"Whack his beer barrel!" were some of the rude but encouraging remarks. But all the pluck of Spud was useless against the great hulking form of "Dirty Dick," as his opponent was called. After a ten-minutes' bout Dick gave out a terrible snipe which sent the brave Spud to the floor and caused the blood to spurt from his nose in a regular stream.
That was the end of the combat. Willing hands tended the unconscious Spud, and on his recovery they hailed him as a fit and proper person for the Glesca Mileeshy. Dick, in a true sportsmanlike manner, shook hands and marched the whole crowd to the canteen. There the health of the gallant recruit was pledged with Highland honours, followed by the "Regimental" Anthem of the Glesca Mileeshy—
"Beer, beer, glorious beer,
Fill yourself right up to here;
Don't make a fool of it,
But down with a pail of it,
Glorious, glorious beer."
[pg 17] This episode was duly reported to Tamson senior. That worthy rag-vender was well pleased—so pleased, in fact, that he got fu' on the strength of it, and received a hammering from Mrs Tamson, who cracked the frying-pan over his head. In the Gallowgate, the Murder Close Brigade also hailed the news with pride. Spud was "one of the boys," and they determined to give him a public reception in a fried-fish shop when he returned.
Meantime Spud was being initiated into the arts of the soldier. From the stores he had received a pair of wide, ill-fitting tartan breeks, resembling concertinas, a red jacket, which hung like a sack, a white belt, and a leatherbound Glengarry cap. A penny swagger cane and the inevitable "fag" completed the picture of Spud as a warrior bold. He also received a rifle and equipment. The rifle was an ancient affair, officially known as a "D.P." (Drill Purposes). A certain number of good rifles were allowed to each company for firing purposes. This arrangement, perhaps, saved the lives of many in the Depot of Blacktoon, for the Glesca Mileeshy at large resembled the Dervishes of the Khalifa.
[pg 18] Before dealing with the drilling of Spud on the barrack square I must not forget to record his first ragging affair. This, as in the case of every recruit, occurred on the first night in the barrack-room. It is known as "setting the bed." As each bed is a collapsible affair, kept together by movable bolts and stays, it is quite an easy matter to abstract a few, leaving sufficient to allow the practical jokers to carry out their scheme. On the night in question Spud, of course, was quite unconscious of any trouble to come. When "Lights out" sounded he hopped into bed and soon was fast asleep. His snoring was the signal for the mischievous rascals to crawl out of their beds. Dirty Dick was one. He fastened long strings to the legs of the sleeping man's bed. To the ends of his blankets strings were also attached. During these operations a "ghost" was getting ready by draping a white sheet over his body and tipping his fingers and eyes with phosphorus. A sergeant's sword was also given a touch of gleaming phosphorus. This completed, all scuttled back to their beds and waited for the signal.
"Go," shouted the leader. The strings [pg 19] were tugged, away went the legs, off went the blankets, and with a horrible crash Spud's bed collapsed like a pack of cards on to the floor. His dreams were rudely shattered, and he found himself standing in his shirt-tail 'midst the wreckage, muttering some unparliamentary thoughts. The stillness and darkness of the barrack-room made the affair uncanny. He had just commenced to wonder whether his brain was sound when he was again startled to see a ghost advancing down the room, loudly exclaiming, "Spud Tamson, I am the Ghost of Jack the Ripper. I have come to slit thy gizzard with a sword, so prepare to pass into the land where the angels sell ice-cream and all drinks are free." This eerie person also waved his blazing-sword and hands in such a terrifying way that poor Spud shivered with a strange and awful fear. He thought he was in something like Dante's Inferno. Nearer, nearer came the "Ghost," waving his awful sword. Was he to die? Would he never see his dearly beloved Gallowgate again? And oh, what of his Mary Ann, that romantic Glasgow creature who held his heart in the hollow of her hand? Something had to be done.
[pg 20] Just then he caught the suppressed laughter of his fellows. His fears vanished with the wind. He knew he was being ragged. Again he would show his pluck. Picking up an iron leg of his bed, he waited for the "Ghost" to come quite near.
"Spud Tamson, bare thy black and unwashed neck—I have come to slit it like a butcher cutting a pig——"
Bang! went Spud's iron stanchion. It struck the sword, then Spud gave the "Ghost" a terrific blow below the belt. He howled, then flew at his aggressor like a tiger. In a second the still barrack-room was turned into a boxing-booth. The unseemly noise was so bad that it roused the corporal, "Beery Bob," out of his usual heavy sleep. Well used to these affairs, the corporal, seizing a big stick, jumped out of his bed. Crack went the stick over the nether region of the "Ghost," who at once galloped to bed. Crack went the stick again over Spud's poor meatless form. There was a yell, and Tamson exclaimed, "It wisna me, corporal! It wisna me!"