I join Captain O’Hare’s company—He falls in a passion—The “fair” and “unfair” appointment—Disappointment—Things of a private nature—Tom Crawley—An example—The Hero—How to catch “flats” in “squads”—New way to tap a barrel—A Rifleman’s plan for sweeping chimneys and tap-rooms—Pipe-clay and parade—The regiment embark for Portugal.

Shortly after the return of the regiment, I was drafted into the company commanded by Captain Peter O’Hare; a man whose eccentric habits were equalled only by his extremely ugly countenance. Peter, for that was the cognomen by which he was generally known to the men, was as brave as a lion; and had risen, it was said, to his present commission from the ranks.

While here, he got in tow with a young lady of Hythe, whom he was in the habit frequently of escorting about the barracks and the neighbouring heights. This the men as often took advantage of, and throwing themselves in his way, when arm-in-arm with the lady, would ask any favour they might have required of him. This Peter, who we presumed had an eye to the opinion and future requital of, perhaps, his own wishes upon the fair one herself, would always readily grant; until, at last, through their importunities he became awake to the scheme, and swore he would flog the first man who made another attempt of the kind, when the lady was present.

A rather humorous adventure, which came to my knowledge through his servant, occurred while here. One day at Hythe with a dinner party, at which the young lady was present, he chanced, unintentionally, to give offence to some Militia officer, one of the party; the consequence was, that the next morning he received, what he perhaps supposed a billet-doux, but which, to his surprise, turned out to be a challenge. He was sitting shaving himself when the note was delivered to him by his servant, and of course dropped the razor to peruse it.

“John,” said he, calling his man back; “who brought this? Faith, it’s a challenge.”

“A gentleman!” replied John, “now waiting at the door.”

“Oh, then,” says Peter, “tell the gentleman that I am going to Spain, and that if he follows me, he’ll not find me behind a hedge; and with my compliments, tell him also to take back this bit of paper to the humbug who sent it; for by Jove!” he continued, closing the door, “captain’s commissions are not to be got every day!”

Our commanding officer, who was considered as one of the most humane of the whole army, was an excellent man, and well deserving of his fame; he seldom had recourse to the “cats,” thinking, perhaps, with a great deal of truth, that it was necessary only in extreme cases. The plan of punishment, generally adopted by him, was to put the offender on extra drill with all his accoutrements on. When, however, the men became incorrigible, he would order a six pound shot to be affixed to the leg, with a long chain attached to it, and so oblige them to trail it about with them.

We had in our regiment, at this time, a man of the name of Tom Crawley, who was always getting into scrapes, and who was one of those singular characters with which every regiment abounds. To enormous strength, and great meekness of temper, he added an infinity of dry humour, which I shall better illustrate by introducing him to the reader at once, as bearing no little part in my career—in which he first became known to me as one of the “incorrigibles.” Tom, however, made light of every punishment, even of the “six-pounder,” which he would generally chuck under his arm as if it were a mere toy. To obviate this, another move was made by our Colonel, which was the obliging him to wear a kind of long smock-frock, with a green cross painted on the back and front of it. The barrack in which we were, being only temporary, presented no outward wall to prevent our free intercourse with the town where Tom was a general favourite. Tom used, therefore, at night, while under disgrace, to take advantage of the dusk, and steal by the sentries into the town. Here, of course, his strange dress elicited innumerable queries.

“Arrah and sure!” Tom would reply with a knowing side leer of the eye, “sure and is it not the new regulation of the Duke of York, and musn’t all the likes of me, that are Catholics in our regiment, wear the cross on their dress!”

The first parade we had after our men had received their new equipments, was imprinted upon my memory from a circumstance attending it, that was well calculated to make an impression upon the mind of a youthful soldier, such as I then was; and to inspire that esprit de corps in a regiment, which is absolutely essential to even disciplined valour. I had previously, more than once, heard a man of the name of Tom Plunket eulogised by the men for his courage. He was a smart, well-made fellow, about the middle height, in the prime of manhood; with a clear grey eye, and handsome countenance; and was a general favourite with both officers and men, besides being the best shot in the regiment.

On the occasion I have above alluded to, we were formed into hollow square, and ordered to face inwards; as we knew it was not a punishment parade, we naturally expected some address from the commanding officer, and wondering in our own minds what was coming, when Colonel Beckwith broke the silence by calling out:

“Private Thomas Plunket, step into the square.” All eyes, it is needless to say, were fixed upon Plunket, as he halted with his rifle shouldered, in the finest position of military attention, within a few paces of his officer.

“Here, men,” exclaimed the commanding officer, pointing to Plunket, “here stands a pattern for the battalion!” Then addressing Tom, he added, “I have ordered a medal for you, in approval of your late gallant conduct at Corunna. Present yourself, Sir, to the master tailor and get on a corporal’s stripes, and I will see you do not want higher promotion, as you continue to deserve it. I love to reward conduct such as yours has hitherto been!”

Making his salute, Tom retired, when we formed into column and marched back to our barracks, duly fired with a love of emulation to deserve the praise that had been bestowed on the fortunate Plunket. I have since often thought of the judicious conduct pursued by our Colonel in the foregoing instance, as I am convinced that it was attended with the happiest effects among many of the men, and, perhaps, indeed, induced much of that spirit of personal gallantry and daring for which our corps afterwards became celebrated.

Our regiment was shortly afterwards raised to one thousand strong, chiefly through volunteering from the Militia, our common medium of supply at the time at which I write, and it is justly due to the Militia regiments, to say, that in the knowledge and exercise of their military duties, during the war, they were very little inferior to the troops of the line. The men who joined our battalion, were in general a fine set of young fellows, and chiefly the Élite of the light companies of the different provincial corps.

For his qualifications, as before stated, Tom Plunket, with a few others, was selected to recruit from the Lincoln Militia, which lay at Hythe, while we remained in temporary barracks on the heights.

While the volunteering went on, the Militia colonels were ordered to give their men full liberty to do as they liked, and the better to obtain the object in view, barrels of beer with the heads knocked in, were, by order of government, placed in the different streets of the town, for those to partake of who chose. The butts, consequently, were dipped into by every kind of person with utensils of every description. This we must not wonder at, when we consider the double thirst those times gave rise to, “Barclay” as well as “Glory.”

Tom’s manner of attack was rather singular, but joined to the profusion of government, very efficacious. The Rifles, from the dark colour of their uniforms, and the total absence of all ornament, had gained the nick-name of “Sweeps,” an appellation, which, nevertheless, held out a kind of temptation to the “wide awake” of the squads. The pipe clay and button stick were always hateful to the eyes of all soldiers; but to none so much as to the Riflemen, who looked upon them as fitted only for men less useful than themselves. This, Tom took advantage of on all occasions. He was the soul of every company he mixed in, and amongst his other accomplishments, numbered that of dancing excellently.

One day, the better to attract the “awkwards,” he commenced a shuffle on the head of one of the aforesaid barrels of beer, to the infinite amusement of a very large crowd; in the course of a few steps, however, the head suddenly gave way, and soused Tom up to his neck in the liquid. The whole crowd laughed uproariously. But Tom, whose head only was to be seen, stared very gravely round the edge of the cask, then suddenly recovering himself, and bolting out of the butt, he made his way instantly to the public-house chimney, which, having ascended some distance and descended, he as quickly re-appeared amongst the crowd.

“There now,” said he, giving himself a Newfoundland shake, that opened a wide and instantaneous circle of militia men, “there now,” he exclaimed, “d—n your pipe clay, now I’m ready for the grand parade!”

I must now notice an order that arrived for our immediate embarkation for Portugal, to join the army under Sir Arthur Wellesley. We went on board the transports lying for us at Dover in March, 1809, in the best of spirits; such, in fact, as sportsmen feel in anticipation of the pleasures of the chase.

Shipboard, though perhaps not quite so forlorn as Doctor Johnson has portrayed it, soon becomes sufficiently irksome and unpleasant to those not accustomed to it, especially when three or four hundred men are crowded into a small vessel. Our officers, who were mostly a jolly set of fellows, had recourse to various expedients to while away the time on our voyage. Among these was one extremely popular, and that was getting Plunket to dance a hornpipe to the music of our band upon the quarter-deck. Tom danced it famously; and the beating of his feet, in the “double shuffle” used to draw the loudest plaudits from our men and the crew of the vessel.

As I have already been induced to mention Plunket, while we are now on our voyage to Portugal, I will introduce a sketch of his life, which well known as it is to many individuals formerly in the regiment, possibly may not form an unamusing episode in my own.