“Why, to be sure, Sergeant, there is a dale o' thruth in that,” replied O'Callaghan: “I only say, that we larn the business quicker, because it's more in our way; but faith! I've met English boys in the Peninsula, that never were surpassed by any sodgers on earth—right steady fellows—proper salamandthers—men who would jump into a breach undther a flankin' fire as soon as any divils in the world. I'm only saying that they are as ignorant before they 'list as we are, an' have no rason at all at all in talking about Irishmen or Scotchmen as one bit below them.”
“Below them! eh?—Pooh! that's a' to be put to nathing, but raight doon ignorance,” said the Sergeant; “I never knew any Englishmon that wasn't either a booby or a puppy, wha didn't think we were quite as gude as themsels.”
“Damn'd if you a'nt right, Sergeant,” observed Jack Andrews: “I am an Englishman, born and reared. I have seen the world, and as you say, Sergeant, the Englishman must be either a booby or puppy, who places himself and his countrymen above either Scotch or Irish. The fact is, we have all fought together, and will fight again, please God and the Holy Alliance. Was that fellow, snoring there on the guard-bed, an Englishman, when he rescued me from the gripe of three French grenadiers, by the fair dint of battering their heads with the butt end of his musket—I mean Dennis Tool? Did he consider that he was fighting to rescue an Englishman or his own countryman? We were two against four: he shot the fellow who attacked him, and got me safe from the other three: and it was when we were on picket, cut off clean from our guard. I say, that I never, during the whole time I served in the Peninsula, saw or heard of any difference as regards country; it is only at home that there is bickering on that subject.”
“Well, faith! I suppose, it's to keep their hands in practice, that they fight and wallop each other at home, having no more enemies to fight with abroad,” remarked the Corporal.
“And as to difference—I'd be glad to know where that lay on the bullock-cars which carried down the wounded men from Busaco, after the bit o' business we had there. You were amongst 'em, O'Callaghan, as well as me. There was a pretty mess of English, Scotch, and Irish broken legs; there was your national blood dropping from the cars—and it appeared all of the same colour. The cursed rough roads and broken wheels didn't spare me more than you, Corporal; and the canteen that wet the Scotch and Irish lips, and kept life in them, was not ungrateful to the Englishman's at the point of death. We had no difference then, either on country or religion; every jolt of the wheels made us feel that we all suffered alike for our King and for our Country—Great Britain. I wish some of our talkative argufiers in London had got a glimpse of us all there, they wouldn't be inclined to make much differ between the men, who, after all, must bear the brunt of their quarrels.”
“Raight, Andrews, raight,” warmly cried the Sergeant. “The deil crack my croon, but ye speak like a mon; the pooliticians wha endeevour to mak diveesion amongst the three nations, are na friends to the King nor their ain country neither.”
“Oh! the divel a doubt o' that,” said the Corporal.
“And to talk about stupid recruits,” continued Jack Andrews. “You should see the yokels we picked up at Winchester fair last year. They were just as easy to be gulled—if not easier—than any Pat I ever caught. I'll just tell you how we worked the oracle there. The party was ordered out on the first day of the fair: it consisted of the Depot Sergeant-major, Sergeant Brown of ours, a Sergeant of the 76th, a couple of Corporals, and half a dozen privates, with a fifer as tall as a lamp-post, and a drummer not bigger than the drum he carried. I and a fellow of the name of Peters were supplied with coloured clothes, and smock frocks, so as to appear like country gawkies. All the officers of the Depot went disguised as coachmen, grooms, fancy covies, &c., so as not to be known by the townspeople. However, they only went for a lark: we went a fishing for gudgeons. The party mustered at nine o'clock, and marched out of the barracks with streaming cockades, to the tune of ‘The Downfall of Paris.’ The fat Sergeant-major took a position ten yards in front, and the party occupying at least a hundred yards in length. Peters and I mixed with the crowd, and followed with our mouths open, like the rest of the folk: down the high street—round the square—the long fifer puffing his lungs out, and the pigmy drummer bumping his knees against his parchment box of wind: the Sergeant-major with the hilt of his sword in a parallel line with his bow-window belly, and keeping time to a nicety, while the motley group behind—some of the guards—some of the line—some of the rifles—all sorts of facings—marching as proudly as if they were triumphantly entering Madrid. When the party got to the fair, Peters and I left them, and strutted about, shying at cocks for gingerbread, and playing all manner of pranks, until a favourable opportunity offered of breaking our mind to the yokels, who fell in with us. Then we began to represent ourselves as lads who had a ‘nation deal of work to do,’ and so on, all of which remarks were instantly echoed by the gulls about us. We then would offer cheerfully to treat them, and so adjourn to the nearest tent, where, after a few pots of beer, we at once declared our intention to list with the party, and spun out a long rigmarole of how my eldest brother, who listed that day three years, was now a Captain in India, as rich as a Nabob. Thus we went on, and in general we had little more to do than to let one of us slip off for the Sergeant of the party, who dropped in, as if by accident. All this was soon arranged, and I of course offered a drink to the Sergeant, and shook hands with him: he joined us as one of our best friends, every body shaking hands with him, when I at length started up, and offered to list on the minute, if any body joined me. Peters then rose in a jolly off-handed-way, and immediately offered to make one with me. The shilling was put into each of our hands in the King's name, and we gave three cheers. Ten to one, but two or three more out of the company followed our example. If not, the Sergeant sat down, pulled out a fist-full of money, and a couple of watches; observing that, as we were now King's men, he was happy to have it in his power to reward us with a trifle of the bounty money, and to make each of us a present of a good silver-watch out of the Captain's pocket—adding, that there were now eight vacancies for Sergeants in the regiment, and he was sure that, if any well-looking young man would push for one of them, he would have it before the week was out. You would be astonished to see the effect the watches had; perhaps three or four would offer on the instant: but the making of the Sergeants was sure to bring them down. I never shall forget one fellow—Turner, I mean—he of the grenadier company, you know:—when Sergeant Brown had enlisted seven of them, this fellow stands up, and he says, with a slap on the table, ‘Oi tells you what, Mr. Sergeant; you'll not have me unless you makes me the same thing as yourself now; so, if you loiks to do that, whoy here's your man.’ ‘Well,’ says Brown, ‘how tall are you? let me see—Ay—a good size—about five feet eleven.—With all my heart; you shall be a Sergeant.’
“Brown then cut three pieces of white tape, and pinned them on Turner's right sleeve, in the form of V's; he then drew his sword, made the fellow kneel down, and with a tone of martial command, cried out, ‘Rise, Sergeant Turner, in the name of St. George and the Dragon.’
“The thing was done—the shilling given—and the new ‘Sergeant,’ as conceited as a Colonel's pug, took his station in the ranks of the party. When the gulls asked for watches and money, seeing that Peters and I got both, the Sergeant said he had given two-and-twenty away that day, but that he had just sent up to the barracks for six-and-twenty more, as well as two hundred pounds in money. We ‘had done the trick,’ as they say, and brought in eighteen as able-bodied boobies as any in Hampshire. But what do you think we did the day after? We employed a gipsy fellow to sit in a tent all day, with a fur cap and a false beard on him, to tell fortunes in favour of us.”