IT WOULD have been very strange, indeed, if Si Klegg had not grumbled2 loudly and frequently about the food that was dished up to him by the company cooks. In the first place, it was as natural for a boy to grumble1 at the "grub" as it was for him to try to shirk battalion3 drill or "run the guard." In the next place, the cooking done by the company bean-boiler deserved all the abuse it received, for as a rule the boys who sought places in the hash foundry did so because they were too lazy to drill or do guard duty, and their knowledge of cooking was about like that of the Irishman's of music:
"Can you play the fiddle4, 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, was undoubtedly5 a good cook, and she trained up her daughters to do honor to her teachings, so that Si undoubtedly knew what properly-prepared food was. From the time he was big enough to spank6 he had fared sumptuously7 every day. In the gush8 of patriotic9 emotions that prompted him to enlist10 he scarcely thought of this feature of the case. If it entered his mind at all, he felt that he could safely trust all to the goodness of so beneficent a Government as that for the preservation11 of which he had offered himself as a target for the rebels to shoot at. He thought it no more than fair to the brave soldiers that Uncle Sam should furnish professional cooks for each company, who would serve everything up in the style of a first-class city restaurant. So, after Si got down among the boys and found how it really was, it was not long till his inside was 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 spared not—when he said that he could get as good coffee as that furnished him by dipping his cup into a tan-vat; when he said that the meat was not good soap-grease, and that the potatoes and beans had not so much taste and nutrition in them as so much pine-shavings, he was probably nearer right than grumblers usually are.
"Give it to 'em, Si," his comrades would Say, when he turned up his loud bazoo on the rations12 question. "They ought to get it ten times worse. When we come out we expected that some of us would get shot by the rebels, but we didn't calculate that we were going to be poisoned in camp 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 that the Captain's ordered the cooks to go back to duty, and after this everybody'll have to take his regular turn at cooking. It'll be your turn to-day, and you'll stay in camp and get dinner."
When Co. Q marched out for the forenoon drill. Si pulled off his blouse and 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 cooking that it was worth while to know. Just now none of his knowledge seemed to be in usable shape, and the more he thought about it the less able he seemed to be to decide upon any way of beginning. It had always appeared very easy for his mother and sisters to get dinner, and on more than one occasion he had reminded them how much better times they had staying in the house cooking dinner than he had out in the harvest field keeping up with the reaper13. At this moment he would rather have kept up with the fastest reaper in Posey County, on the hottest of July days, than to have cooked the coarse dinner which his 75 comrades expected to be ready for them when they returned, tired, hot and hungry, from the morning drill.
Si Thinks It over 057
He went back to the barracks and inspected the company larder14. He found there the same old, coarse, greasy15, strong, fat pork, a bushel or so of beans, a few withered16 potatoes, sugar, coffee, bread, and a box of rice which had been collected from the daily rations because none of the cooks knew how to manage it. The sight of the South Carolina staple17 recalled the delightful18 rice puddings his mother used to make. His heart grew buoyant.
"Here's just the thing," he said. "I always was fond of rice, and I know the 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 boil it 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 the first name on the company-roll; "one for Acklin, one for Adams, one for Barber, one for Brooks," and so on down through the whole well-known list.
"It fills the old kettle tol'bly full," he remarked, as he scanned the utensil19 after depositing the contribution for Williams, the last name on the roll; "but I guess she'll stand it. I've heard mother tell the girls that they must always keep the rice covered with water, and stir it well, so that it wouldn't burn; so here goes. Won't the boys be astonished when they have a nice mess of rice, as a change from that rusty20 old side-meat!"
He hung the kettle on the fire and stepped out to the edge of the parade-ground to watch the boys drilling. It was the first time he had had the sensation of pleasure of seeing them at this without taking part in it himself, and he began to think that he would not mind if he had to cook most of the time. He suddenly remembered about his rice and hurried back to find it boiling, bulging21 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 of the contents of the first. "Now they're all right. And it'll cook better and quicker in two than one. Great Scott! what's the matter? They're both boiling over. There must be something wrong with that rice."
Pretty soon he had all the company kettles employed, and then all that he could borrow from the other companies. But dip out as much as he would there seemed no abatement22 in the upheaving of the snowy cereal, and the kettles continued to foam23 over like so many huge glasses of soda24 water. He rushed to his bunk25 and got his gum blanket and heaped upon it a pile as big as a small haycock, but the mass in the kettle seemed larger than it was before this was subtracted.
He sweat and dipped, and dipped and sweat; burned his hands into blisters26 with the hot rice and hotter kettles, kicked over one of the largest kettles in one of his spasmodic rushes to save a portion of the food that was boiling over, and sent its white contents streaming over the ground. His misery27 came to a climax28 as he heard the quick step of his hungry comrades returning from drill.
"Right face; Arms a-port; Break ranks—March!" commanded the Orderly-Sergeant, and there was a clatter29 of tin cups and plates as they came rushing toward him to get their dinner—something to stay their ravenous30 stomachs. There was a clamor of rage, ridicule31, wrath32 and disappointment as they took in the scene.
The Rice Gets the Bulge33 061
"What's the matter here?" demanded the Captain, striding back to the company fire. "You young rascal34, is this the way you get dinner for your comrades? Is this the way you attend to the duty for which you're detailed35? Waste rations in some fool experiment and scatter36 good food all over the ground? Biler, put on your arms and take Klegg to the guard-houae. I'll make you pay for this nonsense, sir, in a way that you won't forget in a hurry, I'll be bound."
So poor Si marched to the guard-house, where he had to stay for 24 hours, as a punishment for not knowing, until he found out by this experience, that rice would "s-well." The Captain wouldn't let him have anything to eat except that scorched37 and half-cooked stuff cut of the kettles, and Si thought he never wanted to see any more rice as long as he lived.
Si Makes the Acquaintance of The Guard House 062
In the evening one of the boys took Si's blanket to him, thinking he would want it to sleep in.
"I tell ye, pard, this is purty derned tough!" said Si as he wiped a tear out of the southwest corner of his left eye with the sleeve of his blouse. "I think the Cap'n's hard on a feller who didn't mean to do nothin' wrong!" And Si looked as if he had lost all his interest in the old flag, and didn't care a pinch of his burnt rice what became of the union.
His comrade "allowed" that it was hard, but supposed they, had got to get used to such things. He said he heard the Captain say he would let Si out the next day.
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1
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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3
battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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4
fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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5
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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6
spank
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| v.打，拍打(在屁股上) | |
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7
sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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8
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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9
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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12
rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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reaper
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| n.收割者，收割机 | |
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14
larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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15
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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16
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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17
staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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18
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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utensil
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| n.器皿，用具 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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21
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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22
abatement
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| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
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23
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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24
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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25
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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26
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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27
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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28
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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29
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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30
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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31
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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32
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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33
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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34
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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35
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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36
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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37
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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