Captain Clarkson thought he was done for; but Brattles
asked him for two champagne corks, plugged up the incoming and the
outgoing wounds with them, and stuck to it till the Rooshian bugles
sounded the retreat. That I call a wound to speak of." Tryphena, who had
listened to this story of her elderly admirer with becoming gravity,
ventured to ask: "Do officers carry champagne corks about with them on
the battle-field, Corporal Rigby?"
"Not all officers, Miss Hill. I never heard that Lord Raglan or Sir
Colin did. But the young fellows, of course. How else could they blacken
each other's faces?"
"Do they do that?"
"Regular. There was a subaltern they called Baby Appleby, he was so
white-skinned and light-haired. Well, one night we had to turn out for
an alarm in the dark, and charged two miles up to the rifle pits of the
first line. When we came back, the colonel halted us for inspection
before dismiss. When he came to Mr. Appleby, he turns to his captain and
says: 'Where did you get this nigger in uniform, Ford?' The captain
looked at him and roared, for poor Mr. Appleby was as black as Maguffin.
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