Fire and Folly (Man of Conflict Series Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  Two days later, sat at the desk of the officer commanding the battalion, still unsure whether he was no more than the senior major or if he was to regard himself as lieutenant-colonel by brevet, he observed in some surprise as a private soldier of the Marines rode into the barracks and, very wisely, dismounted well clear of the parade ground.

  The horse was taken by one of the civilians from the officers' stables and he was escorted by the sergeant of the gate-guard towards Septimus' office. He had to be an official messenger, presumably from Portsmouth, the nearest location of Marines that he knew of. Septimus reached behind him and put on his shako so that he could stand and formally accept a salute. It was generally believed that the Marines took a great and unnecessary pride in observing the minutest of regulations to their fullest extent, possibly because they spent most of their existence doing remarkably little aboard ship and having to be amused.

  "Beg pardon, sir! A Marine from the Admiral at Portsmouth, sir!"

  "Thank you, Sergeant Emery."

  Septimus took pride in knowing the name of every sergeant in the battalion, not merely in his own companies. He knew that they appreciated the courtesy and worked better for it.

  The Marine entered and stamped to rigid attention, making an exact salute which Septimus returned with equal precision. If the man offered him a sign of courtesy then he was obliged to return it properly, he felt.

  "With respects, sir, which I have got a packet from the office of the Admiral, sir, being ordered to wait on your reply, sir. Please to sign the official receipt, sir, having seen that the wrapper is in no way unsealed, sir."

  Septimus gravely inspected the canvas wrapped packet. It was secured by tarry string, well knotted and sealed with red wax; it had not been tampered with and he signed where he was told.

  He cut the string and opened the packet, discovered two folded and sealed sheets of paper inside. The first was a request from the Port-Admiral at Portsmouth for him to attend a Board of Inquiry to be held into the loss of the Arundel Indiaman, the Board to sit on the Monday following and for as long as might be necessary. The second sheet was from the General Officer Commanding instructing Septimus to assist the Navy in its investigation.

  "This is all in order, and I shall most certainly comply. I shall write my acceptance of this instruction immediately. Will it be correct to wrap it in the same piece of canvas?"

  "Yes, sir. Sealed, sir, if you please."

  The timing suggested that the Admiral had called for the Board of Inquiry on the day that the convoy had docked, Septimus thought - he could not otherwise have contacted Horse Guards and received a reply... Second thoughts said that this had come from the Admiralty. East Indiamen docked at Rotherhithe in London and the Company must have instantly demanded explanation of the loss. The Insurance Brokers at Lloyds must also have been involved, for they would have a massive sum to pay out.

  A wise man must tread very carefully in the presence of so great an agglomeration of influence. The Admiralty, Horse Guards, John Company and the City of London in unholy alliance and seeking blood, sufficient to terrify any mere mortal, and a major of a line regiment was a very low species of humanity to those people.

  Septimus sat down for many hours with the report he had written to Horse Guards and fleshed it out with every detail he could remember, taking vast pains to ensure that the sequence and the timing was exact. He then committed the whole to memory, reciting it again and again until he was word-perfect.

  He ordered a post-chaise and four for dawn on Monday. He was bidden to attend for eleven o'clock in the forenoon and reached the Port-Admiral's offices with an hour in hand.

  To his surprise the Board was sitting in the great cabin of a First Rate ship of the line, a huge three-decker in from blockade service, the old Victory he discovered. He was led aboard and sat down politely to wait outside in what he discovered was the dining cabin. A steward provided a welcome cup of coffee. He was called within a minute of eleven, rather to his pleasure - he had resigned himself to wait possibly for hours.

  There was a panel of seven officers sat at a long table against the bow-windows of the stern; quick inspection disclosed an admiral and six of post-captains - a serious array of rank. It was explained that this was not in itself a Court and that evidence was being taken for the purpose of simply establishing the facts of the loss of the Arundel. Matters of culpability might arise from the Board's findings and they would be dealt with by court-martial, if such became necessary.

  Septimus' report to Horse Guards was read out to the Board by an attorney from the Admiralty who was there to assist them. He was asked to affirm that the report was the original that he had written and that he was still satisfied that it was accurate.

  "It is, I believe, sir. It is brief, naturally, because I was concerned to deal with those matters that directly affected my battalion rather than to make observations on other elements of the action."

  The members of the Board signified their approval - that had been the correct thing to do, they said. Unsaid was that soldiers had no business poking their noses into naval affairs and they were glad he had not.

  They questioned him on the destruction of the boarders from the three privateers by his companies and those of Major Reynolds, ending by offering him a formal commendation on the action. They would inform Horse Guards of their approbation, they said. They then established that he had seen the escort to be unable to act to protect the Arundel, the frigate off station and the ship of the line masked by the Indiamen it had ordered to cluster close to.

  Could Major Pearce comment on the action in which the escorting frigate had been badly damaged?

  He could not - he did not understand the intricacies of sailing. He did not know, for example, whether the frigate could have been handled better, if she could have tacked or somehow pointed herself in a different direction, given the wind at that time.

  They nodded gravely and congratulated him on his wisdom - a landsman could not possibly comment on such matters.

  The captains of the ship of the line and the frigate were present and were invited to question Major Pearce if they wished.

  They did not so wish, merely rather glumly asked to be associated with the Board's approval of the soldiers' action in destroying the privateers.

  "Have you any other comment to make, Major Pearce?"

  "None, sir. I am in no way qualified to have any opinion upon this unfortunate event."

  "Thank you, Major Pearce. May I beg of you to remain within call for the remainder of today, and tomorrow perhaps, sir? It is possible that you may be required again."

  Septimus bowed his assent; he could not possibly refuse.

  He left the cabin and was intercepted by a waiting lieutenant.

  "Port-Admiral's compliments, Major Pearce. Would you be so kind as to join him in his office?"

  "I have ordered a room for you at the Crown, Major Pearce. I would beg you to join me for dinner later, sir. A post-chaise and four will await your convenience from about three o'clock tomorrow, sir."

  Septimus thanked him for his consideration.

  "It is highly probable that there will be a court-martial tomorrow with your evidence called for, sir."

  Septimus had realised that was inevitable - the loss of a ship carrying the better part of eight hundred tons of saltpetre was no small matter.

  The Board of Inquiry made its report that afternoon and a court-martial was convened for the morning, as was expected, the two post-captains tried together as there was the same set of evidence against each.

  Both captains were found guilty, Septimus was informed.

  The frigate captain was reprimanded and dismissed his ship, but retained in the service.

  "Not that it makes the slightest difference, Major Pearce, except that he keeps his half-pay. He will never be given another command, poor man!"

  "Unfortunate indeed, sir. What of the escort commander, sir?"

  The Port-Admiral grimaced.

&nbs
p; "Neglect of his duty and hazarding ships under his command, Major Pearce. The sentence in such a case must be that of death, but it is in the highest degree unlikely that it will be confirmed. It is far more likely that he will be dismissed with ignominy - his rank officially stripped from him and Gazetted that he is no more than a plain Mr. No half-pay, and little chance of finding employment at sea in any function. It is often the case that officers who have fallen out of favour with the Admiralty may take up a place with John Company or one of the other great shipping firms. That will not be the case for this gentleman."

  "Has he a family?"

  "I do not know, Major Pearce. For his sake, I hope not."

  Septimus returned to Winchester glad that he had been put into the army - the navy was unforgiving of its failures it seemed. A soldier could be defeated without facing a court; a sailor was not expected to lose and remain alive.

  He was summoned to Horse Guards on the following week, instructed to bring full dress with him; he assumed that the Admiralty had passed on its conclusions from its Board and Court, wondered if he was to be put before a Court himself. His fears were soon allayed.

  He entered the same office, that of the General Commanding the forces posted in Southern England, to find a different face. A Major-General would not expect to remain for many years in the same posting, he realised.

  There were junior aides present in the office, as before, but in this case smiling almost obsequiously, hastening to offer a chair.

  The general offered his hand to be shaken, a significant condescension to a mere major in his own office.

  "You come with a very impressive record, Major Pearce. The reports from Bombay are all to hand and suggest a highly successful posting, sir. Major-General Wellesley has mentioned your battalion and your leadership in the taking of a fortified city, whose name I can't get me damned tongue round! The Admiralty has commended you for your action against three private ships of war in the Bay. They state that 'an unfortunate turnout of events' would have been far worse had it not been for the efficiency displayed by your battalion. They are not to hang their captain, you may be pleased to hear, but his name has been removed from the List and he has been deprived of his rank and he is, unusually, forbidden to tread in any Dockyard again; a gross humiliation - I would be amazed if he did not make an end to himself!"

  Septimus thought this excessive - the man had made a mistake and very few claimed to be perfect.

  "Tolerant of you, sir. But you can, after all, afford to be generous. Now then, Major Pearce, we know nothing yet of Colonel Vaughan, and it may be months before we do. The ordinary means of communication between England and France are closed at the moment - this man Bonaparte is a barbarian in many ways. No cartels! The effect is that he is still the colonel of your battalion and you cannot purchase. The probability is that he is lost, or so one must imagine, and if not will be held prisoner for many a year; therefore it has been decided that you must be breveted, and must display the ornaments of the rank immediately. I understand that you will be able to purchase when the occasion arises, sir?"

  "I can, and shall, sir."

  "You are, of course, at liberty to purchase elsewhere if you so wish, Colonel Pearce."

  "I should be tempted, sir, was the First Battalion of the New Foresters to come available. Not otherwise."

  "That was your first home, of course, sir. Colonel Walters still has the command and is likely to remain there for some years. He might be given a brigade, eventually, but that is not part of current thinking, I believe. I do not expect that vacancy to arise, short of action, as need not be said. If this invasion ever should become a reality then there may be a number of colonelcies becoming vacant in short order, sir!"

  "Is it likely, sir?"

  "The Admiralty insists not, and I am inclined to believe them, Colonel Pearce. The politicians are in a great panic, however, but not sufficiently so to increase the numbers of Regulars by any vast amount. Half-price Militias and Yeomanry and Fencibles by the score, all busily drilling of a Sunday and talking for the rest of the week - but no real soldiers!"

  Septimus had little to say - he had not seen the amateurs yet and did not know whether just possibly their enthusiasm might compensate for their ignorance. Remembering the slaughter of the Irish at Vinegar Hill not so many years before, he doubted it.

  "I would beg you to attend a tailor this day, Colonel Pearce, to ensure that your Dress Uniform bears the correct marks on it, for you are to accompany me to the Levee in the morning. You are to make your bow to the Prince, sir."

  The General was almost overcome at the honour - he was to act as chaperon, he said, to usher Septimus through the formalities. He should betake himself to Scott, the favoured tailor of the military - he had in fact taken the liberty of sending Scott a note to explain the urgency of the occasion.

  Septimus had bought new uniforms in Bombay only the previous year, tropical heat and damp having almost destroyed the originals, but he was unsure how a London tailor, one renowned among the fashionable, might regard him. He took his valises to the Row and opened them to the tailor's disapproving eyes.

  "Ah, yes, sir - cut in Bombay, one must imagine. The silks used for the linings are of a quality one can rarely access in London, rather to one's annoyance. The cutter has worked very precisely from the official pattern, and has indeed performed most creditably. The fit is a little looser than I might have tolerated, sir."

  "Bombay, sir. The heat is such that a tighter fitting would instantly become stained by sweat."

  "Perspiration, Colonel. Horses 'sweat'."

  "My apologies, sir."

  Septimus did not know the young man's name - he was not in himself sufficiently prominent to attract the attention of the great Mr Scott in person.

  Septimus was measured and the figures noted on the first page of a large and permanent leather-bound ledger, a record of his life, he suspected. He did not realise the honour he was being accorded - his measurements had been taken by Scott and he was accepted as a client.

  "A boy will deliver the uniform to your hotel in the morning, Colonel Pearce. He will remain and act as valet. I must imagine that you do not have your man with you, sir."

  "I have brought a young Indian man with me, from Bombay, and he is to learn the trade, sir."

  The tailor nodded gravely - it might do, provided the colonel had no intention of gracing the Season for a year or two.

  The General collected Septimus and informed him gravely of the procedures of the Court.

  "In essence, Colonel Pearce, you must simply do as I do. His Royal Highness may have questions about your service - I shall answer them for you unless he makes it clear that the query is directed personally to you, in which case I shall give a discreet nudge. He may sometimes seem a little elated, Colonel Pearce - but you will not notice that, of course."

  Septimus was puzzled, unsure of the General's meaning.

  "He sometimes finds the system to be upset of a morning and takes a small dose of laudanum as a settler; on occasion this may act to exacerbate the effects of the previous evening's brandy, or so it would seem."

  Septimus was unimpressed.

  "Does he dribble?"

  "Only rarely, Colonel Pearce, and one does not notice the fact. I assure you that he can be the kindest and friendliest of gentlemen, but he is liable to emotional upset."

  Loyalty was all, and the alternative to a King, even a mad one, was a Bonaparte, it seemed.

  The carriage turned into St James' Palace, the residence of the King, the Levee being his reception of the leaders among his people. The fiction was maintained that His Majesty was temporarily indisposed, the Prince of Wales acting in his stead. Probably every adult in the country knew that George III was locked securely away in a suite at Windsor, barking mad, but it was always possible that he might turn sane again - he had before, after all.

  The reception chamber was large and cold, and not especially clean; the paintwork especially would have bene
fitted from a good scrub. Courtiers, politicians and officers from the London based regiments formed groups around the room, all in the uniform appropriate to their function.

  The cavalry officers, all of field or general rank, glittered in their outlandish finery; the dress was designed to impress on horseback and numbers of middle-aged or ancient and often fat gentlemen looked frankly foolish walking around. As a good infantryman Septimus appreciated the sight and grinned very quietly.

  The courtiers, Gentleman with official positions in the Court of King George, all sported pigtails, as was incumbent upon them. Almost all were titled and had inherited their place with their name, but a few were the disreputable hangers-on of the Prince, made respectable at his insistence. They, like the politicians, wore the laid-down civilian court uniform, forbidden to those who did not have the official entree to the Palace.

  There was a line to the right of the open doors, leading to the low platform where the Prince stood, accompanied by a selected entourage.

  "His current mistress, still Lady Jersey, I see; the First Lord, Melville; Colonel Georgie Hanger, pander-in-chief to HRH; two Guards colonels - neither of importance; one large man belonging to the Home Office, carrying six pistols at least and well able to use them."

  "A bodyguard, sir?"

  "He has been shot at in the past, and it would be easy enough for an assassin to dress up correctly and walk in on one of these mornings. If a man is willing to die then he can always achieve his aim, Colonel Pearce. There is much upset in the country, sir, despite the actions of the Army in repressing unrest. I am aware that you have done your part there, sir, and deeply approve, of all of your actions, I would add."

  The line shuffled quickly along, most of those in it no more than making their bow or curtsey and then moving on. A few exchanged a brief comment, one or two were detained for more formal recognition.

  Georgie Hanger whispered to the Prince as Septimus was brought forward to make his bow. Hanger was a nasty little man of vile personal habits, but he was clever and could remember faces and names, served as the Prince's memory.