# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 4/Volunteer drill: An adjutant's diary - III

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​Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/637 ​Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/638 ​Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/639 ​one point. He delights in the pomp and circumstance of imitation war, and has tried more than once to get me to draw my sword, and to collect the reports for him on great occasions. He may depend on my assistance at drill when he breaks down, which he is not likely to do; but I am adjutant to the battalion, and his corps has no more claim on my services than any of the others, a view which the colonel also takes. Not that I am above doing adjutant for him now and then, for I try to make volunteering pleasant to all hands; but as he cannot claim those services from me, I mean to wait till he asks me for them, which he does not seem inclined to do.
September 26th.—My Aunt Boodle has been fidgetting for the last few days. Having nothing in the world to do but amuse herself, she makes herself unhappy by arranging twelve months beforehand her plans of duties, visits, and occupations, from which she never deviates. Her dividends from the docks at Fenton-in-the-Sands, not her best investment, are due to-morrow, and she makes a point of being at home to receive them. Her winter celery also requires earthing up. This morning I saw her to the station, and she departed by the train.
The post brought War Office forms for the adjutant’s diary. There is a vacant space for every day in the month, and columns headed Where employed, How employed, and columns also for the numbers of each rank on parade. Four of the corps parade on Saturdays, so that I can only attend four times and the alternate Wednesdays at Dabshott. The afternoon was wet, as usual in Cowshire, but I went to parade in the High Street. There were present on parade five Dabshotts, and the drill-sergeant in a state of beer, which was not very observable until he gave instructions for the formation of fours and the place of the odd man. Made my first entry in the diary. The figure 5 looks small under the head of Rank and File, but it is not my fault. Also entered my visits to the other corps, having, luckily, taken the numbers of each rank on parade.
September 28th.—Walked to Pursopen with the monthly returns for the Colonel's signature. He was out, but Mrs. Fairfax was at home, and in one of her grand humours. She must have had some champagne at lunch, for she seemed flushed, and talked pedigree and heraldic talk. She then made a long speech, which began by her saying how glad it would make her to be of any service to me, and ended by taking a note for fifty pounds out of a writing desk, and asking me to accept it. I hardly liked to say no, for she is rather touchy by all accounts, but I thanked her for her offer and then declined it, saying that I was flush of cash at present, which was not the truth. She stared at me, took up the returns, asked where they required the name of her husband, whom she expressed by nodding to the door, and walked out of the room. In about five minutes she returned, with his name signed with a strong hand in five places. The papers were open in my hand, for the ink was still wet, when I met the Colonel on the road from Pursopen. He had been to my house to ask me to pay them a visit from next Monday to Thursday. Did I want his name to any papers or returns? and the answer was no.
September 29th.—There has been no letter from Yakerley, so I started this afternoon by the train, and walked from the station to the town, or rather to the township, for it consists of a number of detached and straggling rows of factory-cottages, with every here a mill with a chimney, and there a chapel called Ebenezer. There was some difficulty in finding Mr. Rodds’ house, for there were several of the name, and I did not catch all what the natives said. However, I found his house at last, and found him out. He had gone somewhere on business by the very train by which I had arrived, and would be back by ten o’clock.
A boy weeding the gravel walks told me this; also that he did not know where the lieutenant lived, and that there was no other officer in those parts; also that the rifles were kept in a loft over a stable about a mile off, and the key was kept by the policeman. Having nothing else to do for two hours, I went there, and found the policeman’s wife at the station-house, the husband being expected home every minute. She pointed out to me the armoury, which was a high loft over a stable in the back yard; but she said the stable door was locked, and her husband could not show me into the armoury without his tea.
“How long would he be before he got his tea?”
“He would have to fetch it.”
“How far?”
“To Farmer Morton’s, who was stacking.”
“How long?”
“Mebbies twenty minutes.”
A cigar clears from my mind the fogs of many riddles; so I sat down on a wheelbarrow, and lighted one. The policeman made his appearance in about ten minutes. His wife told him who I was and what I wanted, and he started off at once.
The cigar was finished, and the fog was as thick as ever when the policeman returned, rather out of wind, and said that Farmer Morton was thrang, and would not be done till dark.
“What has that to do with it?”
They looked at each other, and the wife asked, “How can he do it without his tea?”
I lighted another cigar immediately, walked to the railway station, and smoked on the bridge till the train arrived. The people at the station hotel have never seen any of the Yakerley Volunteers, and I begin to think the corps is a myth.
Made the following entry in the adjutant’s diary for the perusal of the Inspector of Volunteers: under the head of Where Employed, wrote “Yakerley;” under How Employed, wrote “No parade in consequence of the inclemency of the weather.”
(To be continued.)