Soldiers Three. Rudyard Kipling
to mesilf, “but that’s a mistake I can put straight, or my name is not Terence Mulvaney.”
‘Now take my wurrd for ut, you Orth’ris there an’ Learoyd, an’ kape out av the Married Quarters – as I did not. No good iver comes av ut, an’ there’s always the chance av your bein’ found wid your face in the dirt, a long picket in the back av your head, an’ your hands playing the fifes on the tread av another man’s doorstep. ‘Twas so we found O’Hara, he that Rafferty killed six years gone, when he wint to his death wid his hair oiled, whistlin’ Larry O’Rourke betune his teeth. Kape out av the Married Quarters, I say, as I did not. ‘Tis onwholesim, ‘tis dangerous, an’ ‘tis ivrything else that’s bad, but – O my sowl, ‘tis swate while ut lasts!
‘I was always hangin’ about there whin I was off duty an’ Bragin wasn’t, but niver a sweet word beyon’ ordinar’ did I get from Annie Bragin. “‘Tis the pervarsity av the sect,” sez I to mesilf, an’ gave my cap another cock on my head an’ straightened my back – ‘twas the back av a Dhrum Major in those days – an’ wint off as tho’ I did not care, wid all the women in the Married Quarters laughin’, I was pershuaded – most bhoys are I’m thinkin’ – that no woman born av woman cud stand against me av I hild up my little finger. I had reason fer thinkin’ that way – till I met Annie Bragin.
‘Time an’ agin whin I was blandandherin’ in the dusk a man wud go past me as quiet as a cat. “That’s quare,” thinks I, “for I am, or I should be, the only man in these parts. Now what divilment can Annie be up to?” Thin I called myself a blayguard for thinkin’ such things; but I thought thim all the same. An’ that, mark you, is the way av a man.
‘Wan evenin’ I said: – “Mrs. Bragin, manin’ no disrespect to you, who is that Corp’ril man” – I had seen the stripes though I cud niver get sight av his face – “who is that Corp’ril man that comes in always whin I’m goin’ away?”
‘“Mother av God!” sez she, turnin’ as white as my belt, “have you seen him too?”
‘“Seen him!” sez I; “av coorse I have. Did ye want me not to see him, for” – we were standin’ talkin’ in the dhark, outside the veranda av Bragin’s quarters – “you’d betther tell me to shut me eyes. Onless I’m mistaken, he’s come now.”
‘An’, sure enough, the Corp’ril was walkin’ to us, hangin’ his head down as though he was ashamed av himsilf.
‘“Good-night, Mrs. Bragin,” sez I, very cool; “‘tis not for me to interfere wid your a-moors; but you might manage things wid more dacincy. I’m off to canteen,” I sez.
‘I turned on my heel an’ wint away, swearin’ I wud give that man a dhressin’ that wud shtop him messin’ about the Married Quarters for a month an’ a week. I had not tuk ten paces before Annie Bragin was hangin’ on to my arm, an’ I cud feel that she was shakin’ all over.
‘“Stay wid me, Mister Mulvaney,” sez she; “you’re flesh an’ blood, at the least – are ye not?”
‘“I’m all that,” sez I, an’ my anger wint away in a flash. “Will I want to be asked twice, Annie?”
‘Wid that I slipped my arm round her waist, for, begad, I fancied she had surrindered at discretion, an’ the honours av war were mine.
‘“Fwhat nonsinse is this?” sez she, dhrawin’ hersilf up on the tips av her dear little toes. “Wid the mother’s milk not dhry on your impident mouth? Let go!” she sez.
‘“Did ye not say just now that I was flesh an’ blood?” sez I. “I have not changed since,” I sez; an’ I kep’ my arm where ut was.
‘“Your arms to yoursilf!” sez she, an’ her eyes sparkild.
‘“Sure, ‘tis only human nature,” sez I, an’ I kep’ my arm where ut was.
‘“Nature or no nature,” sez she, “you take your arm away or I’ll tell Bragin, an’ he’ll alter the nature av your head. Fwhat d’you take me for?” she sez.
‘“A woman,” sez I; “the prettiest in barricks.”
‘“A wife,” sez she; “the straightest in cantonmints!”
‘Wid that I dropped my arm, fell back tu paces, an’ saluted, for I saw that she mint fwhat she said.’
‘Then you know something that some men would give a good deal to be certain of. How could you tell?’ I demanded in the interests of Science.
‘“Watch the hand,” said Mulvaney; “av she shuts her hand tight, thumb down over the knuckle, take up your hat an’ go. You’ll only make a fool av yoursilf av you shtay. But av the hand lies opin on the lap, or av you see her thryin’ to shut ut, an’ she can’t, – go on! She’s not past reasonin’ wid.”
‘Well, as I was sayin’, I fell back, saluted, an’ was goin’ away.
‘“Shtay wid me,” she sez. “Look! He’s comin’ again.”
‘She pointed to the veranda, an’ by the Hoight av Impart’nince, the Corp’ril man was comin’ out av Bragin’s quarters.
‘“He’s done that these five evenin’s past,” sez Annie Bragin. “Oh, fwhat will I do!”
“He’ll not do ut again,” sez I, for I was fightin’ mad.
‘Kape away from a man that has been a thrifle crossed in love till the fever’s died down. He rages like a brute beast.
‘I wint up to the man in the veranda, manin’, as sure as I sit, to knock the life out av him. He slipped into the open. “Fwhat are you doin’ philanderin’ about here, ye scum av the gutter?” sez I polite, to give him his warnin’, for I wanted him ready.
‘He niver lifted his head, but sez, all mournful an’ melancolius, as if he thought I wud be sorry for him: “I can’t find her,” sez he.
‘“My troth,” sez I, “you’ve lived too long – you an’ your seekin’s an’ findin’s in a dacint married woman’s quarters! Hould up your head, ye frozen thief av Genesis,” sez I, “an’ you’ll find all you want an’ more!”
‘But he niver hild up, an’ I let go from the shoulther to where the hair is short over the eyebrows.
‘“That’ll do your business,” sez I, but it nearly did mine instid. I put my bodyweight behind the blow, but I hit nothing at all, an’ near put my shoulther out. The Corp’ril man was not there, an’ Annie Bragin, who had been watchin’ from the veranda, throws up her heels, an’ carries on like a cock whin his neck’s wrung by the dhrummer-bhoy. I wint back to her, for a livin’ woman, an’ a woman like Annie Bragin, is more than a p’rade-groun’ full av ghosts. I’d niver seen a woman faint before, an’ I stud like a shtuck calf, askin’ her whether she was dead, an’ prayin’ her for the love av me, an’ the love av her husband, an’ the love av the Virgin, to opin her blessed eyes again, an’ callin’ mesilf all the names undher the canopy av Hivin for plaguin’ her wid my miserable a-moors whin I ought to ha’ stud betune her an’ this Corp’ril man that had lost the number av his mess.
‘I misremimber fwhat nonsinse I said, but I was not so far gone that I cud not hear a fut on the dirt outside. ‘Twas Bragin comin’ in, an’ by the same token Annie was comin’ to. I jumped to the far end av the veranda an’ looked as if butter wudn’t melt in my mouth. But Mrs. Quinn, the Quarter-Master’s wife that was, had tould Bragin about my hangin’ round Annie.
‘“I’m not pleased wid you, Mulvaney,” sez Bragin, unbucklin’ his sword, for he had been on duty.
‘“That’s bad hearin’,” I sez, an’ I knew that the pickets were dhriven in. “What for, Sargint?” sez I.
‘“Come outside,” sez he, “an’ I’ll show you why.”
‘“I’m