“Where is Serjeant Stewart?” demanded he, in a terrible hurry, the moment he entered the place.
“Can’t I do instead of him?” replied Corporal Parrot; “for he is just new out of the trenches.”
“No!” replied the Adjutant; “if he was new out of hell, I must have him directly.”
“What’s ado, sir?” demanded I, jumping up.
“You know as much as I do,” replied the Adjutant; “but, depend upon it, we are not wanted to build churches. Get you out the light bobs as fast as you can.”
Well, I hurried about and got out the light company with as little delay as possible; and no very easy matter it was to get hold of the poor fellows, knocked up as they were. Some of them I actually pulled out of hay stacks by the legs, as you would pull out periwinkles from their shells. The troops marched fifteen miles without a halt. We found the French and Russians hard at it, blazing away so that we could see the very straws at our feet as we marched over the sand. The balls came whistling about us like hail as we advanced. First came one, and knocked away the hilt of my sword; then came another, and cracked off the iron head of my halberd.
“If you go on at this rate, you villains,” said I, “you’ll disarm us altogether.”
Then smack came another, whack through my canteen, and spilt all my brandy.
“Ye rascals!” said I, trying at the same time to save as much of it as I could in my mouth, “that is most uncivil. Ye are no gentlemen, ye scoundrels, to spill a poor fellow’s drop of comfort in this way.”
By and bye, half-a-dozen of balls or so went through the blanket I carried on my shoulders.