Part 57 (1/2)
”Oh no. I don't think he would use his a.s.sagai except in an emergency.”
”That would be an emergency,” said the Sergeant. ”I've thought it out over my pipe, and this is what I make of it: he has followed Master Moriarty, and I expect that we shall never hear of him again.”
”What! Joeboy?” I cried.
”No; Master Moriarty.”
”But that would be murder-a.s.sa.s.sination,” I cried.
”You can use what fine words you like over it,” said the Sergeant gruffly; ”but I call it, at a time like this, war; and when Mr Joe Black comes back-as I expect he will, soon-and you ask him, he'll say he was only fighting for his master; and that's you.”
I was silenced for the moment, though my ideas were quite opposed to the Sergeant's theory.
But Denham spoke out at once.
”That's all very well, Sergeant,” he said, ”but Mr Moray's black boy is about as savage over his ideas of justice as he is over his ideas of decency in dress. He looks upon this man as an enemy, and his master's enemy; and if he overtakes Moriarty he won't have a bit of scruple about sticking his spear through him.”
”And serve him jolly well right, sir.”
”No, no; that won't do,” said Denham.
”Not at all,” I cried, recovering my balance a little.
”But isn't he a renegade, sir?” said the Sergeant.
”We call him so,” replied Denham.
”And didn't he attack you two and try to murder you, sir, just as he did poor Sam Wren?”
”Yes, I grant all that, Sergeant; but we're not savages. Now, suppose you had gone in chase of this man, and say you had caught him. Would you have put your revolver to his head and blown out his brains?”
”That ain't a fair question, sir,” said the Sergeant gruffly; ”and all I've got to say is, that I'm very glad, knowing what I do, that I wasn't in pursuit of him, sword in hand.”
”You mean to say that you would have cut him down?” I cried.
”I don't mean to say anything at all, Mr Private Moray, only that I've got my feelings as a soldier towards cowards. There, I won't say another word.”
”Then I'll speak for you,” said Denham. ”You wouldn't have cut the scoundrel down, nor shot him, but you'd have done your duty as trained soldiers do. You'd have taken him prisoner, and brought him in to the Colonel.”
”And he'd have had him put up against the nearest wall before a dozen rifles and shot for a murderous traitor, sir.”
”But not without a court-martial first, Briggs,” said Denham sternly.
”I suppose you're right, sir; but I don't see what comfort a trial by court-martial can be to a man who knows that he's sure to be found guilty and shot.”
”But not till he has been justly condemned,” I put in.
”Like to know any more about what's going on round about the fort, sir?” said the Sergeant, after giving me a queer look.
”Yes, of course,” cried Denham.