|
We made Lands End after an average voyage of twenty eight
days. A thrill of emotion ran through my bosom at again beholding the sight of
my native land, which was welcomed with lusty cheers from the whole regiment,
the band striking up “Auld Lang Syne” which much lengthened the excitement. We
landed at Portsmouth, took rail for the Old Cathedral town of Canterbury, at
whose alter Thomas A Becket was foully murdered, which I afterwards visited. Our
officials forgot to put down my neglect of duty on board the ship in the
regimental defaulters book and on my arrival here, was made a Corporal.
Our spare time here was divided between the streets and the
Dane John, with of course an eye to the British Female Department which, we
never on any occasion lost sight of our duty to the Ladies, being considered a
part and parcel of our regimental duties. In the autumn of this year, I went
hopping with some of the Canterbury belles, but instead of doing much work we
proved only an hindrance and finally was driven from the fields by Kentish Old
Women and their hop poles.
About this time, the Duke of Wellington died and six
hundred of our men were selected to form a part of the Duke’s funeral, myself
being one of the number. We arrived in the town and were billeted at Chelsea. My
sisters Anne and Elizabeth came to see me. We had a rare game, I accompanied
them home, got tight, made the cabman so too, who turned one over on my way back
to my billet and nearly made us food for the worms.
On the morning of the funeral, we were all mustered at four
o clock, marched down to St. James Park where the procession formed up. When the
Rifles took the lead and arrived at Temple Bar about ten, we opened our ranks
and the whole of the procession passed through, winding their way to St. Paul’s
Cathedral. Here we remained stationary the whole day until six in the evening
without grub. The occupants of the houses, seeing us looking weary and faint
from their windows, threw us down sandwiches, biscuits, oranges nuts etc., which
we caught in our caps. One orange fell in the middle of the road and one of our
men imprudently stepped off the ranks and picked it up, upon which the Captain
made him replace it. The people seeing this, raised an outcry and pelting the
Captain who, though could stand powder and shot, could not stand public opinion
backed up by apples and oranges so he had to retreat up an obscure court on our
rear. The soldier was afterwards punished and this discipline, though it appears
severe to civilians, is necessary. Had he not been checked, it would have ended
in a regular scramble and perhaps in a fight. After we returned to Canterbury I
obtained leave to go on furlough which was granted for thirty nine days. I made
the best of any way to London to my Mothers and in about four days after,
received a letter from my brother James to say he had arrived from China and was
lying in The St. Catherine’s docks and would be home that morning to see my
mother. I need not say how enjoyed we all were at this unexpected news, more
especially myself as it seemed as if fortune had favoured me in many ways in
falling in with my brothers. In was a boy of about twelve years of age when
James left, and he had, not knowing I had returned from Canada did not know me.
As he approached the garden gate and enquired if Mrs. Gibbs lived there, I
answered in the affirmative when he entered and was joyously welcomed when I was
soon introduced as his young brother sweep from the rifles. I accompanied him to
Woolwich when an arrangement was made for my transfer to the Royal Artillery,
James returning home with me for a months furlough. On his arrival here he was
tea-total and had been so for three years, which enabled him to bring home a
quantity of money which soon slipped through our hands.
Just about this time, I received a letter from England
informing me of the sudden death of my Father. This deeply affected me and I
deeply felt for the forlorn condition of my poor mother who, now a widow, would
be without the consolation of myself and brothers who, had we been near, we
could have afforded her. The suddenness with which he was taken away also deeply
impressed and I could not think of this visitation of providence, without
thinking that such dispensations were sent by him who does all things for our
good and who works them out in so many mysterious ways. Soon after this, my
brother John came up from Quebec to Kingston. I had previously heard from him by
making enquiries and found out where he was located, but I little thought we
were so soon to meet. He was a wheelwright in the Royal Artillery and enlisted
soon after my brother James. I shall never forget my first meeting with him
after his arrival in Kingston. I did not know of his coming so he sent one of
his comrades to our Barracks to say, that a friend wanted to see me at a certain
public house in the town. I went up wondering who on earth it could be, finding
no one there I took my seat in the Parlour waiting for someone to turn up. Bye
and bye, in comes some of the Artillery, one of them looked me very hard in the
face as if trying to recollect my features. One of the others, remarking at the
time “that’s him”. In return I stared hard at this artillery man and seeing his
well known smile, called him by name scarcely believing my own eyes. He said I
must be mistaken as to his identity, he had not the pleasure of my acquaintance,
but I assured him I had some slight knowledge of his. I did not so much wonder
at his not knowing me, as he left me at home in my pinafores and never had seen
one since and now saw me as big as himself in my regimentals. Of course we were
soon “tete á tete”; relating family events. The subject of Fathers death became
our chief discourse and this made our meeting somewhat sad, although it cheered
one to have him quartered so near me. We became constant companions, so I had
many opportunity of relating to him most of what had passed at home since he
left. On the following Christmas he invited me to dine with him at the Artillery
Barracks. The large room was tastefully fitted out with evergreens and laurel
and being lit up by numerous lights, gave it an unusual gay appearance. On these
occasions, a tray is put at the head of the table containing a bottle of wine
and some glasses, it being customary for the commanding officer followed by
staff to round and inspect us and drink the health of the men in wine, with the
compliments of the season. Observing me like a black sheep among the many gay
uniforms of the artillery, asked if they had invited a sweep to dine with them,
raising a laugh at my expense and which I was not all ashamed of for I was very
proud of my Rifle uniform. When the mirth had subsided the officer received an
explanation and immediately apologised for his rather rude pleasantry, which of
course was accepted and laughed off by me. We spent a jolly evening and kept
Christmas up in as good a style as possible for the honour of Old England. Our
shop where I used to work, was rather a large one, as it contained 17 of us
comprising: seven tailors and the remainder snobs. We were very busy at this
time making long boots for the regiment, which in the cold climate of Canada are
much worn. One morning we had a lot of this description on hand, but did not
feel much inclined for work, consequently we amused ourselves with cards etc.,
besides taking a fair share of Whiskey. Some one suggested that we should play
our Master shoemaker (a sergeant) a joke, so I and another placed a large tin
dish full of water on the top of the shop door, so that when it was opened it
would tumble down and drench him. Unluckily, instead of the sergeant, one of the
officers made his appearance and got the contents of the dish over his uniform.
For this, we were marched out and as none of us would split who did it, he sent
us all to the guard room as prisoners, but being of importance that the boots
should be finished, we were asked if those who performed this trick would
honourably come forward and say so at once. When my assistant called out “I and
Gibbs done it”, we expected to get a Court Martial at the least, but being
candid, we got off with a very light punishment while all the others had much
heavier. One of our men about this time, fell through the ice and was drowned.
There being no carpenters shop, the coffins were made by the wheelwrights, so my
brother came in for the job. A large fire had been raging the day previous, the
soldiers being called out to assist in putting it out and removing the goods.
One of our men “Jen Carr”, brought out a large casket of oil (as he thought) but
after knocking off the neck of the bottles against the heel of his boot, he
pronounced it to be Champagne. So he managed to slip away about a dozen bottles
in a drain close by, which we found next day and had a jolly spree. But to
return to John and the coffin, he too had been at the fire and got about half
seas over, was in no mind for work and next day however he made a part of the
coffin and then got so drunk he could not finish it. The coffin being
particularly wanted in the evening, I went up to see how it was getting on and
found Jack in it, fast asleep his comrade also drunk in another part of the
shop. This would not do at all and he not being in a fit state to finish it, I
awoke his companion up and with his assistance, managed to finish it, so I got
Jack out of a scrape. We lost a great many men through falling through the ice
and getting drowned. One morning, we had a very heavy fall of snow and all hands
turned out to clear the Barrack Square. I was engaged with others in removing it
in sledges and tipping off the wharf on to the ice. Having a incline to go down
to the wharf, we used to mount on the sledge and ride down. In consequence of an
altercation taking place, I shifted my seat and the poor fellow who took my
seat, which I had left only a few minutes before, fell off broke through the ice
and would have become food for fishes had we not fished him out. But only too
late for the poor fellow was drowned, so this was a narrow escape for me. In the
summer time we used to go out shooting occasionally and sometimes took in our
heads to bathe. While we were out shooting one day we fell in with a female of
the Mohawk tribe in the woods and being a fine figure of the red Indians, with a
lovely set of ivories and a bonny pair of coal black eyes, I thought I should
like to make an impression on her well turned lips and was about to embrace her
for that purpose, when she gave a tremendous yell which soon brought her old
buck to her side who levelled his rifle and would have made no bones about
shooting some of us, had we not been too well armed for him. On one of our
bathing excursions we fell in with some of the native females floundering away
in the water like so many mermaids. There being only three of us in company at
the time we immediately joined them and highly amused ourselves, as well as we
could, under such naked circumstances. Just in the midst of our frolic, who
should we see rowing up the river to the spot but the Commanding Officer of our
Regiment, who made it his pastime to visit this haunt and help smooth the long
black hair of those mermaids occasionally. But no sooner did he pop his ogles on
us, than he took to sculls and rowed a hasty retreat casting a glance at those
fair females we had taken from his grasp. Lucky for us he did not recognise our
features. We left here soon afterwards and it was with great regret that I
parted from my brother and the little blacked eyed damsel at the public house.
We returned to Quebec for Old England and embarked on board “The Simon” troop
ship after my stay in the Colony of three years. We had some fun coming home on
the passage, although we numbered together with the crew and a detachment of
Invalids something like sixteen hundred huddled together like so many pigs. One
third of us used to remain on deck every night and another third slept in the
hammocks and the remainder on the decks below. I used, sometimes with others, to
take a snooze in the sheep pen and thought it a great luxury when it was my turn
on deck. Our luggage was stowed round the masts between decks, over which was
placed a sentry. It came to my turn to be on in the night and being so closely
confined I, like my companions that were strewed around me all snoring fell
asleep too, when the sergeant came around and caught me napping and made me a
prisoner. Next morning I was taken before the Major and he, taking into
consideration our closely confined position, together with his being half drunk
sentenced me to be confined to barracks for fourteen days. In the middle of the
Atlantic, this with the loss of my grog was considered to be a sufficient
punishment and suited me very well all though by this time I could take my grog
without lemon syrup or the consequence of getting my fingers frozen. The Simon
was a three decker and of course under Man of War regulations, carrying eight
guns on her quarter deck. I happened unfortunately to belong to the Junior
Company was quartered on the bottom deck with Invalids and married soldiers. The
wife of a soldier who had died abroad, a sprightly piece of goods, she was
always larking with us. So one night we determined to play her a practical joke
by cutting down her hammock while she was asleep. Our hammocks were all slung to
the deck beams, mine nearly touched hers, only there was a curtain drawn to part
us over which two of the married soldiers kept guard. I managed, in the dead of
the night, to cut down the foot stay of her hammock when down she came with a
gun on the ground hollering out and arousing the whole of us. Of course the
sentries were asleep as usual, and no one owning to it, Viz (myself), no one got
blamed or punished, although a strict search was made for the guilty party. I
cannot say I admire the discipline on board of a Man of War. The Master at Arms,
a great tall Sergeant of the Marines, had to drill the boys. They mounted the
rattlings on one side, had to climb over the main top and come down on the other
side, when as a rule the last one down had a good stroke or two to make him more
nimble for the future. This cruel practice used to fall on one poor sickly
looking lad, who was not so nimble as the rest. The poor boy, when finding he
was last, would stop up in the rattlings and look down upon this huge monster
with tears in his eyes, asking him for mercy, who in return gave him a good
stroke with the cane. Our men, observing this treatment with feelings of
derision, remonstrated with him and nearly got themselves put in irons for their
humane exertions. |