Format: Triple
“Breast to breast!” he sez, as the Tyrone was pushin’ us forward closer an’ closer. “An’ hand over back!” sez a Sargint that was behin’. I saw a sword lick out past Crook’s ear, an’ the Paythan was tuk in the apple av his throat like a pig at Dromeen Fair. |
This is from “With the Main Guard” collected in Soldiers Three and other Stories in 1899. On a fearfully hot night in Lahore, Mulvaney tells a tale of an old fight against a force of Pathans, to keep his comrades cheerful. At the end he asks the story-teller: “Can thim that helps others help thimselves?” |
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‘Peg him out, Sorr,’ sez I, in a whishper. ‘Peg him out!’ sez me orf’cer bhoy, up loud, just as if ’twas battalion p’rade an’ he pickin’ his wurrds from the Sargint. ‘The non-coms tuk Peg Barney—a howlin’ handful he was—an’ in three minut’s he was pegged out—chin down, tight-dhrawn—on his stummick, a tent-peg to each arm an’ leg…’ |
This is from “The Big Drunk Draf” collected in Soldiers Three and other Stories in 1899. A draft of men are on their way to embark for England at the end of their service. They have got hold of some liquor and are roaring drunk. Mulvaney, the old soldier, now discharged, encourages their young officer to take a hard line with them. He does so, the men accept it, and they behave themselves thereafter. |
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Thin Vulmea, on the flure, raised a howl you cud hear from wan ind av cantonmints to the other. “I’m dead, I’m butchered, I’m blind!” sez he. “Saints have mercy on my sinful sowl! Sind for Father Constant!” |
This is from “Black Jack” collected in Soldiers Three and other Stories in 1899. The men in Mulvaney’s barrack room are bent on shooting their sergeant with Mulvaney’s rifle and putting the blame on him. But Mulvaney has overheard their plan. He takes out the bullet and fixes the mechanism so that it blows back. The killer is not dead but sorely wounded. |
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