India -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
Mulvaney dismissed the impertinence with a lofty wave of his hand and
continued--
"An' the orf'cers av the rig'mint I was in in thim days _was_
orfcers--gran' men, wid a manner on 'em, an' a way wid 'em such as is not
made these days--all but wan--wan o' the capt'ns. A bad dhrill, a wake
voice, an' a limp leg--thim three things are the signs av a bad man. You
bear that in your mind, Orth'ris, me son.
"An' the Colonel av the rig'mint had a daughter--wan av thim lamblike,
bleatin', pick-me-up-an'-carry-me-or-I'll-die gurls such as was made for
the natural prey av men like the Capt'n, who was iverlastin' payin' coort
to her, though the Colonel he said time an' over, 'Kape out av the brute's
way, my dear.' But he niver had the heart for to send her away from the
throuble, bein' as he was a widower, an' she their wan child."
"Stop a minute, Mulvaney," said I; "how in the world did you come to know
these things?"
"How did I come?" said Mulvaney, with a scornful grunt; "bekaze I'm turned
durin' the Quane's pleasure to a lump av wood, lookin' out straight
forninst me, wid a--a--candelabbrum in my hand, for you to pick your cards
out av, must I not see nor feel? Av coorse I du! Up my back, an' in my
boots, an' in the short hair av the neck--that's where I kape my eyes whim
I'm on duty an' the reg'lar wans are fixed. Know! Take my word for it,
sorr, ivrything an' a great dale more is known in a rig'mint; or fwhat wud
be the use av a Mess Sargint, or a Sargint's wife doin' wet-nurse to the
Major's baby? To reshume. He was a bad dhrill was this Capt'n--a rotten
bad dhrill--an' whin first I ran me eye over him, I sez to myself: 'My
Militia bantam!' I sez, 'My cock av a Gosport dunghill'--'twas from
Portsmouth he came to us--'there's combs to be cut,' sez I, 'an' by the
grace av God, 'tis Terence Mulvaney will cut thim.'
"So he wint menowderin', and minanderin', an' blandandhering roun' an'
about the Colonel's daughter, an' she, poor innocint, lookin' at him like
a Comm'ssariat bullock looks at the Comp'ny cook. He'd a dhirty little
scrub av a black moustache, an' he twisted an' turned ivry wurrd he used
as av he found ut too sweet for to spit out.
"Eyah! He was a tricky man an' a liar by natur'. Some are born so. He was
wan. I knew he was over his belt in money borrowed from natives; besides a
lot av other matthers which, in regard for your presince, sorr, I will
oblitherate. A little av fwhat I knew, the Colonel knew, for he wud have
none av him, an' that, I'm thinkin', by fwhat happened aftherward, the
Capt'in knew.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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