Charles King - From the Ranks

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FROM THE RANKS.

BY

CAPT. CHARLES KING, U.S.A.,

AUTHOR OF "THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," "MARION'S FAITH," "KITTY'S
CONQUEST," ETC., ETC.

Transcriber's note:
This e-book of From the Ranks is based upon the edition found in The
Deserter, and From the Ranks. Two Novels, by Capt. Charles King.
Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1890. The Deserter is also
available as a Project Gutenberg e-book.

PHILADELPHIA:

J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.

1890.

Copyright, 1887, by J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.

FROM THE RANKS.

I.

A strange thing had happened at the old fort during the still watches of
the night. Even now, at nine in the morning, no one seemed to be in
possession of the exact circumstances. The officer of the day was
engaged in an investigation, and all that appeared to be generally known
was the bald statement that the sentry on "Number Five" had fired at
somebody or other about half after three; that he had fired by order of
the officer of the day, who was on his post at the time; and that now he
flatly refused to talk about the matter.

Garrison curiosity, it is perhaps needless to say, was rather stimulated
than lulled by this announcement. An unusual number of officers were
chatting about head-quarters when Colonel Maynard came over to his
office. Several ladies, too, who had hitherto shown but languid interest
in the morning music of the band, had taken the trouble to stroll down
to the old quadrangle, ostensibly to see guard-mounting. Mrs. Maynard
was almost always on her piazza at this time, and her lovely daughter
was almost sure to be at the gate with two or three young fellows
lounging about her. This morning, however, not a soul appeared in front
of the colonel's quarters.

Guard-mounting at the fort was not held until nine o'clock, contrary to
the somewhat general custom at other posts in our scattered army.
Colonel Maynard had ideas of his own upon the subject, and it was his
theory that everything worked more smoothly if he had finished a
leisurely breakfast before beginning office-work of any kind, and
neither the colonel nor his family cared to breakfast before eight
o'clock. In view of the fact that Mrs. Maynard had borne that name but a
very short time and that her knowledge of army life dated only from the
month of May, the garrison was disposed to consider her entitled to
much latitude of choice in such matters, even while it did say that she
was old enough to be above bride-like sentiment. The womenfolk at the
fort were of opinion that Mrs. Maynard was fifty. It must be conceded
that she was over forty, also that this was her second entry into the
bonds of matrimony.

That no one should now appear on the colonel's piazza was obviously a
disappointment to several people. In some way or other most of the
breakfast tables at the post had been enlivened by accounts of the
mysterious shooting. The soldiers going the rounds with the
"police-cart," the butcher and grocer and baker from town, the old
milkwoman with her glistening cans, had all served as newsmongers from
kitchen to kitchen, and the story that came in with the coffee to the
lady of the house had lost nothing in bulk or bravery. The groups of
officers chatting and smoking in front of head-quarters gained
accessions every moment, while the ladies seemed more absorbed in chat
and confidences than in the sweet music of the band.

What fairly exasperated some men was the fact that the old officer of
the day was not out on the parade where he belonged. Only the new
incumbent was standing there in statuesque pose as the band trooped
along the line, and the fact that the colonel had sent out word that the
ceremony would proceed without Captain Chester only served to add fuel
to the flame of popular conjecture. It was known that the colonel was
holding a consultation with closed doors with the old officer of the
day, and never before since he came to the regiment had the colonel been
known to look so pale and strange as when he glanced out for just one
moment and called his orderly. The soldier sprang up, saluted, received
his message, and, with every eye following him, sped off towards the old
stone guard-house. In three minutes he was on his way back, accompanied
by a corporal and private of the guard in full dress uniform.

"That's Leary,--the man who fired the shot," said Captain Wilton to his
senior lieutenant, who stood by his side.

"Belongs to B Company, doesn't he?" queried the subaltern. "Seems to me
I have heard Captain Armitage say he was one of his best men."

"Yes. He's been in the regiment as long as I can remember. What on earth
can the colonel want him for? Near as I can learn, he only fired by
Chester's order."

"And neither of them knows what he fired at."

It was perhaps ten minutes more before Private Leary came forth from
the door-way of the colonel's office, nodded to the corporal, and,
raising their white-gloved hands in salute to the group of officers, the
two men tossed their rifles to the right shoulder and strode back to the
guard.

Another moment, and the colonel himself opened his door and appeared in
the hall-way. He stopped abruptly, turned back and spoke a few words in
low tone, then hurried through the groups at the entrance, looking at no
man, avoiding their glances, and giving faint and impatient return to
the soldierly salutations that greeted him. The sweat was beaded on his
forehead; his lips were white, and his face full of a trouble and dismay
no man had ever seen there before. He spoke to no one, but walked
rapidly homeward, entered, and closed the gate and door behind him.

For a moment there was silence in the group. Few men in the service were
better loved and honored than the veteran soldier who commanded the
----th Infantry; and it was with genuine concern that his officers saw
him so deeply and painfully affected,--for affected he certainly was.
Never before had his cheery voice denied them a cordial "Good-morning,
gentlemen." Never before had his blue eyes flinched. He had been their
comrade and commander in years of frontier service, and his bachelor
home had been the rendezvous of all genial spirits when in garrison.
They had missed him sorely when he went abroad on long leave the
previous year, and were almost indignant when they received the news
that he had met his fate in Italy and would return married. "She" was
the widow of a wealthy New-Yorker who had been dead some three years
only, and, though over forty, did not look her years to masculine eyes
when she reached the fort in May. After knowing her a week, the garrison
had decided to a man that the colonel had done wisely. Mrs. Maynard was
charming, courteous, handsome, and accomplished. Only among the women
were there still a few who resented their colonel's capture; and some of
these, oblivious of the fact that they had tempted him with relations of
their own, were sententious and severe in their condemnation of second
marriage; for the colonel, too, was indulging in a second experiment. Of
his first, only one man in the regiment, besides the commander, could
tell anything; and he, to the just indignation of almost everybody,
would not discuss the subject. It was rumored that in the old days when
Maynard was senior captain and Chester junior subaltern in their former
regiment the two had very little in common. It was known that the first
Mrs. Maynard, while still young and beautiful, had died abroad. It was
hinted that the resignation of a dashing lieutenant of the regiment,
which was synchronous with her departure for foreign shores, was
demanded by his brother officers; but it was useless asking Captain
Chester. He could not tell; and--wasn't it odd?--here was Chester again,
the only man in the colonel's confidence in an hour of evident trouble.

"By Jove! what's gone wrong with the chief?" was the first exclamation
from one of the older officers. "I never saw him look so broken."

As no explanation suggested itself, they began edging in towards the
office. The door stood open; a hand-bell banged; a clerk darted in from
the sergeant-major's rooms, and Captain Chester was revealed seated at
the colonel's desk. This in itself was sufficient to induce several
officers to stroll in and look inquiringly around. Captain Chester,
merely nodding, went on with some writing at which he was engaged.

After a moment's awkward silence and uneasy glancing at one another, the
party seemed to arrive at the conclusion that it was time to speak. The
band had ceased, and the new guard had marched away behind its pealing
bugles. Lieutenant Hall winked at his comrades, strolled hesitatingly
over to the desk, balanced unsteadily on one leg, and, with his hands
sticking in his trousers-pockets and his forage-cap swinging from
protruding thumb and forefinger, cleared his throat, and, with marked
lack of confidence, accosted his absorbed superior:

"Colonel gone home?"

"Didn't you see him?" was the uncompromising reply; and the captain did
not deign to raise his head or eyes.

"Well--er--yes, I suppose I did," said Mr. Hall, shifting uncomfortably
to his other leg, and prodding the floor with the toe of his boot.

"Then that wasn't what you wanted to know, I presume," said Captain
Chester, signing his name with a vicious dab of the pen and bringing his
fist down with a thump on the blotting-pad, while he wheeled around in
his chair and looked squarely up into the perturbed features of the
junior.

"No, it wasn't," answered Mr. Hall, in an injured tone, while an
audible snicker at the door added to his sense of discomfort. "What I
mainly wanted was to know could I go to town."

"That matter is easily arranged, Mr. Hall. All you have to do is to get
out of that uncomfortable and unsoldierly position, stand in the
attitude in which you are certainly more at home and infinitely more
picturesque, proffer your request in respectful words, and there is no
question as to the result."

"Oh! you're in command, then?" said Mr. Hall, slowly wriggling into the
position of the soldier and flushing through his bronzed cheeks. "I
thought the colonel might be only gone for a minute."

"The colonel may not be back for a week; but you be here for
dress-parade all the same, and--Mr. Hall!" he called, as the young
officer was turning away. The latter faced about again.

"Was Mr. Jerrold going with you to town?"

"Yes, sir. He was to drive me in his dog-cart, and it's over here now."

"Mr. Jerrold cannot go,--at least not until I have seen him."

"Why, captain, he got the colonel's permission at breakfast this
morning."

"That is true, no doubt, Mr. Hall." And the captain dropped his sharp
and captious manner, and his voice fell, as though in sympathy with the
cloud that settled on his face. "I cannot explain matters just now.
There are reasons why the permission is withdrawn for the time being.
The adjutant will notify him." And Captain Chester turned to his desk
again as the new officer of the day, guard-book in hand, entered to make
his report.

"The usual orders, captain," said Chester, as he took the book from his
hand and looked over the list of prisoners. Then, in bold and rapid
strokes, he wrote across the page the customary certificate of the old
officer of the day, winding up with this remark:

"He also inspected guard and visited sentries between 3 and 3.35 a.m.
The firing at 3.30 a.m. was by his order."

Meantime, those officers who had entered and who had no immediate duty
to perform were standing or seated around the room, but all observing
profound silence. For a moment or two no sound was heard but the
scratching of the captain's pen. Then, with some embarrassment and
hesitancy, he laid it down and glanced around him.

"Has any one here anything to ask,--any business to transact?"

Two or three mentioned some routine matters that required the action of
the post-commander, but did so reluctantly, as though they preferred to
await the orders of the colonel himself. Captain Wilton, indeed, spoke
his sentiments:

"I wanted to see Colonel Maynard about getting two men of my company
relieved from extra duty; but, as he isn't here, I fancy I had better
wait."

"Not at all. Who are your men?--Have it done at once, Mr. Adjutant, and
supply their places from my company, if need be. Now is there anything
else?"

The group was apparently "nonplussed," as the adjutant afterwards put
it, by such unlooked-for complaisance on the part of the usually
crotchety senior captain. Still, no one offered to lead the others and
leave the room. After a moment's nervous rapping with his knuckles on
the desk, Captain Chester again abruptly spoke:

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to incommode you, but, if there be nothing more
that you desire to see me about, I shall go on with some other matters,
which--pardon me--do not require your presence."

At this very broad hint the party slowly found their legs, and with much
wonderment and not a few resentful glances at their temporary commander
the officers sauntered to the door-way. There, however, several stopped
again, still reluctant to leave in the face of so pervading a mystery,
for Wilton turned.

"Am I to understand that Colonel Maynard has left the post to be gone
any length of time?" he asked.

"He has not yet gone. I do not know how long he will be gone or how soon
he will start. For pressing personal reasons he has turned over the
command to me; and, if he decide to remain away, of course some
field-officer will be ordered to come to head-quarters. For a day or two
you will have to worry along with me; but I shan't worry you more than I
can help. I've got mystery and mischief enough here to keep me busy, God
knows. Just ask Sloat to come back here to me, will you? And--Wilton, I
did not mean to be abrupt with you. I'm all upset to-day. Mr. Adjutant,
notify Mr. Jerrold at once that he must not leave the post until I have
seen him. It is the colonel's last order. Tell him so."

II.

The night before had been unusually dark. A thick veil of clouds
overspread the heavens and hid the stars. Moon there was none, for the
faint silver crescent that gleamed for a moment through the
swift-sailing wisps of vapor had dropped beneath the horizon soon after
tattoo, and the mournful strains of "taps," borne on the rising wind,
seemed to signal "extinguish lights" to the entire firmament as well as
to Fort Sibley. There was a dance of some kind at the quarters of one of
the staff-officers living far up the row on the southern terrace.
Chester heard the laughter and chat as the young officers and their
convoy of matrons and maids came tripping homeward after midnight. He
was a crusty old bachelor, to use his own description, and rarely
ventured into these scenes of social gayety, and, besides, he was
officer of the day, and it was a theory he was fond of expounding to
juniors that when on guard no soldier should permit himself to be drawn
from the scene of his duties. With his books and his pipe Chester whiled
away the lonely hours of the early night, and wondered if the wind would
blow up a rain or disperse the clouds entirely. Towards one o'clock a
light, bounding footstep approached his door, and the portal flew open
as a trim-built young fellow with laughing eyes and an air of exuberant
health and spirits came briskly in. It was Rollins, the junior second
lieutenant of the regiment, and Chester's own and only pet,--so said the
envious others. He was barely a year out of leading-strings at the
Point, and as full of hope and pluck and mischief as a colt. Moreover,
he was frank and teachable, said Chester, and didn't come to him with
the idea that he had nothing to learn and less to do. The boy won upon
his gruff captain from the very start, and, to the incredulous delight
of the whole regiment, within six months the old cynic had taken him
into his heart and home, and Mr. Rollins occupied a pleasant room under
Chester's roof-tree, and was the sole accredited sharer of the captain's
mess. To a youngster just entering service, whose ambition it was to
stick to business and make a record for zeal and efficiency, these were
manifest advantages. There were men in the regiment to whom such close
communion with a watchful senior would have been most embarrassing, and
Mr. Rollins's predecessor as second lieutenant of Chester's company was
one of these. Mr. Jerrold was a happy man when promotion took him from
under the wing of "Crusty Jake" and landed him in Company B. More than
that, it came just at a time when, after four years of loneliness and
isolation at an up-river stockade, his new company and his old one,
together with four others from the regiment, were ordered to join
head-quarters and the band at the most delightful station in the
Northwest. Here Mr. Rollins had reported for duty during the previous
autumn, and here they were with troops of other arms of the service,
enjoying the close proximity of all the good things of civilization.

Chester looked up with a quizzical smile as his "plebe" came in:

"Well, sir, how many dances had you with 'Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt'? Not
many, I fancy, with Mr. Jerrold monopolizing everything, as usual. By
gad! some good fellow could make a colossal fortune in buying that young
man at my valuation and selling him at his own."

"Oh, come, now, captain," laughed Rollins, "Jerrold's no such slouch as
you make him out. He's lazy, and he likes to spoon, and he puts up with
a good deal of petting from the girls,--who wouldn't, if he could get
it?--but he is jolly and big-hearted, and don't put on any airs,--with
us, at least,--and the mess like him first-rate. 'Tain't his fault that
he's handsome and a regular lady-killer. You must admit that he had a
pretty tough four years of it up there at that cussed old Indian
graveyard, and it's only natural he should enjoy getting here, where
there are theatres and concerts and operas and dances and dinners--"

"Yes, dances and dinners and daughters,--all delightful, I know, but no
excuse for a man's neglecting his manifest duty, as he is doing and has
been ever since we got here. Any other time the colonel would have
straightened him out; but no use trying it now, when both women in his
household are as big fools about the man as anybody in town,--bigger,
unless I'm a born idiot." And Chester rose excitedly.

"I suppose he had Miss Renwick pretty much to himself to-night?" he
presently demanded, looking angrily and searchingly at his junior, as
though half expecting him to dodge the question.

"Oh, yes. Why not? It's pretty evident she would rather dance and be
with him than with any one else: so what can a fellow do? Of course we
ask her to dance, and all that, and I think he wants us to; but I cannot
help feeling rather a bore to her, even if she is only eighteen, and
there are plenty of pleasant girls in the garrison who don't get any too
much attention, now we're so near a big city, and I like to be with
them."

"Yes, and it's the _right_ thing for you to do, youngster. That's one
trait I despise in Jerrold. When we were up there at the stockade two
winters ago, and Captain Gray's little girl was there, he hung around
her from morning till night, and the poor little thing fairly beamed and
blossomed with delight. Look at her now, man! He don't go near her. He
hasn't had the decency to take her a walk, a drive, or anything, since
we got here. He began, from the moment we came, with that gang in town.
He was simply devoted to Miss Beaubien until Alice Renwick came; then he
dropped her like a hot brick. By the Eternal, Rollins, he hasn't gotten
off with _that_ old love yet, you mark my words. There's Indian blood in
her veins, and a look in her eye that makes me wriggle, sometimes. I
watched her last night at parade when she drove out here with that
copper-faced old squaw, her mother. For all her French and Italian
education and her years in New York and Paris, that girl's got a wild
streak in her somewhere. She sat there watching him as the officers
marched to the front, and then _her_, as he went up and joined Miss
Renwick; and there was a gleam of her white teeth and a flash in her
black eyes that made me think of the leap of a knife from the sheath.
Not but what 'twould serve him right if she did play him some devil's
trick. It's his own doing. Were any people out from town?" he suddenly
asked.

"Yes, half a dozen or so," answered Mr. Rollins, who was pulling off his
boots and inserting his feet into easy slippers, while old "Crusty"
tramped excitedly up and down the floor. "Most of them stayed out here,
I think. Only one team went back across the bridge."

"Whose was that?"

"The Suttons', I believe. Young Cub Sutton was out with his sister and
another girl."

"There's another damned fool!" growled Chester. "That boy has ten
thousand a year of his own, a beautiful home that will be his, a doting
mother and sister, and everything wealth can buy, and yet, by gad! he's
unhappy because he can't be a poor devil of a lieutenant, with nothing
but drills, debts, and rifle-practice to enliven him. That's what brings
him out here all the time. He'd swap places with you in a minute. Isn't
he very thick with Jerrold?"

"Oh, yes, rather. Jerrold entertains him a good deal."

"Which is returned with compound interest, I'll bet you. Mr. Jerrold
simply makes a convenience of him. He won't make love to his sister,
because the poor, rich, unsophisticated girl is as ugly as she is
ubiquitous. His majesty is fastidious, you see, and seeks only the
caress of beauty, and while he lives there at the Suttons' when he goes
to town, and dines and sleeps and smokes and wines there, and uses their
box at the opera-house, and is courted and flattered by the old lady
because dear Cubby worships the ground he walks on and poor Fanny Sutton
thinks him adorable, he turns his back on the girl at every dance
because she _can't_ dance, and leaves her to you fellows who have a
conscience and some idea of decency. He gives all _his_ devotions to
Nina Beaubien, who dances like a _coryphee_, and drops _her_ when Alice
Renwick comes with her glowing Spanish beauty. Oh, damn it, I'm an old
fool to get worked up over it as I do, but you young fellows don't see
what I see. You haven't seen what I've seen; and pray God you never may!
That's where the shoe pinches, Rollins. It is what he _reminds_ me
of--not so much what he _is_, I suppose--that I get rabid about. He is
for all the world like a man we had in the old regiment when you were in
swaddling-clothes; and I never look at Mamie Gray's sad, white face that
it doesn't bring back a girl I knew just then whose heart was broken by
just such a shallow, selfish, adorable scoun--No, I won't use _that_
word in speaking of Jerrold; but it's what I fear. Rollins, you call him
generous. Well, so he is,--_lavish_, if you like, with his money and his
hospitality here in the post. Money comes easily to him, and goes; but
you boys misuse the term. _I_ call him selfish to the core, because he
can deny himself no luxury, no pleasure, though it may wring a woman's
life--or, more than that, her honor--to give it him." The captain was
tramping up and down the room now, as was his wont when excited; his
face was flushed, and his hand clinched. He turned suddenly and faced
the younger officer, who sat gazing uncomfortably at the rug in front of
the fireplace.

"Rollins, some day I may tell you a story that I've kept to myself all
these years. You won't wonder at my feeling as I do about these
goings-on of your friend Jerrold when you hear it all, but it was just
such a man as he who ruined one woman, broke the heart of another, and
took the sunshine out of the life of two men from that day to this. One
of them was your colonel, the other your captain. Now go to bed. I'm
going out." And, throwing down his pipe, regardless of the scattering
sparks and ashes, Captain Chester strode into the hall-way, picked up
the first forage-cap he laid hands on, and banged himself out of the
front door.

Mr. Rollins remained for some moments in the same attitude, still gazing
abstractedly at the rug, and listening to the nervous tramp of his
senior officer on the piazza without. Then he slowly and thoughtfully
went to his room, where his perturbed spirit was soon soothed in sleep.
His conscience being clear and his health perfect, there were no deep
cares to keep him tossing on a restless pillow.

To Chester, however, sleep was impossible: he tramped the piazza a full
hour before he felt placid enough to go and inspect his guard. The
sentries were calling three o'clock, and the wind had died away, as he
started on his round. Dark as was the night, he carried no lantern. The
main garrison was well lighted by lamps, and the road circling the old
fort was broad, smooth, and bordered by a stone coping wall where it
skirted the precipitous descent into the river-bottom. As he passed down
the plank walk west of the quadrangle wherein lay the old barracks and
the stone quarters of the commanding officer and the low one-storied row
of bachelor dens, he could not help noting the silence and peace of the
night. Not a light was visible at any window as he strode down the line.
The challenge of the sentry at the old stone tower sounded unnecessarily
sharp and loud, and his response of "Officer of the day" was lower than
usual, as though rebuking the unseemly outcry. The guard came scrambling
out and formed hurriedly to receive him, but the captain's inspection
was of the briefest kind. Barely glancing along the prison corridor to
see that the bars were in place, he turned back into the night, and made
for the line of posts along the river-bank. The sentry at the high
bridge across the gorge, and the next one, well around to the southeast
flank, were successively visited and briefly questioned as to their
instructions, and then the captain plodded sturdily on until he came to
the sharp bend around the outermost angle of the fort and found himself
passing behind the quarters of the commanding officer, a substantial
two-storied stone house with mansard roof and dormer-windows. The road
in the rear was some ten feet below the level of the parade inside the
quadrangle, and consequently, as the house faced the parade, what was
the ground-floor from that front became the second story at the rear.
The kitchen, store-room, and servants' rooms were on this lower stage,
and opened upon the road; an outer stairway ran up to the centre door at
the back, but at the east and west flanks of the house the stone walls
stood without port or window except those above the eaves,--the dormers.
Light and air in abundance streamed through the broad Venetian windows
north and south when light and air were needed. This night, as usual,
all was tightly closed below, all darkness aloft as he glanced up at the
dormers high above his head. As he did so, his foot struck a sudden and
sturdy obstacle; he stumbled and pitched heavily forward, and found
himself sprawling at full length upon a ladder lying on the ground
almost in the middle of the roadway.

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