by Dudley Costello (uncredited).
Originally published in Household Words (Bradbury & Evans) vol.2 #44 (25 Jan 1851).
Part II—Foreign Service.
The pleasures of a barrack-yard, which Maurice began now to enjoy, were not destined to be of long continuance—at least without further probation; for one fine day in June, a letter arrived from the Horse Guards, ordering the commanding officer to hold the regiment in readiness for immediate embarkation for foreign service. The news soon spread, and a stir was visible throughout the barracks, every man eagerly asking what was "The Route?" To enhance his national importance, which stood little in need of anything out of the common, the serjeant-major made a mystery of this particular, until he had assembled the "none-commissioned" (so he called them) to whom he communicated the fact—with as much circumstance as if he had received it personally under the Duke's own autograph—that the regiment was ordered to Halifax in Nova Scotia.
In spite of the regimental school, which did not, however, at that time, attract one-twentieth part of the voluntary scholars who now flock to it, there were very few who knew exactly where Halifax, or indeed, where North America itself was situated. The prevailing idea was in favour of "Chiny," that being the region to which all terræ incognitæ are generally consigned by the uninitiated; but some, whose geographical notions were even less precise, associating Halifax with a proverbial expression current in the army, were inclined to think that it claimed kindred with even a warmer climate than that of "the flowery land." They found out their mistake before they had been many months on the other side of the Atlantic.
But the regiment was not left altogether to burst in ignorance, or discover, by dint of experience where Nova Scotia really was; for it happened that there was one old soldier in it—and he richly deserved the appellation—who had formerly been quartered there. This was a man of the name of Patrick MacManus, who had commenced his military career in the "Music" of the regiment, when he was barely ten years old, and just able to jingle the triangles, whose melody he was called upon to elicit. From the band he was transferred to the drums; and after two or three years' experience in drubbing sheep-skin, was elevated to the fifes. To what further musical eminence he might have attained, it is difficult to say; perhaps he might have expended himself on the key-bugle, or have become absorbed in the big drum; but at the proper age for rendering efficient military service, the instrument to which he took a fancy, was the musket—and he was drafted into the battalion.
There might have been something more than mere fancy in his last choice, for Patrick was tender-hearted; and, though he would have fought any lad in the regiment of his own weight and age—or heavier and older, for that matter—as soon as eat his breakfast, he never could bring himself to handle "the cat;" and when MacManus was a boy, a week seldom passed without his having more than one "five-and-twenty" to administer as his share of punishment inflicted before breakfast—when the meal that followed the punishment parade was rarely swallowed.[1] On these occasions the drum-major's cane left tokens on Patrick's shoulders of the unwillingness with which he performed this description of "duty;" and that functionary, who was a sharp, red-faced little man, with a bandy elbow, gladly resigned his "chicken-hearted" pupil—as he called him, by a misnomer which Patrick very soon rectified. MacManus quickly became a smart soldier, and, being generally liked in the regiment, had as reasonable a prospect of promotion as could be desired; but, whether he were born—as some are—without ambition, or whether ill-luck, as frequently happens, predominated over his destiny, is a matter of doubt. Perhaps the real cause of his continuing in the ranks arose from the good-nature and "devil-may-care-ism" that got him into so many scrapes; which, though they did not affect his moral character, by no means elevated him in the eyes of the authorities as a model of military discipline.
But if he did not acquire distinction by rank, MacManus speedily gained that sound distinction which renders a man invaluable on a march or bivouack, round a camp-fire or on a recruiting party; he could tell a good story, sing a good song, had an inexhaustible fund of good spirits, and made the best of everything that was bad. "It's the rough coat that turns the wet," he used to say, "so never take sorrow to heart, boys." But if MacManus kept sorrow aloof he did not exclude sympathy, and it is difficult in the long run to prevent the two from uniting, only he took the disease in a mild form, his warmth of heart preventing him from catching cold upon it. The best elements of popularity were thus in his natural disposition, and then the length of his service gave him authority, so that if any question were on foot in the regiment affecting the rights or interests of the soldier, or if any doubtful point were to be decided, an appeal was always made to MacManus, and whatever he said was sure to give satisfaction.
Accordingly, when the route, of which we have spoken, was made known, a bevy of fellows, foremost amongst whom was Maurice Savage, hurried off to the Canteen where MacManus was taking a quiet pipe and pot with his friend Corporal Pettier, and "discoorsin'" on the now universal topic.
"It's about Halifax, then, that you want to know, boys!" said the veteran. "Make a circle and keep silence, and I'll tell you as much as will serve you all round for nightcaps. I was but a gossoon when first I put my foot upon the iron-bound shores of Novy Skoshy, but I saw enough while I was there, and staid long enough to remember all about the place. It was in the Duke of Kent's time,—her Majesty's royal father—he was called Prince Edward then, and a pretty time we had of it. Och, boys, the drill was murthering entirely! The officers called it 'discipline,'—it's harrassin' the men in quarters, not discipline in the field that I mane, for ye can't have too much discipline in front of the enemy—that is, in rayson. You think it hard, boys, to be handed over to the care of Corporal Rattler (here's your health Corporal), when you hear the 'rouse and turn out,' at six o'clock on a fine summer's morning; but I should like to know what you'd have said, when the bugle blew in the middle of the night, and it was who should be first up to plaster his head with powder and pomatum, shave off his whiskers close under the cheek-bone, leaving just enough to swear by, tie his comrade's pigtail at a mathematical angle, pipe-clay his belts, heel-ball his pouch, and do fifty other things that he ought to have got ready the evening before, to be in time for the daylight parade in the climate of Novy Skoshy, with the glass down at zero,—that's 'nothing,' boys—or may be, five or six degrees below it."
"Less than nothing!" interrupted the schoolmaster sergeant, who was ex-officio the regimental Bonnycastle, and had a vile habit of taking nothing for granted till it was proved; "less than nothing! How do you make that out, Pat?"
"As pat as you plase, Sergeant, for a learned ignoramus as you are! A glass that held less than nothing would be a bad one to drink out of; wouldn't it, Corporal Rattler?—(the gallant militarist nodded, and drained his own, by way of trying the experiment)—but I'm spaking of a weather-glass, an insthrument like my pipe filled with quicksilver, only it's straight up and down, like your cane, with 'nothing' scored across the belly of it, and plenty of tail to bring up the rear. But we wanted no thermometer to tell us it was could in Novy Skoshy, where the water froze over the fire; and if a man handled his piece awkwardly, he maybe left the skin of his fingers sticking to the barrel."
The majority of MacManus's auditors gave a furtive glance at their horny hands as he made this announcement.
"It's clumsy work tossing Brown Bess about in gloves," continued MacManus; "but you must do it there if you want to keep out of hospital—ay, and wash your face in snow if you're frostbitten; or, perhaps, you may lave your ears behind you, and wake with a blue nose like the native Haligonians! How any of us presarved a feature of our faces is more than I can tell you; for when we got outside the barrack-yard, and were marched off in the dark to Rockingham, where his Royal Highness lived, a place between five and six miles off, the Barber got a-hould of us, and—"
"Was it the barber of the ridgement?" interrupted Maurice, whose beard had not yet begun to sprout.
"Ay, and garrison too, my lad—the universal barber—he had a roving commission, as the sailors say; but I'll tell you, boys—'The Barber' is the name the Haligonians give to the north-wester, that cuts in them parts sharper than any razor. You've about six months' winter, dead-on-end, in that climate, and he blows pretty nigh all the time. Well, we had this to face on our march, two hours of it, pitch dark, with creepers on our feet and heavy packs on our backs, and what for? To be overhauled by his Royal Highness and staff, almost afore they could see whether we was the soldiers they came out to inspect, or so many ridgments of half-friz Novy Skoshian bears! Faith, the bears had the best of it, for they had no tails to tie or pomatum to use—though they're said to furnish it in plenty—and only comes out when they're hunger-driven, but stays at home, for the most part, sleepin' and suckin' their paws. The devil a much sleep did we get, with three nights in bed for garrison duty, and two out of it every week for parade at Rockingham, at half-past six on a winter's mornin' in heavy marching order! And then the sentries, whether it war on the dockyard wharf, or in the fort, high or low, the could got at you and nipped you like a vice. Oh, there was one post on the brow of the hill,—many's the time I never expected to be alive when the relief came round, and more than one poor fellow took his last sleep in that sentry box, not from neglect of duty, but in respect of the drowsiness which bate 'em entirely. Once give way to it, boys, and it's all up with you!"
"And is it so cold as this all the year round?" asked one of his hearers.
"It is not" replied MacManus with emphasis. "Thry a three hours drill on the common in summer, and see what you'll make of it. Talk of the glass then; it's at boiling hate, and the birds in the air fall down ready roasted. Or go into the woods, and a pumpkin's a fool to the size of your head, after being stung to death with the black flies and muskeeties, when you come out again. But these is all the accidents of climate, boys. There's plenty to make up for them inconveniences. Speruts is dirt chape (hear, hear, from Corporal Rattler), 'specially Prince Edward's Island Whiskey; mate of all kinds is raysonable, and so is greens, and the like, and 'taties; fish is to be had for a song, and they throw the lobsters at you, if you just looked at 'em. A lad, when he's off duty, may go out of an afthernoon and ate as many ras'b'ries off the rocks as would keep a pastry-cook in jam for a twelvemonth. Then there's the fogs and the snow when you can't go out to drill (Barrack-room drill can always be had, suggested Corporal Rattler), and the sleigh-driving, and the snow-balling, and the sliding down hill—for it's all down hill at Halifax—and the officers' plays, and all kinds of divarsions of which you partake, more or less. Oh, take my word for it, there's worse places in the world than Novy Skoshy, and some of us'll live to find that out."
In this exposé of MacManus there was enough, and more than enough, to set his audience thinking, and many were the speculations to which it gave birth; but, on the whole, the men were well enough pleased with their destination. It seldom happens otherwise, for no class is so fond of change and movement as the soldier, and that, at least, was secured by the order to march. How the march or transit was to be conducted, was another affair, and that it is our business now to describe.
Four transports were immediately taken up by government, and, as fast as they were got ready, were sent round to Liverpool, to receive the number of troops allotted to each. It will be enough for our purpose to select that which bore Maurice and his fortunes.
An embarkation, however, is never a very satisfactory performance, even in private life; but when the "small family party" consists of a couple of hundred soldiers, a good many of them not very sober, with their wives, their children, their pet dogs, their bird-cages, their arm-chests, their bandboxes, bundles, and other impedimenta, the pleasures of travel are not very greatly enhanced. It is pleasant enough, marching out of barracks to the tune of "The Girl I left behind me," but before your troops are fairly settled down in your transport, a variety of "disagreeables" have to be encountered.
The worst of these occur on board the transport; but it is no trifling task to get everybody fairly into the boats; and a drover's dog at Smithfield has but a slight duty to perform in getting his flock into their pen, compared with that of officers and non-commissioned officers in routing the stragglers out of the public-houses into which they will drop to take "the parting-glass" with each other, though their destination be identical, and the dreaded separation no greater than the distance between their respective hammocks. The ladies too—pity that we should say so—give no little trouble. The stern rules of the service admit of only six married women per company; and the selection, in this case, is guided by the good conduct of the claimants, of whom there are always more than the regulations admit of taking. Add to this, the fact, that it generally happens that promises which, no doubt, would gladly be forgotten—not to say broken—are rigidly enforced during the last week before the regiment embarks, by damsels who will not be included in the category alluded to in the pleasant tune with which the men march out of quarters. The consequence of this is, that three or four women, per company, are often added to its strength—we must not say its weakness—at the very last moment, for whom there is not the shadow of a chance that they will be permitted to go out with their husbands. Nevertheless, they marry; they climb into the baggage-wagon, "just to say good-bye,"— they weep and embrace, and wave their handkerchiefs at the water-side; they scream "farewell," in accents of the wildest despair; they swoon on the beach, are carried off by compassionate individuals, and are seen no more, till some four or five days afterwards, when the transport is fairly "in blue water," when they emerge from their hiding-places, between decks, satisfied—though they are not to be provisioned, and are threatened with all sorts of pains and penalties—that it is impossible now to send them back; in spite of the declaration of the commanding officer on board, that he will hail the first vessel he meets returning to England, and trans-ship them in the middle of the Atlantic!
How these extra women manage to effect their entrance into the transport, is a mystery as great as that which puzzled George the Third in the celebrated case of the apple-dumplings; but ban and bar them as you will, seize on them when they are half-way up the side, put double sentries at each gang-way, resort to every ingenious expedient that can be thought of, and, malgré tous, not a "man-jack" of these Ariadnes will be left behind. Perhaps the inappropriate word we have just used may furnish some clue to the enigma in the alteration of costume; but this is a mere conjecture on our part, having no experience to recount of having detected the Billy Taylor transmigration.
The distribution of the troops into their several berths; the stowing of the baggage into impossible corners—perhaps already filled by some of the prohibited women; the safe bestowal of "the inebriated;" the successful mustering of "the sick, lame, and lazy;" are strokes of art which ought alone to ensure the promotion of those who are called upon to perform them. If the people of the transport lent any kind of assistance, it would be something; but from the agent in his cabin, to the loblolly boy in the caboose, the sole occupation of each consists in damning "the sogers," and sulkily refusing to answer the simplest questions; so that they don't mend the matter, and the only thing left, is to trust to time and that providential interference, which is always working for our good, unseen, though we by no means recommend those in difficulties to trust to it alone.
As long as the transport is in harbour, difficulties abound; boats are always coming alongside with hecatombs of fresh meat and piles of vegetables, for the officers and sergeants' messes: smugglers insinuate gin in bladders; an unlucky woman is discovered, and sent ashore, who comes back again somehow, like a bad penny—probably in the return boat; in short, until the Blue Peter is hoisted, the vessel is one scene of unutterable confusion. In the early days of Patrick MacManus, this scene was prolonged till the wind blew fair, but the steam-tugs now are the "tricksy spirits" that supersede the wind till the transports are outside.
It was by the aid of two of these nautical Effreets that the "Eliza Biggleswade" transport, with "No. 27" painted on each side of her bows, which conveyed the last division of the -- Regiment, was tugged into the Channel, where Maurice Savage, and about a hundred and fifty of his comrades—to say nothing of women and children—commenced that series of involuntary evolutions which are almost invariably performed by those who have never been at sea before.
In the course of a few days, however, matters righted themselves a little. Soldiers are not allowed to be sick any longer than is absolutely necessary; and it is surprising how effective the word of command is which sends a fellow on deck to look out for his grog at the tub, or his ration at the caboose, when he knows that if he remains below he shall receive neither. "Sea legs" are not very readily found in ordinary cases; but a soldier discovers his as soon as most people, having his ranks to keep, and certain manœuvres to go through on a limited scale, in spite of the rolling or pitching of the vessel, and at the expiration of a week or so, there remained scarcely half-a-dozen on board the "Eliza Biggleswade" who had not been laughed or drilled out of their "sea-sorrows." The voyage was accomplished without any remarkable casualties; there was cod-fishing by day, on the Banks of Newfoundland, to amuse the men. and give them a welcome supply, and a careful watch and ward by night on the same banks to escape being run down in the heavy Newfoundland fogs.
Sable Island, dreary and inhospitable though it be, was hailed and passed with pleasure. Sambro' light was a welcome signal; the pilot, who came on board in the grey of the morning, was a messenger of glad tidings; and the beautiful harbour of Halifax a joyful sight after seven weeks' confinement in the "Eliza Biggleswade."
To land with far more regularity than they had embarked—shake hands with their comrades, who had preceded them—to march up the hill to barracks, with the air of men who had already seen some service, and were prepared to see more—and to know that they were in a new hemisphere, with no aspect materially altered of things they had been accustomed to behold—were matters on which the young soldiers congratulated themselves with no small degree of internal satisfaction; and no one amongst them more readily than Maurice Savage, heretofore the unwilling pupil of Corporal Rattler, but now by no means the least active or efficient of the light company in the Regiment.
His further and final progress will be told next week.
1. A vast amelioration with respect to corporal punishment has taken place within the last twenty-five years. At that time the articles of war permitted, and the inclination of the commanding officer very often enforced a punishment of three hundred lashes, when such was the sentence of a Regimental or Garrison Court Martial; moreover, if the crime were desertion, or a more than ordinarily flagrant breach of military discipline, and a General Court Martial sat on the delinquent, the amount of punishment might range from five hundred to eight hundred lashes (or even more), though the latter number was the most we ever had the misfortune to witness the infliction of, on one individual. Now, the amount of corporal punishment is never permitted to exceed fifty lashes, and this only in aggravated cases; the general number being twenty-five, and those rarely inflicted, so that, practically, corporal punishment may be said to be almost abolished.