CHAPTER II.

TOO LATE FOR THE POST-BAG.

Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer; Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wisdom is pushed out of life. YOUNG.

Meantime, Hubert went on his way, and a feeling of sadness came over him after he lost sight of his home amongst the trees; for the thought had come into his mind that perhaps he might never see it again. For a moment his heart beat quickly, and he gave a deep sigh; then, putting his hand into the leather bag, he was just going to take out his mother's present to him, when a man, who sat opposite, said, "I suppose, young soldier, you are off to join your regiment?"

"Yes," replied Hubert, with a smile; and as he drew his hand from the bag, he continued, "we are ordered to the East Indies."

"East Indies, eh? you'll soon see a little life, then; they tell me there's plenty of fighting going on out yonder, though we don't get much of it in the newspaper. But you are very young?"

"Yes, I'm the youngest cadet in the regiment; I'm just turned fifteen; but I shall be as brave as any of the others, I dare say: and I mean to make as good a soldier."

"No doubt of it," replied more than one of the passengers, and the coachman, who had heard the conversation, cracked his whip, as he chimed in, "Hear! hear! well done!" Then, as the coach rolled along over many a mile, they talked of nothing but Hubert and the sphere of his future existence. It feasted the boy's pride; and every other thought fled away, and he forgot all about his home and his Bible.

It was the morning of the third day since Hubert started, when, after many changes and delays, the journey was almost ended, and in less than an hour they would be in London.

"Do you go to your ship at once?" inquired a gentleman who was seated beside the coachman, and who had not only come all the journey with Hubert, but who appeared particularly interested in him.

"I should like to go very much," replied the boy, "because I know no one in London, though my leave of absence is not up till to-morrow."

"My brother is captain of your vessel," said the stranger; "so, if you like, we can go together, for I am on the way to say good-bye to him."

Nothing could have suited Hubert better; so, upon leaving the coach, which reached London as the clocks were striking five, they hurried off to the street where the mail started for Portsmouth, and after travelling all day they reached the vessel. How happy was Hubert that night! what a joyous glow was on his cheek! Several of his old companions were there, and not one of them appeared to have any sorrow at leaving friends and home; they greeted each other with light hearts and buoyant spirits, talked of the varied enjoyments of the past holiday, and laughed loud and long, as they sat together in the mess-room.

Here and there, apart from the young ones, in nook and corner, or leaning over the side of the vessel, an older head resting upon the hand, told that with some, at least, the pang of parting from home and dear ones had left its impress upon the heart of the soldier; and there was one young lad, a stranger, only one month older than Hubert, seated upon a coil of rope, weeping as though his heart would break. The little cabin-boy, a child of eleven, tried to soothe him, but the sailors, as they passed by, said, "Let him alone, boy, and he'll join his messmates below all the sooner."

Night closed at last, and for a few hours, at least, there was silence: sleep may not have visited every pillow, but the loud laugh was hushed, and the stillness of night rested upon the vessel.

It was late the next morning when Hubert left his cabin; all was noise and confusion; hundreds of soldiers were moving about, and Hubert, to escape from the turmoil, was preparing to go ashore when a superior officer touched him on the shoulder and desired him to remain in the vessel. Hubert was vexed at the order, and sat down gloomily upon a seat; the time, however, passed quickly by, and at noon, when the bugle sounded to summon all visitors on deck, that they might be sent on shore, he had forgotten his anger, and was one of the most cheerful there.

The friends were gone, all the partings were over, the gangways were secured, and everything was ready. Wind and tide in favour, time was precious, and the roll was called: every soldier, to a man, answered to his name, and they gave three hearty cheers for King George, their regiment, and Old England.

"The ship will weigh anchor in less than an hour," said a voice close to Hubert's ear, and, turning round, he saw the gentleman who had accompanied him from his home.

"Oh, how do you do?" said Hubert, shaking hands with him. "Do you sail with us?"

"No, only just a mile or so, then I shall return in a boat. Have you a letter to your parents? if so, I shall be happy to post it for you."

Hubert's face turned red: he had forgotten to write, and he replied, "I have not a letter."

"Perhaps you have already sent one?"

"Yes," said Hubert; "I mean no; I have not written; the ship sails so soon, and I have been so engaged that I forgot."

"Forgot?" said the stranger, retaining his hand. "What! forget to write to those parents you may never see again? Come, my lad, that looks ill in a soldier; take a friend's advice, and write a letter at once; if I cannot take it, you will have an opportunity of sending it before many days pass, and your parents must be anxious about you: try and remember all the good counsels they gave you before you left, and never forget them. Good-bye; remember what I say; good-bye."

There was much warmth in the stranger's manner as he shook Hubert's hand, into whose young heart every good resolution returned, and he hastened to the cabin which he was to share with three other cadets. He was silent and thoughtful as he unpacked his chest to find his writing materials, and there the previous evening he had placed his Bible. As he raised the lid, his eye fell upon his mother's last gift, and more earnestly than before he determined upon writing a long letter. The paper was found, and the writing-desk, which a dear little sister had given him, was opened, when in rushed the three noisy companions of his cabin, and made so much disturbance that he found it impossible to write; so, thinking that he should have plenty of time "to-morrow," he put his things back again into his chest, and became as noisy as the others. Another opportunity was lost, another good resolution broken, for the society of noisy and riotous companions; and it may be that the many evils and sorrows of his after-life were but the fruits of his neglecting this first great duty. Had he remembered his parents and their counsels, and cherished the little germ of goodness that was springing up in his heart, heavenly dews might have descended upon the flower, and kept him from the ways of evil.

The vessel at last set sail, and order was restored. Hubert was upon deck, and as he looked over the side of the ship, and saw the white cliffs of his country fading from his view, he for once felt lonely--felt he was leaving all he loved, and he wished he had written home.

"Just a line: I might do it now," he said to himself. He found, however, upon turning to go below, that he would be required to perform one of his military duties almost immediately, so that he could not write then; and he felt such a mixture of sorrow and vexation, that the feelings of the boy mocked, as it were, the dress he wore; and, leaning his head over the side of the ship, more than one large tear mingled with the waters of the deep.

Their first night at sea came on: how calm and beautiful it was! there was scarcely a ripple upon the ocean; the bright stars in the high vault of heaven looked down like so many gentle friends upon the eyes that gazed up at them, and the pale moonbeams lighted up the pathway for those wanderers on the waters. Hubert was not happy; many, many times he fancied he could hear his mother speaking to him, and he would have given much if he had only written to her. It was then he again remembered his Bible, and the promise to read it, which promise he now determined to perform, and as soon as he could conveniently go to his cabin, he did so, opened his chest, and took out the book, intending to read.

"How small it is," he thought, "and how pretty!" Then he turned over leaf by leaf; he knew not where to begin: he could remember nothing at all about it, and it ended in his putting it back in his chest and going to his bed. Sleep soon silenced every thought, no letter was written home, not a word of the Bible was read, promise and resolutions had passed away with his sorrow, and Hubert little thought, as he silenced the monitor within, how hard it would be to return to the duty he was neglecting.

The ship had now been a fortnight at sea; it had passed through the Bay of Biscay, and was off the coast of Portugal, when the soldiers were informed that in about an hour a vessel would pass very near to them; and, as the sea was calm, a boat would leave in forty minutes to carry letters for England to the passing ship.

"Forty minutes," said Hubert aloud, and apparently pleased, for he hurried off, as many more did, to avail themselves of the opportunity of writing home. Forty minutes, however, was too long a time for Hubert, and he returned again to the deck, to seek a companion and inquire what he intended to do, before he sat down to write himself. Thoughts of neglected duty and unkindness to his parents had frequently disturbed Hubert's mind; try as he would to sweep every remembrance of his disobedience away, the thought would come that he had not done right; but, instead of sorrowing and making an effort to repair the ill he had done, he tried to persuade himself that he was cowardly in giving way to his feelings; so he endeavoured to smother the rising affection that stole upon him during the first few days he was upon the sea, and the result was that he became more reckless than ever.

"Letters ready?" all at once startled Hubert, as he stood talking to his companion upon the deck: there was the man with the bag collecting them, and his was not written. The bag was sealed, the boat was pushed off, the last chance, probably for months, was gone, and, as he began to hum a tune, he walked away to the other end of the ship. He looked over the side, and a momentary feeling of vexation came over him as he saw the little boat carrying its treasure, its bag of home letters; but he was learning now to defy his conscience, and sang louder the snatch of song that rushed to his aid, and seemed to be all he wanted to throw back the better feelings of his heart.

Many weeks had passed since that noble vessel left England; its white sails were still spread in the breeze, and it was wafted on over the sea. Hubert had tried very hard to forget all about his home; the recollections of it were not pleasant, they were too accusing for him to indulge in; there was a holiness about it which ill-accorded with the life he was leading, and the effort he continually made to suppress every thought of it frequently caused him to fall deeper into sin.

One night, when in the height of glee in the mess-room, when songs were being sung, and the giddy laugh rang out upon the silent waters, and Hubert was joining fully in the mirth of his comrades, he suddenly remembered that he had in his chest a book of sea-songs, and hastened away to get it. He knew pretty well where to put his hand upon it; so, when he reached his cabin, he never thought of lighting his little lamp, but knelt down beside his chest in the dark. It was scarcely the work of a minute; his chest was re-locked, and he skipped away back to the mess-room; his hand was upon the door, when all at once his eye fell upon the book he had brought; it was not the one he had intended to bring--it was not the song-book, but the Bible. He started when he saw what he had; and how was it that a sudden chill sped like lightning over him? How was it that on that sultry night he felt so cold? His hand trembled, his heart beat quickly, but the tempter was by his side, and he gave utterance to many an evil thought as he turned back to change that unwelcome treasure.

The Bible was exchanged for the song-book, and Hubert was again with his comrades, where he became more riotous than before, and was nearly the last to retire to rest.

There was silence once more in the ship, for it was midnight, and all except the few who kept the night-watch were sleeping. Hubert had perhaps fallen asleep as soon as any of his companions, but his rest was short, for he started up in alarm. He tried to remember what it was that had disturbed him, but could not. He looked around to see if either of his comrades were moving, but their deep, heavy breathing told him they slept; and then he lay down again in his own berth. There, in that still hour, as he listened to the soft wind passing through the rigging, and the slow measured tread of the sentinels on deck, he all at once thought of his English home, thought of his broken faith with his mother, thought of his Bible.

"It is no use," he said aloud, "I cannot alter it now; how I wish I had but just written home! fool that I was not to do so; and that book, how I wish she had never given it to me; it will make me a coward: in fact it does; I never go to my chest, but there it is; I'll burn it--I'll throw it away; how I wish I had never had it!" and he struck the side of his berth with his clenched fist as he spoke.

There was no voice in that little cabin to answer or direct Hubert in his outburst of passionate feeling; and, as he looked around at his sleeping comrades, he crept softly from his berth, and went and knelt down by his chest. The moon shone brightly through the tiny cabin window, and as he knelt by his chest he could see very well everything around him. He took out his Bible, and gazed wildly at it for a moment, scarce knowing what next to do; then rising as if a sudden thought had struck him, he tried to open the window that he might throw it into the sea: it was, however, too secure to open at his will, and, turning away after a fruitless effort, he sought a place to hide it. "Where shall I hide it?" he said, as he walked round and round his cabin; there was no nook or corner into which he could thrust it so that it should never meet his eye again. What could he do with it? He must wait for another opportunity; so, taking out nearly everything in his chest, he thrust it down into the farthest corner, heaped all his things upon it, made them secure, and then returned to his bed. The excitement of the moment was over, yet Hubert could not rest, and, as he turned himself upon his uneasy bed, he never once regretted the wicked thought that had led him to try and throw away his Bible; but the determination to dispose of it grew stronger.

Some weeks after this little event, the regiment arrived in India, and was ordered far up the country: the long, toilsome march which Hubert now had to undergo, initiated him into some of the realities of a soldier's life, and it was not long before he found that the career he had chosen was not so full of enjoyment as he had anticipated. He very often felt weary; the heat of the country depressed his spirits; and he often sighed deeply as he remembered the pleasant hills and valleys of his own land. The regiment had no sooner located itself in the new station, than Hubert and many others were struck down with fever. Death was busy amongst them, but the young prodigal was spared. Many a time he had wished to die; sick and amongst strangers, his mother's words had come home to him with double power, and he felt the bitter truth that there was indeed none who loved him, none to comfort him; it was a wonder he lived, for the fever was malignant, and the care bestowed upon the sick very little indeed. Poor Hubert! how was it he could not die? Young as he was, this illness taught him the sad lesson that where there is no love or interest there is an inhumanity in man; and as he grew better his heart became more hardened, for he began to cherish a hatred towards every one around him.