The Padrè in addition to his other accomplishments was a sportsman, and as he was possessed of a pointer dog (a companion which, as we had more mouths than food, we were obliged to deny ourselves), his company in the field on that account was in great request; whatever his feats might have been there however, he generally came off but second best. I remember that two of our gentlemen accompanied him the first day, and when they sprung the first covey, the Padrè's bird, out of the three shots, was the only one that came to the ground; but notwithstanding, one of the officers immediately ran up and very coolly placed it in his own bag. The Padrè ran up too, and stood gaping open-mouthed thinking he had pocketed the bird in joke; however, the other went on deliberately loading as if all had been right. Meanwhile, the other officer coming up, said, "Why, S. that was not your bird, it is the Padrè's!" "My dear sir," he replied, "I know it is not my bird, but do you suppose that I would allow a fellow like that to think that he had killed a bird? My good sir, I would not allow him to suppose for one moment that he had even fired at it!"
[CHAP. X.]
Shewing how a volunteer may not be what Doctor Johnson made him.—A mayor's nest.—Cupping.—The Author's reasons for punishing the world with a book.—And some volunteers of the right sort.
When we next changed our quarter we found the new one peopled exclusively by old wives and their husbands, and, as the enemy were at a distance, we should certainly have gone defunct through sheer ennui, had not fortune sent us a fresh volunteer—a regular "broth of a boy," from the Emerald Isle, who afforded ample scope for the exercise of our mischievous propensities during our hours of idleness.
A volunteer—be it known to all who know it not—is generally a young man with some pretensions to gentility—and while, with some, those pretensions are so admirably disguised as to be scarcely visible to the naked eye, in others they are conspicuous; but, in either case, they are persons who, being without the necessary influence to obtain a commission at home, get a letter of introduction to the commander of the forces in the field, who, if he approves, attaches them to regiments, and, while they are treated as gentlemen out of the field, they receive the pay, and do the duty of private soldiers in it. In every storming party or service of danger, in which any portion of a regiment is engaged, if a volunteer is attached to it, he is expected to make one of the number, and, if a bullet does not provide for him in the meantime, he eventually succeeds to the commission of some officer who has fallen in action.
Tommy Dangerfield, the hero of my tale, was, no doubt, (as we all are,) the hero of his mother—in stature he was middle sized—rather bull shouldered, and walked with bent knees—his face was a fresh good-natured one, but with the usual sinister cast in the eye worn by common Irish country countenances—in short, Tommy was rather a good-looking, and, in reality, not a bad, fellow, and the only mistake which he seemed to have made, was in the choice of his profession, for which his general appearance and his ideas altogether disqualified him—nevertherless, had he fallen into other hands it is possible that he might have passed muster with tolerable repute until the termination of the war; but I don't know how it was, nor do I know whether we differed from other regiments in the same respect, but our first and most uncharitable aim was to discover the weak points of every fresh arrival, and to attack him through them. If he had redeeming qualities, he, of course, came out scatheless, but, if not, he was dealt with most unmercifully. Poor Tommy had none such—he was weak on all sides, and therefore went to the wall.
At the time he joined, we were unusually situated with regard to the enemy, for, on ordinary occasions, we had their sentries opposite to ours within a few hundred yards; but, at that period, we had the French garrison of Ciudad Rodrigo behind us, with the 52d regiment between; while the nearest enemy in our front was distant some ten or twelve miles—nevertheless, our first essay was to impress Tommy with a notion that our village was a fortified place, and that we were closely blockaded on all sides—and it became our daily amusement to form a reconnoitring party to endeavour to penetrate beyond the posts—which posts, be it remarked, were held by a few of our own men, disguised for the purpose, and posted at the out-skirts of the village wood.
Tommy, though not a desperate character, shewed no want of pluck—wherever we went he followed, and wherever we fled he led the way!
On the first occasion of the kind we got him on horseback, and conducting him through the wood until we received the expected volley, we took to our heels in the hope that he would get unseated in the flight, but he held on like grim death, and arrived in the village with the loss of his cap only. It was, however, brought to him in due time by an old rifleman of the name of Brotherwood, who had commanded the enemy on that occasion, but who claimed peculiar merit in its recovery; and, having taken the opportunity of cutting a hole in it as if a ball had passed through, he got a dollar for the cut!