To show how good may sometimes come of evil, one of our gallant pipers, who had evidently been enjoying himself rather freely the night before, on returning to barracks found himself detailed for the duties of orderly piper, the first of which is to play the men’s breakfast pipes. The piper’s condition not being what it might have been, and the morning being cold and raw, he was not making a very good tune. This attracted the notice of the orderly officer, who belonged to the piper’s company, and forthwith he had the piper brought before him and rebuked for his bad playing. The piper, quick as thought, ingeniously turned matters into quite a different channel by putting all the blame on his chanter. He impudently pointed out to the young officer the lowest hole, which is the largest on the chanter.
“Just look at the size of that hole, sir,” said he. “It is far too large, sir, and while I was birling with my little finger it went into the hole, sir, and when I was getting it out it caused that nasty screeching, sir.”
“Oh,” replied the officer, “is that the cause of it? Then you require a new chanter.”
“Yes, very badly, sir,” replied the piper.
The officer, being a man of means, said, “Very well, I will give you a present of one.”
This is obviously a case where the piper gulled the young officer into presenting him with a new chanter, whereas he should have been severely reprimanded for his unfitness to perform his duty.
A novel accident once happened to the pipers of the Cameronians while playing in the Botanic Gardens in Glasgow. At that time they wore a Tam o’ Shanter or blue bonnet, slightly cocked to one side. The day was stormy, and the wind came in gusts. Eight of the pipers were marching jauntily along in line when a gust of wind suddenly came and blew off the eight Tam o’ Shanters, as if by word of command, starting with the pipe-major, who was on the right. The scramble for bonnets which followed can be more easily imagined than described.
Piper Donald Menzies, of the Breadalbane Fencibles, was one of the resourceful kind. The men were in the habit of receiving money in place of a certain quantity of rations, and on one occasion instead of buying food in the usual way many of them bought whisky. This came to the colonel’s ears, and he at once ordered the adjutant to go round at a certain hour and report to him what the men were cooking for dinner. The order got wind and the Fencibles were on the alert. When the adjutant came to where Piper Menzies was doing his cooking he asked “What have you got here, Donald?” “Tripe, sir,” said Donald. “Tripe,” said the adjutant, “now just let me see,” and he lifted the lid off the pot. “Well, Donald,” he said, walking away and smiling, “I never saw tripe before with buttons and holes in it.” Donald had cut up a pair of white moleskin trousers and put pieces of them into the pot to make believe he was to have a dinner.
Shortly after the occupation of Cairo by the British troops, the late Nubar Pasha took a prodigious fancy to the music of the Black Watch, and had the idea of having a servant taught the use of the bagpipes. Nubar despatched a French friend, who spoke English, to interview a piper on the subject. Donald replied—“Weel, he micht learn or he micht no’. But, let me tell you, it needs wind an’ mickle strength to fill the bag o’ the pipes an’ keep blawin’. Sae if yin o’ thae Egyptian chaps took the job on he’d need to be bandaged a’ ow’re like yin o’ thae old mummies, or maybe he’d burst himsel’!” This conversation was reported to Nubar, who took the remarks seriously. So he gave up the idea of having a piper attached to his household, as the use of the bagpipe was attended with the prospect of such danger to the performer.
Soldiers are not nervous men as a rule, but a pipe-major of the Gordons was. While the regiment was being inspected, he noticed while standing behind the band that the colonel’s helmet was reversed. The officer seemed perturbed about something, strutting backward and forward, every now and then digging his sword into the ground. This made the pipe-major, who was anxious to call the colonel’s attention to the mistake in connection with his headgear, more nervous than before. At last by a supreme effort he mustered up courage, and stepping out of the ranks he approached the colonel, and after saluting said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but your helmet is upside down, sir.” “What!” roared the officer, evidently thinking the man had become insane. The pipe-major became more nervous than ever, and stammered out, “I beg your pardon, sir, but I mean to say, sir, that your helmet is outside in, sir.” “The devil it is, sir,” roared the colonel, and the pipe-major as a last resource got out, “Well, I mean to say, sir, that your hat is backside foremost, sir.” The colonel instantly calmed down, and took the incident in good part, put his “hat” right and thanked the pipe-major, who did not forget his nervousness or his mistakes for many days.