Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil BlasLever, Charles
General
Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas
Lever, Charles
Ireland -- Fiction
I could scarcely credit my own alacrity as this prospect of better
days inspired me with fresh vigor; I recovered my feet at once, and,
in something which I intended should resemble a trot, set out in the
direction indicated, and where already a small bundle of clothes had
been placed for my acceptance.
A piece of lighted charcoal and some firewood also apprised me of the
office required at my hands, and which I performed with a most hearty
good-will; and as I threw the odious rags into the flames, I felt that I
was saying adieu to the last tie that bound me to the horrible Lazaretto
of Bexar.
"Let him join us now," said the Englishman; "though I think if the poor
fellow has walked from Bexar, you might have been satisfied he could n't
carry the leprosy with him."
"I've known it go with a piece of gun-wadding from Bexar to the Rio del
Norte," said one.
"I saw a fellow who caught it from the rind of a watermelon a lépero had
thrown away."
"There was a comrade of ours at Puerta Naval took it from sitting on the
bench beside a well on the road where a lépero had been resting the day
before," cried a third.
"Let him sit yonder, then," said the Englishman "You 're more afeard
of that disease than the bite of a cayman; though you need n't be
squeamish, most of you, if it 'a your beauty you were thinking of."
And thus amid many a tale of the insidious character of this fell
disorder, and many a rude jest on the score of precaution against it, I
was ordered to seat myself at about a dozen or twenty paces distant, and
receive my food as it was thrown towards me by the others,--too happy at
this humble privilege to think of anything but the good fortune of such
a meeting.
"Don't you remember me yet?" cried the Englishman, standing where the
full glare of the fire lit up his marked features.
"Yes," said I, "you 're Halkett."
"To be sure I am, lad. I 'm glad you don't forget me."
"How should I? This is not the first time you saved my life."
"I scarcely thought I had succeeded so well," said he, "when we parted
last; but you must tell me all about that to-morrow, when you are rested
and refreshed. The crew here is not very unlike what you may remember
aboard the yacht: don't cross them, and you 'll do well with them."
"What are they?" said I, eagerly.
"Gambusinos," said he, in a low voice.
"Bandits?" whispered I, misconceiving the word.
"Not quite," rejoined he, laughing; "though, I've no doubt, ready to
raise a dollar that way if any one could be found in these wild parts
a little richer than themselves;" with this, he commended me to a sound
sleep, and the words were scarcely spoken ere I obeyed the summons.
Before day broke, I was aroused by the noise of approaching departure;
the band were strapping on knapsacks, slinging muskets, and making other
preparations for the march; Halkett, as their captain, carrying
nothing beyond his weapons, and in his air and manner assuming all the
importance of command.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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