Here my old friend, Tom Crawley, got the whole of our regiment out of a precious scrape. It was as follows:—Our division was served out with linen bags, made exactly to fit across our knapsacks, and, at the same time, three days’ biscuit (3 lbs.) in each bag. This biscuit was to be kept strapped on the top of each man’s knapsack, well tied, with brigade orders for no man to taste a morsel of it, unless given out in written orders to that effect, as our brigadier expected we should be on short commons while on the Pyrenees, and this was to be, in case of scarcity, our last resource. These bags were examined regularly every morning by officers commanding companies, but, while seen strapped snugly on the knapsacks, were considered by them all right. However, our fellows, who were never at a loss for a subterfuge, devised the following plan to evade the officers’ vigilance: they eat their biscuits except one whole one, which they kept at top to be seen, and in their place substituted chips. This passed on very well for some time, as the sight of the top biscuit satisfied the officers, until one day Captain Johnson of our regiment took it into his head to see his company’s biscuit shaken out, and whilst on private parade ordered them to untie their bags to see their biscuit. The first man on the right of his company was the unfortunate Tom Crawley. “Untie your bag, Crawley,” says the Captain. Tom instantly did as he was ordered, and showed the Captain a very good-looking biscuit a-top. “Shake the whole out,” said the Captain, “until I see if they are getting mouldy.” “Oh, faith, there is no fear of that,” said the astonished Crawley, looking the Captain hard in the face, at the same time casting a woeful eye on his bag. However, the Captain was not to be baulked, and taking the bag by both ends, emptied out its contents, which turned out to be nothing more nor less than a few dry chips. Poor Tom, as upright as a dart, stood scratching his head, with a countenance that would make a saint laugh. “What have you done with your biscuit? have you eaten it, Sir?” said the Captain. Tom, motionless, made no answer. “Do you know it is against orders?” “To be sure I do,” says Tom; “but, for God’s sake, Sir, do you take me for a South American jackass, that carries gold and eats straw?”[20] This answer not only set the Captain, but the whole company, in roars of laughter. On further inspection, the Captain found his whole company, indeed the regiment, had adopted the same plan. Through this our bags were taken away, and we relieved from carrying chips.