The Big Drunk Draf'
We're goin' 'ome, we're goin' 'ome -
Our ship is at the shore,
An' you mus' pack your 'aversack,
For we won't come back no more.
Ho, don't you grieve for me,
My lovely Mary Ann,
For I'll marry you yet on a fourp'ny bit,
As a time-expired ma-a-an
Barrack Room Ballad.
AN awful thing has happened! My friend, Private Mulvaney, who went
home in the Serapis, time-expired, not very long ago, has come
back to India as a civilian! It was all Dinah Shadd's fault. She
could not stand the poky little lodgings, and she missed her
servant Abdullah more than words could tell. The fact was that the
Mulvaneys had been out here too long, and had lost touch of
England.
Mulvaney knew a contractor on one of the new Central India lines,
and wrote to him for some sort of work. The contractor said that
if Mulvaney could pay the passage he would give him command of a
gang of coolies for old sake's sake. The pay was eighty-five
rupees a month, and Dinah Shadd said that if Terence did not
accept she would make his life a "basted purgathory." Therefore
the Mulvaneys came out as "civilians," which was a great and
terrible fall; though Mulvaney tried to disguise it by saying that
he was "Ker'nel on the railway line, an' a consequinshal man."
He wrote me an invitation, on a tool-indent form, to visit him;
and I came down to the funny little "construction" bungalow at the
side of the line. Dinah Shadd had planted peas about and about,
and nature had spread all manner of green stuff round the place.
There was no change in Mulvaney except the change of clothing,
which was deplorable, but could not be helped. He was standing
upon his trolly, haranguing a gangman, and his shoulders were as
well drilled and his big, thick chin was as clean-shaven as ever.
"I'm a civilian now," said Mulvaney. "Cud you tell that I was iver
a martial man'? Don't answer, Sorr, av you're strainin' betune a
complimint an' a lie. There's no houldin' Dinah Shadd now she's
got a house av her own. Go inside, an' dhrink tay out av chiny in
the drrrrawin'-room, an' thin we'll dhrink like Christians undher
the tree here. Scutt, ye naygur-folk! There's a Sahib come to call
on me, an' that's more than he'll iver do for you onless you run!
Get out, an' go on pilin' up the earth, quick, till sundown."
When we three were comfortably settled under the big sisham in
front of the bungalow, and the first rush of questions and answers
about Privates Ortheris and Learoyd and old times and places had
died away, Mulvaney said, reflectively - "Glory be, there's no
p'rade to-morrow, an' no bun-headed Corp'ril-bhoy to give you his
lip. An' yit I don't know. 'Tis harrd to be something ye niver
were an' niver meant to be, an' all the ould days shut up along
wid your papers. Eyah! I'm growin' rusty, an' 'tis the will av God
that a man mustn't serve his Quane for time an' all."
He helped himself to a fresh peg, and sighed furiously.
"Let your beard grow, Mulvaney," said I, "and then you won't be
troubled with those notions. You'll be a real civilian."
Dinah Shadd had told me in the drawing-room of her desire to coax
Mulvaney into letting his beard grow. "'Twas so civilian-like,"
said poor Dinah, who hated her husband's hankering for his old
life.
"Dinah Shadd, you're a dishgrace to an honust, clane-scraped man!
"said Mulvaney, without replying to me. "Grow a beard on your own
chin, darlint, and lave my razors alone. They're all that stand
betune me and dis-ris-pect-ability. Av I didn't shave, I wud be
torminted wid an outrajis thurrst; for there's nothin' so dhryin'
to the throat as a big billy-goat beard waggin' undher the chin.
Ye wudn't have me dhrink always, Dinah Shadd'? By the same token,
you're kapin' me crool dhry now. Let me look at that whiskey."
The whiskey was lent and returned, but Dinah Shadd, who had been
just as eager as her husband in asking after old friends, rent me
with -
"I take shame for you, Sorr, coming down here though the Saints
know you're as welkim as the daylight whin you do come - an'
upsettin' Terence's head wid your nonsense about - about fwhat's
much betther forgotten. He bein' a civilian now, an' you niver was
aught else. Can you not let the Arrmy rest? 'Tis not good for
Terence."
I took refuge by Mulvaney, for Dinah Shadd has a temper of her
own.
"Let be - let be," said Mulvaney. "'Tis only wanst in a way I can
talk about the ould days." Then to me - "Ye say Dhrumshticks is
well, an' his lady tu'? I niver knew how I liked the gray garron
till I was shut av him an' Asia." - "Dhrumshticks" was the
nickname of the Colonel commanding Mulvaney's old regiment. - "
Will you be seein' him again? You will. Thin tell him" -
Mulvaney's eyes began to twinkle - "tell him wid Privit -"
-
"Mister, Terence," interrupted Dinah Shadd. "Now the Divil an' all
his angils an' the Firmament av Hiven fly away wid the 'Mister,'
an' the sin av makin' me swear be on your confession, Dinah Shadd!
Privit, I tell ye. Wid Privit Mulvaney's best obedience, that but
for me the last time-expired wud be still pullin' hair on their
way to the sea."
He threw himself back in the chair, chuckled, and was silent.
"Mrs. Mulvaney," I said, "please take up the whiskey, and don't
let him have it until he has told the story."
Dinah Shadd dexterously whipped the bottle away, saying at the
same time, "'Tis nothing to be proud av," and thus captured by the
enemy, Mulvaney spake: -
"'Twas on Chuseday week. I was behaderin' round wid the gangs on
the 'bankmint - I've taught the hoppers how to kape step an' stop
screechin' - whin a head-gangman comes up to me, wid about two
inches av shirt-tail hanging round his neck an' a disthressful
light in his oi. 'Sahib,' sez he, 'there's a reg'mint an' a half
av soldiers up at the junction, knockin' red cinders out av
ivrything an' ivrybody! They thried to hang me in my cloth,' he
sez, 'an' there will be murdher an' ruin an' rape in the place
before nightfall! They say they're comin' down here to wake us up.
What will we do wid our women-folk?'
"'Fetch my throlly!' sez I; 'my heart's sick in my ribs for a wink
at anything wid the Quane's uniform on ut. Fetch my throlly, an'
six av the jildiest men, and run me up in shtyle.'"
"He tuk his best coat," said Dinah Shadd, reproachfully.
"'Twas to do honour to the Widdy. I cud ha' done no less, Dinah
Shadd. You and your digresshins interfere wid the coorse av the
narrative. Have you iver considhered fwhat I wud look like wid me
head shaved as well as me chin? You bear that in your mind, Dinah
darlin'.
"I was throllied up six miles, all to get a shquint at that draf'.
I knew 'twas a spring draf' goin' home, for there's no rig'mint
hereabouts, more's the pity."
"Praise the Virgin!" murmured Dinah Shadd. But Mulvaney did not
hear.
"Whin I was about three-quarters av a mile off the rest-camp,
powtherin' along fit to burrst, I heard the noise av the men, an',
on my sowl, Sorr, I cud catch the voice av Peg Barney bellowin'
like a bison wid the belly-ache. You remimber Peg Barney that was
in D Comp'ny - a red, hairy scraun, wid a scar on his jaw? Peg
Barney that cleared out the Blue Lights' Jubilee meetin' wid the
cook-room mop last year?
"Thin I knew ut was a draf' av the Ould Rig'mint, an' I was
conshumed wid sorrow for the bhoy that was in charge. We was harrd
scrapin's at any time. Did I iver tell you how Horker Kelley wint
into clink nakid as Phoebus Apollonius, wid the shirts av the
Corp'ril an' file undher his arrum? An' be was a moild man! But
I'm digresshin'. 'Tis a shame both to the rig'mints and the Arrmy
sendin' down little orf'cer bhoys wid a draf' av strong men mad
wid liquor an' the chanst av gettin' shut av India, an' niver a
punishment that's fit to be given right down an' away from
cantonmints to the dock! 'Tis this nonsinse. Whin I am servin' my
time, I'm undher the Articles av War, an' can be whipped on the
peg for thim. But whin I've served my time, I'm a Reserve man, an'
the Articles av War haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer can't do
anythin' to a time-expired savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis
a wise rig'lation, bekaze a time-expired does not have any
barricks; bein' on the move all the time. 'Tis a Solomon av a
rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to the man that
made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair into
Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av counthry.
Consiquintly that rig'lation - for fear that the men wud be hurt
by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came
to the rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was
the voice of Peg Barney. "Tis good I am here,' thinks I to mysilf,
'for Peg alone is employmint for two or three.' He bein', I well
knew, as copped as a dhrover.
"Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew-
nosed, an' the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men - fifty av thim -
the scourin's, an' rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould
Rig'mint. I tell you, Sorr, they were dhrunker than any men you've
ever seen in your mortial life. How does a draf' get dhrunk? How
does a frog get fat? They suk ut in through their shkins.
"There was Peg Barney sittin' on the groun' in his shirt - wan
shoe off an' wan shoe on - whackin' a tent-peg over the head wid
his boot, an' singin' fit to wake the dead. 'Twas no clane song
that he sung, though. 'Twas the Divil's Mass."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Whin a bad egg is shut av the Army, he sings the Divil's Mass for
a good riddance; an' that manes swearin' at ivrything from the
Commandher-in-Chief down to the Room-Corp'ril, such as you niver
in your days heard. Some men can swear so as to make green turf
crack! Have you iver heard the Curse in an Orange Lodge? The
Divil's Mass is ten times worse, an' Peg Barney was singin' ut,
whackin' the tent-peg on the head wid his boot for each man that
he cursed. A powerful big voice had Peg Barney, an' a hard swearer
he was whin sober. I stood forninst him, an' 'twas not me oi alone
that cud tell Peg was dhrunk as a coot.
354
"Good mornin', Peg,' I sez, whin he dhrew breath afther dursin'
the Adj'tint-Gen'ral; 'I've put on my best coat to see you, Peg
Barney,' sez I.
"Thin take Ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the
boot; 'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!'
"Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he
dane disrernimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge-Advokit-
Gen'ral.
"Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me
wid being called a civilian."
"An' him a decent married man!" wailed Dinah Shadd.
I do not,' sez Peg, 'but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off
your back wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin'.'
"'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. "Tis clear as mud you've
forgotten me. I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I
stretched Peg Barney, boot an' all, an' wint into the camp. An
awful sight ut was!
"'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub
Greene - the manest little worm that ever walked.
"'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin'
Republic.'
"'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by
this you will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.'
"Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent.
'Twas a new little bhoy - not wan I'd iver seen before. He was
sittin' in his tent, purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket.
"I saluted - but for the life av me I mint to shake hands whin I
went in. 'Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will.
"'Can't I help, Sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've
given you, an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy
wid bowils, that child, an' a rale gintleman.
"'Sit down,' sez he.
"'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service
was.
"'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen
nakid.'
"'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honour an' Glory'; for 'twas Lift'nint
Brazenose did that job. 'I'm wid ye, Sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use.
They shud niver ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your
presince, Sorr,' I sez, ''tis only Lift'nint Hackerston in the
Ould Rig'mint can manage a Home draf'.'
"'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin'
wid the pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations -'
"'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, Sorr,' I sez, 'till the
throoper's into blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck
thim up for the night, or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies
an' makin' a shiverarium half through the counthry. Can you trust
your noncoms, Sorr?'
"'Yes,' sez he.
"'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you
marchin', Sorr?'
"'To the next station,' sez he.
"'Betther still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.'
"'Can't be too hard on a Home draf,' sez he; 'the great thing is
to get thim in-ship.'
"'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 inship 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.
"Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a
poor little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into
the slush an' pitch things out av the boats for their Lord High
Mightinesses. That made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation.
"'Soft an' aisy, Sorr,' sez I; 'you've niver had your draf' in
hannd since you left cantonmints Wait till the night, an' your
work will be ready to you. Wid your permission, Sorr, I will
investigate the camp, an' talk to me ould frinds. 'Tis no manner
av use thryin' to shtop the divilmint now.'
"Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry
man sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days,
an' the bhoys was glad to see me - all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye
like a tomata five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They
come round me an' shuk me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ
wid an income av me own, an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the
Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I
kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, knockin' roun' the camp.
'Twas bad even thin whin I was the Angil av Peace.
"I talked to me ould non-coms - they was sober - an' betune me an'
thim we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time.
The little orf'cer bhoy he conies round, dacint an' civil-spoken
as might be.
"'Rough quarthers, men,' sez he, 'but you can't look to be as
comfortable as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've
shut my eyes to a dale av dog's thricks to-day, an' now there must
be no more av ut.'
"No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,' sez Peg Barney,
staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper.
"'You're a sulky swine, you are,' sez Peg Barney, an' at that the
men in the tent began to laugh.
"I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near
as might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint
spinnin' acrost the tent.
"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, swearin' fit to turn a
naygur white.
"I tuk a peg an'' jammed ut into his ugly jaw - 'Bite on that, Peg
Barney,' I sez; 'the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be
wantin' divarsion before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations
you'd be bitin' on a bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,'
sez I.
"All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein'
pegged.
"''Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!' screeches out Scrub
Greene, who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the
shoutin'.
"'Peg out that man!' sez me orf'cer bhoy, niver losin' his timper;
an' the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side
av Peg Barney.
"I cud see that the draf' was comin' roun'. The men stud not
knowin' fwhat to do.
"'Get to your tents!' sez me orf'cer bhoy. 'Sargint, put a sinthry
over these two men.'
"The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an' the rest av
the night there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sinthry
over the two, an' Scrub Greene blubberin' like a child. 'Twas a
chilly night, an' faith, ut sobered Peg Barney.
"Just before Revelly, me orf'cer bhoy comes out an' sez: 'Loose
those men an' send thim to their tents!' Scrub Greene wint away
widout a word, but Peg Barney, stiff wid the cowld, stud like a
sheep, thryin' to make his orf'cer undherstand 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!'
"'A man he is,' sez ould Hother; 'the draf's as sick as a herrin'.
They'll all go down to the sea like lambs. That bhoy has the
bowils av a cantonmint av Gin'rals.'
"'Amin,' sez I, 'an' good luck go wid him, wheriver he be, by
land or by sea. Let me know how the draf' gets clear.'
"An' do you know how they did? That bhoy, so I was tould by letter
from Bombay, bully-damned 'em down to the dock, till they cudn't
call their sowls their own. From the time they left me oi till
they was 'tween decks, not wan av thim was more than dacintly
dhrunk. An' by the Holy Articles av War, whin they wint aboord
they cheered him till they cudn't spake, an' that, mark you, has
not come about wid a draf' in the mlm'ry av livin' man! You look
to that little orf'cer bhoy. He has bowils. 'Tis not ivry child
that wud chuck the Rig'lations to Flanders an' stretch Peg Barney
on a wink from a brokin an' dilapidated ould carkiss like mysilf.
I'd be proud to serve -"
"Terence, you're a civilian," said Dinah Shadd warningly.
"So I am - so I am. Is ut likely I wud forget ut? But he was a
gran' bhoy all the same, an' I'm only a mudtipper wid a hod on me
shoulthers. The whiskey's in the heel av your hand, Sorr. Wid your
good lave we'll dhrink to the Ould Rig'mint - three fingers -
standin' up!"
And we drank.
-THE END-
Rudyard Kipling's short story: The Big Drunk Draf'
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