"Sir,--You will report, with fifty men, to Major Blossom, at 4 a.m.
to-morrow.
"By order,--"
(Signed) "A.A.A.-G.
"Captain Haller, commanding Co. Rifle Rangers."
"Old Bios, eh? Quartermaster scouting, I hope," said Clayley, looking
over the contents of the note.
"Anything but the trenches; I am sick of them."
"Had it been anybody else but Blossom--fighting Daniels, for instance--
we might have reckoned on a comfortable bit of duty; but the old whale
can hardly climb into his saddle--it _does_ look bad."
"I will not long remain in doubt. Order the sergeant to warn the men
for four."
I walked through the camp in search of Blossom's marquee, which I found
in a grove of caoutchouc-trees, and out of range of the heaviest metal
in Vera Cruz. The major himself was seated in a large Campeachy chair,
that had been "borrowed" from some neighbouring rancho, and perhaps it
was never so well filled as by its present occupant.
It would be useless to attempt an elaborate description of Major
Blossom. That would require an entire chapter.
Perhaps the best that can be done to give the reader an idea of him is
to say that he was a great, fat, red man, and known among his brother
officers as "the swearing major". If anyone in the army loved good
living, it was Major Blossom; and if anyone hated hard living, that man
was Major George Blossom. He hated Mexicans, too, and mosquitoes, and
scorpions, and snakes, and sand-flies, and all enemies to his rest and
comfort; and the manner in which he swore at these natural foes would
have entitled him to a high commission in the celebrated army of
Flanders.
Major Blossom was a quarter-master in more senses than one, as he
occupied more quarters than any two men in the army, not excepting the
general-in-chief; and when many a braver man and better officer was cut
down to "twenty-five pounds of baggage", the private lumber of Major
Blossom, including himself, occupied a string of wagons like a
siege-train.
As I entered the tent he was seated at supper. The viands before him
were in striking contrast to the food upon which the army was then
subsisting. There was no gravel gritting between the major's teeth as
he masticated mess-pork or mouldy biscuit. He found no _debris_ of sand
and small rocks at the bottom of his coffee-cup. No; quite the
contrary.
A dish of pickled salmon, a side of cold turkey, a plate of sliced
tongue, with a fine Virginia ham, were the striking features of the
major's supper, while a handsome French coffee-urn, containing the
essence of Mocha, simmered upon the table. Out of this the major from
time to time replenished his silver cup. A bottle of _eau-de-vie_, that
stood near his right hand, assisted him likewise in swallowing his ample
ration.
"Major Blossom, I presume?" said I.
"My name," ejaculated the major, between two swallows, so short and
quick that the phrase sounded like a monosyllable.
"I have received orders to report to you, sir."
"Ah! bad business! bad business!" exclaimed the major, qualifying the
words with an energetic oath.
"How, sir?"
"Atrocious business! dangerous service! Can't see why they sent me."
"I came, Major, to inquire the nature of the service, so that I may have
my men in order for it."
"Dangerous service!"
"It is?"
"Infernal cut-throats! thousands of 'em in the bushes--bore a man
through as soon as wink. Those yellow devils are worse than--!" and
again the swearing major wound up with an exclamation not proper to be
repeated.
"Can't see why they picked _me_ out. There's Myers, and Wayne, and
Wood, not half my size, and that thin scare-the-crows Allen; but no--the
general wants _me_ killed. Die soon enough in this infernal nest of
centipedes without being shot in the chaparral! I wish the chaparral
was--!" and again the major's unmentionable words came pouring forth in
a volley.
I saw that it was useless to interrupt him until the first burst was
over. From his frequent anathemas on the "bushes" and the "chaparral",
I could gather that the service I was called upon to perform lay at some
distance from the camp; but beyond this I could learn nothing, until the
major had sworn himself into a degree of composure, which after some
minutes he accomplished. I then re-stated the object of my visit.
"We're going into the country for mules," replied the major. "Mules,
indeed! Heaven knows there isn't a mule within ten miles, unless with a
yellow-hided Mexican on his back, and such mules we don't want. The
volunteers--curse them!--have scared everything to the mountains: not a
stick of celery nor an onion to be had at any price."
"How long do you think we may be gone?" I inquired.
"Long? Only a day. If I stay overnight in the chaparral, may a wolf
eat me! Oh, no! if the mules don't turn up soon, somebody else may go
fetch 'em--that's all."
"I may ration them for one day?" said I.
"Two--two; your fellows'll be hungry. Roberts, of the Rifles, who's
been out in the country, tells me there isn't enough forage to feed a
cat. So you'd better take two days' biscuit. I suppose we'll meet with
beef enough on the hoof, though I'd rather have a rump-steak out of the
Philadelphia market than all the beef in Mexico. Hang their beef! it's
as tough as tan leather!"
"At four o'clock then, Major, I'll be with you," said I, preparing to
take my leave.
"Make it a little later, Captain. I get no sleep with these cursed
gally-nippers and things; but, stay--how many men have you got?"
"In my company eighty; but my order is to take only fifty."
"There again! I told you so; want me killed--they want old Bios killed!
Fifty men, when a thousand of the leather-skinned devils have been seen
not ten miles off! Fifty men! great heavens! fifty men! There's an
escort to take the chaparral with!"
"But they are fifty men worth a hundred, I promise you."
"Bring all--every son of a gun--bugler and all."
"But that, Major, would be contrary to the general's orders."
"Hang the general's orders! Obey some generals' orders in this army,
and you would do queer things. Bring them all; take my advice. I tell
you, if you don't, our lives may answer for it. Fifty men!"