Adventures with the Connaught Rangers, 1809-1814Grattan, William
History
Adventures with the Connaught Rangers, 1809-1814
Grattan, William
Great Britain. Army. Regiment of Foot, 88th (Connaught Rangers); Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives
At Aldea-de-Ponte, the headquarters of our division, all was quiet; and
although our allowance of provisions was scanty, and our supply of money
scarcely sufficient to procure us salt and rice for our soup, the
division, nevertheless, was in high order; we had a good deal of drill,
and regular examinations of the men’s kits—a very necessary precaution
with all regiments, and with my corps as well as another. At an
inspection of this kind by General Mackinnon he found fault—and
deservedly so, I must confess—with the scanty manner in which some of
the men of my company were supplied. The General was too much the
gentleman to row, or call names, but it was clear from his manner that
he was far from satisfied with the wardrobe displayed by these fellows;
indeed, if he was, it would have been easy to please him! At last coming
to a “boy” of the name of Darby Rooney, whose knapsack was what a
Frenchman would term _vide_, or, to speak more intelligibly, one that
contained nothing whatever but his watch-coat, a piece of pipe-clay and
button-brush! he seemed thunderstruck, as well he might, for I believe
“he ne’er had looked upon its like before”!
With more asperity of manner than I ever observed him to make use
of, he asked “Darby” to whose squad he belonged. Darby Rooney
understood about as much English as enabled him to get over a parade
tolerably, but a conversation such as the General was about to hold
with him was beyond his capacity, and he began to feel a little
confused at the prospect of a _tête-à-tête_ with his General:
“Squidha—squodha—cad-dershe-vourneen?”[21] said he, turning to the
orderly-sergeant, Pat Gafney, who did not himself speak the English
language quite as correctly as Lindley Murray. “Whist, ye
Bostoon,”[22] said Gafney, “and don’t make a baste of yourself
before the General.”—“Why,” said General Mackinnon, “I believe he
don’t understand me.”—“No, sir,” replied Gafney, “he don’t know what
your honour manes.”
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Footnote 21:
“What does he say, honey?”
Footnote 22:
“Hold your tongue, you booby.”
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Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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