Adventure stories, English; France -- History -- Consulate and First Empire, 1799-1815 -- Fiction; Soldiers of fortune -- Fiction
I must own that the degree of credit we reposed in the worthy man’s
information was considerably influenced by the state of facts before
us, inasmuch as that the ‘elegant, fine harbour’ he had so gloriously
described--‘the beautiful road’--‘the neat little quay’ to land upon,
and the other advantages of the spot, all turned out to be most grievous
disappointments. That the people were not of our own mind on these
matters, was plain enough from the looks of astonishment our discontent
provoked; and now a lively discussion ensued on the relative merits of
various bays, creeks, and inlets along the coast, each of which, with
some unpronounceable name or other, was seen to have a special advocate
in its favour, till at last the colonel lost all patience, and jumping
into the boat, ordered the men to push off for the frigate.
Evidently out of temper at the non-success of his reconnaissance, and as
little pleased with the country as the people, Gharost did not speak a
word as we rowed back to the ship. Our failure, as it happened, was of
little moment, for another party, under the guidance of Madgett, had
already discovered a good landing-place at the bottom of the Bay of
Rathfran, and arrangements were already in progress to disembark the
troops at daybreak. We also found that, during our absence, some of the
‘chiefs’ had come off from shore, one of whom, named Neal Kerrigan, was
destined to attain considerable celebrity in the rebel army. He was a
talkative, vulgar, presumptuous fellow, who, without any knowledge or
experience whatever, took upon him to discuss military measures and
strategy with all the assurance of an old commander.
Singularly enough, Humbert suffered this man to influence him in a great
degree, and yielded opinion to him on points even where his own judgment
was directly opposed to the advice he gave.
If Kerrigan’s language and bearing were directly the reverse of
soldierlike, his tawdry uniform of green and gold, with massive
epaulettes and a profusion of lace, were no less absurd in our eyes,
accustomed as we were to the almost puritan plainness of military
costume. His rank, too, seemed as undefined as his information; for
while he called himself ‘General,’ his companions as often addressed
him by the title of ‘Captain.’ Upon some points his counsels, indeed,
alarmed and astonished us.
‘It was of no use whatever,’ he said, ‘to attempt to discipline the
peasantry, or reduce them to anything like habits of military obedience.
Were the effort to be made, it would prove a total failure; for they
would either grow disgusted with the restraint, and desert altogether,
or so infect the other troops with their own habits of disorder, that
the whole force would become a mere rabble. Arm them well, let them have
plenty of ammunition, and free liberty to use it in their own way and
their own time, and we should soon see that they would prove a greater
terror to the English than double the number of trained and disciplined
troops.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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