“It is not exactly what you would call bracing to-night, even,” said Fitzgerald.
And, indeed, the air was very close, and the march over the loose sand fatiguing. But the men stepped out merrily, and joke and song lightened the way. There was an improvisatore in the Blankshire, whose comrades considered him a wonderful genius, though, as a matter of fact, his extempore effusions only consisted of taking some well-known song, and altering certain words or lines to suit a particular occasion.
But this was far more successful than original composition would have been, because it was so readily understood and caught up; and the man was really shrewd, and often hit on something appropriate.
He now trolled out in a clear, ringing voice, with every word distinct, a new version of “The Poacher”:—
“When I was bound apprentice in a village of Blanksheer,
I served my master truly for close upon a year;
But now I serves her Majesty, as you shall quickly hear,
For ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.”
And then the chorus broke out far and wide:—
“For ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.”
And the lads laughed at the aptness of the “shiny night,” for that was evident to the dullest capacity. Thus encouraged, he tried a second verse:—
“As the soldiers and the sailors was a marching to his lair,
Old Digna he was watching us, for him we didn’t care;
For the bayonet beats the spear when he rushes on our square,
And ’tis my delight by day or night to beat the Johnnies fair.”
Towards the end of the eight miles march indeed there was less singing and laughing, for throats were dry and legs weary. What, in eight miles and at night-time? Well, the next time you are staying at a sea side place, where there is plenty of sand, you try walking along it, not where it is firm, but higher up from the sea, where you sink over your ankles at every step; if you can borrow a rifle and a hundred rounds of ball cartridge and carry that too, you will be able to form a still more just opinion; but, even without that, I invite you to consider how many more miles of it you want when you have gone four. But if they were tired and thirsty they were full of spirit, and it would only have required the sight of an enemy to make them as lively as crickets again.