The first amongst the wounded that I had occasion to address was the corporal of marines, of whom mention has been before made,—one of the boats'-crews who were leagued with us. He was, although reputed half crazy in the ship, a fine handsome young fellow—a Scotchman. When we came down he was speaking to a messmate, who stood beside his hammock helping him to some drink.
"Oh, man," said he, "did ye no remark the clearness and stillness of the creek, after leaving the muddy river, just before the action began—immediately before it was stirred up by that hideous, highland-cow-looking beast of a hippopotamy; the vile brute that raised the mud, until it converted the crystal clear water into pease brose, and be d——d to it? I hate these wee Highland nowt. A big sonsy stot is a manageable animal, and respectable withal, and quiet; but thae sma' hieland deevils!——Hech! what sharp horns they have! And although a bold front aye quells them, still they always are on the look-out to take you at disadvantage—in the louping of a dyke, for instance, wha will assure ye that they shall not kittle your hinderlins?—But what am I raving about?—Ou ay! about the clear creek, with the white scales of the bit fishes turning up their sides to the light, and glancing like silver far down in the transparent depths of the deep water, as we lay on our oars. Guid kens—forbye being weak and worn, and scant o' glee, for a leaden weight lay on my speerits—yet the sicht drave me aff and awa' in a moment amang my ain native blue hills and heathery braes—ay, and clear saugh-fringed sparkling burnies too, rippling bonnily in the sunshine owre their half-dry channels of bright sand and pebbles, with the trouts louping plump, plump, out of the swirls at the bottom of the ripples at the grey flies, and then glancing up the rushing streams, zig-zag like fire-flaughts from ae shadowy bank till another—although all the while I was conscious that maybe, between disease, and shot, and cauld iron, I was but a step frae heeven—we'll no name the other place. Oh, that thocht of my home brack in upon my mind like a gleam of sunshine on a stormy sea."
"Hillo, there's poetry for you, Master Lanyard," said I, a good deal surprised.
The poor fellow had heard me speak, and presently appeared to become highly excited, and to breathe very hard. Sprawl and I had by this time stuck our heads up between the rows of hammocks.
"Well, Lennox, what may be wrong with you?" said I.
"Nothing very particular," was the answer; "only I am afraid that I am about departing for yon place."
"What place?" said I.
"Ou! I just meant to insinuate to your honour, that I was dying."
"Pooh, nonsense!" said Sprawl; "don't be so chicken-hearted, man. No fear of you, if you will but keep a good heart."
"It may be sae, it may be sae; but I am doomed, and I know it."