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Gil the Gunner The Youngest Officer in the East By: George Manville Fenn (1831-1909) |
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This is a very long book from this author. Gilbert Vincent, very young
at the time, joins the army to serve in India. Various battles and
engagements take place, as a result of which Gil gets injuries, and
spends a lot of time unconscious or recovering. At one stage he is
captured by the local Rajah, who is extremely wealthy, and who takes a
shine to our hero, making sure that he is treated extremely well by his
domestic servants. Gil is offered any jewels he likes, but declines the
gift, saying that his freedom to go back to his father in his regiment
was worth more than any amount of opulent jewels. The object of all this fighting is nominally to oust the British from
their position as peace keepers in India. It ought to have made it much
more clear to young readers what devastation would result if the British
were removed. I do not think it was clear to many of us in the last
years of the British Raj how much hatred various kinds of Indians had
for each other, until the days immediately following the hand over of
power on 17th August 1947, when they really got going on one another.
NH
GIL THE GUNNER; OR, THE YOUNGEST OFFICER IN THE EAST, BY GEORGE MANVILLE
FENN. Or, The Youngest Officer in the East. CHAPTER ONE. "You're another." "So are you." "I am, am I?" "Yes; a cocky overbearing bully. You want your comb cut, Gil Vincent." "Cut it, then, you miserable humbug. Take that." Crack thud ! My fist went home on Morton's cheek, and almost simultaneously his flew
out and struck me in the ribs. Crack thud ! Morton's return
sounding like an echo of my blow. There was a buzz of excitement. Coats flew off; two of our fellows
eagerly pressed forward to act as seconds; my shirt sleeves were rolled
up over my thin arms, and in another instant we two fellow pupils were
squaring at each other, and I was gathering myself up to deliver as hard
a blow as I could when "Stop! halt!" came in a sharp harsh voice, and General Crucie, with the
great scar upon his white forehead looking red and inflamed as it always
did when he was angry, strode up, thumped down his thick malacca cane,
so that the ferule went into the grass and it stood alone, while he
looked from one to the other fiercely. "Upon my word!" he cried. "Very pretty! Two gentlemen flying at each
others' throats like a couple of street boys. A regular blackguardly
fight. I'm ashamed of you, gentlemen. What does it all mean?" "Well, sir, it was like this," began Hendry, my second. "Silence, sir! I will not hear a word. I pretty well know what it all
means. You, Vincent, as usual; that nasty overbearing temper of yours
again. Is it utterly impossible for you to live in unity with your
fellow students?" "No, sir; not if they would let me be, and not fasten quarrels on me," I
cried in an ill used tone. "Stuff, sir! rubbish, sir! nonsense, sir!" cried the general. "I know
you better than you know yourself; and, mark my words, you will never
succeed in your profession until you learn to behave like a gentleman.
How can you expect to command men if you cannot command yourself.
There, I'll hear no more, for I'm sure you have been in the wrong." The general pointed in so unmistakable a manner that I walked off with
my uniform jacket half on, slowly thrusting my arm into the vacant
sleeve, and thinking bitterly, with my head bent and my forehead
wrinkled up like that of an old man. I was not long in reaching my little room, a favourite one amongst our
fellows; and as I shut myself in, and locked the door, my conscience
reproached me with certain passages in the past which led to my having
that room, when a fellow student gave way in my favour, and I don't
think it was from kindly feeling towards me. "I'm a miserable, unhappy wretch," I said, as I threw myself in a chair
which resented the rough usage by creaking violently and threatening to
break one leg... Continue reading book >>
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Genres for this book |
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Fiction |
Teen/Young adult |
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