Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)Grant, James
General
Only an Ensign: A Tale of the Retreat from Cabul, Volume 3 (of 3)
Grant, James
Afghan Wars -- Fiction
On many a grey earn and lofty and rugged headland in Cornwall were
fires, lighted by the miners and peasantry but chiefly about
Rhoscadzhel--beacons so bright in honour of the new lord and lady,
that they shone far over land and sea, and in such numbers that the
Guebres and fire-worshippers of old, could they have seen them, might
have deemed that the adoration of the Fire-god was again in its
glory, as when the Scilly Isles were consecrated to the sun; and
Derrick Braddon, who, on the strength of recent changes, had
installed himself as a species of deputy-governor or major-domo at
Rhoscadzhel, had a deep carouse, in which he was fully assisted by
Messrs. Jasper Funnel, old Boxer, and others of the plush-breeched
and aiguilletted fraternity.
Meanwhile, those whose fortunes we have followed throughout the
campaign of Western India and the retreat from Cabul were speeding
homeward, and when from the coast of Orissa they saw the steamer
awaiting them in the rough and dangerous roadstead of Balasore, where
usually the Calcutta pilots leave the home-bound ships, they hailed
the bright blue world of waters as an old friend; for, to our
island-born, "the sea, the sea," is what it was to the returning
Greeks of old Xenophon!
"Now, Mabel," said Waller, as with, a lorgnette in her pretty hand,
she surveyed the roadstead--the plain gold hoop on that hand being in
Bob Waller's eyes the most charming trinket there, "a few weeks more,
and all these foreign seas and shores will be left far behind; we
shall be home at our little place that looks from Cornwall on the
apple-bowers of Devon. Ha! Trevelyan, you and I shall then each sit
down under his own vine and fig-tree in peace, and enjoy a quiet
weed, like the patriarch of old--if the said patriarch ever possessed
one. What say you, my Lady Lamorna?" he added, as he assisted
Sybil's light figure to spring from the handsome and well-hung
carriage in which they had travelled from Calcutta.
Sybil only smiled, and looked joyously at the sea, as she threw up
the white lace veil of her bridal bonnet; and Audley, too, was gazing
on the sea.
"Waller, we have undergone much," said he--"days of danger, and
nights of anguish, yet we have survived them all, and been true to
the end, and in the past have fully realised the force of the maxim
that--
'Come what come may,
_Time and the Hour_ runs through the roughest day.'"
THE END.
BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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