CHAPTER II.IN THE WEST INDIES.
TRALEE—A VENTURESOME FEAT—OLD PATE—AN IRISH CORNET—PADDY OYSTERS—ORDERED TO BARBADOES—GRENADA—CAPTAIN ASTLEY’S CREOLE—ST. GEORGES—LAND-CRAB CATCHING—TURTLE TURNING—A JIGGER TOE—RECOLLECTIONS OF TRINIDAD—HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA—BURNING OF THE BARRACKS—LOBSTER-SPEARING—PRESENT OF A BEAR—SMUGGLING BRUIN ON BOARD—OUR PET IN THE ZOO.
TRALEE—A VENTURESOME FEAT—OLD PATE—AN IRISH CORNET—PADDY OYSTERS—ORDERED TO BARBADOES—GRENADA—CAPTAIN ASTLEY’S CREOLE—ST. GEORGES—LAND-CRAB CATCHING—TURTLE TURNING—A JIGGER TOE—RECOLLECTIONS OF TRINIDAD—HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA—BURNING OF THE BARRACKS—LOBSTER-SPEARING—PRESENT OF A BEAR—SMUGGLING BRUIN ON BOARD—OUR PET IN THE ZOO.
CHAPTER II.
We were quartered for some time at Tralee, a place I shall ever remember with the kindliest feelings for its inhabitants, whose great hospitality was only equalled by their love of good honest sport. On one occasion, when the seniors of the mess were not present, a deal of good-natured chaff had gone on after dinner in the mess-room, where some of the members of the Chute hounds had assembled as guests.
The subject on the tapis was the capabilities of a mare I possessed, which I considered one of the best fencers I ever saw. If you hurried her at her fences she was sure to give you a fall, but leave her alone and nothing in the shape of high banks, for which the country round Tralee was famous, would stop her. The chaff went on, and at length I said,
‘I am quite sure the mare would jump this table if asked to do so.’
As many voices proclaimed the impossibility of such a feat, I desired the mess-waiter to tell my groom to saddle the mare and bring her into the mess-room. In a short time the noise of her feet was heard, and as soon as she entered the room, Bayley, a brother officer, jumped up and vaulted on her back. I copy the following narrative from theNew Sporting Magazine, 1850, page 353.
‘Dining at the mess of the “Indomitable Rangers” on the evening of the very last run, I there witnessed an exploit performed which I believe has never been equalled, and I do think never will be excelled. The cloth having been drawn, social converse replaced the cool formality, which is, by some mischance or other, almost the invariable attendant upon dinner-parties; and as might be expected amongst a party where all were sportsmen, and on the evening of a hunting day when a good fox had shown much sport, the topic chosen was the various particulars of the run, and the mode in which each hunter had done its work.
‘“I saw you kiss your mother earth twice,Maxwell,” remarked a brother officer; “believe me, that mare of yours is not just the thing,” and here from all sides followed many good-humoured criticisms upon the jumping qualities of my friend’s prad, to which he (highly delighted at having such an opportunity afforded him “for a lark,”) lustily protested the mare should practically reply by then and there popping over the mess-table. The groom being immediately summoned, received in silence, and, as may be imagined, with staring amazement, his master’s order “to saddle the mare and bring her in.” Many of those present tried to stay the proceedings, but it was now too late; a wilful man, strong in the justice of his cause, would have his way, and in came them mare accordingly, much to the consternation of the company assembled, who heard her tramp, tramp, up the boarded passage, knocking out of it the sound of at least a troop of heavy horse.
‘Mounted by Mr. Bayley, amidst the glare of wax lights and a blazing coal fire, she actually jumped across the mess-table (a good four feet and a half) without laying an iron on it, and, landing safe on the other side, stood gentle andquiet as a lamb upon the floor, under which (as though to increase the hazard of the deed) lay a wine-cellar of from ten to twelve feet deep.’
I remember with great satisfaction that there was not a single bet on the event, and that the mare acquitted herself in the most gallant way, shaking her head and clearing her nostrils, quite pleased after having done what was required of her in the well-lighted mess-room.
The quotation from theSporting Magazinewas written and signed by one who, besides being the most pleasant of companions, was a first-rate sportsman. If ‘Old Pate’ should happen to read these stories of a time long past, I am sure he will recall with pleasure the days gone by.
There was a distinguished cavalry regiment quartered in Ireland during the time our dépôt was wandering about the country. A young cornet joined, who, I believe, was a very good fellow, but so very Irish that his brother officers would not allow him to go out to any parties in the county. Mrs. ——, a very clever woman, was the wife of a gentleman who was proprietor of a large estate near the town where our hero’sregiment was stationed. Having previously met the young dragoon, and being delighted with his Milesian remarks, she sent him a pressing invitation to a picnic which she intended giving. After a great deal of trouble he received permission to go, but on the sole condition that he was not to speak a single word the whole time he was there. So off he started, bound by his promise to act the mute.
The scene of the picnic was near a lake, and Mrs. —— managed that the young soldier should accompany a very pretty and amusing girl for a walk before luncheon. Having been told by her hostess that Mr. —— was a most agreeable Irishman, she was very much surprised that, in answer to all her remarks, he only said, ‘Ho, ha!’ the monotony of which reply terribly bored her. As they came near the lake, however, and were turning a corner, a great swan flew along the water with such a startling noise that it took our poor cornet by surprise, and, forgetting that he was to act the mute, he exclaimed, ‘Holy Biddy, look at the goose!’ I believe he was never allowed to go to any parties again.
In by-gone days valuable horses were oftenpicked up in unexpected ways. My father, who was a captain in the 23rd Dragoons when only sixteen years old, was a wonderfully good judge of a horse. Once, when quartered in Ireland, he saw a man seated on a kish of oysters on the back of a good-looking animal.
‘Paddy, will ye sell your horse?’ exclaimed my father.
‘Bedad I will,’ was the reply.
‘How much will ye take?’ was the next question.
After scratching his head for some time, the man mentioned a price, which my father agreed to give him. The bargain seemed to be coming to an end, when the Irishman said,
‘Och, tear-an-ages, I forgot the oysters!’ which difficulty was met by the would-be purchaser declaring,
‘I’ll buy you, your horse, and your oysters.’
Whether the man was kept I do not know, but the horse and the oysters became my father’s property, and most probably a merry supper-party disposed of the latter to commemorate the event. The new purchase was named ‘Paddy Oysters,’ and an acquisition he proved, for hewon several plates in Ireland, and was well known everywhere. My father became major of the 23rd Dragoons, and then raised a battalion of the Cameronians, 26th Regiment, hoping to get the lieutenant-colonelcy of a cavalry regiment, as he had always served in that branch of the service; but the Duke of York told him he must command the corps he had raised, a high honour to him, and he went out to Spain as lieutenant-colonel of the 26th Cameronians, which formed part of the force under Sir John Moore, a personal friend of his own. So my father went to the wars, and took Paddy Oysters as his charger. At the battle of Corunna his left arm was shattered by a cannon ball, and he was hurried off on board a transport, where the wounded limb was taken out at the socket. Alas! poor Paddy Oysters! The order was given that all horses were to be shot to prevent them falling into the hands of the French; so the gallant charger was condemned to die. The colonel’s groom would allow no one to touch his master’s faithful steed. Although the enemy was approaching, and no doubt there was a good deal of hurry and excitement, he waited for orders, which were given, and Paddy Oystersfell dead on the beach. These particulars were given me by my father as well as by my uncle, who was present at the time.
A soldier’s life is one of continual change. I suppose, among its many charms, that of uncertainty is one of the greatest. We were quartered at Tralee, and in the full enjoyment of all the sport and hospitality which are the distinguishing features of that most charming quarter. I well remember one evening; we had had a first-rate run with the Chute fox-hounds, and it was late before I got back to my quarters. My room looked very comfortable, Illustrious Tom having made a fine fire of turf and coal mixed. Everything seemed so pleasant, and I daresay the thought entered my mind what a jolly season was before me. There were some letters on the table. One official-looking document I left to the last, believing it referred to some court-martial duty. However, at length I opened it and found a note from my commanding officer, regretting that he was obliged to forward the enclosed to me; which was an order from the Horse Guards for Captain Maxwell to proceed to join the head-quarters of the 88th ConnaughtRangers at Barbadoes, West Indies. So my Irish campaign was over, and I had to say farewell to Tralee and all its charms, and to leave behind me not only my brothers-in-arms, but, among other treasures, Illustrious Tom and his fat wife.
The steamer started from Southampton. We touched at Madeira, and, after a prosperous passage, cast anchor at Barbadoes.
The head-quarters of the Connaught Rangers were ordered to Trinidad, four companies under my command to the Island of Grenada, and another detachment under Captain Bayley to St. Vincent. The 88th had suffered fearfully from that awful disease, yellow fever. Our much beloved Colonel Ormsby Phibbs had fallen a victim to it, and many men had lost their lives. Yellow Jack left us the moment we sailed from Barbadoes, and during the two years I was quartered at Grenada we had no hospital to speak of, and only one man died, a poor man who fell a victim to new rum. We got up a race meeting, open to all the islands in the West Indies. Captain Astley, 66th Regiment, brought a horse down from Barbadoes named Creole, and won everything with it. He was a verynice fellow, and we were all glad at his success, as it showed much sporting spirit to bring a horse to run at such a distance from where his regiment was quartered. The stakes he had won were all in dollars, and the bag he had to carry away was so large that Captain Astley asked me, as secretary and treasurer, to have the money sent to him through the Colonial Bank at Grenada. We said farewell to this gallant officer on board the steamer which was to take him back to Barbadoes. He was in great spirits, and apparently in excellent health. But, alas! the return steamer from Barbadoes, in a very few days, brought a letter from the paymaster of the 66th Regiment, telling the sad story that Astley was dead; yellow fever having carried him off.
Among the fair places of the earth there is none fairer than the Island of Grenada. The Carenage and town of St. Georges are situated at the foot of high hills covered with trees. The road winds up a green avenue, and gradually ascends to Fort Mathew, where four companies of the Rangers were quartered. What a view there was from the verandah of my rooms! Thetown of St. Georges appeared to consist of toy buildings, half encircling the harbour, and, far beyond, miles and miles of sea. In the day time everything was bright and lively: the balmy trade winds blew fresh and perfumed; the night, when every tree and bush was lit up by sparkling fireflies, appeared calm and peaceful; rare flowers seemed to grow uncared for—flowers which at home would have been highly valued and carefully tended. Fruit is plentiful, and pine-apples are very fine; a brilliant purple blossom, resembling the single bell of the hyacinth, opens from each of the diamond-shaped divisions of the fruit itself, which when young is of the same rich hue, surrounded by a crest of pink-corded leaves, and protected all round by others much larger and broader, with saw-like edges and spiked points. The pine-apple, as it ripens, loses its beautiful and fresh appearance; the purple changes to pale strawberry, and the leaves become green. It is placed in ice, and sliced; and there cannot be anything more delicious than this juicy fruit when the sun is high and the trade wind has failed.
It would take pages to describe the variousdishes a gourmet might revel in at Grenada; turtle in every way, pepper-pot, and land-crabs. I can only recommend those who have large yachts to go to the West Indies for a cruise. Land-crab catching was a very picturesque scene. These creatures, which live in holes near the sea, are strangely ugly. At night we used to sally forth, attended by crowds of niggers, and proceed to an inlet from the sea, on the shore of which the manchineel-trees grow. If you take refuge from the rain underneath the shade of these treacherous shrubs, your face and hands become blistered all over. The ground is full of holes where the land-crabs dwell. Fascinated by the torch-light (which each native carries), they come out, and are seized by the expert watcher. These crabs are supposed to be foul feeders, and when caught they are placed in barrels, and fed on meal for many days before they are cooked for the table. Another exciting sport was turtle turning. The natives would watch a turtle coming out of the water to lay her eggs, and, before she got back to the sea, would intercept her, and turn her over on her back, in which position a turtle is quite helpless. Having markedthe spot where the eggs were deposited, they went there, and generally found an enormous quantity. These eggs when boiled have a skin like parchment. One becomes in time quite clever at opening them. The way a West Indian gourmet eats them was always a wonder to me, though I became pretty expert at it after some practice.
My brother officer, Lee Steere, and myself were greatly interested in the race-meeting before mentioned. Both of us had horses to run, and we had to train them ourselves; so we discovered an old house near the race-course—which we called Jockey Lodge—and there we came and lived occasionally before the races. The house was very old, and the wooden flooring quite out of repair. I was attacked in it by some very disagreeable symptoms. I suppose I had walked on the floor in my bed-room without slippers; for one morning I felt the most maddening itching in one of my toes, so I shouted for my servant Seeley, who was a first-rate attendant, and asked him what could be the matter. He and his wife had both been slaves who had been freed by Colonel Tidy, I think, of the 14th Regiment.The colonel had given Seeley a watch with an inscription on it at the time when he made him a free man. Whenever anything out of the common happened, Seeley would roll his eyes, and grin from ear to ear, showing his white teeth, and looking the embodiment of black mischief. Having examined my foot, he almost shouted with delight.
‘Yah! yah! Massa got jigger toe. Yah! yah!’
I did not appreciate his mirth and laughter.
‘What am I to do, you horrible old rascal?’ I exclaimed.
Seeley bent nearly double, and with his hands on the front of his thighs, assumed the attitude of long-stop at cricket, and continued to give expression to his sense of enjoyment. ‘Yah! yah! ho! ho!’ But at length he became quiet, and proceeded to business. Taking a needle, he began to scrape away at my toe, nearly driving me mad. Suddenly he exclaimed, ‘Hi haw!’ like a donkey braying, and then he appeared to force the needle gently into my foot, and brought out at the end of it a little bag, which he held up with a triumphant look; for this was the jigger, which had laid its eggs in my toe, and which, if allowedto remain, would have been attended with most serious consequences.
I had a thirty-ton cutter, in which I made several expeditions. Once I went to Trinidad, where the head-quarters of the 88th were stationed. I do not remember how long we took to go there, but I recall with pleasure that delightful sail over a calm sea, a favouring breeze filling our sails. As we cut through the water, flying fish darted here and there, either in fear or in play; the nautilus floated gracefully, dolphins leaped, and sometimes the horrid fin of a shark following our track might be seen. It is long ago since all this happened, and I can only trust to my memory, but I think the barracks where the Connaught Rangers were stationed must have been the very abode of fever. The mosquitoes were intolerable, and the heat intense. Lord Harris was governor then, and his gardens were beautiful. I well remember the luxurious marble bath in his grounds. My colonel, the late Sir H. Shirley, gave me a room in his quarters, and in the morning he awoke me to show a huge tarantula, as big as the back of my hand, which a gunner had found in his boot as he was about to pullit on. I also saw a centipede, which the assistant-surgeon of the regiment was preserving, so long that in a common-sized havanna cigar-box it could not be placed without almost doubling it. So my recollections of Trinidad are a conglomeration of tarantulas, mosquitoes, centipedes, iced champagne, and a hearty welcome.
My regiment went from the West Indies to Halifax, Nova Scotia. We changed from almost perpetual sunshine to a land where snow lay on the ground for months. When we landed, I well remember how fresh and beautiful everything looked. I had been accustomed for some years to see for the most part only the negro women, who, although possessing figures like graceful ebony statues, that showed to the finest advantage as they walked erect and firm, bearing their purchases from market on a tray carried on the top of their heads, still their faces, as a rule, were ugly, and always black. How surpassingly beautiful we thought the women of Halifax, with their dazzling complexions, who came to welcome the wild Irishmen; and further acquaintance showed that their beauty was only equalled by their frank and gentle ways. The year we remained at Halifaxis a memory never to be effaced. The venerable and rickety old wooden barracks, which had been condemned during the time the Duke of Kent was in Nova Scotia, was burnt to the ground when the 88th and 38th Regiments occupied it as quarters. The conflagration was a grand sight, which we would willingly have dispensed with, as the Connaught Rangers never received any compensation for the mess napery and other valuables lost in that magnificent bonfire.
The mention of land-crab catching in Grenada recalls to me the lobster-spearing at Halifax, a sport which was carried on at night. In the bows of the boat large fires were kept burning. Standing ready, the sportsman holds in his grasp a trident, which is not pointed, but is like a huge pair of tweezers. The lobsters are seen crawling beneath the clear water. A sudden dart is made with the trident, the tweezers open, and seize the prey, which is hauled on board and thrown among others in the bottom of the boat. Many dozens are caught in this way, and the scene is very exciting when there are several boats, the fires in them looking strange and weird-like.
If I were to begin recalling old times at Halifax, with its sleigh club in winter and the flowers of its summer, I fear I should become very wearisome. When my regiment was quartered in Nova Scotia, we got a bear, about the size of a small donkey, which became a great favourite. The order came for us to return home in the troopshipResistance, commanded by Captain Bradshaw. Great was our consternation when that officer issued a proclamation that only a certain number of pets, and no bears, should be allowed on board. We all vowed that the bear was not to be left behind, and a clever plan to smuggle it on board was hit upon by two of my brother officers. As there were many casks to be hoisted on board, chloroform was administered to our bear, and he was packed in one of them. As it was going to be hoisted in the air, the captain asked,
‘What’s in that big barrel?’
The Ranger, who was seeing it elevated, answered, promptly,
‘The warm clothing of the regiment, sorr,’ and being asked by a comrade why he said so, he observed, with a wink, ‘Begorra, I thought theould Tartar moight see the fur through the bunghole of the cask and smell—a bear!’
The sailors were delighted and helped to stow our favourite away, and I believe the captain never knew anything about it till we had been some time at sea, and then he pretended to have been cognizant of the fact all along. Our bear was with us at Parkhurst Barracks, and was always in a friendly disposition with all. A young fellow dined at our mess, and I suppose drank too much champagne, for he was discovered peacefully reposing beside the bear in its kennel.
The 38th Regiment brought home two bears, very fine, large animals. A child was playing with them and got a hug, which killed the poor little thing. Down came an official from the Horse Guards with orders that all regimental bears were to be destroyed; we gave ours, however, to the Zoo, where it lived in the pit and was fed with buns by children. Round its neck was a brass collar with ‘Connaught Rangers’ engraved on it. I do not know its further history.