by John McElroy
CHAPTER VI. DETAILED AS COOK--SI FINDS RICE ANOTHER INNOCENT
WITH A GREAT DEAL OF CUSSEDNESS IN IT.
IT WOULD have been very strange, indeed, if Si Klegg had not grumbledloudly and frequently about the food that was dished up to him bythe company cooks. In the first place, it was as natural for a boy togrumble at the "grub" as it was for him to try to shirk battalion drillor "run the guard." In the next place, the cooking done by the companybean-boiler deserved all the abuse it received, for as a rule the boyswho sought places in the hash foundry did so because they were too lazyto drill or do guard duty, and their knowledge of cooking was about likethat of the Irishman's of music:
"Can you play the fiddle, Pat?" he was asked. "Oi don't know,sor-r-r--Oi niver tried."
Si's mother, like most of the well-to-do farmers' wives in Indiana, wasundoubtedly a good cook, and she trained up her daughters to do honor toher teachings, so that Si undoubtedly knew what properly-prepared foodwas. From the time he was big enough to spank he had fared sumptuouslyevery day. In the gush of patriotic emotions that prompted him to enlisthe scarcely thought of this feature of the case. If it entered his mindat all, he felt that he could safely trust all to the goodness of sobeneficent a Government as that for the preservation of which he hadoffered himself as a target for the rebels to shoot at. He thought itno more than fair to the brave soldiers that Uncle Sam should furnishprofessional cooks for each company, who would serve everything up inthe style of a first-class city restaurant. So, after Si got down amongthe boys and found how it really was, it was not long till his insidewas a volcano of rebellion that threatened serious results.
SI FALLS OUT WITH HIS FOOD 055 ]
When, therefore, Si lifted up his voice and cried aloud, and sparednot--when he said that he could get as good coffee as that furnished himby dipping his cup into a tan-vat; when he said that the meat was notgood soap-grease, and that the potatoes and beans had not so much tasteand nutrition in them as so much pine-shavings, he was probably nearerright than grumblers usually are.
"Give it to 'em, Si," his comrades would Say, when he turned up his loudbazoo on the rations question. "They ought to get it ten times worse.When we come out we expected that some of us would get shot by therebels, but we didn't calculate that we were going to be poisoned incamp by a lot of dirty, lazy potwrastlers."
One morning after roll-call the Orderly-Sergeant came up to Si and said:
"There's been so much chin-music about this cooking-business thatthe Captain's ordered the cooks to go back to duty, and after thiseverybody'll have to take his regular turn at cooking. It'll be yourturn to-day, and you'll stay in camp and get dinner."
When Co. Q marched out for the forenoon drill. Si pulled off his blouseand set down on a convenient log to think out how he should go to work.Up to this time he had been quite certain that he knew all about cookingthat it was worth while to know. Just now none of his knowledge seemedto be in usable shape, and the more he thought about it the less able heseemed to be to decide upon any way of beginning. It had always appearedvery easy for his mother and sisters to get dinner, and on more than oneoccasion he had reminded them how much better times they had staying inthe house cooking dinner than he had out in the harvest field keepingup with the reaper. At this moment he would rather have kept up withthe fastest reaper in Posey County, on the hottest of July days, than tohave cooked the coarse dinner which his 75 comrades expected to be readyfor them when they returned, tired, hot and hungry, from the morningdrill.
SI THINKS IT OVER 057 ]
He went back to the barracks and inspected the company larder. He foundthere the same old, coarse, greasy, strong, fat pork, a bushel or so ofbeans, a few withered potatoes, sugar, coffee, bread, and a box of ricewhich had been collected from the daily rations because none of thecooks knew how to manage it. The sight of the South Carolina staplerecalled the delightful rice puddings his mother used to make. His heartgrew buoyant.
"Here's just the thing," he said. "I always was fond of rice, and I knowthe boys will be delighted with it for a change. I know I can cook it;for all that you've got to do is to put it in a pot with water and boilit till it is done. I've seen mother do that lots o' times.
"Let's see," he said, pursuing his ruminations.
"I think each boy can eat about a cupful, so I'll put one for each of'em in the kettle."
"There's one for Abner," he continued, pouring a cupful in for thefirst name on the company-roll; "one for Acklin, one for Adams, one forBarber, one for Brooks," and so on down through the whole well-knownlist.
"It fills the old kettle tol'bly full," he remarked, as he scanned theutensil after depositing the contribution for Williams, the last name onthe roll; "but I guess she'll stand it. I've heard mother tell the girlsthat they must always keep the rice covered with water, and stirit well, so that it wouldn't burn; so here goes. Won't the boys beastonished when they have a nice mess of rice, as a change from thatrusty old side-meat!"
He hung the kettle on the fire and stepped out to the edge of theparade-ground to watch the boys drilling. It was the first time he hadhad the sensation of pleasure of seeing them at this without taking partin it himself, and he began to think that he would not mind if he had tocook most of the time. He suddenly remembered about his rice and hurriedback to find it boiling, bulging over the top like a small snowdrift.
THE TROUBLE BEGINS 059]
"I was afraid that kettle was a little too full," he said to himself,hurrying off for another campkettle, in which he put about a third ofthe contents of the first. "Now they're all right. And it'll cook betterand quicker in two than one. Great Scott! what's the matter? They'reboth boiling over. There must be something wrong with that rice."
Pretty soon he had all the company kettles employed, and then all thathe could borrow from the other companies. But dip out as much as hewould there seemed no abatement in the upheaving of the snowy cereal,and the kettles continued to foam over like so many huge glasses of sodawater. He rushed to his bunk and got his gum blanket and heaped uponit a pile as big as a small haycock, but the mass in the kettle seemedlarger than it was before this was subtracted.
He sweat and dipped, and dipped and sweat; burned his hands intoblisters with the hot rice and hotter kettles, kicked over one of thelargest kettles in one of his spasmodic rushes to save a portion of thefood that was boiling over, and sent its white contents streaming overthe ground. His misery came to a climax as he heard the quick step ofhis hungry comrades returning from drill.
"Right face; Arms a-port; Break ranks--March!" commanded theOrderly-Sergeant, and there was a clatter of tin cups and plates as theycame rushing toward him to get their dinner--something to stay theirravenous stomachs. There was a clamor of rage, ridicule, wrath anddisappointment as they took in the scene.
THE RICE GETS THE BULGE 061 ]
"What's the matter here?" demanded the Captain, striding back to thecompany fire. "You young rascal, is this the way you get dinner foryour comrades? Is this the way you attend to the duty for which you'redetailed? Waste rations in some fool experiment and scatter good foodall over the ground? Biler, put on your arms and take Klegg to theguard-houae. I'll make you pay for this nonsense, sir, in a way that youwon't forget in a hurry, I'll be bound."
So poor Si marched to the guard-house, where he had to stay for 24hours, as a punishment for not knowing, until he found out by thisexperience, that rice would "s-well." The Captain wouldn't let him haveanything to eat except that scorched and half-cooked stuff cut of thekettles, and Si thought he never wanted to see any more rice as long ashe lived.
SI MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF THE GUARD HOUSE 062 ]
In the evening one of the boys took Si's blanket to him, thinking hewould want it to sleep in.
"I tell ye, pard, this is purty derned tough!" said Si as he wiped atear out of the southwest corner of his left eye with the sleeve ofhis blouse. "I think the Cap'n's hard on a feller who didn't mean to donothin' wrong!" And Si looked as if he had lo
st all his interest in theold flag, and didn't care a pinch of his burnt rice what became of theUnion.
His comrade "allowed" that it was hard, but supposed they, had got toget used to such things. He said he heard the Captain say he would letSi out the next day.