Hit a man an' help a woman, an' ye can't be far wrong anyways.--_Maxims
of Private Mulvaney._
The Inexpressibles gave a ball. They borrowed a seven-pounder from
the Gunners, and wreathed it with laurels, and made the dancing-floor
plate-glass, and provided a supper, the like of which had never been
eaten before, and set two sentries at the door of the room to hold the
trays of programme-cards. My friend, Private Mulvaney, was one of the
sentries, because he was the tallest man in the regiment. When the dance
was fairly started the sentries were released, and Private Mulvaney went
to curry favour with the Mess Sergeant in charge of the supper. Whether
the Mess Sergeant gave or Mulvaney took, I cannot say. All that I
am certain of is that, at supper-time, I found Mulvaney with
Private Ortheris, two-thirds of a ham, a loaf of bread, half a
_pate-de-foie-gras_, and two magnums of champagne, sitting on the roof
of my carriage. As I came up I heard him saying--
'Praise be a danst doesn't come as often as Ord'ly-room, or, by this an'
that, Orth'ris, me son, I wud be the dishgrace av the rig'mint instid av
the brightest jool in uts crown.'
'_Hand_ the Colonel's pet noosance,' said Ortheris. 'But wot makes you
curse your rations? This 'ere fizzy stuff's good enough.'
'Stuff, ye oncivilised pagin! 'Tis champagne we're dhrinkin' now.
'Tisn't that I am set ag'in. 'Tis this quare stuff wid the little bits
av black leather in it. I misdoubt I will be distressin'ly sick wid it
in the mornin'. Fwhat is ut?'
'Goose liver,' I said, climbing on the top of the carriage, for I knew
that it was better to sit out with Mulvaney than to dance many dances.
'Goose liver is ut?' said Mulvaney. 'Faith, I'm thinkin' thim that makes
it wud do betther to cut up the Colonel. He carries a power av liver
undher his right arrum whin the days are warm an' the nights chill. He
wud give thim tons an' tons av liver. 'Tis he sez so. “I'm all liver
to-day,” sez he; an' wid that he ordhers me ten days C. B. for as moild
a dhrink as iver a good sodger tuk betune his teeth.'
'That was when 'e wanted for to wash 'isself in the Fort Ditch,'
Ortheris explained. 'Said there was too much beer in the Barrack
water-butts for a God-fearing man. You was lucky in gettin' orf with wot
you did, Mulvaney.'
'Say you so? Now I'm pershuaded I was cruel hard trated, seein' fwhat
I've done for the likes av him in the days whin my eyes were wider opin
than they are now. Man alive, for the Colonel to whip _me_ on the peg
in that way! Me that have saved the repitation av a ten times better man
than him! 'Twas ne-farious--an' that manes a power av evil!'
'Never mind the nefariousness,' I said. 'Whose reputation did you save?'
'More's the pity, 'twasn't my own, but I tuk more trouble wid ut than
av ut was. 'Twas just my way, messin' wid fwhat was no business av mine.
Hear now!' He settled himself at ease on the top of the carriage. 'I'll
tell you all about ut. Av coorse I will name no names, for there's wan
that's an orf'cer's lady now, that was in ut, and no more will I name
places, for a man is thracked by a place.'
'Eyah!' said Ortheris lazily, 'but this is a mixed story wot's comin'.'
'Wanst upon a time, as the childer-books say, I was a recruity.'
'Was you though?' said Ortheris; 'now that's extry-ordinary!'
'Orth'ris,' said Mulvaney, 'av you opin thim lips av yours again, I
will, savin' your presince, Sorr, take you by the slack av your trousers
an' heave you.'
'I'm mum,' said Ortheris. 'Wot 'appened when you was a recruity?'
'I was a betther recruity than you iver was or will be, but that's
neither here nor there. Thin I became a man, an' the divil of a man I
was fifteen years ago. They called me Buck Mulvaney in thim days, an',
begad, I tuk a woman's eye. I did that! Ortheris, ye scrub, fwhat are ye
sniggerin' at? Do you misdoubt me?'
'Devil a doubt!' said Ortheris; 'but I've 'eard summat like that
before!'
Mulvaney dismissed the impertinence with a lofty wave of his hand and
continued--
'An' the orf'cers av the rig'mint I was in in thim days _was_
orf'cers--gran' men, wid a manner on 'em, an' a way wid 'em such as is
not made these days--all but wan--wan o' the capt'ns. A bad dhrill, a
wake voice, an' a limp leg--thim three things are the signs av a bad
man. You bear that in your mind, Orth'ris, me son.
'An' the Colonel av the rig'mint had a daughter--wan av thim lamblike,
bleatin', pick-me-up-an'-carry-me-or-I'll-die gurls such as was made
for the natural prey av men like the Capt'n, who was iverlastin' payin'
coort to her, though the Colonel he said time an' over, “Kape out av the
brute's way, my dear.” But he niver had the heart for to send her away
from the throuble, bein' as he was a widower, an' she their wan child.'
'Stop a minute, Mulvaney,' said I; 'how in the world did you come to
know these things?'
'How did I come?' said Mulvaney, with a scornful grunt; 'bekase I'm
turned durin' the Quane's pleasure to a lump av wood, lookin' out
straight forninst me, wid a--a--candelabbrum in my hand, for you to pick
your cards out av, must I not see nor feel? Av coorse I du! Up my back,
an' in my boots, an' in the short hair av the neck--that's where I kape
my eyes whin I'm on duty an' the reg'lar wans are fixed. Know! Take
my word for it, Sorr, ivrything an' a great dale more is known in a
rig'mint; or fwhat wud be the use av a Mess Sargint, or a Sargint's wife
doin' wet-nurse to the Major's baby? To reshume. He was a bad dhrill was
this Capt'n--a rotten bad dhrill--an' whin first I ran me eye over
him, I sez to myself: “My Militia bantam!” I sez, “My cock av a Gosport
dunghill”--'twas from Portsmouth he came to us--“there's combs to be
cut,” sez I, “an' by the grace av God, 'tis Terence Mulvaney will cut
thim.”
'So he wint menowderin', and minanderin', an' blandandherin' roun' an'
about the Colonel's daughter, an' she, poor innocint, lookin' at him
like a Comm'ssariat bullock looks at the Comp'ny cook. He'd a dhirty
little scrub av a black moustache, an' he twisted an' turned ivry wurrd
he used as av he found ut too sweet for to spit out. Eyah! He was a
tricky man an' a liar by natur'. Some are born so. He was wan. I knew he
was over his belt in money borrowed from natives; besides a lot av other
matthers which, in regard for your presince, Sorr, I will oblitherate.
A little av fwhat I knew, the Colonel knew, for he wud have none av him,
an' that, I'm thinkin', by fwhat happened aftherwards, the Capt'n knew.
'Wan day, bein' mortial idle, or they wud never ha' thried ut, the
rig'mint gave amshure theatricals--orf'cers an' orf'cers' ladies. You've
seen the likes time an' agin, Sorr, an' poor fun 'tis for them that
sit in the back row an' stamp wid their boots for the honour av the
rig'mint. I was told off for to shif' the scenes, haulin' up this an'
draggin' down that. Light work ut was, wid lashins av beer and the gurl
that dhressed the orf'cers' ladies--but she died in Aggra twelve years
gone, an' my tongue's gettin' the betther av me. They was actin' a
play thing called _Sweethearts_, which you may ha' heard av, an' the
Colonel's daughter she was a lady's maid. The Capt'n was a boy called
Broom--Spread Broom was his name in the play. Thin I saw --ut come out
in the actin'--fwhat I niver saw before, an' that was that he was no
gentleman. They was too much together, thim two, a-whishperin' behind
the scenes I shifted, an' some av what they said I heard; for I was
death--blue death an' ivy--on the comb-cuttin'. He was iverlastin'ly
oppressing her to fall in wid some sneakin' schame av his, an' she was
thryin' to stand out against him, but not as though she was set in her
will. I wonder now in thim days that my ears did not grow a yard on me
head wid list'nin'. But I looked straight forninst me an' hauled up this
an' dragged down that, such as was my duty, an' the orf'cers' ladies sez
one to another, thinkin' I was out av listen-reach: “Fwhat an obligin'
young man is this Corp'ril Mulvaney!” I was a Corp'ril then. I was
rejuced aftherwards, but, no matther, I was a Corp'ril wanst.
'Well, this _Sweethearts'_ business wint on like most amshure
theatricals, an' barrin' fwhat I suspicioned, 'twasn't till the
dhress-rehearsal that I saw for certain that thim two--he the
blackguard, an' she no wiser than she should ha' been--had put up an
evasion.'
'A what?' said I.
'E-vasion! Fwhat you call an elopemint. E-vasion I calls it, bekaze,
exceptin' whin 'tis right an' natural an' proper, 'tis wrong an' dhirty
to steal a man's wan child she not knowin' her own mind. There was a
Sargint in the Comm'ssariat who set my face upon e-vasions. I'll tell
you about that--'
'Stick to the bloomin' Captains, Mulvaney,' said Ortheris; 'Comm'ssariat
Sargints is low.'