JACK PRINGLE FALLS IN LOVE, AND HAS RATHER AN UNHAPPY ADVENTURE WITH A
BOLD DRAGOON.
Jack Pringle, like other men, was subject to the vicissitudes of the
passions, which placed him under a certain string of circumstances
that produce results quite at variance with those which are usually
anticipated when an individual enters upon the pursuits of the tender
passion.
Indeed, Jack could see nothing at all unhappy, or in the least degree
unfortunate, in the black eyes and rosy lips of Susan, who was most
certainly the “maid of the inn,” though not in precisely the same rank
as the one alluded to by the song.
He had taken up his residence at the inn, had Jack. Indeed, he was
partial to inns in general—there was usually a greater latitude
permitted there than elsewhere; not only each one being allowed to
accommodate himself as he pleased, but he could have what ’baccy and
grog he chose to order, as long as there was a shot in the locker.
This being the state of affairs, Jack found another inducement to stay
where he was, and that was the existence of the before-mentioned Susan,
who appeared to be as kind as she was good-natured.
She never refused to answer Jack’s call; and when she came, she always
said,—
“What did you please to want, Mr. Pringle?”
“Mr. Pringle,” thought Jack. “Well, that sounds pretty from such a pair
of lips.”
Jack scratched his head, and turning his quid in his mouth, was often
lost in admiration, and forgot all his wants at that moment, and it was
not until the question was more than once repeated, that Jack was aware
that he really did not want anything, especially as his grog was not
all gone.
“Well,” exclaimed Jack, looking at the glass, “I forgot; but never
mind, Susan, I’ll have another can while this is going—so I sha’n’t
hurry you. I wouldn’t hurry you, Susan—no, that I wouldn’t.”
The course of true love never did run smooth—that is, we know, a rule
that is as old as the hills—but then it is of constant recurrence,
and one that it may fairly be presumed always will, to the end of the
world, and possibly after.
However that may be, Jack was not without a rival, and one of a very
formidable character; not that Jack valued him a piece of rotten yarn.
No; he never did think anything of a landsman, especially a soldier,
for it was to that class this rival belonged.
“Susan,” said Jack, as he sat in the kitchen, watching the various
evolutions to which the hands of Susan were applied, in the performance
of her multitudinous duties.
“Well, Mr. Pringle,” said Susan.
“Ah!” said Jack; and then there was a pause, during which Jack forgot
even to chaw his quid, and was quite abstracted in manner and thought.
He had intended to say something, but it had quite escaped him; and it
was difficult for Jack to hold his thoughts, as it is for countrymen to
hold a pig by the tail when this latter member was well greased, and
when it was of that description usually denominated a “bob-tail,” a
common occurrence.
“What did you say, Mr. Pringle?” said Susan, bustling about. “I am sure
you were about to say something.”
“Well, I suppose I was,” said Jack; “but I don’t know what it was now;
but perhaps you do.”
“How should I know? I can’t tell what you are thinking about. What made
you think that?”
“Because your black eyes seems to go through me, Susan, like a
forty-two pounder. I tell you what, you ought to know what I want to
say, because I’m always thinking of you.”
“Are you, though?”
“Yes, I am,” said Jack; “you’re a light craft—a rare pretty figure-head
you’d make.”
“Lor! Mr. Pringle,” said Susan.
“Well, you would, though; and I’ll take three dozen and never wink, if
there’s one to be found half as handsome in the whole British navy, or
in any other.”
“To think,” said Susan, “that I should be called a figure-head! Well,
I declare, I never heard the like. Why, what will you not say next? I
never thought that of you.”
“Why,” said Jack, who was very much bewildered, and didn’t know
precisely what to say—the turn the compliment had taken was one
he couldn’t understand—“why, you see, Susan, the figure-head is
the beautifulest part of the ship, except may be her rigging, her
port-holes, her sides, and her trim; but then, you see, them things
ain’t no manner of likeness to anything human, especially you, Susan.”
“Ain’t they, Mr. Pringle? Well, you know best; but I dare say it’s all
right, for you must know best. But my cousin says I am more like the
Venus day Meditchy, than anything else.”
Jack stared.
“Who?” he inquired, with his eyes opening very wide.
“The Venus day Meditchy,” said Susan, speaking in a very slow, emphatic
manner, for Jack’s behoof.
“Don’t know her,” said Jack. “I’ll go bail there ain’t such a ship in
the navy. There never was such a thing heard of, unless some of them
d—d French craft; but your cousin ought to be well cobbed for saying
you were like anything French. Why, you are true blue, and no French
about you—is there, Susan?”
“I don’t know; but I never heard there was, and I don’t know if there
is; but that’s what he said, and he’s been a long way.”
“Who is _he?_” said Jack, laying emphasis upon the last word, to
indicate that the sound was displeasing.
“Oh! my cousin.”
“Well, but who is your cousin?” inquired Jack. “Have you see him very
lately?”
“Yes, I saw him this morning; his regiment is quartered only a few
miles from this place.”
“Oh!” said Jack, “he’s a soldier, then?”
“Yes, he is—a horse-soldier,” added Susan.
“A horse-marine. Ah! I know ’em afore to-day; they are a rare lot to
lie and gallop away. But lord bless you, they never lay alongside an
enemy till you’ve beaten him. No—no—they can’t do that.”
“He’ll be here to-night,” said Susan. “You shall see him, Mr. Pringle;
he’s coming all this way to see me.”
“To see you!” said Jack Pringle, who was much displeased with this
piece of particular attention in the cousin, and he could not help
saying so.
“But he is my cousin,” said Susan; “and you know one cannot refuse to
see one’s friends and relations; besides, he has been at all times very
kind and good-natured to me, so that I cannot do otherwise than receive
him kindly.”
“Oh, to be sure,” said Jack; “by all manner of means; only we must
understand each other, Susan; there can’t be more than one captain
aboard at a time.”
“How very odd you do talk, Mr. Pringle. My cousin will ask you what you
mean.”
“Will he now?” said Jack. “Well, he may do so, if he like; but my lingo
will be as good as his, I am sure; but we shall see him, however; but,
Susan, you don’t care anything about him, you know.”
“Not a bit, Mr. Pringle; only as a cousin, you know.”
“Oh! very well,” said Jack; “I don’t care about that a bit; but if so
be you’re going to carry on any games, you know, why, I won’t stand it.”
“Oh, honour,” said Susan, looking tenderly at Jack; “honour, you know.
Do you think I could be capable of doing so? No, I never do anything
unbeknown to a person. No, I say, let all be fair and no preference.”
“Well,” said Jack, “but I want all fair, but I should have no objection
to a little preference, too. Don’t you give no preference to me over a
soldier, Susan?”
“Don’t know,” said Susan; but she gave a look towards Jack that made
him suspend the libation he was about to pour down his throat.
“Oh! I see how it is with you, Susy,” said Jack, becoming more familiar
and pleased, for Susan’s black eye had a magical effect upon Jack, and
he felt as if Susan must love him as much as he loved Susan; her eyes
told him more than her tongue; Jack was quite sure of that.
“When is he coming?” said Jack.
“To-night,” said Susan; “and you must promise me you will be very quiet
and civil, and then you shall see him; only you won’t take any notice
of what he says or does.”
“No, no,” said Jack; “it’s all right; I understand. I won’t quarrel
with him; no, not even if he were to—but splinter my mainmast, if I
could stand that!”
“Stand what?” inquired Susan, demurely.
“Kissing of you,” said Jack, striking the table with his fist, so as
to make the glasses that happened to be there tremble; “I couldn’t; I
could stand the cat first.”
“Lor, Mr. Pringle! who asked you to do so? I am sure, I would not do
such a thing.”
“What?” said Jack.
“Why to let him kiss me, to be sure.”
Jack looked, perhaps felt, electrified, and, after a moment’s pause,
took his quid out of his mouth, hitched up his trousers, and then
seized Susan by the waist, and gave her a kiss. It was a kiss; such a
one only as a man-of-war’s man could give; it went off like the report
of a pistol.
“Lor, Mr. Pringle!” said Susan, “I thought you were quite another sort
of a man. What would my cousin, the dragoon, have said, if he had seen
you? Dear me! you must have alarmed the whole house; I didn’t think you
were going to make so much noise, though.”
A footstep approached, and the landlady thrust her head in; but Susan
was busy, and Jack was chewing his quid as grand as an admiral.
“Susan.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Susan.
“What’s the matter?”
“Don’t know, ma’am. Didn’t know there was anything wrong at all, ma’am.”
“I thought I heard a plate smash just now. Are you sure you haven’t
broken anything.”
“Yes; quite, ma’am.”
“Oh!” said the landlady. “I certainly thought I heard a smash; but, I
suppose, it was a mistake altogether, However I am glad of it.”
“There!” said Susan, when she had gone; “I told you how you had alarmed
the place.”
“Well,” said Jack, who felt much abashed at what had happened, “I
didn’t make so much noise, either. But never mind; I’ll take more care
another time.”
• • • • •
The evening came round, and with it came the dragoon, as fine a
specimen of military dress, discipline, and riotism as can well be let
loose upon a decent community, and Susan met him in the passage.
“Ah! my pretty Susan,” said the son of Mars, “the star of my destiny,
and the hope of my heart. While I wear spurs, I will love you, ever
dearest.”
“Oh! come, none of that nonsense, you know, Robert; it won’t do; you
say too many fine things, you know.”
“Of course I do; but can I say them without occasion. No; as well might
you want day without daylight—the moon without moonlight. You inspire
me, you see, and without you I couldn’t say anything.”
“I dare say not,” replied Susan; “you are such a man, that you make one
believe what you say.”
“You ought, since I speak the truth, and nothing else; but, come, come,
we’ll go in. I want to talk to you, Susan; I came on purpose to see
you. There’s the barmaid at the Plough and Gooseberry-bush, quite sulky
because I didn’t stop there; but I know I promised you I would come,
and so I would be as good as my word.”
“Are you sure she was sulky?”
“Certain, because she did would not say good bye.”
“Well, but now I want to speak to you about something I want to
explain.”
“Explain, my dear. I’ll explain anything that can be explained—I don’t
mind what it is. You’ll never find me backward in coming forward with
any amount of explanation that you can by any possibility require.”
“That is not what I want. I have a cousin here.”
“Aye; I’m not particular. I will pay her every kind of attention. I am
sure you will acknowledge I am not wanting in any attentions to you.”
“Oh! dear, no; but it is not a female cousin that I want to speak to
you about.”
“Indeed! I can’t tolerate another.”
“Yes, but you must. He’s just come from sea, and is a very odd man, but
an uncommonly good-hearted man, so don’t take any particular notice of
what he says or does.”
“I don’t mind him a bit—not the value of a pinch of snuff.”
“Yes, but you must do that, only don’t do anything to vex him. You can
be pleasant company when you please, I know.”
“And so I will.”
“To please me you will; for though I don’t care anything for him more
than if he were my brother, yet he’s very fond of me.”
“That’s no recommendation to me,” said the dragoon; “a spoony anchor
buttons, I suppose.”
“You must be civil to him, or I will never see you any more.”
“Well, then, my charmer, I will say anything you like to this
salt-water fish of yours; but he mustn’t lay hands upon you; if he
should do so, why, I should be obliged to chastise him.”
“But he’s a man-of-war’s man.”
“And I am a man of war myself, my dear.”
“Lor!” said Susan.
Upon which she turned her eyes and face towards the dragoon, who could
not let such an opportunity slip, and he immediately saluted her in
true military style, but he did not commit the same offence that Jack
Pringle did, for the former told no tale by the report—it was all
quiet; and he followed Susan until they came to the room in which Jack
was sitting.
“This is Mr. John Pringle,” she said.
“Aye, aye,” said Jack; “here am I—Jack Pringle—afloat or on shore, all
the same.”
“And this,” continued Susan, “is Mr. Robert Swabbem.”
“How d’ye do,” said Jack, “Mr. Swabbem? I dare say it is so; but since
we are to be shipmates, we may as well be friends—how d’ye do?”
“Pretty well, I thank you, Mr. Pringle—very well, indeed. Hope I see
you quite well, and at home?”
“Yes, quite so—both ways; well, and at home.”
“The devil!”
“Yes, we call him Davy Jones; but, then, I suppose, you have one on
purpose, in your line?”
“Why, there’s a little of the devil in us—that is pretty well admitted
on all hands; and that’s as much as we have any wish to have in the way
of connection with the gentleman whom you name.”
“Aye, aye; maybe you’ll know more on him afore you are done; but no
matter—sit down, messmate, we can discuss a can of grog, I reckon.”
“Yes, easily. I can do my duty in any point, friend, you may best
please. Facing an enemy, drinking a can, or kissing a lass. What more
can you say?”
“I can do the same myself as some I know can testify, if they chose
to speak,” said Jack, who gave a sly look at Susan; but at the same
time she nearly fell a laughing, when reminded of Jack’s tremendous
smack, which the landlady mistook for a smashing of crockery; “but,
howsomever,” cried Jack, who had relapsed into a grim smile, “we’ll
have a can together.”
“Very well; Susan, will you do what is needful for us? If the landlady
would allow me, I’d wait upon you and do all your work.”
“And a pretty bobbery,” said Susan, “she would make of it; you would
soon get discharged for tasting the grog on its way from the bar to the
parlour.”
“Ah! well, I might get into trouble if I did that. What do you say,
friend Jingle?”
“Pringle,” said Jack.
“Oh, ah! Ringle. I have it now distinctly.”
“Why, you swab,” said Jack in a rage, “I ain’t got no such kickshaw
names as them—mine’s quite different altogether, so say what you like.”
“My name,” said the soldier, “ain’t Swab—but Swabbem, at your service.”
“Ah,” said Jack, “whether Swab or Swabbem, it don’t much matter—we all
must fill our place—some are luckier than others, though they might be
cousins.”
“Cousins! curse cousins, say I.”
“Same here,” said Jack; and then they both stared at each other,
believing each other cousins to Susan, though not to each other.
“I am glad you are here,” said Susan; “I have the grog for you; it is
extra strong. I know, because I put some more into it; I turned the tap
on into each, and she didn’t see me do it.”
“Ah, Susan, I see you have a great regard for me; but it is not more
than you ought, when you come to consider how I respect you,” said the
soldier.
“The same here,” said Jack, who thought this pretty good for a cousin;
“I admire Susan—she’s got such eyes, and such cheeks——”
“So she has—they are like diamonds set in roses; that they are.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “and as soft as velvet.”
“Damme,” said the soldier, “you beat me hollow. I say, messmate, where
did you learn to fire your great guns off in that manner, eh?”
“Where!” said Jack, putting the can down; “why, where there were men to
fire into us again. I’ll warrant you it was none of your field days,
where people are tearing their hearts out to look fine—no, no; the lee
scuppers ran with blood, and every heart was a true British sailor’s.”
“Well, that was good; but when I served on foreign service, there was
no getting out of the way of danger, behind a wall, stone, brick, or
wooden.”
“No, nor even laying on the ground—we had not even that; for as we
fought, we destroyed the very building which supported us, and we had
the spirits of the sea to contend against, as well as the dangers of
the fight.”
“Oh, it’s all very well,” said the soldier, “but danger’s danger, and
there’s an end of the matter; only I wish there was no such thing as
bad grog.”
“That’s a great evil. Why, what d’ye think we did at Portsmouth the day
after we landed? The landlord gave us bad grog, and how do you think we
served him? Why, we made him drink till he was so drunk he couldn’t lay
down without being afraid of falling, and then we cut his hair all off.”
“Well, I recollect a place in Portugal where they brought us some wine
which we couldn’t drink. It was horribly thin and sour. We had in vain
asked for better, but none was to be had at our bidding; indeed, we
felt sure there was better, and we determined to have it.
“We called our landlord and told him we were resolved to ruin him if he
didn’t bring it up—we would have better wine; but he protested he had
not got any.
“Now, we were resolved to search, and accordingly we did search until
we came upon some beautiful wine—some of the best port ever I tasted,
and we made free with it. At all events, we drank as much as we could
drink, and then fell fast asleep, and forgot to punish our landlord for
the rascality; but I suppose he was well aware of what he deserved, for
he endeavoured to excite some of the peasantry about to murder us while
we slept, and when we awoke, we found ourselves surrounded by a dozen
men.
“There was but three of us, but we were armed, and the peasants had
nothing but a miscellaneous description of weapons—old guns, swords,
and clubs; but they were not the men we were.
“Well, it came to a hard fight; more blows were struck, however, than
did any mischief, because we could make use of our tools, and fought so
hard, that they were glad to leave us victors.”
“Lor!” said Susan; “you don’t mean that—do you?”
“I do, indeed; but that was nothing. I frightened a whole regiment of
the enemy.”
“Eh?” said Jack; “what, a whole ship’s compliment, eh? Well, that will
do; go a-head; you beat all the cousins as ever I heard of, if you
don’t never mind me, that is all about it; a good yarn, well spun, is
worth a glass of grog at any time.”
“Well, I’ll tell you all about it; it’s sooner told than done, I can
tell you; but never mind, Susan, don’t be frightened; it’s all past
now, though it was true; but the best things must have an end some time
or other, and this had one too.
“I was serving in Spain. I fought against the French then; and though I
say so, you may depend upon it I took my chance as well as another man.
However, I had many inclinations to go a step or two beyond my strict
duty, and do more than I was obliged; but what of it? If you succeed,
you are sure to be rewarded; and I wanted, if I could, to capture a
pair of colours, which would give me a step in my regiment.
“‘Charge, my brave boys!’ shouted the colonel, as the enemy appeared
coming down upon us.
“They were three or four to one, besides a reserve at a short distance.
But we thought nothing of that; we had every reason to believe we were
outnumbered; but that was all; and we drove hard at them.
“It was a glorious sight to see us full tear at the heavy-armed
cavalry, in squadrons; but they had the advantage of weight and number
of men; yet our shock was so great, that many of the enemy were thrown
out of their saddles, and many more were killed; we hewed and hacked at
each other for some time, until, in fact, the enemy began to give way.
“As soon as we began to find out that, we urged our horses on, and
ourselves to strain our utmost, and we forced them back, and they began
to turn about in right earnest, and show us their heels.
“Unfortunately for us there were no other troops at hand to support
us. I say unfortunately, for while we were engaged in beating a larger
force than our own, and which even then outnumbered us, we were taken
in the rear by the reserve, and many men were cut down before our men
could be called off.
“Among those who were taken prisoners was myself. I had received one
or two severe wounds, which were, indeed, considered mortal; but which
were not so dangerous as they were believed.
“However, as I kept my saddle, I was taken prisoner; indeed, I was
unable to offer any resistance; my eyes were filled with blood—”
“Lor! how dreadful,” said Susan.
“It was dreadful to think of it, then; but I did not; I was too much
occupied with my desire to do my duty, so heated and excited, to think
anything about it. I was dragged away.
“Then what became of me, I don’t know; but I have some recollection of
having a cloak thrown over me; and I rode away in company with them.
I know we went away very fast, for they dreaded another charge of our
men; and they had succeeded in escaping and reforming, and they were
hovering, reinforced, upon our march.
“Well, that night, as I was deemed too badly wounded to give them any
trouble, or attempting to make an escape, they let me lie in a stable.
“I fainted away; and, after several attempts to restore me, they left
me as a hopeless case; but it was no matter to them, they didn’t
grieve. I wondered in my own mind, as to the reason of their doing
so much; but I suppose it was that prisoners were at a premium with
them at that time; and they were anxious to return as large a number
of prisoners as possible; and, upon the principle which induced the
elderly dame to attempt emptying the sea with a tea-spoon, that every
little was a help, they thought that if I lived I should be one more,
and where the numbers were small, one was of importance.
“They gave me up as a bad job altogether, and after they had racked up
their horses, they sat down for the evening to their meat and their
wine. They had been all conversing together, but they were about to lie
down and have some sleep, when suddenly I awoke from my trance, and
walked out without at all knowing what I did.
“The men stared at me, and shook like so many aspens, but did not stir,
till one of them said,—
“A ghost—a ghost!”
“This had the effect of clearing the place, for they all jumped up and
ran away from the spot, leaving me master of the place; and judging
that I was alone, I very soon made my way back to the quarters of the
English, and got to the quarters of my old regiment, where I was kindly
received, my comrades having given me up as lost.”
“Well,” said Jack Pringle, “you were very nearly gone certainly,
though you warn’t quite a ghost; but that ain’t half so bad as a
fire-ship—especially in towing a fire-ship among the enemy. I was once
on an expedition of that sort when I was in the Mediterranean.”
“Lor, a fire-ship! What’s that?” inquired Susan.
“A ship-load of fire, with lots of combustibles,” said Jack. “It’s a
thing that won’t do for a plaything.
“Well, the enemy had several, and, as we came up to them, we found they
had the wind in their favour, and the first thing they did was to put
out several of these fire-ships. But the wind was not direct for them,
it was shifting. Well, we were ordered to man the boats, and tow the
fire-ships back again amongst the enemy.
“Well, you may be sure they didn’t like that, especially when the
fire-ships blew up. They did so with a dreadful explosion, setting fire
to friend and enemy, and blowing them out of the water.
“This we did, and, as we towed the vessels along, we were fired at at
a pretty smart rate, I can tell you; why, the very sea seemed to boil
around us.”
“Lor!” said Susan, “how dreadful! Why it’s horrible here when the pot
boils, and Heaven knows what it must have been there. Why, I am sure, I
wonder how you escaped being scalded to death.”
“Why, some on ’em did get killed,” said Jack. “My starboard man was
shot through the head, and one or two more went on an errand to Davy
Jones.”
“It was lucky for them,” said Susan, “that they were sent out of the
way when there was so much danger going on around you. I am sure I
should have been glad.”
“May be so,” said Jack, turning his quid; “but I know this, them as
was sent upon that errand never came back any more; they stayed away
altogether; many of them becoming food for the sharks. However, we
towed away, and, the breeze shifting, we got pretty well among them,
and then we left the fire-ships where they ought to be, among the enemy.
“Well, we had a hard pull to get back, there being five or six ships
firing broadside after broadside at us; but they never hit the boat.
The other boat they did hit, and a shot went clean through her, and she
went down in deep water.”
“And what became of the poor men that were in it?” inquired Susan,
horrified at the detail.
“Some on ’em were drowned, and some we saved,” said Jack; “but we had
scarcely reached our own vessel, when the fire-ships blew up, setting
fire to and damaging several of the enemy, who were near at hand, and
covering the sea with bits of burning timber, and many fell into the
ships, setting fire to their rigging, and knocking men on the head, and
doing a world of mischief besides.”
“Goodness me!” said Susan, “what a dreadful thing, to be sure. I should
not like to be near a fire-ship. At all events, missus is quite a
fire-ship here.”
There were but few observations to make. Jack thought he had quieted
the dragoon, and had given him a dose of salt water; and, moreover,
Jack ogled the “maid of the inn” in such a way that speedily brought
the military hero to a sense of his danger, so, curling his moustache
with his finger, he said,—
“Well, it’s all very well talking of the dangers of the sea, but it’s
nothing to a storming party.”
“A storming party! what’s that?” inquired Susan.
“Why, I’ll tell you, my dear, and then you’ll know all about it. You
see, we were at the siege of Bangpowder.”
“Never heard of such a place,” interposed Jack; “what’s the bearing of
that outlandish place?”
“Oh, never there, eh?” said the dragoon, contemptuously; “then you
don’t know it. Talk of danger, you should have been there, and you
would have known what danger was. However, I’ll enlighten your
ignorance.
“You must see, Susan, my dear, that at Bangpowder we were very little
use in the way of assisting the siege, except that we acted as
outposts—foraging parties—and kept off the light troops of the enemy
when they shewed themselves, while the infantry set to work in the
trenches to work the guns.
[Illustration: Jack Pringle and the dragoon swap tall tales to impress
Susan.]
“They did work them above a bit, too. For weeks together there was
firing day and night, on our side and on theirs, so the air was never
without a strong smell of gunpowder, which you might smell for twelve
leagues quite strong.”
“Lor!” said Susan.
“Smash my timbers,” said Jack Pringle, “if you ain’t a coming it strong
this time.”
“Well,” continued the dragoon, taking no notice of what was said;
“well, that was nothing—that was a mere trifle. After some weeks’
firing, we made a hole in the wall, which increased day after day until
big enough for a man to enter.
“After that, a storming party was ordered; but, after more than
one attempt, our men gave it up as a bad job. Our captain, being a
dare-devil sort of fellow, and not liking to see men beaten back, said
the breach was practicable, and could be entered.
“This was denied by the officers and men who had been defeated, and he
said if his own troop would volunteer, he would undertake to enter the
place.
“This was told us, and we all at once volunteered to follow him to the
devil, if he chose to go.
“He at once informed the commander-in-chief, and we were ordered to
mount the breech. To do this we of course dismounted, and went on foot.
“There was some little excitement upon this matter, but we were cheered
as we passed, and when we arrived within a few yards of the walls, we
were met by a tremendous fire of all arms.
“This, however, did not daunt us, though it thinned our ranks, and we
were less in number; but up the breech we went, one man at a time. Six
of them, one after another, were knocked over dead as herrings. Well,
the men began to look blue over this; they wouldn’t have minded rushing
on in a body, and giving and taking till they all died; but to get on
the top of a brick wall, one at a time, to be shot at, why it was more
than they liked, especially as they had not struck one blow, or fired a
single shot in return.
“‘Hurrah, lads!’ said I; ‘I’ll have a shy, now; come on, and follow me
quick.’
“I jumped up and cleared the wall, though a thousand bullets were
fired, and got over clear without a shot, save one, that shaved some of
my whisker off.
“We all got over, and soon after we were followed by some of the other
regiments, and the place was our own; but we were nearly stripped
naked.”
“Oh, lor! how was that?” inquired Susan, interested.
“Why, we had so many narrow escapes, that our clothes were all shot to
shreds.”
“Goodness!”
“Oh, but it is true,” said the dragoon rising, and going out of the
kitchen.
In a few moments afterwards Susan left it also, and Jack, after turning
his quid, and squirting the tobacco juice on the floor, rose, and
hitching up his trousers with a preliminary “damme!” left the kitchen
also; but he hadn’t got far, when, oh, horror! he perceived Susan in
the arms of the dragoon, whose moustachioed lips more than once met
hers.
“Sink the ship,” muttered Jack, “here’s a pretty go—the black-looking
piratical thief.”
But Jack’s peace was soon held, and he listened to an assignation which
Jack was determined he would keep himself, to the discomfiture of the
dragoon.
Having made up his mind upon this point, he returned to the kitchen,
and Susan also in a very few moments; but Jack pretended to be asleep,
and wouldn’t speak to her, because he thought she hadn’t behaved
well in this affair of the dragoon; he was resolved, however, in
substituting himself for the soldier, or, at all events, of making a
row.
The time came and Jack stationed himself upon a position where he
could with ease lift the dragoon into the water-butt below, in case he
offered any opposition to the substitution before named.
The moment came round, and the dragoon was seen slowly and cautiously
mounting the way to the window of Susan. It was a kind of leads just
above the water-butt, accessible by means of some wooden steps.
“Avast, there,” said Jack, when he got up to the level with the top.
“What do you do there?”
“What is that to you?” inquired the dragoon.
“A great deal,” replied Jack; “but you don’t come here—I heard all
about it; but I tell you what, you ain’t a coming here, at all events.”
“But I am.”
“Don’t attempt, or I’ll sink you. I will, by all that’s good—so keep
back, and go away.”
“I’ll see you d—d first,” said the dragoon. “I have mounted a worse
breach than this before to-day; but I suspect there isn’t much danger
here.”
He ran up, and soon faced Jack, who seized him round the waist, would
have lifted him up in his arms, and could have thrown him into the
water-butt, only Jack’s foot suddenly slipped, and he fell down, the
soldier upon him, who in an instant regained his feet, and rolled Jack
over and over, until he came to the water-butt.
Into this Jack went, head first, and kicked and floundered about; and
if the water-butt had not been very rotten, and gave way, letting all
the water escape, it is very doubtful if Jack would not have found a
watery grave in the confined space of a water-butt.
As it was, he was more than blind and breathless, and sat down in the
midst of the water on the stones, to recover himself from the immersion
he had undergone.