The Crimean war had just broken out. Of course there had tobe a war， I said to myself： we couldn’t have peace and give thisdonkey a chance to die before he is found out. I waited for theearthquake. It came. And it made me reel when it did come. Hewas actually gazetted to a captaincy in a marching regiment！
Better men grow old and gray in the service before they climbto a sublimity like that. And who could ever have foreseen thatthey would go and put such a load of responsibility on suchgreen and inadequate shoulders？ I could just barely have stoodit if they had made him a cornet； but a captain—think of it！ Ithought my hair would turn white.
Consider what I did—I who so loved repose and inaction. Isaid to myself， I am responsible to the country for this， and Imust go along with him and protect the country against him asfar as I can. So I took my poor little capital that I had saved upthrough years of work and grinding economy， and went with asigh and bought a cornetcy in his regiment， and away we wentto the field.
And there—oh dear， it was awful. Blunders？ why， he neverdid anything but blunder. But， you see， nobody was in thefellow’s secret—everybody had him focused wrong， andnecessarily misinterpreted his performance every time—consequently they took his idiotic blunders for inspirations ofgenius； they did honestly！ His mildest blunders were enoughto make a man in his right mind cry； and they did make mecry—and rage and rave too， privately. And the thing that keptme always in a sweat of apprehension was the fact that everyfresh blunder he made increased the lustre of his reputation！ Ikept saying to myself， He’ll get so high that when discoverydoes finally come it will be like the sun falling out of the sky.
He went right along up， from grade to grade， over the deadbodies of his superiors， until at last， in the hottest moment ofthe battle of... down went our colonel， and my heart jumpedinto my mouth， for Scoresby was next in rank！ Now for it， saidI； We’ll all land in Sheol in ten minutes， sure.
The battle was awfully hot； the allies were steadily givingway all over the field. Our regiment occupied a position thatwas vital； a blunder now must be destruction. At this criticalmoment， what does this immortal fool do but detach theregiment from its place and order a charge over a neighbouringhill where there wasn’t a suggestion of an enemy！ ‘there yougo！’ I said to myself； ‘this is the end at last.’
And away we did go， and were over the shoulder of the hillbefore the insane movement could be discovered and stopped.
And what did we find？ An entire and unsuspected Russianarmy in reserve！ And what happened？ We were eaten up？ Thatis necessarily what would have happened in ninety-nine casesout of a hundred. But no； those Russians argued that no singleregiment would come browsing around there at such a time.
It must be the entire English army， and that the sly Russiangame was detected and blocked； so they turned tail， and awaythey went， pell-mell， over the hill and down into the field， inwild confusion， and we after them； they themselves broke thesolid Russia centre in the field， and tore through， and in notime there was the most tremendous rout you ever saw， and thedefeat of the allies was turned into a sweeping and splendidvictory！ Marshal Canrobert looked on， dizzy with astonishment，admiration， and delight； and sent right off for Scoresby， andhugged him， and decorated him on the field in presence of allthe armies！
And what was Scoresby’s blunder that time？ Merely themistaking his right hand for his left—that was all. An orderhad come to him to fall back and support our right； and insteadhe fell forward and went over the hill to the left. But thename he won that day as a marvellous military genius filledthe world with his glory， and that glory will never fade whilehistory books last.
He is just as good and sweet and lovable and unpretendingas a man can be， but he doesn’t know enough to come inwhen it rains. He has been pursued， day by day and year byyear， by a most phenomenal and astonishing luckiness. He hasbeen a shining soldier in all our wars for half a generation； hehas littered his military life with blunders， and yet has nevercommitted one that didn’t make him a knight or a baronet or alord or something. Look at his breast； why， he is just clothed indomestic and foreign decorations. Well， sir， every one of themis a record of some shouting stupidity or other； and， takentogether， they are proof that the very best thing in all this worldthat can befall a man is to be born lucky.
