‘That is very ill news indeed, Serjeant Collins.’
‘Ay, sir. Half the town will think we’re heroes, and the other butchers.’
‘I cannot believe the Fifteenth would have behaved so. What does The Times say?’
‘I have not heard tell, sir.’
‘We had better get along to the Common before this becomes street tattle. Did the milliner’s son return yesterday, by any chance?’
Collins smiled. ‘He did, sir. He is coming here this afternoon to attest before one of the notaries.’
It was some consolation, at least. Hervey had still not seen the lad, but Collins’s recommendation was enough — that, and the respectability of the mother.
Thirty or so onlookers watched the recruiting party file out of The Bell’s stable yard, hooves ringing on the cobblestones beneath the arch. The little crowd seemed to no degree different from the day before, and Hervey was relieved that they could go about their business without abuse in the high street, for they would surely meet with it on the Common.
It took but ten minutes at the walk. Hervey had never been to the Common before, but the stench on this hot summer’s morning alerted him to the rank nature of the place from a quarter of a mile. As they neared the first dwelling, a dismal hovel with a broken roof and a wall which could never stand another winter’s storm, he saw that the Rehoboth stream, whose plentiful sweet water had first been the draw of the squatters, was now but a trickling midden. Children stood all about barefoot in filth. Dogs, cats, pigs, poultry, a cow and even donkeys wandered freely, adding excrement to the mud and ash that was the main street, a foul faecal mulch which the dragoons would curse when it came to boning boots that night. In what manner this was superior to the meanest villages he had seen in India, Hervey would have been hard put to it to say.
Serjeant Collins looked about disdainfully. What adult males were abroad at this hour did not impress by their appearance. ‘Over there looks about best, sir,’ he said, indicating the chapel, the only substantial building to be seen.
Hervey agreed. They halted and dismounted. ‘Calls, please, Trumpet-Major.’
Children appeared, some evidently delighted by the colourful sight amid the drabness of the settlement, others wary, recognizing perhaps the ingress of authority to their free and easy camp. A few women came, one or two owning to motherhood by taking charge of their offspring with a cautionary slap to the ear. Some of the children came closer, wanting to touch the horses. The dragoons received them willingly, but one by one they were hauled away. Before long the party was without an audience except for two young women who stood by the corner of the preaching house, and for a purpose which its sparse congregation of a Sunday would vehemently condemn.
‘Do you want me to begin looking for these three men Miss Hervey has named, sir?’ Collins’s voice carried neither enthusiasm nor reluctance.
Hervey sighed. ‘To tell the truth, Serjeant Collins, I little imagined squalor such as this. I can’t see how any half-decent recruit might come out of here.’
‘A good hosing and a week’s drill and any of these could look likely, sir. It’s all a question of whether they want to lift themselves out of this sink. You never know: there might be such as have been waiting the opportunity for years without even knowing it.’
Hervey nodded. ‘Well, we’ll take no recruits by waiting; that much seems certain. Sound off again, please, Trumpet-Major. And you and I had better begin visiting,’ he said to Collins, grimly.
The dwellings had no numbers, and although the streets had customary names they were not displayed. But Elizabeth had provided directions for each of the three. Good directions, too, for the first they found very quickly. Collins knocked at the door — closed, as were the windows, even on so warm a morning as this. It opened to reveal a single foul-smelling room with a dirt floor partly covered by furze cut from the edge of the Common, and on it a sleeping woman with, next to her, like piglets at a sow, half a dozen infants no older than three. Collins bent to the door’s opener. ‘Does Jobie Wainwright live here, love?’
The little girl stared, turned to seek assurance from her mother, who slept soundly the while, and then looked back at Serjeant Collins without a word.
‘Is Jobie Wainwright your brother?’
Collins’s tenderness was unpractised, but effective. The little girl nodded.
‘Do you know where he is?’
The little girl wanted to help — her expression said it — but she shook her head.
‘Will he come back soon, do you think?’
She nodded.
Collins stepped past her carefully to take a better look at the room. Hervey stepped forward gingerly and looked in too. The walls had no plaster, there was not a stick of furniture, and in the corner was a pile of ragged and filthy linsey, evidently the entire wardrobe of the brood — family seemed so inapt a name. ‘This is a job and a half, sir,’ said Collins as he came out. ‘She’s soused in gin by the look of it, and them babes is probably too sick to stir.’
‘My sister said it was a wretched household. They’re one step from the workhouse, I’d say. Did you see any food?’
‘No.’
‘Nor I.’
The little girl suddenly pointed and called out happily. ‘Jobie!’ Hervey and Collins turned to see a boy of seventeen or eighteen approaching with a small sack under his arm. His step did not falter as he approached the cottage. ‘Good mornin’,’ he said as he came to the door.
‘Jobie! Jobie!’
Jobie’s face was clean, unlike the little girl’s — or, indeed, any they had seen since arriving at the Common. And shaven, too. He had bright blue eyes and hair the colour of horse chestnuts, and a ready smile for his half-sister. He gave her the sack and she ran inside with it. ‘Only bread,’ he explained to the visitors. ‘I go for it evr’y mornin’.’ He showed no apprehensiveness on account of seeing strangers in uniform.
‘I am Serjeant Collins of His Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons, and am authorized to enlist young men of the best character.’
Collins had not wanted to introduce confusion in the lad’s mind by speaking of his officer, but Jobie Wainwright glanced at Hervey and then back at the serjeant. Even to an uninformed eye the difference in quality of uniform was apparent.
Hervey smiled. ‘I am Captain Hervey of the same corps.’
‘I reckoned as much, sir. I saw the posters in the town. And it’s your sister as comes here.’
‘Steady on, young ’un,’ said Collins, checking his instinct to bark that he would speak to an officer only when given permission.
But Hervey saw an opportunity. ‘It was my sister who told me you might care for a soldier’s life.’
Jobie did not hesitate. ‘That I would, sir, if only for a regular wage.’
Serjeant Collins now sensed further opportunity. ‘Are there others who think the same, Jobie?’
‘Two or three, Serjeant.’
‘Well, if you bring them and they enlist, you are entitled to a bringer’s bounty. Will you do that?’
‘Ay, Serjeant, I’ll bring them. But I wouldn’t want the money for it. They must have that for themselves.’
‘You shall have the money, Jobie, and you may give it away as you please. For that is the procedure. Come to the chapel within the hour. We cannot be here all day.’
‘Ay, Serjeant, I shall do that.’
Hervey and Collins walked back to the chapel pleased with their easy success, and after so unpromising a beginning. ‘As decent a lad as ever I saw,’ declared Hervey. ‘Clean, well-made, he reads, and he has an honest stamp. Or at least, he would not try to profit from his friends.’
‘Ay, sir. A very satisfactory sort.’
‘You sound unsure.’
‘Oh no, sir. I’m sure right enough. That little lass’s face told you he was a good’n. I was just thinking how contrary it all is. Here’s the filthiest place you’ll see outside a London rookery, and out of it comes a lad like that. Gives a lie
to poverty being the breeding bed of sin, don’t it, sir?’
‘Don’t let’s begin on that, Sar’nt Collins. I had ample of it last night at home. You would not imagine so many opinions there might be in one family.’
‘Well, sir, there’ll be plenty more in the days to come, no doubt, after that business in Manchester.’
‘Oh yes, indeed,’ sighed Hervey. ‘You may be sure of it.’
Three-quarters of an hour later, Jobie Wainwright and three others of his age came to the chapel and asked if they might know the bounty and pay if they enlisted.
‘Five pounds and four shillings,’ replied Serjeant Collins. ‘And pay is one and twopence a day. For the infantry a shilling only. And there is one penny a day beer-money too.’
The potential recruits looked encouraged. Hervey, sitting in a corner, lowered his copy of The Times.
‘And all our keep is found, Serjeant?’ asked Jobie Wainwright on their behalf.
Here was the rub, thought Hervey. And here was when an unscrupulous bringer would dissemble or even lie. Better that he himself speak to it than leave Collins to have to apologize for the subsistence and off-reckonings which would take away so much of their pay. ‘Three-quarters of a pound of beef and one pound of bread every day. That or its equivalent,’ he said, reassuringly.
The four looked even more encouraged.
‘And for this you pay no more than sixpence a day.’
They looked disappointed.
‘And you must, of course, buy that part of your uniform and necessaries which would be a man’s everyday working dress whatever. Serjeant Collins has a list of these. He will show it to you.’
Only Jobie Wainwright made to look at it. To the others it would have been no more helpful than a page of Greek.
£ s. d.
Flannel drawers 5 11¼
Flannel waistcoat 7 5¼
Shirts 7 5
Worsted stockings 2 6
Stable trousers 7 9
Forage cap 2 6
Stock and clasp 2 0
Shoes 8 0
Boots 18 0
Gloves 1 8
Hair comb 6
Razor 1 3
Shaving box and brush 1 3
Shoe brush 11
Cloth brush 1 2
Curry comb and brush 4 0
Mane comb and sponge 8½
Water sponge, per oz. 2 2¼
Horse picker 1½
Turnscrew and worm 1 0
Corn bag 1 6
Oil tin 1 0
Scissors 1 6
Black ball 10
Valise 12 6
Saddle blanket 18 11¼
Braces 2 6
Night cap 1 8
516 9
‘Sir, it comes to more than the bounty,’ said Jobie anxiously.
‘The usual way is that a recruit is given twenty-one shillings at once, and the remainder is kept back for these necessaries. The difference is advanced to the man, and from his basic pay instalments are made until the advance is paid back.’ Hervey did not say that it was the troop captain who lent the man the cash, and on very disadvantageous terms to himself.
Jobie looked a little relieved.
Serjeant Collins judged the catch was ready to land. ‘You will receive a free issue of overalls, a stable jacket and a dress coat annually, and an allowance of six shillings for boots and three for gloves.’
They seemed encouraged again.
‘There are other clearings,’ said Hervey, ‘but you shall receive not less than three shillings each week. And in India you may live much higher than ever at home.’
‘India, sir?’ said Jobie, his voice suggesting neither favour nor otherwise.
‘Yes. The regiment is for India soon. I have been there. It is the place for adventure.’
The four looked at each other. Jobie spoke for them. ‘If we enlist, sir, can we stay together?’
‘You will all serve in my troop,’ Hervey reassured them.
Serjeant Collins sealed the affair. ‘Bring the measuring stick, Prax. Let’s see if these likely-looking lads stand sixteen hands and a half.’
They all did, though Hervey could not suppose there was more than a leather’s thickness to spare with any of them. Not to worry; regular meat and riding school would do its work.
‘Here is a shilling each for you, then,’ declared Collins gravely. ‘The King’s shilling, that is. His token of trust in you. Come to The Bell at nine o’clock prompt tomorrow morning, and the magistrate will swear you in once the doctor has certified you fit for service.’
‘Jobie, Jobie!’ called the little girl from the other side of the street. ‘Mam says didn’t you get her gin?’
Jobie looked uncomfortable. ‘Can I go now, Serjeant?’
‘Ay, lad. Be there at nine sharp, though.’
‘Jobie, are you going for a soldier?’ asked the little girl as he took her hand.
Collins turned to Hervey. ‘Christ, sir. What do you do?’
‘I know, Serjeant Collins; I know. Try not to think about it, I suppose.’
*
The following day, a special edition of the Warminster Miscellany carried a further report of the disturbances in Manchester. The Herveys’ manservant brought it just before midday to the dining room at Horningsham, where Hervey and his father were sitting with the remains of a pot of coffee and a salted mutton ham.
‘PETERLOO’ CASUALTIES
We are informed by the Manchester Observer that the affair of the 16th Instant, dubbed ‘Peterloo’, has accounted for the deaths of sixteen persons, including a special constable, and Four Hundred injured, with no fewer than One Hundred and Fifty suffering from sabre cuts. It is further understood from the Officer Commanding all of the Troops that day, one Colonel L’Estrange, that Sixtyseven of his own men received slight wounds, while twenty cavalry horses have been hurt either by striking or by being stabbed.
His Royal Highness The Prince Regent has sent a letter of strong approval to the Magistrates for the firm way in which they dealt with the lawbreaking.
The archdeacon read the report again carefully. ‘I should say that, notwithstanding the title, the paper is indifferent in its tone. While the stabbing of the horses cannot be compared with the sabre cuts to the people, the two being juxtaposed in the report serves to ameliorate the shock that is felt. For it suggests a predisposition on behalf of some in the crowd to do mischief. I suppose the Prince Regent had to commend the poor magistrates, but I cannot help but feel it would have been the better to hold silence until the facts were established.’
‘I wish it made some distinction between the regulars and the yeomanry,’ said Hervey.
‘I am afraid that if you are at the receiving end of a sabre stroke it matters little whether it be regular or otherwise, though I agree it is dispiriting for those who are proficient in the business of soldiering.’
‘It’s the very devil of a business keeping a troop in hand in the face of a crowd. The horses sense their riders’ unease, I’m sure of it. I still hold a picture of poor Wymondham being thrown to his death in the street in London. Is there any more, Father?’
The archdeacon nodded. ‘There is. And it troubles me, I confess.’
SIX MEASURES TO BE ENACTED
We have it on the most reliable authority that Lord Sidmouth will announce in Parliament six measures to be enacted which shall permit of the most summary dealing with the Radical agitation which now disturbs the greater part of the Country. Assemblies of over fifty persons shall be prohibited. Magistrates are to have powers to search private dwelling houses for arms. Drilling and military training by civilians, except the Yeomanry and the Militia shall be strictly prohibited. The Laws against Blasphemous and Seditious Libel shall be strengthened. There shall be a limitation on the right of an accused to adjournment of trial to prepare his defence, and there shall be an increase in Stamp Duty on newspapers and pamphlets to Four Pence.
The archdeacon took off his spectacles and shook his head. ‘
By any standard, taken as a whole these are repressive measures, though three are reasonable in themselves, I suppose.’
Hervey assented with a nod. ‘Daniel Coates told me that Lord Bath intends proposing a measure to form veterans’ battalions to act as police.’
‘Well, that has merit, for they would be men used to discipline,’ declared Canon Hervey, replacing his spectacles and taking up the newspaper again. ‘Ah,’ he said, after reading more. ‘Lord Bath is to embody the Warminster Troop.’
‘That won’t be greeted well in some parts, but it’s only prudent. The Hindon people are a combative bunch, by all accounts. I shall be happier leaving you knowing there are a few sabres about the place, even if they are yeomanry.’
Canon Hervey looked thoughtful. But he withheld any fears for the peace of the parish and his family’s safety. ‘We shall see you again before you embark, Matthew?’
‘You may depend upon it, Father.’ Then he frowned. ‘And it will be very much harder than ever before.’
Canon Hervey nodded, and rose. ‘And not only for you, Matthew. Will you come to evening prayer?’
A Call to Arms mh-4 Page 15
