Having given my horse to an orderly, I walked into a little room, whose humble accommodations and unpretending appearance seemed in perfect keeping with the simple and unostentatious character of the general. The preparations for a good and substantial breakfast were, however, before me, and an English newspaper of a late date spread its most ample pages to welcome me. I had not been long absorbed in my reading, when the door opened, and the general, whose toilet was not yet completed, made his appearance.
“Egad, O’Malley, you startled me this morning. I thought we were in for it again.”
I took this as the most seasonable opportunity to recount my mishap of the morning, and accordingly, without more ado, detailed the unlucky meeting with the commander-in-chief. When I came to the end, Crawfurd threw himself into a chair and laughed till the very tears coursed down his bronzed features.
“You don’t say so, boy? You don’t really tell me you said that? By Jove! I had rather have faced a platoon of musketry than have stood in your shoes! You did not wait for a reply, I think?”
“No, faith, sir, that I did not!”
“Do you suspect he knows you?”
“I trust not, sir; the whole thing passed so rapidly!”
“Well, it’s most unlucky in more ways than one!” He paused for a few moments as he said this, and then added, “Have you seen the general order?” pushing towards me a written paper as he spoke. It ran thus:—
G.O. ADJUTANT-GENERAL’S OFFICE, VILLA FORMOSA,
May 6, 1811.
Memorandum.—Commanding officers are requested to send in to
the military secretary, as soon as possible, the names of officers they
may wish to have promoted in succession to those who have fallen
in action.”
“Now look at this list. The Honorable Harvey Howard, Grenadier Guards, to be first lieutenant, vice—No, not that. Henry Beauchamp—George Villiers—ay, here it is! Captain Lyttleton, Fourteenth Light Dragoons, to be major in the Third Dragoon Guards, vice Godwin, killed in action; Lieutenant O’Malley to be captain, vice Lyttleton, promoted. You see, boy, I did not forget you; you were to have had the vacant troop in your own regiment. Now I almost doubt the prudence of bringing your name under Lord Wellington’s notice. He may have recognized you; and if he did so, why, I rather think—that is, I suspect—I mean, the quieter you keep the better.”