In the course of a few rounds Tummas fell, but caught by his breech, remaining hanging over the barrel edge; up however, he was re-seated, and at it they went again until Yankee fell also, and hung in the same manner.
“Excellent!” roared the boatswain, “excellent prewentative, or my old aunt warnt a wirgin!”
Yankee was soon himself, and they closed again, round after round, until the two champions hung powerless at the same moment.
“Drawn fight!” bellowed the little man again; “both tough ones;” and he proceeded to separate with an enormous clasp knife the fixtures at their trowsers: all this while the crowd about them were convulsed with laughter, which was further increased by a hole in each of the combatant’s trowsers, which the boatswain had carefully cut large enough almost to admit the barrel. The two sailors, however, having recovered themselves, and with a growl tucked back the blue check, steered away to the wine-house.
Among the officers of our battalion that had been wounded at Almeida, was one Captain Mitchell, who having received a ball through the arm, was transferred with us to Lisbon: when sufficiently recovered, he one morning came to the convalescent barrack to muster those who were willing and able to rejoin their regiments. Amongst others selected, was a man named Billy M’Nabb, of our corps, a most notorious skulker and a methodist. He had scarcely ever done duty with his company, but had remained sneaking about the hospital as an orderly; and occasionally preaching and praying to the drunken soldiers in the streets of Lisbon. Captain Mitchell, however, had made up his mind that M’Nabb should see the enemy before he returned to England, and as a “persuasive,” when Billy most violently resisted the summons, ordered him to be tied to the bullock-cart, amid the jeers of the soldiers, and conveyed back to his regiment. But it was only for a short period, as Billy got tired of the “sight,” and took the earliest opportunity to decamp, for he suddenly disappeared from among us, and but for my having seen him since preaching in the streets of London, should have been inclined to think he never returned home at all.
The morning that the convalescents fell in to start for the main-army, we were joined by a batch of recruits, chiefly intended for the 68th and 85th regiments. They were a squad of plump, rosy-cheeked, smart-looking fellows, and like ourselves, each of them had been provided with five days’ rations in advance; consisting of salt pork, biscuits, and rum, the first of which they cooked ready for the march.
Their officer in command was an astonishing man, nearly seven feet high. I shall never forget him: by his high-cheeked bones and dark complexion, I took him at first to be a foreigner; but as soon as he spoke, his broad accent declared him to be a North Briton, as far north as could be. He seemed well acquainted with every theory, or that part of a campaign which is generally digested at home; and as a sample of this, he ordered his men, in accordance with the regulations of Dundas, the then Commander-in-chief, to halt and rest ten minutes or a quarter of an hour at the end of every three miles.
“Coom, men,” he would say, pulling out his gold watch, “ye ken, I suppose, yer three miles is up, set ye down and eat a pound, the mair ye tak into yer stomachs the less ye’ll carry on yer backs.” This over, the watch would be again in requisition, and it would be, “Coom men, yer quarter of an hour is nearly up, ye maun aye be ganging again;” and the men, of course, would fall in. By thus halting every three miles, and eating a pound each time, before we reached Mafra, at the end of the second day’s march, the men had “pounded” the whole of their five days’ rations, and some of them began to growl most confoundedly from the want of provisions. Wishing to know the cause, he sent for the sergeant, and desired him to inquire, when the latter informed him.
“Hoot mon, ye dinna say that, do ye? Tell them all to fall in. I fear I maun chop a wee logic with them.”
“Oh ye hungry hounds,” he exclaimed, when the men appeared before him. “Ye dinna ken the grand army yet; not content now, ye maun aye whistle then, for ye waunna get in ten days then what your hungry maws have now devoor’d in twa!” saying which, he placed himself at their head, to direct their movements when on the march. I used to liken him to a kite, while the files, of short men after him, reminded me of the tail. His shoulders were so broad and yet so skinny and square, and his height so convenient, that without stirring a peg from the front section, he would wave his sword and look over their heads down the ranks and see every manœuvre.