"Let be--let be," said Mulvaney, "'Tis only wanst in a way I can talk
about the ould days." Then to me:--"Ye say Dhrumshticks is well, an' his
lady tu? I niver knew how I liked the grey garron till I was shut av him
an' Asia."--"Dhrumshticks" was the nickname of the Colonel commanding
Mulvaney's old regiment.--"Will you be seein' him again? You will. Thin
tell him"--Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle--"tell him wid
Privit"--"_Mister_, Terence," interrupted Dinah Shadd.
"Now the Divil an' all his angils an' the Firmament av Hiven fly away wid
the 'Mister,' an' the sin av making me swear be on your confession, Dinah
Shadd! _Privit_, I tell ye. Wid _Privit_ Mulvaney's best obedience, that
but for me the last time-expired wud be still pullin' hair on their way to
the sea."
He threw himself back in the chair, chuckled, and was silent.
"Mrs. Mulvaney," I said, "please take up the whiskey, and don't let him
have it until he has told the story."
Dinah Shadd dexterously whipped the bottle away, saying at the same time,
"'Tis nothing to be proud av," and thus captured by the enemy, Mulvaney
spake:--
"'Twas on Chuseday week. I was behaderin' round wid the gangs on the
'bankmint--I've taught the hoppers how to kape step an' stop
screechin'--whin a head-gangman comes up to me, wid about two inches av
shirt-tail hanging round his neck an' a disthressful light in his oi.
'Sahib,' sez he, 'there's a reg'mint an' a half av soldiers up at the
junction, knockin' red cinders out av ivrything an' ivrybody! They thried
to hang me in my cloth,' he sez, 'an' there will be murder an' ruin an'
rape in the place before nightfall! They say they're comin' down here to
wake us up. What will we do wid our womenfolk?'
"'Fetch my throlly!' sez I; 'my heart's sick in my ribs for a wink at
anything wid the Quane's uniform on ut, Fetch my throlly, an' six av the
jildiest men, and run me up in shtyle.'"
"He tuk his best coat," said Dinah Shadd, reproachfully.
"'Twas to do honor to the Widdy. I cud ha' done no less, Dinah Shadd. You
and your digresshins interfere wid the coorse av the narrative. Have you
iver considhered fwhat I wud look like wid me _head_ shaved as well as my
chin? You bear that in your mind, Dinah darlin'.
"I was throllied up six miles, all to get a shquint at that draf'. I
_knew_ 'twas a spring draf' goin' home, for there's no rig'mint
hereabouts, more's the pity."
"Praise the Virgin!" murmured Dinah Shadd. But Mulvaney did not hear.
"Whin I was about three-quarters av a mile off the rest-camp, powtherin'
along fit to burrst, I heard the noise av the men an', on my sowl, sorr, I
cud catch the voice av Peg Barney bellowin' like a bison wid the
belly-ache. You remimber Peg Barney that was in D Comp'ny--a red, hairy
scraun, wid a scar on his jaw? Peg Barney that cleared out the Blue
Lights' jubilee meeting wid the cook-room mop last year?
"Thin I knew ut was a draf' of the ould rig'mint, an' I was conshumed wid
sorrow for the bhoy that was in charge. We was harrd scrapin's at any
time. Did I iver tell you how Horker Kelley went into clink nakid as
Phoebus Apollonius, wid the shirts av the Corp'ril an' file undher his
arrum? An' _he_ was a moild man! But I'm digreshin'. 'Tis a shame both to
the rig'mints and the Arrmy sendin' down little orf'cer bhoys wid a draf'
av strong men mad wid liquor an' the chanst av gettin' shut av India, an'
_niver a punishment that's fit to be given right down an' away from
cantonmints to the dock!_ 'Tis this nonsince. Whin I am servin' my time,
I'm undher the Articles av War, an' can be whipped on the peg for _thim_.
But whin I've _served_ my time, I'm a Reserve man, an' the Articles av War
haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer _can't_ do anythin' to a time-expired
savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis a wise rig'lation bekaze a
time-expired does not have any barricks; bein' on the move all the time.
'Tis a Solomon av a rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to
the man that made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair
into Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av country.
Consiquintly that rig'lation--for fear that the men wud be hurt by the
little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came to the
rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was the voice av Peg
Barney. ''Tis good I am here,' thinks I to myself, 'for Peg alone is
employment for two or three.' He bein', I well knew, as copped as a
dhrover.
"Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew-nosed, an'
the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men--fifty av thim--the scourin's, an'
rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould Rig'mint. I tell you, sorr, they
were dhrunker than any men you've ever seen in your mortial life. _How_
does a draf' get dhrunk? How does a frog get fat? They suk ut in through
their shkins.
"There was Peg Barney sittin' on the groun' in his shirt--wan shoe off an'
wan shoe on--whackin' a tent-peg over the head wid his boot, an' singin'
fit to wake the dead. 'Twas no clane song that he sung, though. 'Twas the
Divil's Mass."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Whin a bad egg is shut av the Army, he sings the Divil's Mass for a good
riddance; an' that manes swearin' at ivrything from the
Commandher-in-Chief down to the Room-Corp'ril, such as you niver in your
days heard. Some men can swear so as to make green turf crack! Have you
iver heard the Curse in an Orange Lodge? The Divil's Mass is ten times
worse, an' Peg Barney was singin' ut, whackin' the tent-peg on the head
wid his boot for each man that he cursed. A powerful big voice had Peg
Barney, an' a hard swearer he was whin sober. I stood forninst him, an'
'twas not me oi alone that cud tell Peg was dhrunk as a coot.
"'Good mornin', Peg,' I sez, whin he dhrew breath afther cursin' the
Adj'tint Gen'ral; 'I've put on my best coat to see you, Peg Barney,' sez
I.
"'Thin take ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the boot;
'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!'
"Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he clean
disremimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge Advokit Gen'ral.
"'Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me wid being
called a civilian."
"An' him a decent married man!" wailed Dinah Shadd.
"'I do not,' sez Peg, 'but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off your
back wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin'.'
"'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. 'Tis clear as mud you've forgotten me.
I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I stretched Peg Barney, boot an'
all, an' wint into the camp. An awful sight ut was!
"'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub
Greene--the manest little worm that ever walked.
"'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin'
Republic.'
"'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by this you
will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.'
"Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent. 'Twas a
new little bhoy--not wan I'd iver seen before. He was sittin' in his tent,
purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket.
"I saluted--but for the life av me! mint to shake hands whin I went in.
Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will.
"'Can't I help, sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've given you,
an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy wid bowils, that
child, an' a rale gintleman.
"'Sit down,' sez he.
"'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service was.
"'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen nakid.'
"'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honor an' Glory, for 'twas Lift'nint Brazenose
did that job. 'I'm wid ye, sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use. They shud niver
ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your presince, sorr,' I sez, 'tis
only Lift'nint Hackerston in the Ould Rig'mint can manage a Home draf'.'
"'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin' wid the
pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations'--
"'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, sorr,' I sez, 'till the throoper's into
blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck thim up for the night,
or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies an' makin' a shiverarium half
through the country. Can you trust your noncoms, sorr?'
"'Yes,' sez he.
"'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you marchin',
sorr?'
"'To the next station,' sez he.
"'Better still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.'
"'Can't be too hard on a Home draf',' sez he; 'the great thing is to get
thim in-ship.'
"'Faith you've larnt the half av your lesson, sorr,' sez I, 'but av you
shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim in-ship at all, at all. Or
there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do.'
"'Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I
tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf' in Egypt."
"What was that, Mulvaney?" said I.
"Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor
little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush an'
pitch the things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That
made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation.
"'Soft an' aisy, sorr,' sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in hand since
you left cantonmints. Wait till the night, an' your work will be ready to
you. Wid your permission, sorr, I will investigate the camp, an' talk to
my ould friends. Tis no manner av use thryin' to shtop the divilmint
_now_.'
"Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry man
sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days, an' the
bhoys was glad to see me--all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye like a tomata
five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They come round me an' shuk
me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, an' a
drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me shtories
an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, knockin'
roun' the camp. Twas _bad_ even thin whin I was the Angil av Peace.
"I talked to me ould non-coms--_they_ was sober--an' betune me an' thim we
wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. The little
orf'cer bhoy he comes round, decint an' civil-spoken as might be.
"'Rough quarters, men,' sez he, 'but you can't look to be as comfortable
as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've shut my eyes to a
dale av dog's tricks to-day, an' now there must be no more av ut.'
"'No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,' sez Peg Barney,
staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper.
"'You're a sulky swine, you are,' sez Peg Barney, an' at that the men in
the tent began to laugh.
"I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near as
might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint spinnin'
acrost the tent.
"'Peg him out, sorr,' sez I, in a whishper.
"'Peg him out!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, up loud, just as if 'twas
battalion-p'rade an' he pickin' his wurrds from the Sargint.
"The non-coms tuk Peg Barney--a howlin' handful he was--an' in three
minuts he was pegged out--chin down, tight-dhrawn--on his stummick, a
tent-peg to each arm an' leg, swearin' fit to turn a naygur white.
"I tuk a peg an' jammed ut into his ugly jaw.--'Bite on that, Peg Barney,'
I sez; 'the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be wantin' divarsion
before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations you'd be bitin' on a bullet
now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,' sez I.
"All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein' pegged.
"''Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!' screeches out Scrub Greene,
who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'.
"'Peg out that man!' sez my orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper; an' the
non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg Barney.
"I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not knowin' fwhat
to do.
"'Get to your tents!' sez me orf'cer bhoy. 'Sargint, put a sintry over
these two men.'
"The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an' the rest av the night
there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sintry over the two, an'
Scrub Greene blubberin' like a child. 'Twas a chilly night, an' faith, ut
sobered Peg Barney.
"Just before Revelly, my orf'cer bhoy comes out an' sez: 'Loose those men
an' send thim to their tents!' Scrub Greene wint away widout a word, but
Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a sheep, thryin' to make his
orf'cer understhand he was sorry for playin' the goat.
"There was no tucker in the draf' whin ut fell in for the march, an' divil
a wurrd about 'illegality' cud I hear.
"I wint to the ould Color Sargint and I sez:--'Let me die in glory,' sez
I. 'I've seen a man this day!'
"'A man he is,' sez ould Hother; 'the draf's as sick as a herrin'. They'll
all go down to the sea like lambs. That bhoy has the bowils av a
cantonmint av Gin'rals.'
"'Amin,' sez I, 'an' good luck go wid him, wheriver he be, by land or by
sea. Let me know how the draf' gets clear.'
"An' do you know how they _did_? That bhoy, so I was tould by letter from
Bombay, bullydamned 'em down to the dock, till they cudn't call their
sowls their own. From the time they left me oi till they was 'tween decks,
not wan av thim was more than dacintly dhrunk. An', by the Holy Articles
av War, whin they wint aboard they cheered him till they cudn't spake, an'
_that_, mark you, has not come about wid a draf' in the mim'ry av livin'
man! You look to that little orf'cer bhoy. He has bowils. 'Tis not ivry
child that wud chuck the Rig'lations to Flanders an' stretch Peg Barney on
a wink from a brokin an' dilapidated ould carkiss like mesilf. I'd be
proud to serve"--
"Terrence, you're a civilian," said Dinah Shadd, warningly.
"So I am--so I am. Is ut likely I wud forget ut? But he was a gran' bhoy
all the same, an' I'm only a mudtipper wid a hod on my shoulthers. The
whiskey's in the heel av your hand, sorr. Wid your good lave we'll dhrink
to the Ould Rig'mint--three fingers--standin' up!"
And we drank.