A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.
On the day following the events detailed in our last chapter, O'Hara was
seated in his chamber, hard at work at his desk, when a visitor
announced himself at the door. It was the O'Hoolohan Roe--in the old
suit.
'Take a seat--scribbling away for the bare life, as you see. Just
finished.'
'I've come to ask you a favour. I presume you'll grant it.'
'Certainly, always presuming that it is such as a gentleman can grant.'
'Still harping on the old string.'
'Sir,' said O'Hara, getting annoyed, 'I have the misfortune to a certain
extent to be your debtor; but I am not your valet. Here, take back the
hundred francs you lent me, and we shall speak on more equal terms,'
holding out his purse.
'Did I ever ask you for it?'
'I insist on your taking it.'
'If I do, I'm blest if I don't give it to the first beggar I meet on the
highway.'
'That as you like, sir. I'm not a beggar--nor yet a barbarian.'
'Ha, ha, ha! That's really good. Now, tell me, who should lose his
temper? Here, I take the money and beg your pardon. I didn't think you
were so thin-skinned.'
'Thin-skinned! Thank you for that expression.'
'What better could you expect from a barbarian?'
O'Hara could not resist a smile.
'Well, now,' continued his visitor, 'that you're getting into better
humour I'll try and put on my good manners. The favour I'm going to ask
of you is not much; but it's hardly fair to ask it of you without
telling you who and what I am. Would you like to hear my history?'
'Candidly, I would.'
'Then, attend,' said his visitor, assuming a more serious air, and after
a short pause, in which he seemed to be running over the hoards of
memory, he thus commenced:
'My life is briefly told. It has been a hard life, a life of struggling,
written in plain black and white, and as such I'll tell it to you. I
haven't the genius of a romancer to make it picturesque. I was born in
Cork----'
'The city?'
'Yes, the beautiful city.'
'Some of our most eminent literary worthies came from Cork.'
'Well, I'm not one of them--my father was, though, in a way. He kept a
classical and mathematical school which was well supported, and called
himself a philomath, whatever that meant. My mother was a big-hearted,
kind woman who never sent a beggar empty-handed from her door, and
believed her husband the most learned man the world ever saw. But if she
worshipped her husband, she adored her son.'
'She was a woman,' sententiously remarked O'Hara.
'That's it, I suppose,' resumed O'Hoolohan with a sigh. 'Of course she
must have been,' he added, after thinking a little, as if a new
revelation had dawned upon him. 'Anyhow, he wasn't as good a boy as he
ought to have been, and 'tis sorry he is to-day to have to own it. Well,
it's no use crying over spilt milk. To get on with my tale. I raked and
I rambled--I may as well make a clean breast of it--and in the end I
took a liking to a cavalry uniform I saw in Ballincollig, and I 'listed.
My father paid the smart-money, my mother cried, and I was lugged home.
Then they bound me to a saddler. After a month I 'listed again: he
bought me off again, and the old game of tears from the mother and
promises of repentance from the hopeful youth, and stern majesty from
the father, was repeated. Six months after, the quicksilver got up in my
constitution again. I determined not to be balked this time, so I went
to the old fellow, said I was going to 'list, and wouldn't be bought
out.
'"Mother'll buy you out," says he.
'"I'll 'list again," says I; "see who'll get tired of that trick first."
'"She prevailed on you to leave off your soldiering notions twice
before," said he again.
'"The third time has the charm," was my answer.
'He reflected awhile: "Well, if you will be a soldier, I suppose it's
wrong to bar such a fine fellow the chance of getting a bullet in his
head."
'"Oh!" said I gaily, "the man that is born to be hanged will never be
shot."
'"Go your way, then," said he.
'"You'd better let me have that one-and-twenty shillings smart you used
to pay, to drink your long life, and a healthy thirst for learning to
the rising generation of Corkonians."
'If I hadn't ducked my head at the moment, I mightn't be here to tell
you. He had levelled "lamb and salad," as he used to call his
slapper--the superannuated bolt of an outhouse--at the place where my
brains ought to have been. The good man had a temper of his own.'
'Is he no more?'
'These ten years. So is my mother, and if I ever go back to Ireland
again, one of the businesses that will take me there is to put a stone
over their graves. The regiment which I joined was one of the medium
cavalry, and my knowledge of saddlery stood me in good stead. Because of
it I got promoted, which was not an ordinary piece of luck, for the
corps was an English one, and a Paddy had little chance of the stripes
anywhere except on his back. It was in the Tangiers Horse I learned to
be a rebel and a democrat. To see young spooneys, fresh from their
mother's apron-strings, spooneys not able to grow a beard, hemming and
hawing on a parade-ground, and strutting about in command of old
soldiers that were black with powder before they were born! It sickened
me, I tell you Pshaw! All men are equal.'
'As all the fingers of our hand are of the same length,' quietly
observed O'Hara.
The democratic dragoon did not regard the interruption, but continued:
'It was during the Repeal Agitation I enlisted, and our regiment never
left the shores of England. We moved about from Manchester to Sheffield,
and from Sheffield to York, but never too far from Ireland. I watched
the excitement as it grew, and waited the moment till it would come to
blows. I was an Irishman before I was a soldier, thought I, and I'll
never wear a sabre against my country. I went to the colonel and
demanded my discharge. I had saved enough in the saddlery workshop to
pay for it.
'"Can't give any men their discharge now, especially a useful man like
you."
'My resolution was taken on the spot. "All right, sir," I said; "I
suppose I must put up with the disappointment."
'That night I deserted and put a letter with the money I had saved to
buy myself out in the Post Office, and started for this city. I was
always anxious to see foreign parts. I soon ran through my rhino, and
then, although I couldn't speak the language, the trade I had at my
fingers' ends stood my friend. But the old passion grew on me, and I
joined the Foreign Legion in the French Service. I campaigned four years
among the Kabyles in Algeria, and then, the Crimean War breaking out, I
was taken as volunteer into the battalion of ours that went out with the
Army of the East. I served through the awful winters before Sebastopol,
served from the Alma to the Tchernaya, and came back with an honourable
discharge, and not a scratch on my body. I stopped in Paris again
awhile--I make this city my harbour of refuge, the place where I put in
to refit always--but the Lombardy campaign of '59 broke out. I didn't
care to enter into another engagement under the tricolour--it was too
long--so I applied for a commission in a guerrilla corps in the Italian
Service, and they were glad to take me on. We finished Austria at the
double-quick; I was into the thick of the whole bloody six weeks' work
from Turbigo to Solferino, and came off with the medal for military
distinction and a sabre-cut on my left elbow. I laid up for awhile,
nursing my wound and spending my money in old Paris. In 1860 I was in
harness again, but this time a free-lance. I was one of the thousand of
Garibaldi, landed with him at Marsala, marched with him through Palermo,
crossed over with him to the mainland, fought by his side at the
Volturno, and entered Naples in his triumphal procession on the Via
Toledo, after he had driven out Bombalino, the dirty Bourbon.'
'Why, you have been a regular soldier of fortune! What a lot of fighting
you have seen!'
'There is more to come, on the other side of the ocean. After a short
stay in Paris again, I left from Havre by the _Pereire_ for New York;
didn't like it, and travelled down South to Carolina. I was there when
the first shot was fired at Sumter, and I threw in my fortunes with the
Palmetto flag.'
'I wonder at a democrat doing that,' remarked O'Hara.
'Oh! you are of those who imagine the North was fighting to put down
slavery in that war,' said his visitor.
'Not entirely, but I'd expect an Irish democrat would range him under
the Stars and Stripes.'
'And I might have expected that the natural place for an Irish rebel to
have ranged himself was on the side of the "rebels," as they were
called. But to cut that matter short, it was very much a question of
locality with most Irishmen.'
'I am satisfied. Go on.'
'There is not far to go now. I'm nearly at the end of my tether. I got a
captain's command in the cavalry, served under General Stuart, and left
a colonel, but broken-down in health, spirits and purse, like most of
the noble fellows who strove to lift on high the bonnie blue flag.
Fortunately I had secured some money behind me here in Paris before I
had left for America--I had always an eye to the main chance in my
campaigning, and had been able to save enough to sign myself
_rentier_--my annuity had been accumulating in my absence, and I found
myself comparatively well off. I have been gathering health in the two
years since, and now I sometimes itch for work again. I should embark
for Mexico, to join the guerrillas, but that I scruple fighting against
my old comrades of Africa, the Crimea, and Italy. Sentimental, isn't
it?'
'No; on the contrary, a quite healthy feeling, and I respect you for
it,' said O'Hara.
'Well, I have told you my history.'
'Without telling me your name.'
'You knew that already. I dropped it the other night casually in the
heat of conversation.'
'And, pray, how did you discover mine?'
'Nothing simpler in the world. You remember the famous old coat of yours
that the dog carried from the Morgue. Your last card fell out of it.'
'How did you know it was my card?'
'It was wrapped in tissue-paper. Men are not in the habit of keeping
their neighbours' cards with so much care.'
O'Hara gave a long low whistle.
'And now that I have told you so much about _my_self, will you answer me
a question about _your_self?' resumed O'Hoolohan.
'You know my conditions.'
'Well, then, why were you so poor when I first met you?'
'I will answer you truly. Because I haven't self-control and firmness of
mind enough to keep money when I get it--in a word, because I'm an
Irishman. I receive a monthly allowance, and, as I wrote to a friend the
other day, the first week in the month I am the King of Yvetot, the
second comes good resolution on the heel of terrible reaction, the third
is my week of work and philosophy, and the fourth----'
'Aye, the fourth?'
'Why, in the fourth I generally think of throwing myself off the Pont
Neuf.'
'Ha! and I came upon you at the close of your fourth week?'
'That's just it.'
'Alas!' said O'Hoolohan, rising, 'that is one of our national failings.
We never think of to-morrow. I had it myself, but the discipline of the
barrack-yard made me methodical and gave me habits of order that grew
into my nature. If I hadn't some foresight when I had the means of
earning money; I would be in debt to-day and the debtor is a slave. I
tell you what, sir, one of the worst lessons we Irish want to learn is
the lesson of thrift--to put by something when the sun shines against
the rainy day.'
O'Hara felt himself colouring, but his visitor had delicacy enough to
pretend not to see it.
'Now, may I crave the favour I came for?' asked O'Hoolohan as he rose to
leave.
'Assuredly.'
'Will you be my best man at the church of Saint Etienne du Mont in a
certain ceremony one of these mornings?'
'With a heart-and-a-half; but have you really proposed?'
'Aye, and been accepted. I never fight my battles by halves.'
'Then,' said O'Hara, grasping his hands in a cordial grip, 'I sincerely
wish you joy. Count upon me to turn up at the wedding in full fig with
my holiday face on.'
'Thanks,' said O'Hoolohan, 'thanks. I knew you were a brick. For the
present, farewell. The splicing will take place as soon as it can be
managed--but be sure I'll let you know in time;' and he moved towards
the door. As he reached the threshold he suddenly stopped and exclaimed,
'By Mars the immortal! I was near forgetting. This is what comes of
being in love. I have another service to ask of you.'
'Name it, by all means.'
'Oh! it's a mere formality. Will you be my second in a duel?'
'With the greatest pleasure in life,' said O'Hara; 'but, stay, which
comes off first, the wedding or the duel?'
O'Hoolohan cogitated for awhile as if he had not given that a thought
before.
'The duel first--of course, the duel first!' he exclaimed. 'The wedding
can wait, but the other, you know, is an affair of honour.'
'Hadn't you better let me know something about the quarrel? We may be
able to arrange it.'
'Not likely,' said O'Hoolohan drily. 'I must be fairly bothered,' he
added. 'Now that I recollect, it was to tell you all about the quarrel I
came here expressly, but one thing has driven the other clean out of my
mind.'
'Sit down,' said O'Hara, 'and go ahead.'