She Would Be a Soldier Part 8

JERRY. Yes, I deserve many things that I don't get--but pray, corporal, mout you have seen a young woman in this here camp lately?

CORPORAL. Oh, plenty, among the suttlers.

JERRY. No, a kind of a pretty girl, a little lady-like, parlyvoos, and carries her head up straight.

CORPORAL. No--I've seen no such person.

JERRY. Well, Corporal Flash, I've a little cash, and what say you to a jug of whiskey punch? Brave men, you know, like you and I, should drink with one another.

CORPORAL. With all my heart; you're good for nothing else but to drink with.

JERRY. Then come along, my boy; we'll drown care, raise our spirits, and swallow the enemy in a b.u.mper.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE IV. _A Prison._

_Enter two OFFICERS, GUARDS and CHRISTINE. OFFICERS seat themselves at a table, with pens and ink._

1ST OFFICER. Young man, come forward. You have been charged with an act of mutiny, and with an attempt, for some unknown cause, to force your way, with arms in your hand, into the tent of the commanding general. We are convened for your trial--we have examined the testimony; and as you are a stranger in our ranks, no feelings of prejudice could have given a false colouring to that testimony. What have you to say?

CHRISTINE. Nothing.

OFFICER. Nothing?

CHRISTINE. Nothing! [_With firmness._] I am guilty!

OFFICER. Have a care, pause before you make this avowal of your guilt.

CHRISTINE. [_With settled firmness._] I have considered it well, and am ready to meet the consequences. I am guilty. [_With a burst of anguish._] Oh, most guilty!

OFFICER. Unhappy young man, what could have tempted you to this act? Who set you on?

CHRISTINE. Seek not to know the cause, 'tis buried here. Do your duty--I am prepared for the result.

OFFICER. [_To the Board._] The charge is fully admitted, and the rules of war prescribe the punishment. The object he had in view must yet be discovered; 'tis plain, however, that he is a spy, and has no hope of pardon. Record the verdict and sentence, for the inspection and concurrence of the general. [_OFFICER writes. The company rise from the table, and one approaches CHRISTINE, who appears buried in thought._]

OFFICER. Young man, I deeply commiserate your unhappy situation, but the rules of war are rigid, and must be enforced. You must prepare to die!

CHRISTINE. [_Starts, but recovers herself quickly._] I am ready.

OFFICER. I would offer you hope, but acts of mutiny, and when covering such suspicious motives as yours, cannot be pardoned. You have but a day to live. I deeply regret it, for you appear to have qualities which, in time, would have made you a valuable citizen. You are cut off in youth, probably from the hopes of a fond parent.

CHRISTINE. [_In agony._] Oh, no more--no more!

OFFICER. All the sympathy and indulgence which can be offered you shall be yours! Farewell.

[_Exit OFFICERS, GUARDS, &c._

CHRISTINE. At length 'tis concluded, and an ignominious death terminates my unmerited sufferings. Cruel father! and still more cruel Lenox! thus to have wounded the heart that loved you. Oh, what a situation is mine!

separated from all I hold dear, sentenced to die, and in this disguise; to leave my poor father, and to know that death, alone, can tell my sad story. What's to be done? Discover all? No, no. Expose my weakness and folly--to see the false Lenox wedded to another, and I forced to accept the hand I loathe--to be pointed at for one who, lost to the delicacy of her s.e.x, followed a perfidious lover in disguise, and, tortured by jealousy, enlisted, was mutinous, and sentenced to die; but who, to save a miserable life, avowed her situation, and recorded her disgrace at once? Never, never! let me die, and forever be forgotten--'tis but a blow, and it will end the pangs which torment me here. [_Enter a SOLDIER, who beckons._] I am ready, lead the way.

[_Exit._

SCENE V. _Another part of the Prison._

_Enter the JAILOR, driving JERRY before him._

JAILOR. In, in, you mutinous dog! do you come here to breed a riot in our camp?

JERRY. Now, my dear good-natured jailor, only have pity on me, and I'll tell you all about it.

JAILOR. I won't hear you--didn't you breed a riot?

JERRY. Why no, it was not me. I am as innocent as a young lamb. I'll tell you how it was--come, sit down on this bench with me. [_They sit._]

You must know that I'm a farmer, pretty well off, as a body mout say, and I wanted a wife; hard by our village, there lived an old soger with a pretty daughter, so I courted the old man for his daughter, and he consented to the match.

JAILOR. Well?

JERRY. And so I got together all my neighbours, and, with music, went to the old soger's to get my sweetheart, when, lo and behold! after all my trouble, she refused me plump.

JAILOR. No, did she?

JERRY. Ay, indeed; she didn't seem stricken with the proposal--and for fear her father would force her to marry me, egad, she run away.

JAILOR. And where did she go?

JERRY. I can't say, but her father and a whole _posse comitatus_, as we justices call 'em, went in search of her to the camp, and when I came here, I found some of my old comrades who fought with me at Queenstown; and so having a little money, we went to take a comfortable pitcher of whiskey punch together, and so, while over our cups, they doubted my valour, and hinted that I run away before the battle.

JAILOR. Well, and what did you do?

JERRY. Why, I offered to fight 'em single-handed all round, and we got into a dispute, and so when my money was all gone, they tweaked my nose, boxed my ears, and kick'd me out of the tent. So I then kick'd up a row, and--that's all.

JAILOR. A very pretty story, indeed! You look like a mutinous dog--so come, get into the black hole.

JERRY. Now, my dear jailor, do let me escape, and I'll give you the prettiest little pig in my farmyard.

JAILOR. What! bribe an honest and humane jailor, and with a pig? In with you.

JERRY. Well, but I've nothing to eat--I shall be half starved.

JAILOR. Oh no, you shall have something to employ your grinders on.

[_Goes out, and returns with a black loaf, and a pitcher of water._]

There!

JERRY. O dear, nothing else but black bread and cold water? Can't you get me a pickle?