Guns of Sevastopol (ebook) by Harold R. Thompson

Author:Harold R. Thompson [Thompson, Harold R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction/Military/Historical/Series
Publisher: januari 2012
Published: 2012-01-10T23:00:00+00:00

Dudley followed Elizabeth’s instructions the next day, and every day after. He spent as much time as he could at the bottom of the bluff, staring out to sea and letting the flow of the spring run over his arm. He kept the arm stretched out and resting on a slab of flat rock.

In the heat of the early summer, the cool water was refreshing, and he could bear it for hours. During those hours, he imagined the steady washing away of the corruption. He only removed his arm when someone else wanted to use the spring to fill a barrel, canteen, or wash some linen. As soon as the spring was free, in went his arm again.

Within a week, the swelling had decreased and the redness was fading. Doctor Jeffries confessed he was amazed, that he had not had any faith in Dudley’s chances for recovery. Dudley did not tell him why he was recovering, and Jeffries did not ask. The doctor simply declared, “You must have an unusually strong constitution.”

Since his wound was healing, Jeffries allowed Dudley to come and go almost as he pleased. Dudley continued to spend much of his time at the spring, but he also took walks through the hills above the village. Many of the wounded preferred to wander about between meals, and the hills and cliffs were favoured destinations.

Dudley strolled with his wounded arm in a sling, wearing the light linen shirt and trousers the army had issued for the summer campaign. He kept his head shaded with his straw hat. On several occasions, Sergeant Barker ventured down from the front, bringing news. Barker explained the war had stalled, that Hester Oakes was looking after Bill, and that the army had called for more reinforcements. There was as yet no talk or rumours of a second assault.

Dudley had already heard that Lord Raglan had taken ill, possibly due to the stress of the defeat. Of course, no major decision could be made until he had recovered.

“Just endless trench duty again, sir,” Barker said on one of his visits, “and no apologies.” He chuckled. “It’s the army I’ve come to know and love.”

“I thought you had recovered from your bitterness, Sergeant.”

“No, sir, I’ll never recover from that. I’ve just learned there’s more than one way to fight the enemy, and more than one enemy to fight.”

“A master of riddles, now?” Dudley grinned. “Am I meant to decipher what you mean?”

“Don’t bother, Mister Dudley. I’m not entirely sure myself.”

Captain Neville also paid Dudley a visit one evening, sitting on a stool next to Dudley’s cot.

“A shame about Arbuthnot,” Neville began, “but then, he was an odd sort of fellow. No one was ever entirely certain what to make of him.” He lit a cigar and gave Dudley a sideways glance. “What did you make of him?”

“I thought he was a fine officer, sir,” Dudley stated without hesitation. Then he tempered his tone, adding, “…though I admit he was somewhat strange. One had to get to know him, I suppose.

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