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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Faith you've larnt the half av your lesson, Sorr," sez I, "but av you shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim in-ship at all, at all. Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do." ''Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf' in Egypt. 'What was that, Mulvaney? said I.
I won't marry then, not I! I'll 'old on and learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply for exchange into a reg'ment that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll be a bloomin' orf'cer. Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry wine, Mister Lew, an' you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room while the Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands." "S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite.
'Thin we wint to bury our dead, for we wud not lave thim to the Paythans, an' in movin' among the haythen we nearly lost that little orf'cer bhoy. He was for givin' wan divil wather and layin' him aisy against a rock. "Be careful, Sorr," sez I; "a wounded Paythan's worse than a live wan."
Scrub Greene wint away widout a word, but Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a sheep, thryin' to make his orf'cer understhand he was sorry for playin' the goat. 'There was no tucker in the draf' whin ut fell in for the march, an' divil a wurrd about "illegality" cud I hear. 'I wint to the ould Colour Sargint and I sez: "Let me die in glory," sez I. "I've seen a man this day!"
Recruities sometime cry, an' sometime they don't know fwhat they do, an' sometime they are all for cuttin' throats an' such like dirtiness; but some men get heavy-dead-dhrunk on the fightin'. This man was. He was staggerin', an' his eyes were half shut, an' we cud hear him dhraw breath twinty yards away. He sees the little orf'cer bhoy, an' comes up, talkin' thick an' drowsy to himsilf.
I'll be a orf'cer too. There's nothin' like takin' to a thing an' stickin' to it, the Schoolmaster says. The Reg'ment don't go 'ome for another seven years. I'll be a Lance then or near to." Thus the boys discussed their futures, and conducted themselves piously for a week.
"'Mutiny, sorr, sez the Sargint, an' the orf'cer bhoy begins pleadin' pitiful to Crook to be let go: but divil a bit wud Crook budge. "'Kape him there, he sez, ''tis no child's work this day. By the same token, sez he, 'I'll confishcate that iligant nickel-plated scent-sprinkler av yours, for my own has been vomitin' dishgraceful!
"'Eyah! sez the man, 'was you there too? We'll call ut Silver's Theatre. Half the Tyrone, knowin' the ould place, tuk ut up: so we called ut Silver's Theatre. "The little orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone was thremblin' an' cryin', He had no heart for the Coort-martials that he talked so big upon. 'Ye'll do well later, sez Crook, very quiet, 'for not bein' allowed to kill yourself for amusemint.
"Now I knew that the Colonel was no fool, any more than me, for I was hild the smartest man in the rig'mint, an' the Colonel was the best orf'cer commandin' in Asia; so fwhat he said an' I said was a mortial truth. We knew that the Capt'n was bad, but, for reasons which I have already oblitherated, I knew more than me Colonel.
"Don't shoot," said he to the men round him; "like as not you'll hit me. I'll catch the beggar, livin'." Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and the noise of trap-wheels could be heard across the plain. Major Oldyne Commanding the Horse Battery, was coming back from a dinner in the Civil Lines; was driving after his usual custom that is to say, as fast as the horse could go. "A orf'cer!
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