Well, so much for Irish stew. We wound up the evening with ship-biscuit and brandy-and-water—ration brandy—French—superb. What an exchange for the horrid agoardente of Lisbon, that excoriated your palate, indurated your gizzard, and burnt a hole in your liver! I happened to mention my morning visit to St Sebastian. All my three companions had seen St Sebastian during the siege—were present at the storming. "Sorry I was not ordered up in time," said I.
"You'll never see anything like that," said the doctor.
"Well, can't you tell me something about it?"
"No, no," replied he; "rather too late for that to-night. I must be moving."
"Come, gentlemen; mix another tumbler round," said "my friend." "If we cannot go into particulars, at least, for the satisfaction of Mr Y——, let us each relate some one incident, which we witnessed when the city was taken by storm. Come, doctor; you shall begin."
"Really," said the doctor, "it was such a scene of slaughter and confusion, I can hardly recollect anything distinctly enough to tell it. I got into the town almost immediately after the troops, to look after the wounded; just those that required to be operated on at once. Found my way into a by-street; came among some of our fellows, who were carrying on such a game, drinking, plundering, firing at the inhabitants, and I don't know what-all besides, I was glad enough to escape with my life, and got out of the place as fast as I could. Don't really remember any particular occurrence to relate. Oh, yes; just as I was coming away, I saw one old woman—beg pardon; ought to have said elderly gentlewoman—pinned to a post with a bayonet, for defending her daughter's virtue."
Well, gentlemen, said "my friend," "I also will relate an incident, connected with that dreadful day. But, first of all, I must show you something. What, would you say, is the value of that, doctor?" He produced a very handsome diamond ring. "Worth fifty dollars at least," said the doctor, holding it to the lamp. "I say, worth it; that is, in the trade. Would sell, in Bond Street, for more than double that price, as they'd set it in London." The doctor, I should mention, was the son of a fashionable watchmaker—bore the sobriquet of Tick.
"Well," continued my friend, "how do you think I became possessed of that ring? Just after the town was carried, I watched a lull in the firing from the castle, and went in over the breach. Only one or two round-shot fell, as I was climbing up. Met there an English sailor, a man-of-war's man, coming along in high good humour, perhaps a little the worse for liquor. He was shouting, laughing, holding up his two hands, as if he wanted me to look at them. The fellow had been plundering; plundering a jeweller's shop. "Now I'm dressed out for a ball," said he, "all for one like a Spanish lady." What d'ye think he had done? All his fingers, both hands, were covered down to the tips with splendid rings, rings set with precious stones, as thick as curtain-rods. Brilliants, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, he had stuck them on, one after the other, till there was no room left. Told him I'd buy them: offered him a dollar for the lot; two dollars; five dollars. 'Avast,' said he, 'I'm a gentleman. Don't want none of your dumps, messmate. Shouldn't mind giving you one, though, for good luck. Here, take this big un.' It was a great ugly Brazilian topaz. 'No, no,' said I; 'give me this little one.' He gave it me; I thanked him; and he walked away, laughing and shouting.—Worth fifty dollars, you say. Is it though, doctor? For forty-five down, you shall have it."
The doctor made no reply; and, for a few seconds, there was a dead silence. "Come, Mr Pagador senior," said he; "I've got three gunshot wounds, an ague, and a dysentery.—Must see them all, before I go to bed. Please to proceed."
"I think," said my fellow-clerk, "our host had a good chance of being shot, when he mounted the breach; for the French, I remember, kept up a fire on all who passed that way, long after it was carried. You're sure you got that ring on the breach, are you?... I, also, had a narrow escape, after I got into the town. I was walking up one of the streets, and passed a wine-shop, where a lot of our fellows were assembled, within and without. A few yards beyond was a corner; another street crossed. Just at the crossing, in the middle of the road, lay an English soldier, dead. There was nothing particular in that; for I had passed several dead before, as I came along. Walking on, I noticed two soldiers looking at me and talking. 'Better tell him, then,' said one of them. 'Tell him yourself,' said the other; 'I shan't tell him. He's only a commissary.' Just before I reached the corner, some one gently laid hold of my arm. I turned round. It was that officer of the engineers—Gabion—yes, Captain Gabion. 'Wouldn't advise you to go beyond the corner,' said he.—'Why not?' said I. 'Don't you see that man lying on the road?' said he.—'Any danger?' said I. 'I'll soon let you see that,' said he: 'have the kindness to lend me your hat.' I gave him my hat—staff-hat—bought it new at Vittoria. He stepped forward, held it out by one end, just poked about half of it beyond the corner. Crack! a rifle-bullet came clean through it. 'The French,' said he, 'still occupy that street. I set a sentry here just now, to keep people from passing on. But he's off; plundering, I suppose, or getting drunk. I'm sorry for your hat, though.' Rum trick, that of Captain Gabion's, I must say. I thought it very unkind. Kept me from getting shot; much obliged to him for that. But spoiled my new staff-hat—cost me ten dollars."