Men enlist for many reasons, the greater number because they are out of
work, and do not know how else they are to live. These are the most
contented, because they do not expect much, and find themselves, if they
are steady, pretty comfortable, well fed, and well clothed. The worst
off are lazy fellows, who join, expecting to have an easy, idle life,
with little to do. Besides drilling and learning the use of his weapons
and the various movements to be performed to get him into a soldier-like
shape, with parades and inspections, and field-days, and reviews, and
sham fights, and marching out in the winter, and sentinel, fatigue, and
picket duties,--he has his appointments and arms to keep in order, and
in his turn, his mess things, room, and other places to clean. And
often he has heavy work; roads to make, fortifications of various sorts
to throw up, and other similar tasks required by an army in the field;
still, after all, there is no work harder than most of the men would
have had to go through if they had remained at home.
About the end of February, the regiment was ordered to proceed to
Ireland. A special train took us to the large town of Liverpool, from
which ships sail to all parts of the world. Getting out of the train,
we formed, and marched down to the quay by the river Mersey, where a
large steamer was waiting for us. We went on board, and she soon began
to paddle down the river on her way to Dublin. It was the first time I
had ever been at sea with water around on every side, as far as the eye
could reach. We soon however caught sight of the Irish coast, and very
pretty I thought the bay of Dublin as we steamed into it. I now began
to find out one of the advantages of a soldier's life; that is, visiting
new places. I did not then think how many strange places I should see
during my time of service. Going on shore, we formed, and marched to a
railway-station, when the train carried us westward to Cork. Here the
regiment was stationed. Some of the companies, and mine among them,
remained at head-quarters, and others were sent out on detachment duty
at various places. Soldiers on detachment often meet with adventures of
various sorts, especially in Ireland. They are stationed at different
small towns and villages, where the inhabitants, especially the fair
sex, are apt to make a great deal of them, from not being so accustomed
to see red coats as are those in large places. I must hurry over the
events at this period, that I may have space to give accounts of those
of more stirring times.
I had made up my mind on joining, to be a steady man, and I was glad to
remain at head-quarters, because I knew that there my conduct would be
observed by my superior officers. There were temptations enough to act
differently, but I knew that a few glasses of whiskey or any
irregularity would in a minute cloud all my prospects. I had, it must
be understood, no advantages above the rest of my comrades. I was but
myself a country lad, about the youngest in the regiment, but I had
heard an officer remark that there was the making of a good soldier in
me; and so I gave my mind and heart to the work, and that made me like
it.
I have said nothing about Marshall. He was in a different company from
mine, and had been on detachment. After some time his company returned
to head-quarters. He seemed much changed, and from being a brisk,
lively lad, was sad and silent. We were always friends, though he did
not take to soldiering as heartily as I did. I asked him what was the
matter. He told me at last. He had lost his heart to a farmer's
daughter. She was very pretty and young and good. He had met her
coming home on a car, with her aunt and a female cousin with three men
from a "wake." That is the name given in Ireland, to a burying party.
The men, as is generally the case after such meetings, were very drunk.
The car broke down. The other women were hurt, and the men could not
help them. Marshall arrived at the moment, mended the car, left the
drunken men to find their way home as best they could, put the old lady
upon it and walked home at its side with Kathleen O'Neil, who had no
fancy for again mounting. Kathleen was very grateful, and so was her
aunt and cousin, and asked him to come again another day. That of
course he did, not only once, but very often. One of the men who had
been in the car, Shane McDermot, was, Marshall found, a lover of
Kathleen's, but she did not like him. No wonder, for he was a rough,
savage-looking fellow. Kathleen at length showed that she liked
Marshall, and she warned him to beware of Shane. Dick was a
stout-hearted fellow, and said he did not fear him. A man would think
twice before he would attempt to shoot a soldier, not but what officers
and men too have been shot in Ireland.
Marshall continued his visits as usual, and the oftener he went the more
in love he grew with Kathleen, and the more, it was clear, she loved
him.
One evening, after the tattoo had sounded, as he was hurrying home, a
shot whistled by his ear, and directly afterwards two men set upon him
with their shillalahs. One he knocked over with his fist, and drawing
his bayonet, put the other to flight. He was pretty certain that the
man he knocked over was Shane, but he could not stop to see; indeed he
thought that it was wiser to push on to his quarters. When he told
Kathleen the next day, she was very unhappy, and said that she should be
the cause of his death. Dick told her not to be afraid, and finished by
asking her to marry him. She said that she would with great pleasure,
and follow him, like a true good wife, round the world. This made Dick
perfectly happy. When he came, however, to speak to the captain of his
company, he found that as he was one of the youngest men in the
regiment, he had no chance of getting leave; and that if he married
without leave, his wife would have none of the privileges of a soldier's
wife, and that he would be treated as a single man. The last time he
saw her she promised that she would marry no one else, and ever remain
faithful to him.
My company afterwards went on detachment, and I was stationed at the
same place that Marshall had been. He had begged me to go and see
Kathleen. When her family knew that I was his friend, they treated me
very kindly. I went to the house several times. Shane was there one
evening. I was not surprised that she did not like him. There was a
scowl on his brow and a glance in his eye, as he turned towards me,
which made me think that he was very likely to have a shot at me some
dark night, if he could get the chance. I would not accuse any man of
wishing to do such a thing, and there are thousands of Irish who would
be horrified at the thought of taking the life of a fellow-creature, but
such deeds are too common in that country. The reason why this is so I
must leave to others who ought to know more about the matter than I do,
to say. It must be remembered that Shane had already tried his hand at
the work, so that I did not think ill of him without cause. Whenever I
had spare time I went to see the O'Neils. When I went away at night, I
walked quickly along in the middle of the road, feeling pretty sure that
Shane would try to treat me as he did Marshall.
I had, I should say, soon after I came to the place, picked a poor boy
out of a pond, when more than half drowned, and carried him home; and as
I found the family very poor and wretched, I left some money with them.
As I never spent any money in liquor or other folly, I had always a few
spare shillings in my pocket. Pat Nolan's mother, as far as words went,
seemed very grateful, but I never put much trust in them: and though I
had several times gone to see the Nolans, I scarcely thought about what
first took me to the cottage.
One day I had been sent by my captain with a letter to a house three
miles off. I was kept there some time, and it was nearly dark when, on
my way back, I came to a wild, open place, half common and half bog,
with nearly a mile of road across it. Just as I got to a small bush
near the road, I heard a voice say, "Hist, hist, soldier; turn back and
come with me. It's a long way I'll be after taking ye, but it's better
than being shot any how."
"Who are you, and where are you?" I asked, seeing no one.
"It's me, Pat Nolan, then," answered the ragged little urchin, creeping
from under the bush. "May be he's not far off just now, with that thief
of the world, Dan Fegan, and one or two others looking out for ye."
I was half inclined to go on in spite of Pat's warning. "Why should I
be afraid of those Irish chaps?" I thought to myself. But little Pat
begged so hard that I would not, that I began to think it would be wise
to follow his advice.
"Och ahone! ahone! you'll be kilt entirely if you go now!" exclaimed the
boy, crying and pulling at me to go in the direction he wanted.
I felt that it would be foolish to run into danger for no purpose, and
that at all events I should have only rather a longer walk than I had
expected. "Well, Pat, I'll go with you," said I.
The little chap gave a leap with delight. "Arrah! then there's no time
to be lost!" he exclaimed, leading the way down a lane which skirted the
edge of the bog.