The Sergeant sniggered. “Yes, sir,” said he; “we all knows pretty well about them.” The smirk on the Sergeant’s cadaverous visage reminded one of a death’s-head illumined by a flash of lightning. In fact, it might be truly said that the Sergeant “grinned horribly a ghastly smile.”
“Well then,” I added, “tell the men I depend on their good behaviour. There must be no annoyance, no interference of any kind.”
I had by this time mentally arranged my plan of operations for the next day. So, after posting a relief of sentinels, I lay down in my clothes, occasionally going my rounds till daybreak, to keep the watchmen wide awake, and secure a good look-out. What I chiefly apprehended was an attempt of the garrison to escape in the night.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Early in the morning, Sergeant Pegden brought down his party; one short, however, of the number announced by him the evening before. The absent man was Sam, the same who had been already reported missing. In fact, I learnt from the Sergeant that Sam had been out all night, and had not returned to the convent at all. This was a serious reduction of our available force.
Sandwich Sam, alias “Shrimps,” had, previous to his enlistment, enjoyed the benefit of a somewhat amphibious education. By profession a hoyman, but also smart as a smuggler, he had occasionally condescended to fill up a leisure hour with the lively amusement of shrimping. Though certainly not the steadiest man in the regiment, Sam, who was a very handy fellow, and an old campaigner, when sober knew his duty, and maintained, on the whole, the character of a smart soldier.
Under other circumstances, I should have given directions for looking him up. But the sick Sergeant, and his party of convalescents, had, in their zeal for his majesty’s service, come down without their breakfast. I therefore felt it my more immediate duty, as the best preparation for the exploits of the day, to supply them with that needful meal. My brave army had turned out anything but stout in health and smart in equipment; but they all showed full of pluck, well under command, and ready for anything.
Having extemporised a breakfast for the men, the Padre and I sat down to our own. Touching the important operations of the day, we were proceeding with our arrangements when an interruption took place, in the shape of a little disturbance outside. Sergeant Pegden was speaking to some one in the street, and speaking loud, in a voice of authority and angry expostulation.
“Come now, you; be quiet. Fall in, and behave like a man.”
A voice responded: “File up your rusty old keys! Lock up your chastises! and go to dinner with the poor!”