The Military Sketch-Book. Vol. 1 (of 2): Reminiscences of seventeen years in the service abroad and at homeMaginn, William
General
The Military Sketch-Book. Vol. 1 (of 2): Reminiscences of seventeen years in the service abroad and at home
Maginn, William
Bushrangers; Military biography; Soldiers -- Conduct of life
from the situation of the wound, that it was impossible to succeed.
The dying soldier, on being laid down, held out his hand to my friend
the Captain, which was not only cordially received, but pressed with
pity and tenderness by that officer. “Sir,” said the unhappy man,
gazing upon his Captain with such a look as I shall never forget—“Sir,
you have been my best friend ever since I entered the regiment—you
have been every man's friend in the company, and a good officer.—God
bless you!—You saved me once from punishment, which you and all knew
afterwards, that I was unjustly sentenced to.—God bless you!”—Here the
tears came from his eyes, and neither the Captain nor any one around
could conceal their kindred sensation. All wept silently.
The poor sufferer resumed;—“I have only to beg, Sir, you will take care
that my dear wife and little ones shall have my back pay as soon as
possible:—I am not many hours for this world.” The Captain pressed his
hand, but could not speak. He hid his face in his handkerchief.
“I have done my duty, Captain—have I not, Sir?”
“You have, Tom, you have—and nobly done it,” replied the Captain, with
great emotion.
“God bless you!—I have only one thing more to say.”—Then addressing
one of his comrades, he asked for his haversack, which was immediately
handed to him.—“I have only one thing to say, Captain:” said he,
“I have not been very well this week, Sir, and did not eat all my
rations.—I have one biscuit—it is all I possess.—You, as well as
others, Sir, are without bread;—take it for the sake of a poor grateful
soldier—take it—take it, Sir, and God be with you—God Almighty be with
you!”
The poor, good-natured creature was totally exhausted, as he concluded;
he leaned back—his eyes grew a dull glassy colour—his face still paler,
and he expired in about ten minutes after, on the spot. The Captain
wept like a child.
Few words were spoken. The body was borne along with us to the wood
where the division was bivouacked, and the whole of the company to
which the man belonged attended his interment, which took place in
about two hours after.
He was wrapped in his blanket, just as he was, and laid in the earth.
The Captain himself read a prayer over his grave, and pronounced a
short, but impressive eulogy on the merits of the departed. He showed
the men the biscuit, as he related to them the manner in which it
had been given to him, and he declared he would never taste it, but
_keep_ the token in remembrance of the good soldier, even though he
starved. The commissary, however, arrived that night, and prevented the
necessity of trial to the Captain's amiable resolution. At the same
time, I do believe, that nothing would have made him eat the biscuit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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