"Wolseley be shot! Betune you an' me an' that butterfly net, he's a
ramblin', incoherint sort av a divil, wid wan oi on the Quane an' the
Coort, an' the other on his blessed silf--everlastin'ly playing Saysar an'
Alexandrier rowled into a lump. Now Bobs is a sinsible little man. Wid
Bobs an' a few three-year-olds, I'd swape any army av the earth into a
towel, an' throw it away aftherward. Faith, I'm not jokin'! Tis the
bhoys--the raw bhoys--that don't know fwhat a bullut manes, an' wudn't
care av they did--that dhu the work. They're crammed wid bull-mate till
they fairly _ramps_ wid good livin'; and thin, av they don't fight, they
blow each other's hids off. 'Tis the trut' I'm tellin' you. They shud be
kept on water an' rice in the hot weather; but there'd be a mut'ny av
'twas done.
"Did ye iver hear how Privit Mulvaney tuk the town av Lungtungpen? I
thought not! 'Twas the Lift'nint got the credit; but 'twas me planned the
schame. A little before I was inviladed from Burma, me an' four-an'-twenty
young wans undher a Lift'nint Brazenose, was ruinin' our dijeshins thryin'
to catch dacoits. An' such double-ended divils I niver knew! Tis only a
_dah_ an' a Snider that makes a dacoit, Widout thim, he's a paceful
cultivator, an' felony for to shoot. We hunted, an' we hunted, an' tuk
fever an' elephints now an' again; but no dacoits, Evenshually, we
_puckarowed_ wan man, 'Trate him tinderly,' sez the Lift'nint. So I tuk
him away into the jungle, wid the Burmese Interprut'r an' my clanin'-rod.
Sez I to the man, 'My paceful squireen,' sez I, 'you shquot on your
hunkers an' dimonstrate to _my_ frind here, where _your_ frinds are whin
they're at home?' Wid that I introjuced him to the clanin'-rod, an' he
comminst to jabber; the Interprut'r interprutin' in betweens, an' me
helpin' the Intilligince Departmint wid my clanin'-rod whin the man
misremimbered.
"Prisintly, I learn that, acrost the river, about nine miles away, was a
town just dhrippin' wid dahs, an' bohs an' arrows, an' dacoits, and
elephints, an' _jingles_. 'Good!' sez I; 'this office will now close!'
"That night, I went to the Lift'nint an' communicates my information. I
never thought much of Lift'nint Brazenose till that night. He was shtiff
wid books an' theouries, an' all manner av thrimmin's no manner av use.
'Town did ye say?' sez he. 'Accordin' to the theouries av War, we shud
wait for reinforcemints.'--'Faith!' thinks I, 'we'd betther dig our graves
thin;' for the nearest throops was up to their shtocks in the marshes out
Mimbu way. 'But,' says the Lift'nint, 'since 'tis a speshil case, I'll
make an excepshin. We'll visit this Lungtungpen to-night.'
"The bhoys was fairly woild wid deloight whin I tould 'em; an', by this
an' that, they wint through the jungle like buck-rabbits. About midnight
we come to the shtrame which I had clane forgot to minshin to my orficer.
I was on, ahead, wid four bhoys, an' I thought that the Lift'nint might
want to theourise. 'Shtrip boys!' sez I. 'Shtrip to the buff, an' shwim in
where glory waits!'--'But I _can't_ shwim!' sez two av thim. 'To think I
should live to hear that from a bhoy wid a board-school edukashin!' sez I.
'Take a lump av timber, an' me an' Conolly here will ferry ye over, ye
young ladies!'
"We got an ould tree-trunk, an' pushed off wid the kits an' the rifles on
it. The night was chokin' dhark, an' just as we was fairly embarked, I
heard the Lift'nint behind av me callin' out. 'There's a bit av a _nullah_
here, sorr,' sez I, 'but I can feel the bottom already.' So I cud, for I
was not a yard from the bank.
"'Bit av a _nullah!_ Bit av an eshtuary!' sez the Lift'nint. 'Go on, ye
mad Irishman! Shtrip bhoys!' I heard him laugh; an' the bhoys begun
shtrippin' an' rollin' a log into the wather to put their kits on. So me
an' Conolly shtruck out through the warm wather wid our log, an' the rest
come on behind.
"That shtrame was miles woide! Orth'ris, on the rear-rank log, whispers we
had got into the Thames below Sheerness by mistake. 'Kape on shwimmin', ye
little blayguard,' sez I, 'an' don't go pokin' your dirty jokes at the
Irriwaddy,'--'Silince, men!' sings out the Lift'nint. So we shwum on into
the black dhark, wid our chests on the logs, trustin' in the Saints an'
the luck av the British Army.
"Evenshually, we hit ground--a bit av sand--an' a man. I put my heel on
the back av him. He skreeched an' ran.
"'_Now_ we've done it!' sez Lift'nint Brazenose. 'Where the Divil _is_
Lungtungpen?' There was about a minute and a half to wait. The bhoys laid
a hould av their rifles an' some thried to put their belts on; we was
marchin' wid fixed baynits av coorse. Thin we knew where Lungtungpen was;
for we had hit the river-wall av it in the dhark, an' the whole town
blazed wid thim messin' _jingles_ an' Sniders like a cat's back on a
frosty night. They was firin' all ways at wanst, but over our hids into
the shtrame.
"'Have you got your rifles?' sez Brazenose. 'Got 'em!' sez Orth'ris. 'I've
got that thief Mulvaney's for all my back-pay, an' she'll kick my heart
sick wid that blunderin' long shtock av hers.'--'Go on!' yells Brazenose,
whippin' his sword out. 'Go on an' take the town! An' the Lord have mercy
on our sowls!'
"Thin the bhoys gave wan divastatin' howl, an' pranced into the dhark,
feelin' for the town, an' blindin' an' stiffin' like Cavalry Ridin'
Masters whin the grass pricked their bare legs. I hammered wid the butt at
some bamboo-thing that felt wake, an' the rest come an' hammered
contagious, while the _jingles_ was jingling, an' feroshus yells from
inside was shplittin' our ears. We was too close under the wall for thim
to hurt us.
"Evenshually, the thing, whatever ut was, bruk; an' the six-and-twinty av
us tumbled, wan after the other, naked as we was borrun, into the town of
Lungtungpen. There was a _melly_ av a sumpshus kind for a whoile; but
whether they tuk us, all white an' wet, for a new breed av divil, or a new
kind av dacoit, I don't know. They ran as though we was both, an' we wint
into thim, baynit an' butt, shriekin' wid laughin'. There was torches in
the shtreets, an' I saw little Orth'ris rubbin' his showlther ivry time he
loosed my long-shtock Martini; an' Brazenose walkin' into the gang wid his
sword, like Diarmid av the Gowlden Collar--barring he hadn't a stitch av
clothin' on him. We diskivered elephints wid dacoits under their bellies,
an', what wid wan thing an' another, we was busy till mornin' takin'
possession av the town of Lungtungpen.
"Thin we halted an' formed up, the wimmen howlin' in the houses an'
Lift'nint Brazenose blushin' pink in the light av the mornin' sun. 'Twas
the most ondasint p'rade I iver tuk a hand in. Foive-and-twenty privits
an' a orficer av the Line in review ordher, an' not as much as wud dust a
fife betune 'em all in the way of clothin'! Eight av us had their belts
an' pouches on; but the rest had gone in wid a handful av cartridges an'
the skin God gave thim. _They_ was as nakid as Vanus.
"'Number off from the right!' sez the Lift'nint. 'Odd numbers fall out to
dress; even numbers pathrol the town till relieved by the dressing party.'
Let me tell you, pathrollin' a town wid nothing on is an ex_pay_rience. I
pathrolled for tin minutes, an' begad, before 'twas over, I blushed. The
women laughed so. I niver blushed before or since; but I blushed all over
my carkiss thin. Orth'ris didn't pathrol. He sez only, 'Portsmith Barricks
an' the 'Ard av a Sunday! Thin he lay down an' rowled any ways wid
laughin'.
"Whin we was all dhressed, we counted the dead--sivinty-foive dacoits
besides wounded. We tuk five elephints, a hunder' an' sivinty Sniders, two
hunder' dahs, and a lot av other burglarious thruck. Not a man av us was
hurt--excep' maybe the Lift'nint, an' he from the shock to his dasincy.
"The Headman av Lungtungpen, who surrinder'd himself, asked the
Interprut'r--''Av the English fight like that wid their clo'es off, what
in the wurruld do they do wid their clo'es on?' Orth'ris began rowlin' his
eyes an' crackin' his fingers an' dancin' a step-dance for to impress the
Headman. He ran to his house; an' we spint the rest av the day carryin'
the Lift'nint on our showlthers round the town, an' playin' wid the
Burmese babies--fat, little, brown little divils, as pretty as picturs.
"Whin I was inviladed for the dysent'ry to India, I sez to the Lift'nint,
'Sorr,' sez I, 'you've the makin's in you av a great man; but, av you'll
let an ould sodger spake, you're too fond of the-ourisin'.' He shuk hands
wid me and sez, 'Hit high, hit low, there's no plasin' you, Mulvaney.
You've seen me waltzin' through Lungtungpen like a Red Injin widout the
warpaint, an' you say I'm too fond av the-ourisin'?'--'Sorr,' sez I, for I
loved the bhoy; 'I wud waltz wid you in that condishin through _Hell_, an'
so wud the rest av the men!' Thin I wint downshtrame in the flat an' left
him my blessin'. May the Saints carry ut where ut shud go, for he was a
fine upstandin' young orficer,
"To reshume. Fwhat I've said jist shows the use av three-year-olds. Wud
fifty seasoned sodgers have taken Lungtungpen in the dhark that way? No!
They'd know the risk av fever and chill. Let alone the shootin'. Two
hundher' might have done ut. But the three-year-olds know little an' care
less; an' where there's no fear, there's no danger. Catch thim young, feed
thim high, an' by the honor av that great, little man Bobs, behind a good
orficer 'tisn't only dacoits they'd smash wid their clo'es off--'tis
Con-ti-nental Ar-r-r-mies! They tuk Lungtungpen nakid; an' they'd take St.
Pethersburg in their dhrawers! Begad, they would that!
"Here's your pipe, sorr. Shmoke her tinderly wid honey-dew, afther letting
the reek av the Canteen plug die away. But 'tis no good, thanks to you all
the same, fillin' my pouch wid your chopped hay. Canteen baccy's like the
Army. It shpoils a man's taste for moilder things."
So saying, Mulvaney took up his butterfly-net, and returned to barracks.