– when the sight of the noble animal struggling in the agonies of death, caused me to make a mental vow never again to go on horseback into a battle.
This resolve, however, I was soon compelled to break. Another horse was furnished me the next day – on which I had to take my place in the ranks of my corps.
One day the company to which I belonged had a skirmish with a party of guerilleros.
We were charging them – our animals urged to their greatest speed – when Dayton’s horse received a shot, and fell. I could not stop to learn the fate of the rider, as I was obliged to keep on with the others.
We pursued the Mexicans for about five miles; and killed over half of their number.
On returning to camp, I traced back the trail over which we had pursued the enemy – in order to find Dayton. After much trouble I succeeded; and I believe no person ever saw me with more pleasure than did Dayton on that occasion.
The dead horse was lying on one of his legs, which had been broken. He had been in this situation for nearly three hours; and with all his exertions had been unable to extricate himself.
After getting him from under the terrible incubus, and making him as comfortable as possible, I sought the assistance of some of my companions. These I fortunately found without much trouble, and we conveyed our wounded comrade to the camp. Dayton was afterwards removed to a hospital; and this was the last I saw of him during the Mexican war.
I had but very little active service after this: for my company was left behind the main army; and formed a part of the force required for keeping open a communication between Vera Cruz, and the capital of Mexico.
The rest of the time I remained in the army, was only remarkable for its want of excitement and tediousness; and all in the company were much dissatisfied at not being allowed to go on to the Halls of Montezuma. The duty at which we were kept, was only exciting for its hardships; and American soldiers very soon become weary of excitement of this kind. We were only too delighted, on receiving orders to embark for New Orleans.
On the Sunday before sailing out of the port of Vera Cruz, I went in search of some amusement; and commenced strolling through town in hopes of finding it. In my walk, I came across a man seated under an awning, which he had erected in the street, where he was dealing “Faro.” A number of people were betting against his “bank,” and I lingered awhile to watch the game.
Amongst others who were betting, was a drunken mule-driver, who had been so far unfortunate as to lose all his money – amounting to about one hundred dollars.
The “MD” – as the mule-drivers were sometimes styled – either justly, or not, accused the gambler of having cheated him. He made so much disturbance, that he was at length forced away from the table by others standing around it – who, no doubt, were interested in the game.
The “MD” went into a public-house near by; and soon after came out again, carrying a loaded rifle.
Advancing within about twenty paces of the table where the gambler was engaged, he called out to the crowd to stand aside, and let him have a shot at the “skunk,” who had cheated him.
“Yes,” said the gambler, placing his hand on a revolver, “stand aside, gentlemen, if you please, and let him have a chance!”
Those between them, obeyed the injunction in double quick time; and, as soon as the space was clear enough to give a line for his bullet, the gambler fired – before the “MD” had raised the rifle to his shoulder.
The mule-driver was shot through the heart; and the game went on!
We had an interesting voyage from Vera Cruz to New Orleans. The hardships of the march and camp were over. Some were returning to home and friends; and all were noisy – some with high animal spirits, and some with strong ardent spirits, known under the name of rum.
There was much gambling on the ship, and many rows to enliven the passage; but I must not tarry to describe all the scenes I have met, or the narrative of the Life of a Rolling Stone will be drawn out too long for the patience of my readers.
We landed in New Orleans, were paid what money was due to us, and disbanded – each receiving a bounty warrant for one hundred and sixty acres of land.
In the company to which I belonged, were some of my countrymen, who had been in the English army; and I often conversed with them, as to the comparative treatment of the soldiers of the English and American armies. I shall give the conclusion we came to upon this subject.
A majority of English soldiers have relatives whom they visit and with whom they correspond. The reader will easily understand that when such is the case, thousands of families in the United Kingdom have more than a national interest in the welfare of the army, and the manner its soldiers are treated. The sympathies of the people are with them; and a soldier, who may be ill-used, has the whole nation to advocate his cause.
The majority of American regular soldiers are isolated beings – so far as home and friends are concerned – and about the only interest the nation at large takes in their welfare is, that they do their duty, and earn their pay.
This difference is understood by the soldiers of both armies; and it has its effect on their character.
In England, the army is regarded as an important part of the nation.
In the United States, it is not; but only as a certain assemblage of men, employed by the people to do a certain work – for which they receive good wages, and plenty of food: for in these respects, the American soldier has an advantage over the English, almost in the ratio of two to one!
Volume One – Chapter Nine.
A Fruitless Search
There were speculators in New Orleans, engaged in buying land warrants from the returning volunteers. I sold mine to one of them, for one hundred and ten dollars. Besides this amount, I had about fifty dollars saved from my pay.
I shall now have the pleasure of recording the fact that I made one move in the right direction. I set sail for my childhood’s home.
Conscience had long troubled me, for having neglected to look after the welfare of my relatives; and I embarked for Dublin with a mind gratified by the reflection that I was once more on the path of duty.
So much pleasure did this give me, that I resolved ever after to follow the guiding of reason, as to my future course in life. The right course is seldom more difficult to pursue than the wrong one, while the wear and tear of spirit in pursuing it is much easier.
How many strange thoughts rushed into my brain – how many interrogations offered themselves to my mind, as we dropped anchor in Dublin Bay. Should I find my mother living? Should I know my brother William and my sister Martha? What had become of Mr Leary? Should I have to kill him?
Such questions, with many others of a similar nature, coursed through my soul while proceeding towards the city.
I hurried through the streets, without allowing anything to distract my thoughts from these themes. I reached the house that had been the home of my childhood.
At the door, I paused to recover from an unusual amount of excitement; but did not succeed in quelling the tumultuous emotions that thrilled my spirit with an intensity I had never experienced before.
I looked cautiously into the shop. It was no longer a saddle and harness-maker’s, but
