I join Captain O’Hare’s company—He falls in a passion—The “fair” and
“unfair” appointment—Disappointment—Things of a private nature—Tom
Crawley—An example—The Hero—How to catch “flats” in “squads”—New way
to tap a barrel—A Rifleman’s plan for sweeping chimneys and
tap-rooms—Pipe-clay and parade—The regiment embark for Portugal.
SHORTLY after the return of the regiment, I was drafted into the company
commanded by Captain Peter O’Hare; a man whose eccentric habits were
equalled only by his extremely ugly countenance. Peter, for that was the
cognomen by which he was generally known to the men, was as brave as a
lion; and had risen, it was said, to his present commission from the
ranks.
While here, he got in tow with a young lady of Hythe, whom he was in the
habit frequently of escorting about the barracks and the neighbouring
heights. This the men as often took advantage of, and throwing
themselves in his way, when arm-in-arm with the lady, would ask any
favour they might have required of him. This Peter, who we presumed had
an eye to the opinion and future requital of, perhaps, his own wishes
upon the fair one herself, would always readily grant; until, at last,
through their importunities he became awake to the scheme, and swore he
would flog the first man who made another attempt of the kind, when the
lady was present.
A rather humorous adventure, which came to my knowledge through his
servant, occurred while here. One day at Hythe with a dinner party, at
which the young lady was present, he chanced, unintentionally, to give
offence to some Militia officer, one of the party; the consequence was,
that the next morning he received, what he perhaps supposed a
_billet-doux_, but which, to his surprise, turned out to be a challenge.
He was sitting shaving himself when the note was delivered to him by his
servant, and of course dropped the razor to peruse it.
“John,” said he, calling his man back; “who brought this? Faith, it’s a
challenge.”
“A gentleman!” replied John, “now waiting at the door.”
“Oh, then,” says Peter, “tell the gentleman that I am going to Spain,
and that if he follows me, he’ll not find me behind a hedge; and with my
compliments, tell him also to take back this bit of paper to the humbug
who sent it; for by Jove!” he continued, closing the door, “captain’s
commissions are not to be got every day!”
Our commanding officer, who was considered as one of the most humane of
the whole army, was an excellent man, and well deserving of his fame; he
seldom had recourse to the “cats,” thinking, perhaps, with a great deal
of truth, that it was necessary only in extreme cases. The plan of
punishment, generally adopted by him, was to put the offender on extra
drill with all his accoutrements on. When, however, the men became
incorrigible, he would order a six pound shot to be affixed to the leg,
with a long chain attached to it, and so oblige them to trail it about
with them.
We had in our regiment, at this time, a man of the name of Tom Crawley,
who was always getting into scrapes, and who was one of those singular
characters with which every regiment abounds. To enormous strength, and
great meekness of temper, he added an infinity of dry humour, which I
shall better illustrate by introducing him to the reader at once, as
bearing no little part in my career—in which he first became known to me
as one of the “incorrigibles.” Tom, however, made light of every
punishment, even of the “six-pounder,” which he would generally chuck
under his arm as if it were a mere toy. To obviate this, another move
was made by our Colonel, which was the obliging him to wear a kind of
long smock-frock, with a green cross painted on the back and front of
it. The barrack in which we were, being only temporary, presented no
outward wall to prevent our free intercourse with the town where Tom was
a general favourite. Tom used, therefore, at night, while under
disgrace, to take advantage of the dusk, and steal by the sentries into
the town. Here, of course, his strange dress elicited innumerable
queries.
“Arrah and sure!” Tom would reply with a knowing side leer of the eye,
“sure and is it not the new regulation of the Duke of York, and musn’t
all the likes of me, that are Catholics in our regiment, wear the cross
on their dress!”
The first parade we had after our men had received their new equipments,
was imprinted upon my memory from a circumstance attending it, that was
well calculated to make an impression upon the mind of a youthful
soldier, such as I then was; and to inspire that _esprit de corps_ in a
regiment, which is absolutely essential to even disciplined valour. I
had previously, more than once, heard a man of the name of Tom Plunket
eulogised by the men for his courage. He was a smart, well-made fellow,
about the middle height, in the prime of manhood; with a clear grey eye,
and handsome countenance; and was a general favourite with both officers
and men, besides being the best shot in the regiment.
On the occasion I have above alluded to, we were formed into hollow
square, and ordered to face inwards; as we knew it was not a punishment
parade, we naturally expected some address from the commanding officer,
and wondering in our own minds what was coming, when Colonel Beckwith
broke the silence by calling out:
“Private Thomas Plunket, step into the square.” All eyes, it is needless
to say, were fixed upon Plunket, as he halted with his rifle shouldered,
in the finest position of military attention, within a few paces of his
officer.
“Here, men,” exclaimed the commanding officer, pointing to Plunket,
“here stands a pattern for the battalion!” Then addressing Tom, he
added, “I have ordered a medal for you, in approval of your late gallant
conduct at Corunna. Present yourself, Sir, to the master tailor and get
on a corporal’s stripes, and I will see you do not want higher
promotion, as you continue to deserve it. I love to reward conduct such
as yours has hitherto been!”
Making his salute, Tom retired, when we formed into column and marched
back to our barracks, duly fired with a love of emulation to deserve the
praise that had been bestowed on the fortunate Plunket. I have since
often thought of the judicious conduct pursued by our Colonel in the
foregoing instance, as I am convinced that it was attended with the
happiest effects among many of the men, and, perhaps, indeed, induced
much of that spirit of personal gallantry and daring for which our corps
afterwards became celebrated.
Our regiment was shortly afterwards raised to one thousand strong,
chiefly through volunteering from the Militia, our common medium of
supply at the time at which I write, and it is justly due to the Militia
regiments, to say, that in the knowledge and exercise of their military
duties, during the war, they were very little inferior to the troops of
the line. The men who joined our battalion, were in general a fine set
of young fellows, and chiefly the _élite_ of the light companies of the
different provincial corps.
For his qualifications, as before stated, Tom Plunket, with a few
others, was selected to recruit from the Lincoln Militia, which lay at
Hythe, while we remained in temporary barracks on the heights.
While the volunteering went on, the Militia colonels were ordered to
give their men full liberty to do as they liked, and the better to
obtain the object in view, barrels of beer with the heads knocked in,
were, by order of government, placed in the different streets of the
town, for those to partake of who chose. The butts, consequently, were
dipped into by every kind of person with utensils of every description.
This we must not wonder at, when we consider the double thirst those
times gave rise to, “Barclay” as well as “Glory.”
Tom’s manner of attack was rather singular, but joined to the profusion
of government, very efficacious. The Rifles, from the dark colour of
their uniforms, and the total absence of all ornament, had gained the
nick-name of “Sweeps,” an appellation, which, nevertheless, held out a
kind of temptation to the “wide awake” of the squads. The pipe clay and
button stick were always hateful to the eyes of all soldiers; but to
none so much as to the Riflemen, who looked upon them as fitted only for
men less useful than themselves. This, Tom took advantage of on all
occasions. He was the soul of every company he mixed in, and amongst his
other accomplishments, numbered that of dancing excellently.
One day, the better to attract the “awkwards,” he commenced a shuffle on
the head of one of the aforesaid barrels of beer, to the infinite
amusement of a very large crowd; in the course of a few steps, however,
the head suddenly gave way, and soused Tom up to his neck in the liquid.
The whole crowd laughed uproariously. But Tom, whose head only was to be
seen, stared very gravely round the edge of the cask, then suddenly
recovering himself, and bolting out of the butt, he made his way
instantly to the public-house chimney, which, having ascended some
distance and descended, he as quickly re-appeared amongst the crowd.
“There now,” said he, giving himself a Newfoundland shake, that opened a
wide and instantaneous circle of militia men, “there now,” he exclaimed,
“d—n your pipe clay, now I’m ready for the grand parade!”
I must now notice an order that arrived for our immediate embarkation
for Portugal, to join the army under Sir Arthur Wellesley. We went on
board the transports lying for us at Dover in March, 1809, in the best
of spirits; such, in fact, as sportsmen feel in anticipation of the
pleasures of the chase.
Shipboard, though perhaps not quite so forlorn as Doctor Johnson has
portrayed it, soon becomes sufficiently irksome and unpleasant to those
not accustomed to it, especially when three or four hundred men are
crowded into a small vessel. Our officers, who were mostly a jolly set
of fellows, had recourse to various expedients to while away the time on
our voyage. Among these was one extremely popular, and that was getting
Plunket to dance a hornpipe to the music of our band upon the
quarter-deck. Tom danced it famously; and the beating of his feet, in
the “double shuffle” used to draw the loudest plaudits from our men and
the crew of the vessel.
As I have already been induced to mention Plunket, while we are now on
our voyage to Portugal, I will introduce a sketch of his life, which
well known as it is to many individuals formerly in the regiment,
possibly may not form an unamusing episode in my own.