Chapter Eleven.
Which of their weapons hath the conquest got
Over their wits; the pipe or else the pot?
For even the derivation of the name
Seems to allude and to include the same:
Tobacco as “to Bakcho”, one would say;
To cup-god Bacchus dedicated ay.
(This includes a joke in Greek script, not a very clever one.)
A few days after this occurrence, Terence Daly, more familiarly called “Terry,” a comrade quartered in the same room as myself, returned from Ireland, whence he had been on furlough, and brought with him a large bladder full of whisky. Now there were few, if any, of us ever calculated the effect of this ardent spirit so pure and so strong as Terry had brought it.
“Boys,” said he, as he tumbled the bladder from his valise on to the floor, “this is the raal dhrop of Irish eye-water—not Jamieson’s eye-water, but a betther soort, by rason of its being distilled in the Bog of Allan, and never paid a farden of duty.”
I had never before taken liquor of any description to such an extent as to make me intoxicated—in fact, I had fully made up my mind to avoid intemperance (the greatest curse of all, to both soldiers and civilians); but Terry, with the proverbial good nature of his race, insisted that I should have “one glass,” as all the rest of the men in the room. Some, unfortunately, were not content with one, two, or three glasses.
We were ordered for a “parade under arms” that afternoon, at three o’clock, and it was dinner-time when Terry produced the whisky. Now, a parade under arms, on foot, requires an uncommon degree of steadiness and precision. We were all steady enough until required to “form” and “dress” in troops before taking our place in the ranks with the main body of the regiment, but it was then discovered that the men who had partaken of the “eye-water,” including myself, could scarcely stand at all, let alone stand or march steady. It is a most serious crime in the army to be “drunk for duty;” indeed, a man who has been four times convicted of this crime is “drummed out of the regiment” (a process I shall describe in a future chapter). The result was that we were all confined in the guard-room until the following day, when we were escorted before the colonel.
Each was taken into the office and interrogated separately, and we told the truth, namely, that we had “no idea the whisky would have such an effect.” We were then all taken in together, and received a severe reprimand from the colonel, who ordered us to be “confined to barracks” for fourteen days. Terry, whose furlough did not expire until the evening of the day he returned, did not go to parade, and so he escaped.
Being simply “confined to barracks” is not considered a very severe punishment, as the soldier is only prohibited from passing out of the barrack-gate (except he be on duty), and not subjected to any other punishment. All soldiers undergoing punishment are “confined to barracks” in addition to such punishment, whatever it may be, and are termed “defaulters,” a list being kept in the guard-room, pasted on a board, so that the corporal of the guard, who is supposed to be in or about the door of the guard-room day and night, can always ascertain when a soldier presents himself to “pass out” whether he be a “defaulter” or not. It is the duty of the sentry at the front gate to prevent any soldier passing through until the corporal of the guard has first inspected him, in order to see, in the first place, that he is properly dressed for walking out in town, namely, that he is clean in his person and attire, has on a pair of white leather gloves, well-polished boots, and bright spurs, a whip or cane in his hand, and his cap “cocked” in that jaunty style that gives him an appearance of smartness, and a proper display of personal pride, without “puppyism.” This inspection, though always performed, is very seldom necessary, as the soldier generally possesses a sufficiency of native pride to dress himself so as to fancy he is a regular “swell.” Most young men, whether soldiers or civilians, are imbued with a certain amount of personal vanity; in some instances this amounts to gross foppishness; therefore the cavalry soldier may readily be excused for any display that may appear superfluous in the eyes of a civilian; for although he has few, if any, worldly possessions, and seldom more than a day’s pay in his pocket, yet he is for the most part in the enjoyment of rosy health and a sound constitution. Being subjected on his enlistment to the most skilful surgical examination, in order to ascertain if he be free from every taint of constitutional disease, and that all his limbs and the various organs of his body are perfect, he is more excusable for “showing off” his figure to the best than others, the nature of whose business directs their ideas into a more profitable channel.
Some of the “swells” in a cavalry regiment are more primitive in their style and manner of performing their toilets than their brother “swells” in civil life. The military “swell” is always his own valet and groom, and sometimes his own washerwoman. Rimmel’s perfumes, Rowlands’ Macassar and Odonto, and the rest of the toilet paraphernalia that forms a very considerable portion of the travelling luggage of a civilian “swell,” are all dispensed with in barrack or camp life. When the soldier “swell” prepares for parade or a “show off” in town, he first gives his clothes a thorough brushing, then he “chrome-yellows” the braid of his jacket and the stripes of his trousers, or applies some other “reviver” to correspond with the colour of the “facings” of his uniform, cleans his buttons, spurs, boots, and pipe-clays his gloves; he then whistles a tune, or sings a scrap of a song, as he sallies down to the stable with his towel and a piece of common soap, and drawing a bucket of water at the pump, he gives himself a thorough washing, often from head to foot, a spare stall in the stable being his bath-room; the rest of his toilet is performed in the barrack-room. If he wears only a moustache, and no beard on his chin, the latter part of his face must of course be frequently shaven, so as always to appear clean and respectable; for this purpose there is sometimes a “looking-glass,” about eight inches long and six inches wide, placed in some conspicuous part of the room for general use, but more frequently a fragment of a broken mirror about the size of a man’s hand, and mostly a three-cornered, or some other “cornered” shape, is all the toilet-glass used or required for the dressing and shaving of eight men. The “swells” will sometimes indulge in tooth-powder, and a species of villainous scented oil purchased at the canteen, but the majority, if they use oil or tooth-powder at all, will be content with powdered Bath-brick, a coarse but most effective tooth-powder; and the oil used for cleaning bits, stirrups, swords, and the like, is substituted for “Macassar,” to make the hair glossy. The “swells” will generally sport a riding whip during their walks in town, and those of their comrades who are not so fortunate as to possess one of their own will sometimes borrow these whips without leave, and then there is a “row in the island.” Many of these so-called “swells” have been well educated, and are well connected in civil life, and agreeable, nice fellows they are too; others are arrogant, conceited, and ignorant; these are termed “jumped-up swells-out-of-luck,” and are often told by the old soldiers that they are “better off in the army than any of their friends at home.” The idea that one man is better than another as a private soldier cannot be entertained, because it is considered that if the one who fancies himself superior to his comrades could by any means raise the money, he would purchase his discharge. The fashion of dyeing the moustachios, whiskers, and beard black, is quite a process, during which the barrack-room presents the appearance of a chemical laboratory. This toilet operation is performed just before bed-time. Procuring some litharge from the chemist’s and quicklime from a bricklayer, they mix these two powders together with salad-oil into a paste, and plaster it over every particle of the hair intended to be dyed; sometimes the hair on the head is treated to the process. Over this mixture they place a dock or cabbage leaf, and tie over the whole a bandage to keep the paste in its place, and then retire to rest, presenting, as they lie in bed, much the appearance of an Egyptian mummy about the head. If more than a proportionate quantity of quicklime be used, it will burn the skin; still, a necessary quantity should be added, as it is the principal acting ingredient, the oil and litharge only being added to counteract the burning effect the lime would otherwise have on the skin. When they rise in the morning and take off the bandages, the paste is perfectly dry and crumbles off the hair like dust; the hair is then washed and oiled, after which it presents a beautiful black and glossy appearance, which retains its colour for three or four weeks, and never stains the skin. As respects myself, I am gifted with a very fair crop of dark-brown hair, and, save when my moustachios were just beginning to bud, and I used the old toothbrush and india-ink given to me by my sweetheart “Dorcas” to make me appear more “manly,” and which dyed more of the skin than the hair, I have always been content with the colour given it by Nature.
There was little to “dress up” and walk out for in the neighbourhood of Hounslow, the barracks being a long way from the town, and the town itself small, dull, and uninteresting to soldiers of the “dandy school,” whose main object is to “show off,” as they fancy that every female they may meet will be in love with them.
Notwithstanding that the regiment was divided into four detachments, while the head-quarters was stationed here, we had in the winter season some “idle time” on our hands; and with the proverbial thoughtlessness and improvidence of soldiers generally, we sometimes spent it foolishly enough. Remaining in barracks for a week or more, and “saving up” our superfluous pay, we then used to sally out in parties of about a dozen each, to have what we called a “spree.”
About half a mile from barracks, on the road to the town, there was a public-house, the sign of “The Cricketers,” if I remember right. This house was frequented by many country people, such as waggoners, market-gardeners, and others, who called to “bait” and refresh themselves. With these people we used to fraternise, and have some fun, at times. I remember one cold, frosty day about Christmastime, about half a dozen of us went to this house for the purpose of having some “mulled ale,” commonly called “egg-flip,” from its being made of eggs, ale, nutmeg, ginger, etc. When we walked into the room, there was a very large company of the class I have named above assembled. A smoking-match had just been made between two Berkshire waggoners, as to which could smoke four ounces of tobacco in the east time for a wager of half-a-crown each. Nothing was said about the kind of pipes to be used by either party.
The tobacco and two short clay-pipes were placed on the table, and one of the competitors, called Sam by his friends, at once commenced smoking and puffing away at a great rate; the other, whose name was Dick, looked calmly on, while his tobacco and pipe lay on the table untouched.
“Go on, lad; I shall overtake thee presently,” said he.
Sam puffed away, emptied the ashes out of his pipe, and filled it again. Dick now made a move, walking into the kitchen. He soon returned with an old teapot.
“This is my pipe,” said he, placing it on the table, and putting the tobacco, paper, and all into the teapot, and then seizing the tongs, he selected a red-hot cinder from the fire, placing it on the tobacco, and then applying his capacious mouth to the spout, he sent forth a perfect volcano. This was smoking with a vengeance; we were obliged to open the door and windows, or we should have been partially suffocated. In vain Sam rammed the weed into the small bowl of his pipe and smoked away with all his might. A very short time sufficed to settle the business, and Dick, with his novel pipe, was declared the winner of the five shillings and the price of the tobacco. But Sam objected to pay: he had been outwitted, not outsmoked. There was a violent altercation, and, finally, the “sodgers” were requested to settle the dispute, which they did by calling upon each person to pay for his own tobacco, and smoke the wager over again at some future period.
While this uproarious scene was going on, I noticed, sitting in rather a dark corner of the room, an individual who was evidently not of the same class as the rest of the party, yet he appeared to be quite at home in their company, as they called him “Doctor.” He was a tall, miserable-looking specimen of human kind, attired in a rusty black surtout coat, buttoned close up to the throat, as if to conceal the disagreeable fact of his having no shirt on; his trousers, of the same material as his coat, were greasy and threadbare, and ragged at the bottoms; his boots were out at the toes: still he appeared cheerful and happy under the circumstances, and even cracked a joke now and then with the “Johnny Whopstraws,” who sat near him, one of whom, referring to the dilapidated shoes, asked him if they did not “let the wet in sometimes.” “What of that? they let it out again,” said he. Next to the “Doctor,” on a sort of wooden-seated sofa, sat another individual, well known in barracks as “Soapy,” who existed chiefly by collecting horse-droppings, and assisting the forage-carters to unload hay and straw.
“Soapy” was eating something that he appeared anxious to conceal, and, by the manner he put his hand up to his mouth, I suspected it to be horse-beans. He appeared confused whenever his gaze met mine, and therefore was not a little relieved when the party got up to dance to a tune that a merry little journeyman shoemaker was whistling and drumming on the table with his knuckles.
A rough-looking fellow took hold of the “Doctor.”
“Come, Doctor,” said he, “you must stir your old stumps.”
“Now, Soapy,” said another; and in a moment “Soapy” and the “Doctor” were hustled round and round; we preferred to sit still and witness the fun, otherwise our spurs would have left their marks on the shins of the clodhoppers. Tired of dancing, they began to push one another about. One man had his face blackened, but he was evidently unaware of it; some one pushed this man against the “Doctor,” and they both fell on the saw-dusted floor together; “Soapy” was pushed on the top of them, Dick and Sam, the rival smokers, being topmost of all. “Murder!” shouted the “Doctor;” the landlord came, and peace was soon restored.
After this row I noticed a lot of little round objects strewed all over the floor, which on examination proved to be empty pill-boxes. The mystery was now unravelled: the “Doctor” was a travelling quack, and “Soapy” had been eating his pills, to which he had helped himself from the “Doctor’s” pockets. When asked how he liked the pills, he said they were “very good,” and he thought they were “only comfits” (a mixture of flour and sugar). He had abstracted and actually eaten the contents of seventeen boxes, enough to “kill six horses,” as the “Doctor” said, by reason of their powerful purgative properties. He felt “Soapy’s” pulse, and talked of the stomach-pump, which did not in the least alarm the half-wit, who declared that he “could eat a wheelbarrow full of them.”
“Well,” said the Doctor, “I would not be in your place for all the world.”
We remained over an hour after this, during which no change took place in “Soapy’s” ordinary health, and meeting him in barracks about ten days after, I asked him whether the pills had made him ill. He replied, “No, not yet, but I expect they will do so, before long.”