After receiving my bounty of the eighteen guineas (£4 of which were deducted for my kit, which I was to have on joining), the sum allowed at that time to those who volunteered from the militia, I took the mail coach for Dublin, where I found a recruiting party of my new regiment, consisting of one sergeant, a corporal and six privates. I must say I felt highly delighted with the smart appearance of the men, as well as with their green uniform. The sergeant proposed that I should remain in Dublin, being as it were, almost a native of that city, from which circumstance he thought I might materially assist in raising recruits.
Recruiting, on the pay of a private soldier, is anything but pleasant, and particularly if he be confined to the mere shilling a-day, doled out to him once a-week, for he not unfrequently spends it all the first night he receives it. I myself had woefully experienced this, having been frequently for days without food, through my irregularities and my unwillingness to acquaint my friends that I was so near them.
I was crawling about one day in this manner, heartily tired of my first sample of military life, garbed in an old green jacket of the sergeant’s, when I was accosted by a smart young fellow. After eyeing me rather shrewdly from head to foot for several seconds, “I say, green boy,” said he, “do you belong to the Croppies? D—— me, but I like your dress. What bounty do you give?”
“Eighteen guineas,” replied I.
“Come then,” said he, “tip us a shilling. I’m your man.” Unfortunately for me, I had not a farthing, for I had eaten nothing for that and the whole of the previous day. However, knowing that we received two pounds for every recruit, I hurried into a public-house near at hand, and requested of the landlord to lend me a shilling, telling him the use for which I wanted it. This he very kindly did, and I handed it over to the recruit, who, chucking it instantly on the counter, called for the worth of it in whiskey. While we remained drinking, the sergeant, whom I had sent for, arrived, and supplying us with money, the recruit passed the doctor and was sworn in for our corps.
His name was Wilkie, he was an Englishman; his father having been sent for from Manchester to superintend a glass manufactory in Dublin, accounted for his being here. He was a fine young fellow of about five feet eight inches in height, and possessed all the genuine elements of a soldier, that is, was quarrelsome, generous and brave, of which qualities he gave us a specimen the evening he enlisted, by quilting a pair of coal-heavers. After a few days, he introduced me to his family, consisting of his parents and a sister, a remarkably pretty girl of about seventeen. Had war not claimed me with her iron grasp as her proselyte, I, no doubt, should have interwoven my destinies with the silken web of Cupid, who, very naturally, when my youth and early passions are considered, for I was but nineteen, tapped me very seriously on the shoulder.
I, however, went on recruiting, and the two pounds I received for enlisting Wilkie, I handed over to my landlady in advance for future food, which my last misfortune had taught me to value. This precaution, as is generally the case, was now no longer necessary, for in a short time after, we enlisted so many recruits, that money became very plentiful, and I was enabled to get coloured clothes. While we remained in Dublin, I became a constant visitor at the house of Wilkie’s father, and the young lady I have alluded to, not disapproving of my advances, a serious attachment followed. But my stay threatened to be speedily terminated, as the sergeant and his party received orders to join his regiment immediately, then at Colchester,
Mars and Cupid beat to arms,
and placed me in the predicament of the donkey betwixt the hay stacks. I became bewildered as to which to take, both being, as it were, necessary to the calls of my nature.
At last, the time for parting arrived, which took place after a little private snivelling and simpering, and the usual vows of eternal fidelity, passion and remembrance—which last I have kept to this day. She and her mother accompanied Wilkie and myself towards the Pigeon House, Ringsend, and in something more than twenty-four hours, we found ourselves cheek by jowl with the quays of Liverpool. It was past midnight when we cast anchor. We were ordered to remain on board; but Wilkie’s and my own anxiety to see the place took advantage of a loop hole in the waterman’s pocket, and we got ashore in our coloured clothes; from the lateness of the hour, however, we were obliged to take lodgings in a cellar. We had not been long settled and asleep below stairs, before I was awoke by the bright glare of a bull’s eye lanthorn staring me full in the face, and some five or six rough sailors all armed to the teeth, standing before us.