One of my uncles--my mother's half-brother--is well-to-do, and he sent me a remittance on hearing of my promotion."

"Well, well, as you please; but mind you come to me if you want anything. I shall expect you to take up your duties to-morrow." They were interrupted by all the bugles in the brigade sounding the a.s.sembly. "What is it? The alarm?"

"I can hear file-firing, sir, from the front."

"An attack, evidently. Hurry back to your camp; the regiment will be turned out by the time you get there!"

As McKay left the general's tent he met Captain Powys.

"The outposts have been driven in on Sh.e.l.l Hill and the enemy is advancing in force," said the aide-decamp. "We shall have another battle, I expect. It is our turn to-day."

This was Colonel Fedeoroff's forlorn hope against our extreme right: the sequel to Balaclava, the prelude of Inkerman--a sharp fight while it lasted, but promptly repulsed by our men.