Colonel Mead was raising a regiment in Dublin, to join the Independents in South America, during which time the Colonel became acquainted with Langan, and he roused in his breast so strong a sympathy for the American sons of liberty, that Langan resolved to give his bunch of fives a holiday for a short period, and to take up the cause of the Independents with his sword. Jack sailed from Liverpool, with that ill-fated expedition, in the Charlotte Gambier brig, in company with another vessel, named La Force. Langan, being a smart, lively fellow, was made a sergeant, as an earnest of his patron’s future intentions. During the voyage, the privations which the crew endured were extremely severe; but by the really patriotically inclined adventurer they were borne without a murmur, while those individuals who embarked to obtain wealth by their speculation—the thoughts of the gold and silver mines, those precious metals, which their minds had flattered them might be had for carrying away—pursued their voyage without grumbling, in hopes that they would be paid for their troubles at last. Indeed, so strongly did the accumulation of riches operate upon some of their feelings, that several of the crew employed themselves in making canvass bags, out of old sailcloth, to hold the dollars and doubloons.
The first place this expedition touched at was St. Michael’s. Colonel Mead, in a conversation with the British Consul, mentioned Langan as a pugilist; when the latter gentleman expressed a wish to witness an exhibition of sparring. Langan immediately complied with the request of the British Consul, and on board of the Charlotte Gambier some sets-to occurred. The superiority of Langan was so great, in point of scientific movements, over the hardy and brave sailors, that he disposed of five or six in the style of an auctioneer knocking down a lot of sundries. From the Azores they sailed to Tobago. In this island Langan’s brother died, who once belonged to Admiral Nelson’s ship, the Victory. The brother of Langan was on board when the gallant Admiral died at Aboukir Bay.[[15]]
The expedition then made for the island of St. Marguerite, which was made the depôt, but more correctly speaking, the grave of the European troops. Landed at St. Marguerite, the anticipation of wealth and glory vanished, and the truth presented itself. Owing to the state of starvation, the badness of the food, and the unwholesomeness of the climate, the men, one after the other, sunk into the grave. Langan, with a constitution unbroken, defied all the horrors by which he was surrounded, and never enjoyed a better state of health. He was always foremost in giving assistance to his sick comrades, and never complained of being unwell for a single day. To describe the sufferings of this wretched, ill-fated band, is impossible; the officers did not experience any kinder treatment than the men. It was nothing uncommon to meet with superior officers, with scarcely any covering upon their backs, ragged as beggars, an old blanket thrown across their emaciated frames, with holes made to admit their head and arms.
The proverb says that “hunger will force its way through stone walls.” Langan, who had been without food for a considerable time, in company with Captain Collins and Major Brian, were compelled to compromise their feelings, and went seven miles up the country one night to pay their respects to an inviting pig. The residence of this four-footed beauty had been marked down in the course of the day, and the spot was soon recognised in the dark. Our hero, who did not want for science in flooring an opponent, was quite at a loss to quiet a pig: coaxing proved fruitless, and the pig made so much noise that its owner was instantly alarmed for the safety of his inmate, and a party sallied out well armed to shoot the abductors. Langan, at this juncture, had got hold of the pig’s leg by way of a parley; but his companions catching a glimpse of the farmers, who were approaching in battle array, and being unarmed, made their escape. Running away from the scene of action was so contrary to the feelings of our hero, that he hesitated for a moment whether he should show fight or bolt; but ten to one being rather too much odds for Jack, he plunged into the nearest thicket and laid himself down. In this situation he waited their approach, and heard his pursuers thrust their rifles, with a sword affixed to the end, into every bush and thicket which they supposed able to conceal a man. When Langan’s pursuers approached the place where he had hid himself, they thrust the rifle, with the sword, into the thicket several times without doing him the slightest injury; but the last push wounded Langan in the leg. His game was put to the test. To cry out would have cost him his life; silence, therefore, was his only security. The armed band now retired, concluding the borrowers of the pigs had made good their retreat. When the coast was clear, Langan hobbled from his place of concealment, and joined his companions in safety.
It ought to have been mentioned, that soon after Langan’s arrival at St. Marguerite, Colonel Mead mentioned his prowess in the milling line to Admiral Bryan, who had a penchant for fistic exercises. The admiral’s boatswain, Jack Power, bore a high character for his thumping qualities, and was anxious to have a trial of skill with our hero. The boatswain waited upon Langan with proposals for a match; he was received by the latter with a hearty welcome, and the match made without delay. Three days only were allowed for training; at the expiration of which a proper place was selected for the mill, and a tolerably good ring made, although not so tight and compact as the Commissary-general of England, Bill Gibbons, might have produced. At the coolest period of the day, the combatants, attended by their respective friends, appeared; the “legion” of course attended to have a peep at the triumph of their countryman. For the first five rounds the boatswain took the load: his constitution was excellent, and his shipmates backed him to win. Jack was floored several times, and napt lots of punishment, but his pluck never deserted him; his superior science enabled him to get out of trouble, and his goodness upon his legs ultimately decided the battle in his favour. The natives appeared highly pleased with the manly exhibition; and it is to be sincerely wished that they had also profited by such a display of true courage over the stiletto and knife, those treacherous weapons being generally used among the natives, the legitimate use of the bunch of fives being unknown to them. This conquest tended to increase Langan’s popularity, and also to establish his character as an out-and-outer among the islanders.
At this period Langan’s rank was Quarter-master Sergeant; promotion had been promised to him on the first opportunity, but in consequence of the gross mismanagement of the funds, and the neglect which had occurred in the hospital department, Jack resolved to quit the service. Langan, therefore, left St. Marguerite, and worked his passage to Trinidad, in company with several officers and men, whose military ardour was damped by the want of funds and clothing, and the dreary prospects of the expedition.
At Trinidad Jack found employment in a coaster, the property of a Mr. Jewel, a merchant in the island. Some months were passed by Langan in this new mode of life, when he came alongside of a Bristol man of the name of Newton, who had milled several of Jack’s shipmates. Meantime another boxer arrived at Trinidad, with whom Jack was compelled to enter the lists without delay; but Jack polished off “Mr. Newcome” in such quick and decisive style that the backers of Newton became alarmed; they possessed influence enough, however, to induce the governor to draw his bets upon the intended match, and in all probability, by so doing, not only saved the honour of Newton, but also their pockets. Soon after the above circumstance Jack sailed for Cork, on board of the Guadaloupe, of Greenock: after a most favourable voyage he arrived at Cork in safety. It is impossible to depict his feelings on his once more beholding his beloved country; the ideas and anticipated delight of “sweet home!” formed altogether a most agreeable contrast with the difficulties and privations he had experienced in less hospitable climes.
Langan’s stay in Cork was very short, and Dublin soon became the object of his attention; at the latter famed city, he began the world again in the character of a publican; an employment for which it should seem that nature had peculiarly adapted him. He was a lively fellow over his glass, possessing a fund of wit and humour well calculated to amuse; not forgetting, at the same time, that Jack was seconded by a fair stock of muscle and bone, to keep up good discipline amongst disorderly or rum customers. Thus we perceive our hero changing from one tutelary divinity to another, discarding Mars to worship at the shrine of Bacchus! The jolly god was delighted at receiving the devoirs of such a votary, showering upon him his benign influence, and, for two years, Langan carried on a roaring trade, in King Street, at the sign of the Irish Arms, which bears the following motto:—
“Quiet when stroked;
Fierce when provoked!”