We remained over an hour after this, during which no change took place in “Soapy’s” ordinary health, and meeting him in barracks about ten days after, I asked him whether the pills had made him ill. He replied, “No, not yet, but I expect they will do so, before long.”

Chapter Twelve

Cassio. – I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? – O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee – devil!

Shakespeare.

Our visits to public-houses during the winter months must not be accepted as a sign that we were loose and careless as to our morals, as we frequently attended church or chapel on such evenings as we could, in our turns, procure leave from stables, and such of the inhabitants as were attendants at these places of worship gave us every encouragement to come more frequently by opening their seat doors, and beckoning us to sit beside them. We had a library, too (as provided in every barracks), for our especial use, in which there was no lack of entertaining and useful books.

There can be no question that the morals, general conduct, intelligence, and appearance of a youth are very much improved by enlistment. I know that one section, at least, of the public hold a contrary opinion. I have, however, carefully observed the habits of men, who in civil life would have degenerated into drunken reprobates, and contrasted them with the class from whence they have been enlisted, when the balance is found immeasurably superior to their companions who prefer to remain civilians. The general public imagine, that because a youth is a “worthless fellow,” or a “lazy, drunken blackguard,” before he is enlisted, that he must for ever remain so; and that, therefore, he is a fair sample of soldiers generally. Nothing can be more erroneous than this idea. A youth who has given himself up to habits of idleness, and, perhaps, drunkenness in civil life, must reform when he becomes a British soldier. He finds a master in the army, if he never had one before; his whole habits are soon changed, and his general demeanour and bearing are, in the course of a few days, seen to be such as to distinguish the effects of order and discipline from the habits and manners of an untrained rustic, or a village vagabond. It is imperative that not only the dress and appearance but the conduct of the soldier should be such as to create in the minds of all civilians, as well as the soldier himself, a respect for the military service; and though, in a few instances, cases do occur where soldiers grossly misconduct themselves, yet they are at all times most strictly enjoined to avoid being mixed in broils or disturbances, or in meetings where party or political subjects may be agitated, or where intemperance may produce argument and discussion, which lead to no useful result, but too frequently end in breaches of the public peace.

I have before remarked that drunkenness is the source of almost every evil that can befall the soldier; and, although he is allowed to purchase liquor to any extent that his means allow, and his inclination may prompt him, yet he is so well aware of the severe penalty that any undue indulgence in liquor will entail upon him, that a confirmed drunkard is more rarely to be met with in a regiment than is generally supposed. Solitary confinement, or confinement in the “black hole,” are at all times reserved for cases of drunkenness; not violence or insolence to superiors. The penalty awarded by the articles of war for “habitual drunkenness” is discharge from the service with ignominy. Thus the Government prove beyond a doubt, that habitual drunkenness cannot be tolerated in the army with the same degree that we all know it to exist in civil life.

When orders have been given, as the result of a court-martial, for discharging a soldier with ignominy, commonly called “drumming him out of the regiment,” the whole corps is assembled and formed in double rank, facing inwards (towards each other), one flank of each rank reaching close up to each side of the front gate, which is generally besieged by a mob of people (the fact being previously known in the neighbourhood of the barracks that a man is to be “drummed out”); thus a sort of lane is formed for the culprit to walk through, so that every soldier can see him. He is then escorted by an armed party from the guard-room; the several crimes and irregularities of which he has been guilty are read over, as also the sentence of the court-martial for his dismissal from the service; together with his discharge, in which is noticed his disgraceful conduct. The buttons, facings, lace, etc, are then stripped from his clothing, his discharge is handed to him, and he is then marched down the ranks, with the drummer behind him, to the front gate, which is closed behind him for ever; and he is launched upon society a ruined, disgraced, and broken-down individual. Soldiers serving abroad, who have been sentenced to be discharged with disgrace, are not finally discharged until they reach the depot of their regiment at home; but they are sent home as prisoners (though not kept in confinement on the passage) for the purpose of being finally discharged, in the manner above alluded to, in a few days after their arrival.

Corporal punishment is but seldom inflicted now; indeed, I never saw but one man flogged, and that was for knocking down a sergeant: he had only fifty lashes, and bore it without flinching. We had three men in our regiment who had received two hundred lashes each, for being drunk on guard at a post requiring great vigilance; their backs were frightfully scored with blue ridges, or “wheals,” from the neck to the bottom of the waist. They each said that they scarcely felt the pain of infliction after the first fifty lashes; but the greatest agony of all was the application of a lotion after being taken to hospital. They were good soldiers; and, contrary to the general impression, that flogging has the effect of “debasing the mind of a soldier,” they seemed to think that they deserved it, because they knew how to avoid it.

Generally speaking, soldiers would rather be flogged than handed over to the civil power, and imprisoned in a common gaol, or sentenced to a long term of “kit drill” in hot weather – the latter punishment blistering the feet, and causing as much pain as the lash on the bare back, and it has to be endured so much longer.

Flogging is, however, after all, a most unfair and degrading punishment to a man who may at any time be called upon to lay down his life in the defence of his country. Sentences of corporal punishment are inflicted in the riding-school, and always at head-quarters. A triangular-shaped frame of timber is placed against the wall; the whole regiment is then assembled under arms, and with drawn swords; the culprit is brought from the guard-room, handcuffed, into the hollow square formed by his comrades; the colonel reads the particulars of his crime and sentence; he is then conducted to the triangle, and divested of his jacket and shirt; his hands are tied to the apex and his feet to the base of the triangle; the surgeon takes his stand, as also the colonel, adjutant, and other officers. The instrument of torture (cat-o’-nine-tails – a whip with nine lashes, made of catgut) is produced by the farrier-major, under whom are the requisite number of troop-farriers to inflict the punishment, so many lashes each. The culprit is considered as having expiated his offence when he shall have undergone, at one time, as much of the punishment as, in the opinion of the surgeon, he is able to bear. The idea, often promulgated by the newspapers, that a soldier who has been flogged until ordered by the surgeon to be taken down, because of his physical inability to undergo the punishment the first time, is again brought out to undergo the remainder of his punishment, is not correct. The infliction of corporal punishment a second time, under one and the same sentence, was never resorted to in the British army.

The punishment of marking a deserter with the letter D is inflicted on the parade-ground in presence of the whole regiment, and under the personal superintendence of the surgeon. The operation is performed with an instrument made for the purpose, and the punishment is inflicted in the cavalry by the trumpet-major, a person who is responsible for the observance of discipline and duty of the troop-trumpeters, and in the infantry by the drum-major or bugle-major, and these are first instructed by the surgeon how to apply the instrument or ingredient (generally gunpowder or ink) properly and effectually.

Flogging is the penalty of the following offences only:

First. – Mutiny, insubordination, violence, or offering violence to superior officers.

Second. – Drunkenness on duty.

Third. – Sale of, or making away with arms, ammunition, accoutrements, clothing, or necessaries, stealing from comrades, or other disgraceful conduct.

In former times, desertion was included in the above crimes, but imprisonment, and the degradation of being branded for life with the letter D, is considered a sufficient punishment.

In cases where non-commissioned officers misconduct themselves, they are not confined in the guard-room, but considered as placed under arrest in their own room, without a guard over them. In serious cases, where it is necessary to hold a court-martial over them, and the offence is established, they are generally sentenced to be reduced to the rank and pay of a private, being stripped of their stripes in the presence of a parade of the whole regiment.

Chapter Thirteen

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial.

The sergeant; to whom I alluded in a former chapter as having deserted from Liverpool, where he was stationed in command of a recruiting party, was the first non-commissioned officer that ever I witnessed “broke” and reduced to the ranks. It was two years after the corporal with whom he deserted gave himself up, and the regiment was then stationed at York. The sergeant had been to the “gold diggings” in California, or part way there; but, after a great deal of privation and suffering, he resolved to come to England again and run his chance of being taken as a deserter. Landing in Liverpool, spirit-broken, and with but little money in his pocket, he set out for his native place, somewhere near Sheffield, travelling by railway; and having to change carriages at Victoria Station, Manchester, he was recognised by our adjutant (the son of a Liverpool brewer), who had been on a visit to his friends, and of course given into the custody of the police until an escort could be sent to bring him to head-quarters. He was tried by court-martial in the ordinary course, and, having made away with all his regimental clothing, kit, necessaries, and some money belonging to the regiment, he was sentenced to three months’ imprisonment in York gaol, and reduced to the rank and pay of a private soldier. Some months after he had returned to his duty, I was on guard with him one very cold night in the depth of winter. We were sitting round the guard-room fire waiting for our turn to go on sentry. The ex-sergeant, was dull and morose generally, and more especially when on guard; “the time above all times,” he used to say, when he reflected the most upon his disgrace, was as he paced to and fro in the dark and deep stillness of a winter’s night. We had a gay young Irishman in the same relief, Jerry O’Neil, who had told several good stories in the course of the night and so got the party into good spirits. Singing was not allowed in the guard-room; and, therefore, story-telling was always the most approved method of entertainment. We had each told our story, and it came round to Brailsford’s turn (that was his name); and, now that he was a private soldier, he was always addressed by his surname, like the rest of us. The fire was replenished, pipes reloaded, and both the corporal and sergeant of the guard drew dearer to the hearth, so as to hear the ex-sergeant relate an incident that occurred to him on his way to the “diggings,” the substance of which I have reduced, and endeavoured to render in a readable form.

“You are all aware, boys,” began the ex-sergeant, “that I deserted in a moment of temptation, and with Corporal – went to America. Soon after our arrival in New York, the corporal left me to go to some of his friends in the state of Ohio, and I was left to shift for myself, intending to get some kind of situation in New York. Having plenty of money, however, to keep me in idleness for some time, I joined a party of ‘gold-seekers,’ who were going by the overland route to California. I formed one of six men. We had six horses, three pack-mules, and two dogs; and, although we journeyed for days with the heavy plodding ox-teams of the main body of our party, and intended to keep their company more or less all the way, yet we were equipped for, and intended to have some hunting and sport, diverging from the main track in the morning, and sometimes returning to it some distance ahead, so as to fall in with our party in the evening. Frequently, however, we missed the track; or, having game in view, we slept away from the main body.

“One bright summer morning we were up and broke camp earlier than usual. Old Ben Walton, our captain and guide, to whom these wilds were home, had promised that this day we should strike the great buffalo trail, by which mighty herds of those animals migrate from their winter pasturage in the south to fatten on the prairies of Utah and Oregon. For several days we had been separated from the rest of the party, and found ourselves, according to Ben’s calculation, on one of those great dry prairies that skirt the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, near the northern boundary of New Mexico; we were suffering from want of water, the last quart remaining in my canteen I had shared with my horse in the morning. It was now mid-day, and our course lay due east, beneath a broiling sun; the plain was dry and parched, and it seemed that if we could not get into the track of our head-quarters, or find water, both man and beast must soon give way. Old Ben promised us water within a few miles, and we jogged on as fast as we could urge our half-famished horses. About four o’clock in the afternoon we came upon one of those singular ravines which the spring floods wash out of the loose soil of these prairies; the banks were perpendicular, the ravine about twenty feet deep, and from twenty to thirty yards wide, and in the sand and gravel bottom we beheld the welcome water, not a running stream, but standing in small limpid pools. The sight was very cheering, yet still it was out of our reach; we turned our course to the south, down the bank of the ravine; continuing thus for near a mile, we came upon a deep, wide pathway or gully worn by the hoofs of the buffaloes, and leading down to the bottom of the ravine. With a wild shout of joy we dashed down, and soon man, horse, and dog were regaling themselves at these delicious fountains of Nature.

“Kettles were swung, and in a few minuted the fragrant coffee, and boiling pemmican (dried buffalo beef, pounded) saluted our nostrils and whetted our appetites. All were busy, some unloading mules, others gathering fuel – the dried droppings of the buffalo, the only fuel of the plain, burning like turf. As we finished our meal, night was coming on, and Ben had advised us all to prepare for rest, when a low, rumbling sound, like distant thunder, started us all to our feet. As the sky was clear overhead, we were at a loss to account for the strange noise, until Ben, throwing his ear to the ground shouted, —

“‘Buffaloes! Mount!’

“The order was scarcely delivered before every man was in his saddle, and following Ben up the gully at full speed. On reaching the plain we had not long before crossed, a terrific sight to novices in prairie-life broke upon our vision.

“Away in the distance was a great brown mass, undulating like a sea, and extending miles in each direction. A cloud of dust hung above the mighty herd of buffaloes, darkening the sky. Already they snuffed the water, and were approaching at full speed. A glance was enough for Ben. Wheeling his horse again into the ravine, he shouted for all to follow. His practised eye saw that they were making for the water-course, and in a few moments, if we remained, we should be trampled to death.

“I thought that the hurried manner in which Ben ordered us to re-pack the mules and run up the ravine had something of cowardice in it. It would have been well for me had I partaken of this fear. While my more sensible companions hastened after Ben up the bottom of the ravine, I spurred my horse up the steep path to have another look – I even thought of bagging a few buffaloes, to astonish old Ben. When I reached the level of the plain, I witnessed such a sight as I shall never forget – a moving wall of life! and, within a few yards of me, grizzly, shaggy monsters, with heads to the ground, and tails erect, bellowing like an earthquake, throwing white froth from their parched mouths, while their tread seemed to shake the very earth. With a sudden start my horse reared, twisting round upon his haunches, and, wheeling round, he dashed down the pathway; and, before I could regain my presence of mind, he was galloping at the top of his speed down the ravine, in a contrary direction to that taken by my comrades, who were now out of sight. For nearly a mile he held his headlong course, until a turn in the channel brought me in sight of a new danger.

“The herd had divided upon the plain, and thousands were crowding down another pathway below me, choking up the ravine with a dense, impenetrable living mass. This new barrier enabled me to control my horse; turning him round I scanned the high bank on each side for an opening of escape. All was vain! There was not a place for a cat to crawl up, and here was coming on either side a mass of buffaloes that would soon crush me between them. A few stragglers, more speedy than the rest, came first, crowding their noses into the little pools of water, and sucking them dry in a moment. Now the mass behind came sweeping like a mighty torrent, completely choking up the narrow ravine. There was no escape; and in less time than it takes me to tell you, boys, I was forced between the two divisions, and my frantic horse made a part of the living stream. The air was filled with sand, gravel, and froth. The hot breath from the feverish mass rose like steam, and sickened me. I felt that I must fall, not to the ground (there was no room for that), but upon the backs of the crushing, sweltering, reeking mass. A furious old bull gored my poor horse in the flank; again and again he plunged his short, sharp, strong horn into my dying horse until his entrails were torn out. I felt him giving way beneath me, his strength almost gone; still he was carried along by the crush. We came to a slight widening of the ravine and the pressure was relieved, but my lifeless horse sank to the earth, and was trampled to a jelly in a moment. As I felt him going, I sprang from the saddle, and landed erect upon the backs of the rushing, ramping buffaloes. I fell, but recovered myself before I came to the ground. At last I landed and lay at full length upon the back of a huge beast; with a feeling of desperation I twisted my hands into his mane, and on with the heaving torrent, my wild courser, mad with terror, throws his head wildly about, tearing the sides of all within his reach, and sprinkling me with a shower of froth and gore.”