FullReads

“The bhoys was fairly woild wid deloight whin I tould ’em; an’, by this an’ that, they wint through the jungle like buck-rabbits. About midnight we come to the shtrame which I had clane forgot to minshin to my orficer. I was on, ahead, wid four bhoys, an’ I thought that the Lift’nint might want to theourise. ‘Shtrip boys!’ sez I. ‘Shtrip to the buff, an’ shwim in where glory waits!’–‘But I can’t shwim!’ sez two av thim. ‘To think I should live to hear that from a bhoy wid a board-school edukashin!’ sez I. ‘Take a lump av timber, an’ me an’ Conolly here will ferry ye over, ye young ladies!’

“We got an ould tree-trunk, an’ pushed off wid the kits an’ the rifles on it. The night was chokin’ dhark, an’ just as we was fairly embarked, I heard the Lift’nint behind av me callin’ out. ‘There’s a bit av a nullah here, sorr,’ sez I, ‘but I can feel the bottom already.’ So I cud, for I was not a yard from the bank.

“‘Bit av a nullah! Bit av an eshtuary!’ sez the Lift’nint. ‘Go on, ye mad Irishman! Shtrip bhoys!’ I heard him laugh; an’ the bhoys begun shtrippin’ an’ rollin’ a log into the wather to put their kits on. So me an’ Conolly shtruck out through the warm wather wid our log, an’ the rest come on behind.

“That shtrame was miles woide! Orth’ris, on the rear-rank log, whispers we had got into the Thames below Sheerness by mistake. ‘Kape on shwimmin’, ye little blayguard,’ sez I, ‘an’ don’t go pokin’ your dirty jokes at the Irriwaddy,’–‘Silince, men!’ sings out the Lift’nint. So we shwum on into the black dhark, wid our chests on the logs, trustin’ in the Saints an’ the luck av the British Army.

“Evenshually, we hit ground–a bit av sand–an’ a man. I put my heel on the back av him. He skreeched an’ ran.

“‘Now we’ve done it!’ sez Lift’nint Brazenose. ‘Where the Divil is Lungtungpen?’ There was about a minute and a half to wait. The bhoys laid a hould av their rifles an’ some thried to put their belts on; we was marchin’ wid fixed baynits av coorse. Thin we knew where Lungtungpen was; for we had hit the river-wall av it in the dhark, an’ the whole town blazed wid thim messin’ jingles an’ Sniders like a cat’s back on a frosty night. They was firin’ all ways at wanst, but over our hids into the shtrame.

“‘Have you got your rifles?’ sez Brazenose. ‘Got ’em!’ sez Orth’ris. ‘I’ve got that thief Mulvaney’s for all my back-pay, an’ she’ll kick my heart sick wid that blunderin’ long shtock av hers.’–‘Go on!’ yells Brazenose, whippin’ his sword out. ‘Go on an’ take the town! An’ the Lord have mercy on our sowls!’

“Thin the bhoys gave wan divastatin’ howl, an’ pranced into the dhark, feelin’ for the town, an’ blindin’ an’ stiffin’ like Cavalry Ridin’ Masters whin the grass pricked their bare legs. I hammered wid the butt at some bamboo-thing that felt wake, an’ the rest come an’ hammered contagious, while the jingles was jingling, an’ feroshus yells from inside was shplittin’ our ears. We was too close under the wall for thim to hurt us.

“Evenshually, the thing, whatever ut was, bruk; an’ the six-and-twinty av us tumbled, wan after the other, naked as we was borrun, into the town of Lungtungpen. There was a melly av a sumpshus kind for a whoile; but whether they tuk us, all white an’ wet, for a new breed av divil, or a new kind av dacoit, I don’t know. They ran as though we was both, an’ we wint into thim, baynit an’ butt, shriekin’ wid laughin’. There was torches in the shtreets, an’ I saw little Orth’ris rubbin’ his showlther ivry time he loosed my long-shtock Martini; an’ Brazenose walkin’ into the gang wid his sword, like Diarmid av the Gowlden Collar–barring he hadn’t a stitch av clothin’ on him. We diskivered elephints wid dacoits under their bellies, an’, what wid wan thing an’ another, we was busy till mornin’ takin’ possession av the town of Lungtungpen.