"And what might ye be wanting me for, gineral, at all at all?"
"Faith, Patrick," said the sergeant, adopting the Irish brogue as if he
had been a native, "to give yez a message from the Quane, just."
"The Quane!" shouted the Irishman.
"Sure, no other. She wants your help, my lad."
"And she shall have it, bless her! What can I do at all?"
"Arrah, she wants yez to foight a blackguard or two that's guv' her
impidence."
"They have! I'm yer boy for a shindy. Where are they, colonel?"
"Not far off. And, by the way, she sent ye this bran new shillin' with
her best respex to ye, Pat; and sez I'm to axe ye what you'll take to
drink her health in; so come along, my lad."
Patrick did come along, and of course was duly and willingly enlisted by
his new friend, who promised him honour, and glory, and riches enough to
make a commander-in-chief's mouth water.
My new master, perhaps, was fond of making himself out a greater
simpleton than he really was. At any rate, he appeared to believe every
word the recruiting officer told him. And having no friends to say
good-bye to, and no luggage to pack up, and no money (unless he pawned
me) to spend, he was ready for marching orders immediately. To my
surprise, he showed no desire now to dispose of me.
"What 'ud I want to give him up?" he said to himself as he held me in
his hand. "Shure he'll be handy to tell the toime by on the faylde of
battle." And with this satisfactory assurance he put me back in his
pocket, which, greatly to my relief, was not the one which contained
that asthmatic pocket-comb.
Patrick had not to leave for his depot till next day, and took a long
stroll through the streets of Seatown along with the recruiting officer
this evening. He was in high spirits and very proud of being a soldier,
so the sergeant had very little difficulty in keeping him in good
humour. Indeed, he stood that officer in good stead once; for
encountering a compatriot acquaintance, a likely sort of fellow too, he
helped her Majesty's army to a fine recruit.
"Here, Larry, ye blackguard," called he, "here's a gentman axing for
yez."
Larry, a hulking sheepish young Irishman, did not look particularly
happy at this information, and replied,--
"And what's to prevent him axing?"
"Man dear, and is that the way ye address one of the Quane's foighting
men? Spake to him, meejor dear."
The "dear meejor" at this point took up the discourse.
"Faith," he said, "till I saw Patrick here I thought there wasn't a
single boy in the place smart enough to wear a red coat, but I see
there's two of ye anyhow."
And the sergeant laughed loud and clapped Larry on the back, and told
him it was a shame for him to be walking about in boots full of holes,
when he might be strutting up and down as fine as any gentleman in the
place, to say nothing of regular pay and quarters, and all the chance of
glory. And Patrick added his persuasions, and quoted his own example as
a great argument. And between them Larry let the shilling drop into his
hand, and the three went off to drink her Majesty's health, and then
continued their pilgrimage through the streets.
At one street corner there was a rush of people, reading a newly-posted
bill. Fancy my astonishment as I read:--"£20 reward! Lost yesterday
(February 4th), near Seatown Gaol, an old silver watch, of very little
value to any one but the owner. A piece of black ribbon was attached.
Any one bringing the above to the Reverend James Halliday, at 2, Quay
Street, will receive £20 reward."
How my heart beat as our party halted in front of this announcement.
Alas! my new master was not a scholar, and on satisfying himself the
object of the people's assembling was not a fight, he took no further
interest in the matter, but shouldered his way past with no more thought
of me just at that moment than of the North Pole.
That night, as I lay in the dark in my new quarters, I had leisure to
think over the strange turn which my fortune had taken. Here I was in a
town where three of those whom at some time or other I had called master
were living. One was a common prisoner, one a hard-working curate, and
one a raw recruit. Of my other masters, one was a London thief, one lay
in his grave, and the other, and best loved of all, was far away in
scenes and perils which I could not so much as picture to myself. What
would become of me? I knew not; but I could not help feeling the best
part of my life was spent, for who could be to me again what some of
those whom I now remembered had been?
I had arrived thus far in my meditations when I all of a sudden turned
faint. I knew what the matter was at once, and what did this lump of an
Irishman understand about watch-keys and winding up?