Introductory Remarks.—The Author’s Birth.—Parentage.—Prevalence of the Military Spirit.—Two of his Brothers enlist, and are killed in the Service.—Author apprenticed to a Carpenter.—His Desire for a Military Life.—Leaves Home without the Consent of his Parents.—Reaches Belfast, and enlists.—Dissatisfied with his new Position.—Deserts, and returns to his Native Village.—Again enlists, at Navan.—Still dissatisfied, and again deserts.—Enlists a third Time.—Marches to Dublin, and thence to Cork.—Departs for England.—Incidents of the Voyage.—Sails for the Peninsula.—The Ship on Fire.—A Terrific Storm.—Arrives in Spain.—Gibraltar.—A Flogging.

People advanced somewhat in life, and surrounded by a family of children, often find great pleasure in retracing scenes of their own childhood,—in living over, again and again, the hours which have been to them so productive of happiness or misery; and the events of those bygone days present to their minds scenes of far deeper and more thrilling interest than the present can ever do. The thrice-told tale is as new, and as glowing with interest, as though its occurrences were but of yesterday. This is true in the case of most whose lives have been diversified by the changes of varied condition and prospects. But how much more true is this of the old soldier,—one who,[8] in early life, became inured to the hardships of war and the severe duties of camp life. Scenes in the camp, and on the bloody field of martial combat, where death, in its most terrific forms, is met by many,—the horrors of the siege, and the consequences to the vanquished,—the sufferings, the writhings and groans, of the distressed and the dying,—too deeply impress the mind to be ever erased; and, in our times of peace, should serve to enhance the value of the blessings we enjoy. It is, perhaps, with something like these feelings, that the author of the following sketch presents his narrative to the public. He can claim no titled ancestry, nor lordly birth, to throw around him a fictitious glory. This tale draws its interest from the wild scenes of war, and the wilder passions of men’s souls, which it has been his fortune to encounter. It is his hope both to instruct and amuse the young, that they may better prize the blessings of peace; and learn that war, with all its glory, is to be dreaded, not sought for,—that it is productive of far more evil than good, even to the successful party, and that it should ever be, to all nations, only a last resort from the most flagrant oppression.
PREVALENCE OF THE MILITARY SPIRIT.
BROTHER KILLED IN BATTLE.

I was born in Dendolk, in the county of Lowth, Ireland, in June, 1793. I was the youngest of eleven children, six of whom were sons, and five daughters. My father’s name was Charles O’Neil, and my mother’s maiden name was Alice McGee. My father was a carpenter by trade, and he supported[9] his large family by daily toil. He was an industrious and active laborer, and in other times would gladly have seen his family settle around him, pursuing the peaceful avocations of husbandry, or engaged in some of the useful mechanic arts. But it was our fortune—or misfortune, I should say—to live when all Europe resounded to the din of arms, and the glory of martial life, amid the confusion and carnage of battle. Napoleon, the mightiest of heroes and conquerors, was then rapidly ascending to the zenith of his glory; and all the crowned heads of Europe, terrified by his growing power, and anxious to save themselves and their thrones, began to prepare themselves for resistance. Recruits were sought for in every village and hamlet. The honors of the soldier’s life, and the glory of the military profession, were everywhere, and by all classes of people, the topics of conversation. Fathers and mothers were careful to instil into the minds of their children the glory and honor of a military life, and the fair young damsels of our own dear island—for Ireland has charming and beautiful girls—were scarcely willing to regard any young man as honorable or brave, who did not enlist, and aim to deserve well of his country. He is a soldier, he has fought in such a battle, he belongs to his majesty’s regiment, &c., were a sure passport to society and respectability. All other occupations were considered tame and spiritless, fit only for the aged, infirm, and for cowards. My father caught the spirit of the times, and although[10] too old to engage in such an enterprise himself, gave his ready permission to Arthur, my oldest brother, who early sought to distinguish himself on the field of battle. My mother’s consent was not so readily given, but even she did by no means object to his new enterprise; and when he presented himself before his parents, in his new uniform, for their parting blessing, she felt proud that her son was possessed of such a noble, courageous soul. She cheerfully gave him her hand, saying, “Go, my son; cover yourself with glory in the service of your country, and when you are old, you will be honored, respected, and provided for.” But, alas! how little did my mother think that the first news she would hear from her first-born son, after this blessing, would fill her own heart with grief unutterable. He enlisted into the navy, and was placed upon a seventy-four gun-ship, named the “Terrible;” and terrible, indeed, it proved to him, for he was killed by a cannon-ball, a few months only after enlisting, in an engagement which took place in 1807, near the coast of Holland, between his majesty’s fleet and the French naval force. His death was a severe affliction to my parents, and completely damped my father’s desire for military honor for his children. It was, therefore, with deep regret that they saw in my brother James’ mind a growing dislike to the quiet duties and occupations of home, and an earnest longing for those warlike scenes which had been so fatal to Arthur. This desire soon grew so strong that entreaties[11] and persuasions were alike useless from my dear and aged parents; and in less than two years from Arthur’s death, he enlisted in the royal army of George IV., in the 96th regiment of foot. It was a sorrowful day in our little home, when the news came that his regiment was ordered abroad, into the foreign service. My father gave him much good advice, with many directions for the attainment of that honor he hoped to see him enjoy, at some distant day. But my poor mother could only weep, and express her deep regret that Jimmie would not be contented to live at home, at the same time reiterating her confident prediction that she should see his face no more. Since the melancholy death of Arthur, the glory and honor of military life all gave place to the carnage, the slaughter, and the dreadful sufferings of the battle-field, where no kind hand could minister the slightest consolation, and where agony unmitigated might be the fate—and to her mind undoubtedly would be—of her son. She wept aloud, and would not be comforted. But the die was cast; Jimmie was resolved, at all hazards, to be a soldier. He thought not of danger, and did not fear death. He only thought of the excitement of martial strife, the joy and honor awaiting the victor, and the subsequent reward. Alas! for him the bright future never dawned. My mother’s fears were but too well founded; for he, too, fell dead upon the field of battle, while fighting bravely for his country, in[12] his first engagement, in the bloody battle of Talavera.

It was my father’s wish that I should become a carpenter; and he, early in life, put me an apprentice to his own trade. But the quiet habits, constant labor,—destitute of an exciting or romantic incident,—of a mechanic’s life, ill suited the tastes I had already formed. There resided near us an old soldier, who found great pleasure in relating the adventures of his past life; and I was never weary of listening to them. My imagination was excited, and the romantic scenes he related to me, with the thrilling incidents of a soldier’s life, made a deep and permanent impression upon my mind. Alas for me, that I ever fell in company with this old soldier! My peace was destroyed; I was uneasy, and determined not to remain in my employment, as a carpenter’s apprentice. Each interview with him strengthened my desire for a participation in those scenes which, I was sure, would be so delightful and interesting.

Mingled with a desire to see foreign countries, and be a sharer of those actions to whose thrilling narration I had so often listened with so much interest, came an ardent thirst for revenge on those whom I regarded as the murderers of my brothers. About this time, one of my cousins, to whom I was warmly attached, resolved to enlist in a regiment that was then being formed at Belfast. He was very anxious that I should accompany him. It did not require[13] much persuasion to induce me to determine so to do. But I remembered how difficult it had been for my brother James to gain my parents’ consent, and being anxious to avoid a scene which must be so painful to all, I resolved to leave without their knowledge.
REFLECTIONS ON LEAVING HOME.
JOURNEY TO BELFAST.

This was a most wicked resolution, and deeply do I regret such an unkind and unwise act. It was not without many misgivings and fears that I left the home of my childhood. O, that I never had stifled that voice which so clearly bade me not to go under such circumstances! There were many things to call up these misgivings, and to hold me back from such a cruel purpose. The uniform kindness of my parents, the severe trials to which they had already been subjected,—for, beside the loss of my brothers, they had buried four of their children, in early childhood,—their known wishes that I should pursue my father’s calling, the affection I still felt for home and my dear parents,—all these made me hesitate, as I stood at our little gate, with my earthly all in the small bundle I held in my hand. There, on the one hand, were my dear parents and brothers and sisters, all quietly asleep, wholly unconscious that I had formed such a wicked purpose, and by stealth packed my few clothes, and whatever else I could call my own, in my little bundle; there was the home of my childhood, the hallowed scene of my early sports and joys, under the smiles and watchfulness of the kindest of parents; there were the early associates of my boyish days, and all necessary to render me happy[14] and quiet;—and, on the other, were the glories of the military profession, and the unreal pleasures I had anticipated in foreign countries,—scenes and events pictured in my imagination from the stories of that old soldier. The realities of home, and all that was dear on earth, opposed to the more heated imaginations of scenes in other countries, and upon the field of carnage,—I almost resolved to go back, and become what my parents wished. I hesitated, at that solemn and still hour of the night, for some time, before I could break away. Had I only gone back, and done what I knew I ought to have done, it would have been right; and I caution all my young readers never to stifle such convictions, or break away from such restraints. But the thought of my cousin, who was waiting for me, and the glowing scenes which my imagination had painted in the countries beyond the sea, to which I hoped soon to go, drowned the earnest pleadings of the good spirit, whose still small voice was heard in my soul. I, with sudden violence, sundered these unpleasant reflections, and madly resolved, come what would, to go ahead. I rushed, with the utmost rapidity, from my home, and drowned every conviction and thought that would come up in my soul, of all that I had left behind. I soon found my cousin, and we pursued our way to Belfast, with the utmost rapidity. How little did I then think that so many years would elapse before I should again see that well-known spot, and those dear friends who, in spite of[15] my wildness and disobedience, had loved me through all, and were unceasingly seeking my best good! But I was now to enter another sphere of life, and be subjected to far other influences than those to which I had been accustomed from early childhood. I was at this time only seventeen years of age,—1810. My comrade, like myself, was quite young. Our ideas of the happiness of a soldier’s life were much the same; and we amused each other, on our lonely way, by relating all the adventures either of us had ever heard, of what was then to be our future profession. When morning came,—that morning in which there was to be so much grief in our quiet homes, and when the tears of my dear mother, and her groanings, were to be again heard, for an absent son, who had stolen away,—we feared to be recognized, by some one who might be passing, if we continued our journey. So we stopped in an old, deserted hut, and making our simple meal of the bread we had brought with us, we lay down and slept. About four o’clock in the afternoon, not seeing any one near, we pursued our way, and travelled all night. The next morning found us far from home, among scenes and people entirely strange, and greatly fatigued by our night’s march. We found a teamster, who was going to Belfast, and, by much persuasion and entreaty, succeeded in persuading him to carry us to that city. Right glad were we to rest our weary legs, and amuse ourselves by gazing at the new and strange objects which met our eyes as we passed along the[16] road. We reached Belfast about sunset. Neither of us had ever before seen so large a place as this; and we thought, as we rode through some of its principal streets, that we never should be weary of gazing upon its churches and public buildings, which appeared to us so grand and beautiful.

This city is one of the principal seaports of Ireland. It lies about ninety miles north of Dublin, on the banks of the river Lagan. With a population of forty thousand, and all the advantages which it possesses for trade, it may well be imagined that we found in its busy streets and crowded thoroughfares enough to rally again all the excitement and glowing visions which our fatigue was beginning, in some degree, to dim. But when our driver stopped at a small inn, in one of the back streets of the city, a good supper and bed seemed too inviting to be resisted, and we were soon asleep. At early dawn, however, we were awakened by the roll of the drum, and were soon in the street, gazing, with wondering eyes, at the many strange sights we saw. Near our hotel a canal came in, which connects the little lake of Lough Neagh with the Bay of Belfast. The canal-boats attracted our attention, and my cousin proposed visiting them; but, far over the tops of the houses, I could see the tall masts of the vessels which lay moored in the harbor, and I could not restrain my curiosity longer. So we were soon on our way to the port. The harbor is an excellent one. It is constantly filled with shipping, as vessels drawing[17] thirteen feet of water can easily anchor here. We had scarcely reached the wharf, when I was surprised to hear a familiar voice calling my name. Turning hastily, I discovered an old playmate, who had left Dendalk about three years since, for the sea. He belonged to one of the large vessels now in port. Nothing could have been more opportune for us, as he was acquainted with the place, and showed us the ship where he was, which we should not otherwise have had an opportunity of visiting.
A RECRUITING OFFICER.

To him we confided our object in leaving home, and he promised to aid us in finding the officer. Soon after leaving the wharf, we passed a large building, which, my friend informed us, was a manufactory for Irish linen, which is one of the staple exports of the place. I afterwards learned that no less than eight hundred looms found continual employment in the production of this valuable commodity. But much as I should have enjoyed a visit to this place, a scene now presented itself which had, in my eyes, far greater attractions. Near the centre of a small open place stood a covered cart, embellished with flaming handbills, giving a description of the success of the British troops on the peninsula. On its top stood a neatly-dressed soldier, who was haranguing, with much earnestness, the motley group that surrounded him, and calling loudly for recruits to engage in such glorious service. Judging from the description we heard, our most sanguine expectations had fallen far short of the reality; and of course this was[18] an opportunity not to be lost. We eagerly pushed our way through the crowd, which we had some difficulty in doing; but the eagle eye of the officer soon rested on us, and, perceiving our eagerness, he called out, “Make way, make way there, my lads! that’s right, that’s right,—fine soldiers you’ll be, my hearties, I warrant!” Of course, all eyes were directed to us; and if any idea of retreating had occurred, the loud hurrah for the new soldiers, which ran around the crowd, would at once have decided the question. But no such idea came to disturb our peace, and our names were handed in. Being asked how long we would serve, each of us answered, without a moment’s hesitation, “For life.” “For life, then, are you soldiers of his majesty,” the officer replied.
DISCONTENTED WITH THE SERVICE.

Each of us then received from him eighteen guineas, and were sent to the barracks, as members of the 8th regiment of foot. Much elated with what we considered our good fortune, we proceeded at once to make a selection of our kit, as it is called. This consisted of two shirts, two pairs of stockings, a plate, knife and fork, and a few other small articles, the cost of which does not often exceed a guinea. A suit of regimentals was then provided for us, by the officer of our mess, and we soon found ourselves quite at home in our new situation. But we had not been here long, when we began to find the old adage applicable in our case, “All is not gold that glitters.” The drills to which we were subjected were very[19] tiresome to those as unaccustomed to any kind of restraint as we were. In addition to this, as many of our troops had deserted, we were so closely watched that we lost all the enjoyment that I had anticipated in viewing the curiosities of the city. It was hardly to be supposed that, unwilling as I had been to submit to the quiet restraints of home, I should find a pleasure in the rigid discipline of the parade-ground; and before one week had passed away, I found myself pondering whether I could not, in some way, escape from my regiment. Not that I intended to give up the military profession entirely, for I still thought that in some other place I should find the happiness I sought. Every night, after we had retired to our quarters, I listened to the many tales my comrades were ever ready to tell, of those who, weary of their lot as soldiers, had deserted,—of their hair-breadth escapes, and the cruel punishment to which they were subjected, when discovered. The very romance connected with the undertaking, and the thrilling interest that existed in listening to these adventures, strengthened in my mind my desire to share in their experience. It also occurred to me that should I still wish to continue in the service, I might go to another part of Ireland, where I was unknown, and again receive the bounty-money offered to all enlisting. Yet all these motives would have been insufficient, had not an incident occurred which aroused all the independence and opposition of my nature. I was unjustly accused of[20] a breach of discipline, and, in spite of my protestations of innocence, was punished for it. This circumstance was sufficient to overcome any fear that might exist of the consequences; and the very next day—only twelve days from the time I had entered the service, with such glowing anticipations—an opportunity occurred, which I determined not to lose. Close to the parade-ground was a small shop where liquor was sold, and which was much patronized by the soldiers. Into this shop I saw an old clothes man enter, and immediately followed him. Having ordered a pint of porter for him, I asked him if he would be willing to exchange his old and ragged clothes for my new suit. He said he would, and informed me that I might meet him under a bridge near, where we might make the exchange. Observing that no one was near, I went under the bridge, and soon re?ppeared, dressed in his old clothes, and bearing his pack. Thus disguised, I walked bravely onwards, even passing some of my old comrades, who did not recognize me. The alarm was soon given, and soldiers started in pursuit. They soon came up to me, and even stopped to inquire if I had seen any one pass.

It was with no small degree of pleasure I saw them take another road from the one I designed to pursue. As soon as they were out of sight, I renewed my speed, feeling anxious to get as far as possible from Belfast before another morning. At length, wearied out, I solicited and obtained permission[21] from a farmer to remain during the night. He observed me, however, so closely, that my suspicions were aroused, and I began to fear that he would attempt to inform against me, in order to obtain the reward offered to those who deliver up a deserter. He questioned me quite closely, as to where I had been, where I was going, and, finally, asked me directly, if I had not been a soldier. I denied it at first, but soon concluded that my best way would be to appeal to the old man’s generosity. I did so, and was not disappointed. He not only did not inform, but kindly offered to assist me on my way. Before daylight we arose, and I dressed myself in a suit of clothes, with which he furnished me, and taking my seat by his side, in his market wagon, was once more on my way home. He talked to me long and faithfully on our journey, nor did he leave me until he saw me alight at my father’s door. Good old man! I shall never forget his kindness. He has long since gone to his reward; yet at this distant day my heart throbs with the recollection of it, and I shall never forget the old farmer of the Downs.
RETURNS TO DENDALK.

My parents received their returning son with true parental affection, and to them I gave what money still remained from my enlistment bounty. When I first returned home, they earnestly hoped I should now be willing to remain there; and I might, perhaps, have yielded to their entreaties, could I have done so with safety. But soldiers were often passing through Dendalk, and I was in great danger of being[22] recognized. This induced my parents to consent that I should leave home a second time, and try my fortune again in the camp. There was no lack of opportunity. A regiment was forming at Navan, and to this place I directed my steps, and soon found myself enrolled as a member of the 64th regiment of foot, and again received eighteen guineas from the service.

I had been here but three days, when we were summoned out to witness the punishment of a deserter. He was an athletic young man, who had been pressed into the service. He had left at home an old mother, a sick wife and one child, dependent on his daily labor for support. Finding all attempts to procure a discharge unsuccessful, he had deserted, and been retaken, through the treachery of a pretended friend, who, for the sake of a few pounds, could betray the distressed son and husband to so cruel a punishment, and a still more cruel separation from those so dearly loved. It would naturally be supposed that the strong temptation which existed for desertion might have mitigated the punishment; but this was not the case. War recognizes none of those affections which make the happiness of the human heart. It seeks only to crush out their life, or perhaps holds them up to ridicule, as things of no moment. He was sentenced to receive three hundred lashes. His sentence was executed, and we saw him taken down, bleeding and mangled, and carried to the hospital almost insensible. It was a long[23] time before he recovered sufficiently to perform duty. He did not again attempt desertion. A few days after, word was brought him that his wife and child had died from want, and that his old mother was in the parish workhouse. He was never seen to smile again. The soldiers were all kind to him, but I learned afterward, that he soon sickened, and died of a broken heart. The sight of this punishment filled me with dread, and threw quite a damper on my exalted ideas of a military life.

Our commanding officer was very strict,—unnecessarily so, as we thought,—in his rules, and rigorous in the execution of punishments. He had been so long in his situation, and seen so much of misery, that his heart was completely hardened. Every disobedience, even an accidental variation from his orders, however trifling, was punished to the extent of the law—often beyond it.
ALARMING INTELLIGENCE.

If I had found the discipline and restraint of Belfast unendurable, this was far worse. Nor was I at all disposed to submit to it. I had deserted once, without discovery. Why should I not do so again? I was restless and uneasy, and came in for my full share of punishment. I was thinking on this subject one day, when my attention was suddenly arrested by a conversation between two officers near me. “How soon is the regiment expected from Belfast?” said one. “In about three days,” replied the other. “Do you know its number?” “The 8th regiment of foot,” was the answer. It was the very one with[24] which I had been connected! Of course, I should be at once recognized, and not only lose the bounty-money I had already received, but be punished as a deserter. This dreaded prospect roused every energy of my spirit, and I resolved to escape before their arrival, at all hazards. Fortune seemed to favor my undertaking. The next morning, which was the 11th of June, only twelve days from my second enlistment, I was sent out, with a number of other soldiers, to bring back some horses which had strayed from the camp, having broken from their pickets. On my way, my attention was accidentally attracted to a large tree, which grew near the road. The tree was hollow, and its entrance was completely screened from observation by a luxuriant vine which twined itself around the trunk. As we were searching for the horses, I succeeded in examining it, without attracting observation, and found that I could be concealed there for a short time.
RESOLVES TO ENLIST A THIRD TIME.

Taking advantage of a moment when no one was near, I placed myself in the tree, and, scarcely venturing to breathe, awaited the search which I knew would be made for me. Once or twice, a soldier passed so near that I could hear the leaves rustle against his coat. But their efforts were fruitless. I was not discovered, and remained in my shelter until the noise of their footsteps had died away. Then, creeping out, I ran as fast as I could away from Navan, avoiding as much as possible the highways, as I knew that my dress would betray me. It was necessary[25] that I should rid myself of it as soon as possible; but there was great risk in doing it, as I should, of course, betray myself to the one with whom the bargain should be effected;—and, where all were strangers, I dared not run so great a risk. I did not wish to go home, as the danger to which I was now exposed would be greater even than before, and would be a source of keen distress to my mother. So I directed my steps to my sister’s cottage, which was much nearer than my father’s. Here I met with a kind reception, and a secure hiding-place for some time, in return for which I bestowed the whole of my money on her. We had many conversations as to my future course. She was very anxious that I should give up my ideas of being a soldier, and go quietly home. But to this I could not consent. I had, it is true, ascertained that there were troubles in that life, as well as in others; but I still thought that when I had once entered upon active service I should find my lot quite different. I had as yet seen no foreign countries, nor could I bear the idea of settling down to a steady employment. I wanted a life of ease, excitement, and pleasure. I had heard far too much of that intense excitement which pervades every breast when the sound of the trumpet summons the soldier to combat, and of the glory that follows the successful warrior, to feel willing to give it all up. Beside, my condition was now irksome in the extreme. There was so much danger of being recognized, that I could not feel myself safe anywhere.[26] A description of my person and appearance had been sent all over the country, with the offer of the usual reward. I concluded that, should I enlist in another part of the country, I should stand a much better chance of not being recognized, as they would hardly look for a deserter in the barracks. On the 3d of July, therefore, I bade my sister a long farewell, and started out in pursuit of a regiment. I walked all day, and at night found myself at a small town so far from my home that I thought I might venture to stop at the inn, especially as there seemed to be no troops near. I did so. I had eaten my supper, and was about retiring, when I observed a list of deserters pasted up in one of the rooms. Hastily running it over, I saw my own description there too plainly to be mistaken. Of course, I could not remain there for the night; and, walking leisurely to the door, I was just passing out, when my attention was attracted to the conversation of two persons near. “I am sure it must be he,” said one. “Did you read the description?—the very same hair and eyes, I am sure,” said the other. “We shall get the reward, no doubt. As soon as he has gone to bed, we will send for the officer. But come, let us go in, and take care that he does not suspect us.” As I had recognized my landlord’s voice, I considered that such treachery was sufficient to justify a sudden leave; and, thinking that he might take his pay for his supper from his expected reward, I hastened away. Having travelled an hour or two, I threw myself on a pile of[27] straw, and rested till morning, determined that I would trust myself in no one’s house until I was again enlisted. It was, therefore, with pleasure that I heard, so............