quicker."
"Well, come along, my hearty; let's hear it."

"Oh, murther!" said Mike, draining the pot to its last few drops, which he
poured pathetically upon the grass before him; and then having emptied the
ashes from his pipe, he heaved a deep sigh, as though to say life had no
pleasures in store for him. A brief pause followed, after which, to the
evident delight of his expectant audience, he began the following song, to
the popular air of "Paddy O'Carroll":--


BAD LUCK TO THIS MARCHING.

Air,--_Paddy O'Carroll_.

Bad luck to this marching,
Pipe-claying, and starching,
How neat one must be to be killed by the French,
I'm sick of parading,
Through wet and cowld wading,
Or standing all night to be shot in a trench.
To the tune of a fife
They dispose of your life,
You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt;
Now, I like Garryowen,
When I hear it at home,
But it's not half so sweet when you're going to be kilt.

Then, though up late and early,
Our pay comes so rarely,
The devil a farthing we've ever to spare;
They say some disaster
Befell the paymaster;
On my conscience, I think that the money's not there.
And just think what a blunder,
They won't let us plunder,
While the convents invite us to rob them, 'tis clear;
Though there isn't a village,
But cries, "Come and pillage,"
Yet we leave all the mutton behind for Mounseer.

Like a sailor that's nigh land,
I long for that island
Where even the kisses we steal if we please;
Where it is no disgrace
If you don't wash your face,
And you've nothing to do but to stand at your ease.
With no sergeant t'abuse us,
We fight to amuse us;
Sure, it's better bate Christians than kick a baboon.
How I'd dance like a fairy
To see ould Dunleary,
And think twice ere I'd leave it to be a dragoon!


"There's a sweet little bit for you," said Mike, as he concluded; "thrown
off as aisy as a game at football."

"I say, Mr. Free, the captain's looking for you; he's just received
despatches from the camp, and wants his horses."

"In that case, gentlemen, I must take my leave of you; with the more
regret, too, that I was thinking of treating you to a supper this evening.
You needn't be laughing; it's in earnest I am. Coming, sir, coming!"
shouted he, in a louder tone, answering some imaginary call, as an excuse
for his exit.

When he appeared before me, an air of most business-like alacrity had
succeeded to his late appearance, and having taken my orders to get the
horses in readiness, he left me at once, and in less than half an hour we
were upon the road.




CHAPTER XXVIII.


MONSOON IN TROUBLE.

As I rode along towards Fuentes d'Onoro, I could not help feeling provoked
at the absurd circumstances in which I was involved. To be made the subject
of laughter for a whole army was by no means a pleasant consideration; but
what I felt far worse was the possibility that the mention of my name in
connection with a reprimand might reach the ears of those who knew nothing
of the cause.

Mr. Free himself seemed little under the influence of similar feelings; for
when, after a silence of a couple of hours, I turned suddenly towards him
with a half-angry look, and remarked, "You see, sir, what your confounded
blundering has done," his cool reply was,--

"Ah, then! won't Mrs. M'Gra be frightened out of her life when she reads
all about the killed and wounded in your honor's report? I wonder if they
ever had the manners to send my own letter afterwards, when they found out
their mistake!"

"_Their_ mistake, do you say? rather _yours!_ You appear to have a happy
knack of shifting blame from your own shoulders. And do you fancy that
they've nothing else to do than to trouble their heads about your absurd
letters?"

"Faith, it's easily seen you never saw my letter, or you wouldn't be saying
that. And sure, it's not much trouble it would give Colonel Fitzroy or any
o' the staff that write a good hand just to put in a line to Mrs. M'Gra, to
prevent her feeling alarmed about that murthering paper. Well, well; it's
God's blessing! I don't think there's anybody of the name of Mickey Free
high up in the army but myself; so that the family won't be going into
mourning for me on a false alarm."

I had not patience to participate in this view of the case; so that I
continued my journey without speaking. We had jogged along for some time
after dark, when the distant twinkle of the-watch-fires announced our
approach to the camp. A detachment of the Fourteenth formed the advanced
post, and from the officer in command I learned that Power was quartered
at a small mill about half a mile distant; thither I accordingly turned my
steps, but finding that the path which led abruptly down to it was broken
and cut up in many places, I sent Mike back with the horses, and continued
my way alone on foot.

The night was deliciously calm; and as I approached the little rustic mill,
I could not help feeling struck with Power's taste in a billet.

A little vine-clad cottage, built close against a rock, nearly concealed
by the dense foliage around it, stood beside a clear rivulet whose eddying
current supplied water to the mill, and rose in a dew-like spray which
sparkled like gems in the pale moonlight. All was still within, but as I
came nearer I thought I could detect the chords of a guitar. "Can it be,"
thought I, "that Master Fred has given himself up to minstrelsy; or is
it some little dress rehearsal for a serenade? But no," thought I, "that
certainly is not Power's voice." I crept stealthily down the little path,
and approached the window; the lattice lay open, and as the curtain waved
to and fro with the night air, I could see plainly all who were in the
room.

Close beside the window sat a large, dark-featured Spaniard, his hands
crossed upon his bosom and his head inclined heavily forward, the attitude
perfectly denoting deep sleep, even had not his cigar, which remained
passively between his lips, ceased to give forth its blue smoke wreath. At
a little distance from him sat a young girl, who, even by the uncertain
light, I could perceive was possessed of all that delicacy of form and
gracefulness of carriage which characterize her nation.

Her pale features--paler still from the contrast with her jet black
hair and dark costume--were lit up with an expression of animation and
enthusiasm as her fingers swept rapidly and boldly across the strings of a
guitar.

"And you're not tired of it yet?" said she, bending her head downwards
towards one whom I now for the first time perceived.

Reclining carelessly at her feet, his arm leaning upon her chair, while his
hand occasionally touched her taper fingers, lay my good friend, Master
Fred Power. An undress jacket, thrown loosely open, and a black neck-cloth,
negligently knotted, bespoke the easy _nonchalance_ with which he
prosecuted his courtship.

"Do sing it again?" said he, pressing her fingers to his lips.

What she replied, I could not catch; but Fred resumed: "No, no; he never
wakes. The infernal clatter of that mill is his lullaby."

"But your friend will be here soon," said she. "Is it not so?"

"Oh, poor Charley! I'd almost forgotten him. By-the-bye, you mustn't fall
in love with him. There now, do not look angry; I only meant that, as I
knew he'd be desperately smitten, you shouldn't let him fancy he got any
encouragement."

"What would you have me do?" said she, artlessly.

"I have been thinking over that, too. In the first place, you'd better
never let him hear you sing; scarcely ever smile; and as far as possible,
keep out of his sight."

"One would think, Senhor, that all these precautions were to be taken more
on my account than on his. Is he so very dangerous, then?"

"Not a bit of it! Good-looking enough he is, but, only a boy; at the same
time, a devilish bold one! And he'd think no more of springing through that
window and throwing his arms round your neck, the very first moment of his
arrival, than I should of whispering how much I love you."

"How very odd he must be! I'm sure I should like him."

"Many thanks to both for your kind hints; and now to take advantage of
them." So saying, I stepped lightly upon the window-sill, cleared the
miller with one spring, and before Power could recover his legs or
Margeritta her astonishment, I clasped her in my arms, and kissed her on
either cheek.

"Charley! Charley! Damn it, man, it won't do!" cried Fred; while the young
lady, evidently more amused at his discomfiture than affronted at the
liberty, threw herself into a seat, and laughed immoderately.

"Ha! Hilloa there! What is't?" shouted the miller, rousing himself from his
nap, and looking eagerly round. "Are they coming? Are the French coming?"

A hearty renewal of his daughter's laughter was the only reply; while Power
relieved his anxiety by saying,--

"No, no, Pedrillo, not the French; a mere marauding party,--nothing more. I
say, Charley," continued he, in a lower tone, "you had better lose no time
in reporting yourself at headquarters. We'll walk up together. Devilish
awkward scrape, yours."

"Never fear, Fred; time enough for all that. For the present, if you permit
me, I'll follow up my acquaintance with our fair friend here."

"Gently, gently!" said he, with a look of most imposing seriousness. "Don't
mistake her; she's not a mere country girl: you understand?--been bred in a
convent here,--rather superior kind of thing."

"Come, come, Fred, I'm not the man to interfere with you for a moment."

"Good-night, Senhor," said the old miller, who had been waiting patiently
all this time to pay his respects before going.

"Yes, that's it!" cried Power, eagerly. "Good-night, Pedrillo."

"_Buonos noches_," lisped out Margeritta, with a slight curtsy.

I sprang forward to acknowledge her salutation, when Power coolly
interposed between us, and closing the door after them, placed his back
against it.

"Master Charley, I must read you a lesson--"

"You inveterate hypocrite, don't attempt this nonsense with _me_. But come,
tell me how long you have been here?"

"Just twenty-four of the shortest hours I ever passed at an outpost. But
listen,--do you know that voice? Isn't it O'Shaughnessy?"

"To be sure it is. Hear the fellow's song."

"My father cared little for shot or shell,
He laughed at death and dangers;
And he'd storm the very gates of hell
With a company of the 'Rangers.'
So sing tow, row, row, row, row," etc.


"Ah, then, Mister Power, it's twice I'd think of returning your visit, if I
knew the state of your avenue. If there's a grand jury in Spain, they might
give you a presentment for this bit of road. My knees are as bare as a
commissary's conscience, and I've knocked as much flesh off my shin-bones
as would make a cornet in the hussars!"

A regular roar of laughter from both of us apprized Dennis of our vicinity.

"And it's laughing ye are? Wouldn't it be as polite just to hold a candle
or lantern for me in this confounded watercourse?"

"How goes it, Major?" cried I, extending my hand to him through the window.

"Charley--Charley O'Malley, my son! I'm glad to see you. It's a hearty
laugh you gave us this morning. My friend Mickey's a pleasant fellow for a
secretary-at-war. But it's all settled now; Crawfurd arranged it for you
this afternoon."

"You don't say so! Pray tell me all about it."

"That's just what I won't; for ye see I don't know it; but I believe old
Monsoon's affair has put everything out of their heads."

"Monsoon's affair! What is that? Out with it, Dennis."

"Faith, I'll be just as discreet about that as your own business. All I can
tell you is, that they brought him up to headquarters this evening with
a sergeant's guard, and they say he's to be tried by court-martial; and
Picton is in a blessed humor about it."

"What could it possibly have been? Some plundering affair, depend on it."

"Faith, you may swear it wasn't for his little charities, as Dr. Pangloss
calls them, they've pulled him up," cried Power.

"Maurice is in high feather about it," said Dennis. "There are five of them
up at Fuentes, making a list of the charges to send to Monsoon; for Bob
Mahon, it seems, heard of the old fellow's doings up the mountains."

"What glorious fun!" said Tower. "Let's haste and join them, boys."

"Agreed," said I. "Is it far from this?"

"Another stage. When we've got something to eat," said the major, "if Power
has any intentions that way--"

"Well, I really did begin to fear Fred's memory was lapsing; but somehow,
poor fellow, smiles have been more in his way than sandwiches lately."

An admonishing look from Power was his only reply, as he walked towards the
door. Bent upon teasing him, however, I continued,--

"My only fear is, he may do something silly."

"Who? Monsoon, is it?"

"No, no. Not Monsoon; another friend of ours."

"Faith, I scarcely thought your fears of old Monsoon were called for. He's
a fox--the devil a less."

"No, no, Dennis. I wasn't thinking of him. My anxieties were for a most
soft-hearted young gentleman,--one Fred Power."

"Charley, Charley!" said Fred, from the door, where he had been giving
directions to his servant about supper. "A man can scarce do a more silly
thing than marry in the army; all the disagreeables of married life, with
none of its better features."

"Marry--marry!" shouted O'Shaughnessy, "upon my conscience, it's
incomprehensible to me how a man can be guilty of it. To be sure, I don't
mean to say that there are not circumstances,--such as half-pay, old age,
infirmity, the loss of your limbs, and the like; but that, with good health
and a small balance at your banker's, you should be led into such an
embarrassment--"

"Men will flirt," said I, interrupting; "men will press taper fingers, look
into bright eyes, and feel their witchery; and although the fair owners be
only quizzing them half the time, and amusing themselves the other, and
though they be the veriest hackneyed coquettes--"

"Did you ever meet the Dalrymple girls, Dennis?" said Fred, with a look I
shall never forget.

What the reply was I cannot tell. My shame and confusion were overwhelming,
and Power's victory complete.

"Here comes the prog," cried Dennis, as Power's servant entered with a very
plausible-looking tray, while Fred proceeded to place before us a strong
army of decanters.

Our supper was excellent, and we were enjoying ourselves to the utmost,
when an orderly sergeant suddenly opened the door, and raising his hand to
his cap, asked if Major Power was there.

"A letter for you, sir."

"Monsoon's writing, by Jove! Come, boys, let us see what it means. What a
hand the old fellow writes! The letters look all crazy, and are tumbling
against each other on every side. Did you ever see anything half so tipsy
as the crossing of that _t?_"

"Read it. Read it out, Fred!"


Tuesday Evening.

Dear Power,--I'm in such a scrape! Come up and see me at
once, bring a little sherry with you, and we'll talk over what's to be
done.

Yours ever,

B. MONSOON.

Quarter-General.


We resolved to finish our evening with the major; so that, each having
armed himself with a bottle or two, and the remnants of our supper, we set
out towards his quarters, under the guidance of the orderly. After a sharp
walk of half an hour, we reached a small hut, where two sentries of the
Eighty-eighth were posted at the door.

O'Shaughnessy procured admittance for us, and in we went. At a small table,
lighted by a thin tallow candle, sat old Monsoon, who, the weather being
hot, had neither coat nor wig on; an old cracked china tea-pot, in which
as we found afterwards he had mixed a little grog, stood before him, and a
large mass of papers lay scattered around on every side,--he himself being
occupied in poring over their contents, and taking occasional draughts from
his uncouth goblet.

As we entered noiselessly, he never perceived us, but continued to mumble
over, in a low tone, from the documents before him:--

"Upon my life, it's like a dream to me! What infernal stuff this brandy
is!"

CHARGE No. 8.--For conduct highly unbecoming an officer and
a gentleman, in forcing the cellar of the San Nicholas convent at
Banos, taking large quantities of wine therefrom, and subsequently
compelling the prior to dance a bolero, thus creating a riot, and
tending to destroy the harmony between the British and the Portuguese,
so strongly inculcated to be preserved by the general orders.

"Destroy the harmony! Bless their hearts! How little they know of it! I've
never passed a jollier night in the Peninsula! The prior's a trump, and
as for the bolero, he _would_ dance it. I hope they say nothing about my
hornpipe."

CHARGE No. 9.--For a gross violation of his duty as an officer, in
sending a part of his brigade to attack and pillage the alcalde of
Banos; thereby endangering the public peace of the town, being a
flagrant breach of discipline and direct violation of the articles of
war.

"Well, I'm afraid I was rather sharp on the alcalde, but we did him no harm
except the fright. What sherry the fellow had! 't would have been a sin to
let it fall into the hands of the French."

CHARGE No. 10.--For threatening, on or about the night of the
3d, to place the town of Banos under contribution, and subsequently
forcing the authorities to walk in procession before him, in absurd
and ridiculous costumes.

"Lord, how good it was! I shall never forget the old alcalde! One of my
fellows fastened a dead lamb round his neck, and told him it was the golden
fleece. The commander-in-chief would have laughed himself if he had been
there. Picton's much too grave,--never likes a joke."

CHARGE No. 11.--For insubordination and disobedience, in refusing
to give up his sword, and rendering it necessary for the Portuguese
guard to take it by force,--thereby placing himself in a
situation highly degrading to a British officer.

"Didn't I lay about me before they got it! Who's that? Who's laughing
there? Ah, boys, I'm glad to see you! How are you, Fred? Well, Charley,
I've heard of your scrape; very sad thing for so young a fellow as you are.
I don't think you'll be broke; I'll do what I can. I'll see what I can do
with Picton; we are very old friends, were at Eton together."

"Many thanks, Major; but I hear your own affairs are not flourishing.
What's all this court-martial about?"

"A mere trifle; some little insubordination in the legion. Those Portuguese
are sad dogs. How very good of you, Fred, to think of that little supper."

While the major was speaking, his servant, with a dexterity the fruit of
long habit, had garnished the table with the contents of our baskets, and
Monsoon, apologizing for not putting on his wig, sat down among us with a
face as cheerful as though the floor was not covered with the charges of
the court-martial to be held on him.

As we chatted away over the campaign and its chances, Monsoon seemed little
disposed to recur to his own fortunes. In fact, he appeared to suffer much
more from what he termed my unlucky predicament than from his own mishaps.
At the same time, as the evening wore on, and the sherry began to tell upon
him, his heart expanded into its habitual moral tendency, and by an easy
transition, he was led from the religious association of convents to the
pleasures of pillaging them.

"What wine they have in their old cellars! It's such fun drinking it out of
great silver vessels as old as Methuselah. 'There's much treasure in the
house of the righteous,' as David says; and any one who has ever sacked a
nunnery knows that."

"I should like to have seen that prior dancing the bolero," said Power.

"Wasn't it good, though! He grew jealous of me, for I performed a hornpipe.
Very good fellow the prior; not like the alcalde,--there was no fun in him.
Lord bless him! he'll never forget me."

"What did you do with him, Major?"

"Well, I'll tell you; but you mustn't let it be known, for I see they have
not put it in the court-martial. Is there no more sherry there? There, that
will do; I'm always contented. 'Better a dry morsel with quietness,' as
Moses says. Ay, Charley, never forget that 'a merry heart is just like
medicine.' Job found out that, you know."

"Well, but the alcalde, Major."

"Oh! the alcalde, to be sure. These pious meditations make me forget
earthly matters."

"This old alcalde at Banos, I found out, was quite spoiled by Lord
Wellington. He used to read all the general orders, and got an absurd
notion in his head that because we were his allies, we were not allowed to
plunder. Only think, he used to snap his fingers at Beresford, didn't care
twopence about the legion, and laughed outright at Wilson. So, when I was
ordered down there, I took another way with him. I waited till night-fall,
ordered two squadrons to turn their jackets, and sent forward one of my
aides-de-camp, with a few troopers, to the alcalde's house. They galloped
into the courtyard, blowing trumpets and making an infernal hubbub. Down
came the alcalde in a passion. 'Prepare quarters quickly, and rations for
eight hundred men.'

"'Who dares to issue such an order?' said he.

"The aide-de-camp whispered one word in his ear, and the old fellow
grew pale as death. 'Is he here; is he coming,--is he coming?' said he,
trembling from head to foot.

"I rode in myself at this moment looking thus,--

"'_Où est le malheureux?_' said I, in French,--you know I speak French like
Portuguese."

"Devilish like, I've no doubt," muttered Power.

"'_Pardon, gracias eccellenza!_' said the alcalde, on his knees."

"Who the deuce did he take you for, Major?"

"You shall hear; you'll never guess, though. Lord, I shall never forget it!
He thought I was Marmont; my aide-de-camp told him so."

One loud burst of laughter interrupted the major at this moment, and it was
some considerable time before he could continue his narrative.

"And do you really mean," said I, "that you personated the Duke de Raguse?"

"Did I not, though? If you had only seen me with a pair of great mustaches,
and a drawn sabre in my hand, pacing the room up and down in presence of
the assembled authorities. Napoleon himself might have been deceived. My
first order was to cut off all their heads; but I commuted the sentence
to a heavy fine. Ah, boys, if they only understood at headquarters how to
carry on a war in the Peninsula, they'd never have to grumble in England
about increased taxation! How I'd mulet the nunneries! How I'd grind the
corporate towns! How I'd inundate the country with exchequer bills! I'd
sell the priors at so much a head, and put the nuns up to auction by the
dozen."

"You sacrilegious old villain! But continue the account of your exploits."

"Faith, I remember little more. After dinner I grew somewhat mellow, and
a kind of moral bewilderment, which usually steals over me about eleven
o'clock, induced me to invite the alcalde and all the aldermen to come and
sup. Apparently, we had a merry night of it, and when morning broke,
we were not quite clear in our intellects. Hence came that infernal
procession; for when the alcalde rode round the town with a paper cap, and
all the aldermen after him, the inhabitants felt offended, it seems, and
sent for a large Guerilla force, who captured me and my staff, after a very
vigorous resistance. The alcalde fought like a trump for us, for I promised
to make him Prefect of the Seine; but we were overpowered, disarmed, and
carried off. The remainder you can read in the court-martial, for you may
think that after sacking the town, drinking all night, and fighting in the
morning, my memory was none of the clearest."

"Did you not explain that you were not the marshal-general?"

"No, faith, I know better than that; they'd have murdered me had they known
their mistake. They brought me to headquarters in the hope of a great
reward, and it was only when they reached this that they found out I
was not the Duke de Raguse; so you see, boys, it's a very complicated
business."

"'Gad, and so it is," said Power, "and an awkward one, too."

"He'll be hanged, as sure as my name's Dennis!" vociferated O'Shaughnessy,
with an energy that made the major jump from his chair. "Picton will hang
him!"

"I'm not afraid," said Monsoon; "they know me so well. Lord bless you,
Beresford couldn't get on without me!"

"Well, Major," said I, "in any case, you certainly take no gloomy nor
desponding view of your case."

"Not I, boy. You know what Jeremiah says: 'a merry heart is a continual
feast;' and so it is. I may die of repletion, but they'll never find me
starved with sorrow."

"And, faith, it's a strange thing!" muttered O'Shaughnessy, thinking aloud;
"a most extraordinary thing! An honest fellow would be sure to be hanged;
and there's that old rogue, that's been melting down more saints and
blessed Virgins than the whole army together, he'll escape. Ye'll see he
will!"

"There goes the patrol," said Fred; "we must start."

"Leave the sherry, boys; you'll be back again. I'll have it put up
carefully."

We could scarcely resist a roar of laughter as we said, "Good-night."

"Adieu, Major," said I; "we shall meet soon."

So saying, I followed Power and O'Shaughnessy towards their quarters.

"Maurice has done it beautifully!" said Power. "Pleasant revelations the
old fellow will make on the court-martial, if he only remembers what we've
heard to-night! But here we are, Charley; so good-night, and remember, you
breakfast with me to-morrow."




CHAPTER XXIX.


THE CONFIDENCE.

"I have changed the venue, Charley," said Power, as he came into my room
the following morning,--"I've changed the venue, and come to breakfast with
you."

I could not help smiling as a certain suspicion crossed my mind; perceiving
which, he quickly added,--

"No, no, boy! I guess what you're thinking of. I'm not a bit jealous in
that quarter. The fact is, you know, one cannot be too guarded."

"Nor too suspicious of one's friends, apparently."

"A truce with quizzing. I say, have you reported yourself?"

"Yes; and received this moment a most kind note from the general. But it
appears I'm not destined to have a long sojourn among you, for I'm desired
to hold myself in readiness for a journey this very day."

"Where the deuce are they going to send you now?"

"I'm not certain of my destination. I rather suspect there are despatches
for Badajos. Just tell Mike to get breakfast, and I'll join you
immediately."

When I walked into the little room which served as my _salon_, I found
Power pacing up and down, apparently wrapped in meditation.

"I've been thinking, Charley," said he, after a pause of about ten
minutes,--"I've been thinking over our adventures in Lisbon. Devilish
strange girl that senhora! When you resigned in my favor, I took it for
granted that all difficulty was removed. Confound it! I no sooner began to
profit by your absence, in pressing my suit, than she turned short round,
treated me with marked coldness, exhibited a hundred wilful and capricious
fancies, and concluded one day by quietly confessing to me you were the
only man she cared for."

"You are not serious in all this, Fred?" said I.

"Ain't I though, by Jove! I wish to Heaven I were not! My dear Charley,
the girl is an inveterate flirt,--a decided coquette. Whether she has a
particle of heart or not, I can't say; but certainly her greatest pleasure
is to trifle with that of another. Some absurd suspicion that you were in
love with Lucy Dashwood piqued her vanity, and the anxiety to recover a
lapsing allegiance led her to suppose herself attached to you, and made her
treat all my advances with the most frigid indifference or wayward caprice;
the more provoking," continued he, with a kind of bitterness in his tone,
"as her father was disposed to take the thing favorably; and, if I must say
it, I felt devilish spooney about her myself.