"No," said Barnabas, "it was you who really saved him."
"V'y, I'm as glad as you think so, sir, only d'ye see, I can't svim,
and it vos 'im as pulled me out. And it all come along of 'im losing
'is 'and--come nigh to breaking 'is 'eart to be discharged, it did."
"Poor fellow!" said Barnabas, "and how did he lose his hand?"
"V'y, I could tell you, or you could read of it in the Gazette--jest
three or four lines o' printing--and they've spelt 'is name wrong at
that, curse 'em! But Corporal Dick can tell you best. Let 'im. 'Ere
'e comes, vith a steaming brew o' the Vun and Only."
And indeed, at this moment the Corporal re-entered, bearing a jug
that gave forth a most enticing and delicious aroma, and upon which
Mr. Shrig cast amorous glances, what time he reached three glasses
from the marshalled array on the shelves.
And now, sitting at the small table that stood in a snug corner
beside the chimney, Mr. Shrig, having filled the three glasses with
all due care, tendered one to Barnabas with the words: "Jest give that a snuff with your sneezer, sir,--there's perfume,
there's fray-grance for ye! There ain't a man in London as can brew
a glass o' rum-punch like the Corp,--though 'e 'as only got vun 'and.
And now, Corporal Dick, afore ve begin, three steamers."
"Ay, for sure, Jarsper!" said the Corporal; and opening a small
corner cupboard he took thence three new pipes and a paper of tobacco.
"Will you smoke, sir?" he inquired diffidently of Barnabas.
"Thank you, yes, Corporal," said Barnabas, and taking the proffered
pipe he filled and lighted it.
Now when the pipes were in full blast, when the One and Only had
been tasted, and pronounced by Mr. Shrig to be "up to the mark," he
nodded to Corporal Dick with the words: "Tell our young gent 'ow you lost your 'and, Corp."
But hereupon the Corporal frowned, shuffled his feet, stroked his
trim whiskers with his hook, and finally addressed Barnabas.
"I aren't much of a talker, sir,--and it aren't much of a story, but
if you so wish--"
"I do so wish," said Barnabas heartily.
"Why, very good, sir!" Saying which the Corporal sat up, squared his
mighty shoulders, coughed, and began: "It was when they Cuirassiers broke our square at Quatre-bras,
sir,--fine fellows those Cuirassiers! They rode into us, through us,
over us,--the square was tottering, and it was 'the colors--rally!'
Ah, sir! the colors means the life or death of a square at such times.
And just then, when horses was a-trampling us and the air full o'
the flash o' French steel, just then I see our colors dip and sway,
and down they went. But still it's 'the colors--rally!' and there's
no colors to rally to; and all the time the square is being cut to
pieces. But I, being nearest, caught up the colors in this here left
hand," here the Corporal raised his gleaming hook, "but a Cuirassier,
'e caught them too, and there's him at one end o' the staff and me
at t'other, pulling and hauling, and then--all at once he'd got 'em.
And because why? Because I hadn't got no left 'and to 'old with. But
I'd got my right, and in my right was 'Brown Bess' there," and the
Corporal pointed to the long musket in the corner. "My bayonet was
gone, and there weren't no time to reload, so--I used the butt. Then
I picked up the colors again and 'eld 'em high over my head, for the
smoke were pretty thick, and, 'To the colors,' I shouted,' Rally,
lads, rally!' And oh, by the Lord, sir,--to hear our lads cheer! And
so the square formed up again--what was left of it--formed up close
and true round me and the colors, and the last thing I mind was the
cheering. Ah! they was fine fellows, they Cuirassiers!"