Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XVIII. THE CAPTAIN'S QUARTERS

  I WAS not sorry to find that Miss Bubbleton did not respond to the noisysummons of the captain, as he flourished about from one room to theother, making the quarters echo to the sweet name of "Anna Maria.""Saladin," "Grimes," "Peter," were also shouted out unsuccessfully;and with a fierce menace against various grooms of the chambers,waiting-men, and lackeys, who happily were still unborn, Bubbleton flunghimself into a seat, and began to conjecture what had become of theinhabitants.

  "She's paying a morning call,--gone to see the Duchess; that 's it. Orperhaps she 's looking over that suit of pearls I bought yesterday atGallon's; pretty baubles, but dear at eight hundred pounds. Never mind;what 's money for, eh, Tom?"

  As he looked at me for a reply, I drew my chair closer towards him, andassuming as much of importance as my manner could command, I besoughthis attention for a moment. Hitherto, partly from my own indecision,partly from his flighty and volatile bearing, I never had an opportunityeither to explain my real position or my political sentiments, much lessmy intentions for the future. The moment had at length arrived, andI resolved to profit by it; and in as few words as I was able, gave abrief narrative of my life, from the hour of my father's death to theday in which I fell into his own hands in Dublin, only omitting suchportions as might, by the mention of names, compromise others concerned.

  Nothing could possibly be more attentive than he was during theentire detail. He leaned his head on his hand, and listened with eagercuriosity to all my scrapes and difficulties, occasionally nodding inassent, and now evincing by his excited air his desire to learn farther;and when I at last wound up by avowing my long cherished desire toenter the French service, he sat perfectly silent, and seemed to reflectgravely on the whole.

  "I say, Tom," said he, at length, as he stared me full in the face,and laid his hand impressively on my knee, "there 's good stuff inthat,--excellent stuff, depend upon it."

  "Good stuff! what do you mean?" said I, in amazement.

  "I mean," replied he, "there's bone in it, sinew in it, substance in it;there are some admirable situations too. How Fulham would come out inTony Basset,--brown shorts, white stockings, high shoes and buckles,his own very costume. And there's that little thing, Miss Booth, forNelly; give her a couple of songs,--ballad airs take best. Williamsshould be Barton; a devilish fine villain in coarse parts,Williams,--I think I see him stealing along by the flats with hissoldiers to the attack. Then the second act should open: interior ofhut; peasants round a table (eating always successful on the stage;nothing like seeing a fat fellow bolting hard eggs, and blustering outunpronounceable jokes over a flagon of colored water). You, by right,should have your own part; splendid thing, devilish fine,--yoursensations when the cabin was on tire, and the fellows were proddingabout with their bayonets to discover you."

  "And who 's to perform Captain Bubbleton?" asked I, venturing for onceto humor his absurdity.

  "Eh? Oh I there's nothing for me; no marked feature, nothing strong,nothing characteristic. That has been through life my greatest, my veryhighest ambition,--that no man should ever detect, by anything in mymanner, my dress, or my style of conversation, that I was not JohnNokes or Peter Styles. You 'll meet me at a dinner party, Tom; you 'llconverse with me, drink with me; we'll sit the evening together, growintimate, perhaps you 'll borrow fifty pounds of me; and yet I 'd wageranother, you'd never guess that I rode a hippopotamus across the Gangesafter tiffin one day, to pay my respects to the Governor-Greneral. That,let me tell you, Tom, is the very proudest boast a man can make. Do yousee that scar? It looks nothing now. That was a bite from a ferociousboa: the villain got into my room before breakfast; he had eaten mychokeedar, a fellow I was very fond of--"

  "Ah, I remember you mentioned that to me. And now to come back to mydull story, to which, I assure you, however dramatic you may deem it, I'd prefer adding an act or so before it comes before the world. I intendto leave this to-morrow."

  "No, no; you mustn't think of it yet awhile. Why, my dear fellow, you've a hundred pounds; only think of that! Twenty will bring you toParis; less, if you choose. I once travelled from Glugdamuck to theGhauts of Bunderamud for half a rupee; put my elephants on threebiscuits a day; explained to them in Hindostanee--a most expressivelanguage--that our provisions had fallen short; that on our arrival allarrears of grub should be made up. They tossed up their trunks thus intoken of assent, and on we marched. Well, when we came to Helgie, therewas no water--"

  "Very true," interrupted I, half in despair at the torrent ofstory-telling I had got involved in. "But you forget I have neitherelephants, nor camels, nor coolies, nor chokeedars; I'm a mereadventurer, with, except yourself, not a friend in the world."

  "Then why not join us?" cried the ever ready captain. "We are tohave our orders for foreign service in a few weeks; you 've only tovolunteer; you 've money enough to buy your kit. When you 're fairly in,it 's only writing to your brother. Besides, something always turnsup; that 's my philosophy. I rarely want anything I don't find means toobtain, somehow or other."

  "No," said I, resolutely, "I will never join the service of a countrywhich has inflicted such foul wrong on my native land."

  "All stuff and nonsense!" cried Bubbleton. "Who cares the deuce of clubsabout politics? When you 're my age, you 'll find that if you 're notmaking something of politics, they 'll make very little of you. I 'd assoon sell figs for my grocer or snuff for my tobacconist as I 'd bothermy head governing the kingdom for Billy Pitt. He 's paid for it,--that'shis business, not mine. No, no, my boy; join us,--you shall be 'Burkeof Ours!' We 'll have a glorious campaign among the Yankees. I 'll teachyou the Seneca language, and we 'll have a ramble through the Indiansettlements. Meanwhile you dine to-day at the mess; to-morrow we picnicat the Dargle; next day we--What the deuce is next day to be? Oh yes!next day we all dine with you. Nothing stiff or formal,--a snug, quietthing for sixteen; I'll manage it all."

  Here was an argument there was no resisting; so I complied at once,comforting myself with a silent vow, come what might, I 'd leave Irelandthe day after my dinner party.

  Under whatever guise--with what history of my rank, wealth, and familyinfluence--Bubbleton thought proper to present me to his brotherofficers, I cannot say; but nothing could possibly be more kind, oreven more cordial, than their reception of me. And although I had somedifficulty in replying to questions put under mistaken notions of myposition and intentions, I readily followed, as far as I was able,the line suggested by my imaginative friend, whose representations,I suspected, would be received with a suitable limitation by his oldassociates.

  There is, perhaps, no species of society so striking and so captivatingto the young man entering on life as that of a military mess. The easy,well-bred intimacy, that never degenerates into undue familiarity;the good-humored, playful raillery, that never verges on coarsenessor severity; the happy blending of old men's wisdom and young men'sbuoyancy,--are all very attractive features of social intercourse, evenindependently of the stronger interest that invests the companionship ofmen whose career is arms. I felt this, and enjoyed it too; not theless pleasantly that I discovered no evidence of that violent partisanfeeling I had been led to believe was the distinguishing mark of theRoyalist soldier. If by chance any allusion was made to the troublesof the period, it was invariably done rather in a tone of respect formistaken and ill directed political views, than in reprehension ofdisloyalty and rebellion; and when I heard the dispassionate opinionsand listened to the mild counsels of these men, whom I had alwaysbelieved to be the veriest tyrants and oppressors, I could scarcelycredit my own senses, so utterly opposed were my impressions and myexperience. One only of the party evinced an opposite feeling. He wasa pale, thin, rather handsome man, of about five and twenty, who hadlately joined them from a dragoon regiment, and who by sundry littleinnuendoes, was ever bringing uppermost the preference he evincedfor his former service, and his ardent desire to be back again in thecavalry.

  Captain Montague Crof
ts was indeed the only exception I witnessed to thealmost brotherly feeling that prevailed in the Forty-fifth. Insteadof identifying himself with the habits and opinions of his brotherofficers, he held himself studiously apart. Regarding his stay in theregiment like a period of probation, he seemed resolved to form neitherintimacies nor friendships, but to wait patiently for the time of hisleaving the corps to emancipate himself from a society below his caste.

  The cold, repulsive, steady stare, the scarcely bowed head, theimpassive silence with which he heard the words of Bubbleton'sintroduction of me, formed a strong contrast with the warm cordialityof the others; and though at the time little disposed to criticise themanner of any one, and still less to be dissatisfied with anything, Iconceived from the moment a dislike to Captain Crofts, which I felt toincrease with every minute I spent in his company. The first occasionwhich suggested this dislike on my part, was from observing that whileBubbleton--whose historical accuracy or blind adherence to reality noone in the corps thought of requiring--narrated some of his incredibleadventures. Crofts, far from joining in the harmless mirth whichsuch tales created, invariably took delight in questioning andcross-questioning the worthy captain, quoting him against himself, andplaying off a hundred tricks, which, however smart and witty in a lawcourt, are downright rudeness when practised in society. Bubbleton, itis true, saw nothing in all this save the natural interest of a goodlistener,--but the others did; and it was quite clear to me, that whileone was the greatest favorite in the regiment, the other had not asingle friend amongst them. To me, Crofts manifested the most perfectindifference, not ever mixing himself in any conversation in which Ibore a part. He rarely turned his head towards that part of the table atwhich I sat; and by an air of haughty superciliousness, gave me plainlyto understand that our acquaintance, though confessedly begun, was toproceed no further. I cannot say how happy I felt to learn that one Ihad so much cause to dislike was a violent aristocrat, an ultra-Tory,a most uncompromising denouncer of the Irish Liberal party, and anout-and-out advocate of severe and harsh measures towards the people.He never missed an opportunity for the enunciation of such doctrines,which, whatever might be the opinions of the listeners, there was atthe time I speak of no small risk in gainsaying, and this immunity didCrofts enjoy to his heart's content.

  Slight as these few reminiscences of the mess are, they are thecalled-up memories of days not to be forgotten by me; for now, what withmy habitual indecision on the one hand, and Bubbleton's solicitationson the other, I continued to linger on in Dublin,--leading the careless,easy life of those about me, joining in all the plots for amusementwhich the capital afforded, and mixing in every society to whichmy military friends had access. Slender as were my resources, theysufficed, in the eyes of all who knew not their limit, to appearabundant. Crofts was the only rich man in the regiment; and mywillingness to enter into every scheme of pleasure, regardless of cost,impressed them all with the notion that Bubbleton for once was right,and that "Burke was a kind of Westcountry Croesus," invaluable to theregiment.

  Week after week rolled on, and still did I find myself a denizen ofGeorge's Street. The silly routine of the barrack life filled all mythoughts, save when the waning condition of my purse would momentarilyturn them towards the future; but these moments of reflection came butseldom, and at last came not at all. It was autumn; the town almostdivested of its inhabitants,--at least of all who could leave it,--andalong the parched, sunburned streets a stray jingle or a noddy wasrarely seen to pass. The squares, so lately crowded with equipages andcavalcades of horsemen, were silent and deserted; the closed shutters ofevery house, and the grass-grown steps, vouched for the absence of theowners. The same dreamy lethargy that seemed to rest over the desertedcity appeared to pervade everything; and save a certain subdued activityamong the officials of the Castle,--a kind of ground-swell movementthat boded something important,--there was nothing stirring. The greatmeasure of the Union, which had been carried on the night of the riots,had, however, annihilated the hopes of the Irish Liberal party; and manywho once had taken a leading part in politics had now deserted publiclife forever.

  They with whom I associated cared but little for these things. Therewere but two or three Irish in the regiment, and they had long sincelost all their nationality in the wear and tear of the service; so thatI heard nothing of what occupied the public mind, and lived on, in thevery midst of the threatening hurricane, in a calm as deep as deathitself.

  I had seen neither Barton nor Basset since the day of my leave-taking;and, stranger still, never could meet with Darby, who seemed to havedeserted Dublin. The wreck of the party he belonged to seemed noweffectually accomplished, and the prospect of Irish independence waslost, as it seemed, forever.

  I was sitting one evening in the window of Bubbleton's quarters,thinking over these things; not without self-reproach for the life Iwas leading, so utterly adverse to the principles I had laid down for myguidance. I thought of poor De Meudon, and all his ambitious dreams formy success, and I felt my cheek flush with shame for my base desertionof the cause to which, with his dying breath, he devoted me. I broughtup in memory those happy evenings as we wandered through the fields,talking over the glorious campaigns of Italy or speculating on themighty changes we believed yet before us; and then I thought of thereckless orgies in which my present life was passed. I remembered howhis full voice would falter when one great name fell from his lips;and with what reverence he touched his chapeau as the word "Bonaparte"escaped from him; and how my heart thrilled to think of an enthusiasmthat could light up the dying embers of a broken heart, and make itflash out in vivid brilliancy once more,--and longed to feel as he did.

  For the first time for some weeks I found myself alone. Bubbleton wason guard; and though I had promised to join him at supper, I lingeredat home to think and ponder over the past,--I scarcely dared to face thefuture. It was growing dusky. The richly golden arch of an autumn mooncould be seen through the hazy mist of that half frost which is at thisseason the sure harbinger of a hot day on the morrow. The street noiseshad gradually died away, and save the distant sound of a ballad-singer,whose mournful cadence fell sadly on the ear, I heard nothing.

  Without perceiving it, I found myself listening to the doggerel of theminstrel, who, like most of her fellows of the period, was celebratingthe means that had been used by Government to carry their favoritemeasure,--the Union with England. There was, indeed, very little tocharm the ear or win the sense, in either the accent or the sentiment ofthe melody; yet somehow she had contrived to collect a pretty tolerableaudience, who moved slowly along with her down the street, and evincedby many an outburst of enthusiasm how thoroughly they relished thepointed allusions of the verse, and how completely they enjoyed the dullsatire of the song.

  As they approached the barracks, the procession came to ahalt,--probably deeming that so valuable a lesson should not be lostto his Majesty's service; and forming into a circle round the singer,a silence was commanded, when, with that quavering articulation socharacteristic of the tribe, and that strange quality of voice thatseems to alternate between a high treble and a deep bass, the ladybegan:--

  "Don't be crowdin' an me that a way. There it is now,--ye 're tearin'the cloak off the back o' me! Divil receave the note I 'll sing, if yedon't behave! And look at his honor up there, with a tenpenny bit in theheel of his fist for me. The Lord reward your purty face; 't is yourselfhas the darlin' blue eyes! Bad scran to yez, ye blaggards! look at myelegant bonnet the way you 've made it!"

  "Arrah! rise the tune, and don't be blarneying the young gentleman,"said a voice from the crowd,--and then added, in a lower but veryaudible tone, "Them chaps hasn't a farthin' beyond their pay,--threeand ninepence a day, and find themselves in pipeclay!"

  A rude laugh followed this insolent speech; and the ballad-singer, whosedelay had only been a ruse to attract a sufficient auditory, then beganto a very well-known air:

  "Come hither, M.P.'s, and I 'll tell My advice, and I 'm sure you 'll not
mock it: Whoe'er has a country to sell, Need never want gold in his pocket. Your brother a bishop shall be; Yourself--if you only will make a Voice in our ma-jo-rity-- We'll make you chief judge In Jamaica. Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay!"

  The mob chorus here broke in, and continued with such hearty enthusiasmthat I lost the entire of the next verse in the tumult.

  "Your father, they say, is an ass, And your mother not noted for knowledge; But he 'll do very well at Madras, And she shall be provost of college. Your aunt, lady's-maid to the Queen; And Bill, if he 'll give up his rakin', And not drunk in daytime be seen, I 'll make him a rosy archdeacon. Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay!

  "A jollier set ne'er was seen Than you 'll be, when freed from your callin'; With an empty house in College Green,-- What an elegant place to play ball in! Ould Foster stand by with his mace, He 'll do mighty well for a marker; John Toler--"

  "Here 's the pollis!" said a gruff voice from the crowd; and the wordwas repeated from mouth to mouth in every accent of fear and dread;while in an instant all took to flighty--some dashing down obscure lanesand narrow alleys, others running straight onwards towards Dame Street,but all showing the evident apprehension they felt at the approach ofthese dreaded officials. The ballad' singer alone did not move,--whethertoo old or too infirm to trust to speed, or too much terrified to run, Iknow not; but there she stood, the last cadence of her song still dyingon her lips, while the clattering sounds of men advancing rapidly wereheard in the distant street.

  I know not why,--some strange momentary impulse, half pity, halfcaprice, moved me to her rescue, and I called out to the sentry, "Letthat woman pass in!" She heard the words, and with an activity greaterthan I could have expected, sprang into the barrack yard, while thepolice passed eagerly on in vain pursuit of their victims.

  I remained motionless in the window-seat, watching the now silentstreet, when a gentle tap came to my door. I opened it, and there stoodthe figure of the ballad-singer, her ragged cloak gathered closelyacross her face with one hand, while with the other she held the bundleof printed songs, her only stock-in-trade.