O'Brien boiled up a quantity of bees' wax and oil, and gave it
several coats of this preparation. He then put it carefully away in the
ticking of his bed. I asked him whether he intended to make known his
plan to any of the other prisoners; he replied in the negative, saying,
that there were so many of them who could not be trusted, that he
would trust no one. We had been now about two months in Givet, when a
Steel's List was sent to a lieutenant, who was confined there. The
lieutenant came up to O'Brien, and asked him his Christian name.
"Terence, to be sure," replied O'Brien.
"Then," answered the lieutenant, "I may congratulate you on your
promotion, for here you are upon the list of August."
"Sure there must be some trifling mistake; let me look at it. Terence
O'Brien, sure enough; but now the question is, has any other fellow
robbed me of my name and promotion at the same time? Bother, what can it
mane? I won't belave it--not a word of it. I've no more interest than a
dog who drags cats'-meat."
"Really, O'Brien," observed I, "I cannot see why you should not be made;
I am sure you deserve your promotion for your conduct when you were
taken prisoner."
"And what did I do then, you simple Peter, but put you on my back as the
men do their hammocks when they are piped down; but, barring all claim,
how could any one know what took place in the battery, except you, and
I, and the armourer, who lay dead? So explain that, Peter, if you can."
"I think I can," replied I, after the lieutenant had left us.
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