Successful Recitations Part 41

"And what, sir, am I to understand by this?" inquired the aggressor.

"You will understand, sir, that my friend forgives you--he is dead."

THE MIDs.h.i.+PMAN'S FUNERAL.

BY BARLEY DALE.

"Years ago, when I was quite a young man, I was appointed chaplain to H.M.S. _Octopus_, then on guard at Gibraltar. We had a very nice time of it, for 'Gib.' is a very gay place, and that winter there was plenty of fun somewhere nearly every night, and we were asked to most of the festivities. Now, on board the Octopus was a young mids.h.i.+pman, whom I will call Munro. He was a handsome young fellow, but rather delicate, and he had been sent to Gibraltar for the sake of the climate, in hopes that the sea-air and warm winter might set him up.

He was the life of the s.h.i.+p, and wherever he went he was popular; and it is possible he might have outgrown his weakness, for I don't think there was any organic disease at this time, but he got a low fever, and died in a week. This low fever was very prevalent, and at the same time that poor young Munro died, an admiral, one of the leading members of society at 'Gib.,' died of the same disease. As it was considered infectious, the two bodies were placed in their coffins and carried to the mortuary till the funeral. Oddly enough, both funerals were fixed for the same day; Munro's in the morning, and the admiral's in the afternoon. The admiral's was to be a very grand affair, all the troops in the garrison were to follow, as well as the naval officers and sailors on board the guards.h.i.+ps; the ceremony was to be performed by the bishop, a.s.sisted by some other clergy while as for poor Munro, I was to bury him at ten o'clock in the morning, six men were told off to carry the coffin, and it was left to those who liked to act as mourners.

"Well, the day of the funerals arrived, all the s.h.i.+ps were decked with flags half-mast high in honour of the admiral, minute-guns were fired in honour of the admiral, church bells tolled in honour of the admiral, while as for poor Munro (one or two of us excepted), no one thought of him. Ten o'clock came, and I with the doctor and ore of Munro's comrades, another middy, and the six sailors, who, by the way, had all volunteered their services, set out for the mortuary; I had a fancy to follow the poor fellow as far as I could, so I waited while the jack tars went inside and fetched out the coffin covered with the union-jack, and Munro's hat and sword on the top, and then the little procession took its way across the neutral ground to the English cemetery. I followed the coffin, and the other two brought up the rear. The sentries did not salute us as we pa.s.sed them. At last we reached the cemetery gates. Here I was obliged to relegate my post of chief mourner to the doctor, while I went into the chapel, put on my surplice, and went to the door to meet the body. I then proceeded to bury the poor boy, and when the union-jack was taken off and the coffin lowered into the grave, I leant over to take one last look; the doctor did the same, and as our eyes met the same emotion caused us both to blow our noses violently, and it was in a voice of suppressed emotion that I concluded the service.

"I was so disgusted with the way in which the poor boy had been slighted that I had not intended going to the admiral's funeral; but after burying Munro I felt more charitably disposed, so I got into my uniform and duly attended the admiral's obsequies.

"It was a very grand affair indeed; the streets were thronged with spectators, every window was filled with eager faces as the enormous procession pa.s.sed by. There were five regiments stationed in Gibraltar at the time, and two men-of-war besides the _Octopus_ lying in the harbour; detachments from every regiment were sent, three military bands followed, a battery of artillery, the marines and all the jack tars in the place, the governor and his staff were there, and every officer, who was not on the sick list, quartered in Gibraltar, was present. A firing party was told off to fire over the grave when all was over, and this brilliant procession was met at the cemetery-gates by the bishop, attended by several clergymen and a surpliced choir. I forgot to say that a string of carriages followed the troops, and the entire procession could not have been much less than a mile long.

"As we crossed the neutral ground this time, the sentry, with arms reversed, saluted us; and the strains of Beethoven's 'Funeral March of a Hero,' must have been heard all over Gibraltar as the three bands--one in front, one in the rear, and one in the centre--all pealed it forth.

"Of course, not one-third of the funeral _cortege_ could get near the grave; but I managed to get pretty close. The service proceeded, and at length the coffin was uncovered to be lowered into the grave; it was smothered with flowers, but the wreaths were all carefully removed, and the admiral's c.o.c.ked-hat and sword, and then the union-jack was off, and the bishop, the governor, and all the officers near the grave pressed forward to look at the coffin.

"They looked once, they started; they looked again, they frowned; they rubbed their eyes; they looked again, then they whispered; they sniffed, they snorted, they grumbled; they gave hurried orders to the s.e.xtons, who shovelled some earth on to the coffin, and the bishop hurriedly finished the service.

"What do you think they saw when they looked into the grave?

"Why, poor Munro's coffin! I buried the admiral myself in the morning, by mistake. The doctor and I found it out at the grave, but we kept our own counsel."--_Young England_.

LADYSMITH.

BY F. HARALD WILLIAMS.

I.--LADYSMITH OCCUPIED.

Flushed with fight and red with glory, Conquerors if backward flung, Fresh from triumphs grim and gory, Toward the goal the Army swung; Splendid, but with recent laurels Dimmed by shadow of defeat, Thirsting yet for n.o.bler quarrels-- Never dreaming of retreat.

Day by day they grimly struggled, Early on and on till late; Night by night with doom they juggled, Dodging Death and fighting Fate.

Not a murmur once was spoken, Stern endurance still unspent, As with spirit all unbroken On the bitter march they went.

Still with weary steps that stumbled Forward moved that constant tread, Sleepless, silent, and unhumbled, On and on the army sped, n.o.ble sons of n.o.ble mothers, Proud of home and kin and kith, Brothers to the aid of brothers, On and on to Ladysmith.

There, through smoke of onset rifted, Soldiers who disdained to yield Had for weal or woe uplifted England's own broad battle-s.h.i.+eld.

Right across the path of pillage Was that iron rampart thrust, While beneath it town and village Safely hid in settled trust.

Frail and open seemed that shelter And unguarded to the foes, Helpless, as the fiery welter Rocked it in volcanic throes; But there was defence to bind it With the force of Destiny, And an Empire stood behind it Armed in awful majesty.

And no fortress ever moulded Girt securer chosen s.p.a.ce, Than those unseen walls which folded In their fear that lonely place.

On its Outposts far the scourges Fell with wrath and crimson rain, But the fierce a.s.saulting surges Beat and beat in thunder vain.

II.--LADYSMITH BESIEGED.

There they kept the old flag flying Day by day and prayed relief, Weary, wounded, doomed, and dying-- Gallant men and n.o.ble chief By the leaden tempest stricken, Grandly stood or grandly fell-- Peril had but power to quicken Faith that owned such holy spell.

Not alone the foe without them Menaced them with fire and shot, Sickness creeping round about them, Fever, dysentery, and rot, Struck the rider and the stallion, Making merry as at feast On the pick of each battalion-- Ruthless, smiting man and beast.

None were spared and nothing holy, For the fever claimed the best, Now the high and now the lowly, Now the baby at the breast, All obeyed its mandate, drooping In the fulness of their power, Old and young before it stooping, Bud and blossom, fruit and flower.

Hunger blanched their dauntless faces, Furrowed with the lines of lack, But with stern and stubborn paces Still they drove the spoiler back.

Round them drew the iron tether Tighter, but they kept their troth, All for England's sake together-- Soldier and civilian both.

Death and ruin knock and enter, Hearts may break and homesteads burn, Yet from that lone faithful centre Flashed red vengeance in return; Guardian guns thence hurled defiance From the brave who lightly took All their blows in brave reliance, Which no tempest ever shook.

Hand to hand they strove and wrestled Stoutly for that pearl of pride, Where mid flame and woe it nestled Down with danger at its side.

Yet like boys released from cla.s.s time, Though the blast destroying blew, There they played and found a pastime While the Flag unconquered flew.

III.--LADYSMITH RELIEVED.

Then, when all seemed lost but glory With the l.u.s.tre which it gave, And Relief an idle story Murmured by a sealed grave; While with pallid lips they reckoned Darkly the enduring days Famished, lo! Deliverance beckoned Surely after long delays.

Wave on wave of martial beauty, Dashed upon those deadly rocks At the simple call of duty, And were broken by the shocks.

Yet that chivalry of splendour, Though baptized in blood and fire, Had no thought of mean surrender Never breathed the word retire.

Still they weighed the dreadful chances, Still they gathered up their strength, By invincible advances Steeled to win the prize at length.

Fate-like their resolve to sever Those gaunt bonds of grim despair, And within the breach for ever England's honour to repair.

Came relief at last, endeavour, Stern, magnificent, and true, Hoping on and fighting ever, Forced its gory pa.s.sage through.

All the rage of pent-up forces, All the pa.s.sion seeking vent Out of vast and solemn sources, Here renewed their sacrament;

In the rapture of a greeting For which thousands fought and bled, With the saved and saviours meeting Over our Imperial dead.

Witnesses unseen but tested Lived again as grander men, And their awful shadow rested With a benediction then;

One who with his wondrous talent Conquered more than even the sword, And among the gay and gallant By his pen was crowned lord.

There they lie in silence lowly Which no battle now can wake, And the ground is ever holy For our English heroes' sake.

THE SIX-INCH GUN.

(From the Christmas number of the _Bombsh.e.l.l_, published in Ladysmith during the siege.)