Chapter VI: Part IV: Chapter X

Next morning, I commenced my regular attendance at the office; all hands employed in counting money.

“Well, Mr Y—,” said my commanding officer, “I fear you find the gentleman with whom you lodge rather dull company.”

“Particularly lively, sir; never met with a more pleasant person.”

“Thought he was rather morose,” replied Mr Q—. “That’s the character he bears amongst his acquaintance here.”

“Quite cheerful and obliging, sir; sings a good song. Yesterday he invited a couple of friends to meet me at dinner. Does all he can to make me comfortable, even to his own inconvenience. Last night, as we were short of blankets, he forced me to take his greatcoat, which he generally puts upon his own bed. Offered, as a favour, to sell it me, as I am going up to the army. Only asks ten dollars.”

“Yes, yes; he’s always trying to bargain. That’s what has got him such a bad name here. Constantly on the look-out to turn a penny. Well, do you buy the pony?”

“Yes, sir,” said I; “we settled about that this morning at breakfast. Shall have to trouble you for the needful, as he would like to be paid in the course of the day.”

“In the course of the day? Oh, very well. The cashier may as well give it you at once. Stop; I’ll write you an order. At the same time, I feel it my duty to say this to you; mind and take a receipt. How much will you draw?”

“I suppose, sir, the usual allowance granted by Government, eighty dollars. That, he said, of course.”

“What! Eighty dollars for that beast of a pony? Why, Mr Y—, one would think you had come out direct from England! Saddle and bridle in? Of course.”

“No, sir; we are to settle about the saddle and bridle to-morrow. Said he didn’t know what he _ought_ to ask for them.”

“Ought!—a rascal! He knows very well, when you’ve got the pony, you _must_ have the saddle and bridle. Don’t know of a saddle that would suit Sancho, in all Passages. Well, Mr Y—; I feel it my duty to say this to you—it’s a regular take-in. Sixty dollars I should call a high figure, saddle and bridle included. If you can sell at headquarters for forty, you may think yourself well off.”

“Hadn’t I better go and pitch into him, sir?”

“Pitch into him? Nonsense. That won’t do here, Mr Y—. Besides, a bargain’s a bargain, you know. If you have said eighty, it must be eighty. Have you looked out for a fresh billet?”

“Didn’t know there was any occasion, sir.”

“You don’t expect to pass another night in your present quarters, after you have paid for Sancho? If you complete the purchase this morning, depend upon it, you’ll have to get other accommodation before bed-time.”

“I’m rather at a loss how to proceed, sir.”

“Why, let me see. I must consider. Go and tell him—yes—go and tell him, for that money you ought to have saddle and bridle in. Tell him so, from me. We must try and be a match for this gentleman. Don’t think it right that your uncle’s nephew, the moment he joins, should be pigeoned at this rate. Stop—tell him, at the same time, you can’t purchase till the day you’re off. Under all the circumstances of the case, I feel it my duty to say this to you; till then, I shall keep the eighty dollars in the military chest. While you’re here, he may as well have the bother of keeping Sancho as you. And, besides, while the bargain’s open—don’t you see?—you won’t be disturbed in your quarters. If you lose them, the place is so crowded, ten to one I shall be forced to accommodate you _myself_.”

Charged with what promised to prove an awkward negotiation, I walked off to find my friend. Nothing of the kind. He took it all with the greatest good-humour; consented with alacrity to throw in the saddle and bridle; and as to the money, why, if it wasn’t forthcoming at once, he could wait till it was.

Three hands of us, counting dollars till dinner-time, did a good stroke of work:—only that plaguy “small mixed” was a serious addition to our labours. Fancy a bag of small silver, a thousand dollars in amount, shot out before you on the table; a heap of mingled coin, specimens of every fraction of a dollar, that ever issued in silver from the Spanish mint; the whole lot to be sorted, counted, and made right. A single bag took us often two or three hours. As to counting a bag of whole dollars, that was a far easier job. Count ten; set them on the table in a pile. Ten such piles in a row make a hundred; ten such rows in a square make one thousand:—the bag is counted. Unluckily, though, your last pile is sometimes nine, or eleven, instead of ten. Ah, you’re a greenhorn; you’ve counted wrong. Then down goes your nose to the edge of the table; your eye glances over the summit of the piles. Discover, if you can, a pile higher or lower than the rest: the error is then detected. Should you fail, there’s no remedy: “Mr Snooks, you had better count the whole again.” Still wrong? then some older hand is set to count. Can’t he get it right? Why, then, the bag is wrong. Set it on one side and count another. Fingers sore, about the third day. With the first day’s counting they get a little black; on the second, rough, and painful; third, cracked, and begin to bleed. About this time comes a thundering letter, blowing up the whole department sky high, for not having the money ready to pay the troops. What your fingers are, if the counting goes on a day or two longer, especially with the encouraging accompaniment of a rap on the knuckles, I leave you to guess. We had a military guard; four Germans, one of them a corporal. The man on duty as sentry walked up and down in the passage, while the other three sat over a small fire in an adjoining room. They could sing in parts—sang well. One of them struck up, the others followed, the sentry joined in as he paced the lobby. Sometimes it was a national song, sometimes a hymn. Nothing, in sacred music, like those German hymns. But then, take notice, you must have German voices to do them justice. The men of our guard were quiet, sober, well-conducted fellows; always willing to make themselves useful; rendered us great assistance in helping the carpenter to open and close the boxes, and in lifting the bags from the boxes to the table, and _vice versâ_. Mr Q—, as an acknowledgment, made a handsome addition to their supper.

Our dinner was strictly departmental, very much to my taste; quite a sort of family party. No one was present save the gentlemen of our own office at Passages. Mr Q—, I rather suspect, wanted to give me some idea of my duties, in the responsible charge of conducting treasure to headquarters through the enemy’s country. Perhaps he thought a little chat amongst ourselves would be the best mode of instruction.

Towards the close of the evening, as we sat talking over departmental matters, each with his tumbler before him—hot,—our conversation was interrupted by a tap at the door. “Come in,” said Mr Q—.

The door opened; and in the doorway appeared one of our German guard. With an earnest but somewhat vacant look, and his hand spread out upon his breast, he stood erect, his appearance that of a man who wants words, but is very anxious to speak. At length he began: “_Mine haarrt ist folle._” Just at that moment the corporal appeared behind, seized the orator by the shoulders, and cut short his harangue by spinning him round into the passage, and closing the door. “Oh, I see how it is,” said Mr Q—. “The extra allowance has got into his head. He wants to return thanks for his supper; that’s all.”

Presently there was a scuffle outside. Again the door opened; and again the same individual made his appearance, commencing as before, with pathos and much gravity, “_Mine haarrt ist folle._” The corporal interposed once more; but another scuffle ensued in the passage, followed by a third visit, with similar results.

“Better get him to turn in,” said Mr Q—; but that was more English than the corporal understood. Recollecting a few German words, I contrived to make the command intelligible; and partly by force, partly by persuasion, our grateful friend was stowed away for the night; still exclaiming, from time to time, “_Mine haarrt ist folle_,” and making strenuous efforts to break away from his comrades, come back, and finish his oration. When all was quiet, I took my leave for the night. The sound of my footsteps caught his ear, and set him off again. His voice grew louder as my distance increased; and “_Mine haarrt ist folle_” resounded in the street. Next morning he came up to me, looking very sheepish and compunctious; and commenced a long discourse in German, expressive of his profound regret. This at his request I interpreted, as far as able, to his “Excellenz” the “Haupt.”

At length arrived the day, the important day, of my departure to join the army. It was arranged that the treasure should be conveyed up the harbour in boats to the bridge of Oyarzun, with a guard of soldiers. At Oyarzun we were to sleep the first night; and there, also, we were to meet the rest of our escort, and the mules intended to convey the money. My friend and I had arranged it together, that he was to bring Sancho to the office in the course of the morning, saddled and bridled. I was then to pay the purchase-money, and the pony would be mine. My friend was punctual to his time; Sancho stood at the door; and I applied to Mr Q— for the eighty dollars.

“Oh yes, of course,” said he; “may as well give it you at once. Is the pony at Oyarzun?”

“No, sir; he’s here, at the door.”

“Here at the door? Then how do you mean to get him to Oyarzun?” I had never thought of that.

“Can’t he go with us, in one of the boats, sir?”

“Oh yes, certainly; yes, yes. If they were horse-boats, of course he could. But as they are common ship-boats, borrowed for the occasion from the transports in harbour, how will you get him in, and how will you get him out? Not to mention that he might take to kicking; and kick out a plank from the bottom of the boat, as you were pulling up the harbour. In that case, the treasure would have a short voyage, and you too.”

“Hadn’t I better mention it to my friend, sir?”

“Why, yes; I think you had. Stop; let me see. Suppose you request him to step in. I’ll speak to him myself.”

I invited my friend into the office. He entered smiling—rubbed his hands—looked sleeky and resigned—evidently thought he was going to realise.

“Well, sir,” said Mr Q—, addressing my friend, “this is an awkward business about the pony. I don’t see how the purchase can be completed.”

“Completed, sir?” said my friend, rather taken aback, and losing his temper. “I thought it _was_ completed, all but paying the money.”

“Very true, sir,” said Mr Q—; “but that, you know, makes all the difference. The money is not paid; and, more than that, it’s not issued. And, sir, under all the circumstances of the case, I feel it my duty to say this to you; unless I see everything straight, I don’t intend to issue it.”

“Well, sir,” said my friend, “I conceive everything _is_ straight, so far as I am concerned. There stands the pony, at the door.”

“Yes, I know he does. But how is he to be got to the head of the harbour?”

“Of course I supposed Mr Y— would ride him, sir.”

“No, no; that’s out of the question. The treasure goes by water; and of course, being in charge, Mr Y— must go with it.”

“Well, sir,” replied my friend, “if that’s all, my servant shall take the pony.”

“Oh, very well, sir,” said Mr Q—, “if you think you can trust your servant to receive and bring back the purchase-money.”

“No occasion for that, sir; I can receive it here, sir, if you’ve no objection.”

“None whatever, when I know that the pony is delivered at Oyarzun. Not before delivery, of course.”

My friend was seized with a fit of musing;—looked rather at a loss. At length he found his tongue.

“The long and the short of it is, I think, sir, I had better ride the pony to Oyarzun myself, and make the delivery in person.”

“Very well, sir,” said Mr Q—. “I think so too. Then, on receiving the pony at Oyarzun, Mr Y— will pay you the eighty dollars. Will you favour us with your company? We are just going to lunch.”

“Thank you, sir; much obliged. Think I had better be off at once. Mr Y— will not reach Oyarzun till late; and it’s out of the question my returning to Passages after dark, especially on foot, and with a lot of dollars.”

“Oh, certainly; and by such a horrid, cut-throat, out-of-the-way road, too. You’d certainly be robbed and murdered; that is, if you get safe there. Better secure a night’s lodging at Oyarzun, if there’s one to be had, sir.”

“Yes, and come back to-morrow by daylight. Well, the sooner I’m off the better. Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, sir.” My friend mounted Sancho at the door, and set off forthwith to Oyarzun.

Mr Q—, laughing heartily, then handed me my route, made out in due form.

While I was making the necessary arrangements for my start in the afternoon, Mr Q— summoned me into his private apartment. He had doffed his blue frock with black velvet collar, and now appeared in full fig, departmental coat, epaulet on his shoulder, staff-hat on the table. His manner was serious, but friendly.

“You are probably aware, Mr Y—,” said he, “that the Allied army is not likely to resume active operations for some days.”

“So I have understood, sir,” said I.

“I presume, however, you are not acquainted with the cause of this temporary inactivity.”

“Can’t say I am, sir.”

“It is, I believe I may venture to inform you, principally the want of money. That deficiency your arrival will supply. You will readily perceive, then, how much depends on your conducting the treasure safely, and delivering it by the time when it is looked for. Your route lies through the enemy’s country; but the population is now comparatively quiet; the date of your departure is known at headquarters, and, I have no doubt, every requisite arrangement has been made to secure the safety of your convoy. All such arrangements, however, proceed, and must proceed, on one supposition—namely, that the officer in charge is, on his part, competent to the task committed to him, obeys his orders, and does his duty properly. You will readily perceive, then, that some measure of responsibility rests upon your own shoulders.”

“Yes, sir; and, in the course of the last few days, I have been thinking on that subject more than once.”

“All the better. Mr Y—, if you had ever discharged this duty before, I should now merely wish you a pleasant journey, and send you off. But this is your first expedition; it is one, to speak candidly, of greater risk than any that has hitherto fallen to our department. The army is considerably in advance in the French territory; you have before you six or seven days’ march upon French ground; it will, of course, be discovered that you carry money—there is no concealing that; a convoy like yours will naturally excite the cupidity of partisans and marauders; from St Jean de Luz to headquarters you will not find a single officer of our department to give you the benefit of his experience; and, under all the circumstances of the case, I feel it my duty to say this to you—mind what you are about; on no account separate from your convoy; let nothing induce you to deviate from the written route; always reach the specified station at the specified time; keep your escort sober, if you can; keep your muleteers in good-humour; keep your mules well together on the line of march; and, if you are asked questions, don’t be lavish of information. The French, Mr Y—, though an inquisitive people, are not apt to interrogate official persons out of mere curiosity. If, therefore, any individual should pester you with inquiries, depend upon it he has a motive.”

“I suppose, sir,” said I, “in such a case, it will be as well to return some sort of a general reply, just to avoid the appearance of mystery.”

“Exactly that,” said Mr Q—. “When a gentleman makes an inquiry, you are bound, by etiquette, to give him a _reply_. Whether you give him an _answer_ is optional, and a matter of discretion.

“By the bye,” added Mr Q—, after a pause, “I shouldn’t wonder if you missed the pony, after all—no great harm if you do. To be sure, you must march on foot, the first day or two; but you won’t mind that; and you will have your eighty dollars. Put twenty to them, and I shouldn’t wonder if you pick up a very tolerable mule, which will answer your purpose far better. Then, if at headquarters you wish to come out well mounted, and choose to buy a horse, a mule, you know, will always fetch its value.”

“I hope, sir,” said I, “we shall have a good escort.”

“Oh, yes—the escort. That is one of the subjects I wish to mention. Well, Mr Y—, you must do the best you can with them. Your escort consists of twenty men; not, I am sorry to say, twenty men of any one corps, but twenty men of twenty different regiments; men who have been in hospital at Vittoria, sick or wounded—have recovered, and are now on their return to headquarters—not exactly the guard I should have wished to provide, but the best I could get for you. The worst is, I have seen the officer who is to command them, and don’t like him at all. Hope you will like him better than I do. Hope he won’t give you trouble, or prove incompetent. Should he turn out not quite the person you wish, or should your escort appear insufficient, say nothing till you reach St Jean de Luz, up to which point I consider you as safe as if travelling in England. Then wait upon old Colonel B—, the commandant; state your case to him; and he, I have no doubt, will make the best arrangements in his power, for the security of your subsequent progress. Come, Mr Y—, after dinner, we’ll see you into the boat.”

“Perhaps, sir,” said I, “you will oblige me with a line to the commandant, to be presented if the case requires.”

“No need of that,” said he, “I wrote to the Colonel yesterday, after seeing the gentleman who goes with you.”

Before leaving the room, I very heartily thanked my commanding officer for all his good advice, forethought, and kind attentions. We then shook hands upon it, in the usual English style; and I held by the paw as worthy a little man as ever trod shoe-leather, and as smart an officer as ever drew rations.

The dinner was again departmental, and so was the talk. “It is the boast of our department,” said Mr Q—, “that, since we have served in the Peninsula under our present commander-in-chief, no treasure in our keeping, not even a single mule’s load of specie, has ever been captured by the enemy. Recollect that, Mr Y—, and keep up our character.”

“Didn’t we once lose a box of papers, sir?” said one of my fellow-clerks.

“We did,” said Mr Q—; “but, two days after, it was recaptured, and all the papers found right. That was on the retreat, subsequent to the battle of Talavera. I see nothing of the boats,” he added, rising, and walking to the balcony. “Hope they’ll be here in time.”

“Get him to tell about that campaign,” whispered the senior of my fellow-clerks, winking to the junior. “Did you ever hear him tell it, Mr Y—?”

“I think, sir, in the course of that campaign,” said the junior, addressing Mr Q—, on his return to the table, “the whole department together, chest and all, had a narrow escape from being captured.”

“Not exactly,” said Mr Q—, “because we obeyed orders. Had we not, we should have had no escape at all: we must have been taken, every man of us. The boats are not in sight, so I’ll just tell you how it was. Gentlemen, try this Madeira. We halted one evening, after a weary march, in a village. The rain was coming down in torrents. We unloaded the treasure, and housed it, glad enough to get a little rest. Just at that moment, Mr Y—, an order came to your uncle, to load again, and be ready to move on at a moment’s warning, but not to stir till further notice. Well, sir, we made ready again, with all expedition; the night closed in; the rain fell, heavier than ever; and an anxious time we had of it. Parties of stragglers, one after the other, came hurrying through the village—one set assuring us the enemy were close at their heels, another telling us we had better be off, another warning us, if we stayed there, we should all be taken, and serve us right. I own I felt rather nervous; but the Governor would not budge. He had got his directions, he said, not to proceed without further orders; and there he should wait, treasure and all, till the orders came. Presently, in a mighty bustle, up rode a general officer. Begged to know, in a tone of authority, why we were waiting there. The Governor replied as before. ‘Well, but it was perfectly absurd. The enemy were close at hand—on our flanks, right and left.’ Couldn’t move the Governor. The general grew angry, swore, almost threatened. ‘Will you move on, sir, or will you not?’ Then clapped spurs to his horse, in a towering passion, and rode away with a wave of his hand, as if saying, ‘I leave you to your fate.’ Well, gentlemen, we waited, waited till midnight. No order came. Waited on till morning dawned. Then, at length, came a staff-officer, with a message from his lordship, directing us to proceed. We did so; and found the general quite right in one thing—the French had been on our flanks. But not only that; they had been in our front. During the night, they had occupied in force the very road by which we were to pass. Had we started sooner, we should have walked right into them.”

The boats now made their appearance, and were soon alongside the jetty. A working party embarked the treasure, packed, as before, in boxes. I then said farewell, and took my seat. With three boat-loads of treasure, and a guard of a corporal and six soldiers, we pulled away for the bridge of Oyarzun. There we found three individuals expecting our arrival—Captain Rattler, who was appointed to command our escort, my friend, and Sancho.

I completed the purchase of Sancho, by handing over to my friend the eighty dollars, and receiving an acknowledgment of the same, which he had brought in his pocket. Just at that moment, my attention was called from my friend, by something in the boats. The next instant I turned, to resume our conversation—he had vanished! By the dim ray of evening at length I caught sight of him in the distance, walking down the road towards the town. My friend! My jolly, good-humoured, hospitable friend! My friend, who could sing a good song! My friend, who laughed indiscriminately and immoderately at all my jokes! He had got his money. It was all he wanted. He was off, without staying to say “Good night!”