[20]. Salt fish and vinegar.
For some weeks there had been a general defalcation amongst the different neighbouring flocks, and the Portuguese shepherds, confounded to know what had become of them, armed themselves, and kept watch with a degree of vigilance that they were heretofore unaccustomed to. Wolves, they remarked, were not sufficiently numerous in that part of the country to effect such havoc, even in the depth of winter; but, said they, it is impossible at this early stage of the season that it could be them; and they were right, for it would be difficult to point out one regiment that did not take something in the shape of tithe from the sheep-holders.
One night in November, 1811, three of the “boys” walked out of their quarters with nothing at all—but their bayonets; Mackguekin headed them. The sheep-fold they assailed was defended by five armed Portuguese; but what did the “boys” care for that? After nearly sending the unfortunate men to the other world, they very deliberately tied their arms and legs together “to keep them aisy,” as they afterwards said, and then performing the same office to three sheep, they left their owners to look after the remainder.
As may be supposed, this affair made a great noise. The Provost-Marshal was directed to search, with the utmost care, the quarters and premises of all the regiments; but the fellow instinctively, I believe, turned towards those of my corps; and here, I am sorry to confess, he found that which he wanted, namely, the three sheep, part of them in a camp-kettle on the fire, and the remainder in an outhouse. This was enough. The three men were identified by the Portuguese, tried, flogged, and had to pay for the sheep, which (the worst of it!) they had not the pleasure of even tasting. But this example by no means put a stop to the evil. The sheep-folds were plundered, the shepherds pummelled, and our fellows flogged without mercy. General Picton at length issued orders, directing the rolls of the regiment to be called over by an officer of each company at different periods during the night, and by this measure the evil was remedied. But we did not get credit for even this. That pleasantest of all pleasant fellows, Bob Hardyman of the 45th, used to say, in jest, that instead of the officers going round the quarters, we entrusted the duty to a sergeant; and, according to Bob’s account, the manner of his performing the duty was as follows:—
Arrived at the door, he gave a gentle tap, when voices from within called out, “Who’s there?”
Ser. “It’s me, boys!”
Sol. “And who are you?”
Ser. “Why then, blur 'an ouns, boys, don’t yees know my voice?”