“Indeed, sir! As the centurion said, ‘I say to one go, and he goeth’!”
“No, Mr Scott – not in this battalion. I say to one ‘go’ and I expect him to run like hell!”
The Chaplain withdrew, more than a little shaken. He ventured into the Mess in the hope of discovering comfort but instead fell into the company of Captain Taft who told him what a fierce man their colonel was.
“Wonderful chap, you know, vicar! But he is just a little in the habit of biting heads off – though only when it is deserved, you know!”
The ensigns were both sixteen years of age and had been emancipated from the schoolroom in the past week; they were green, keen and useless.
Did they know the drillbook?
Neither had heard of the existence of such a thing.
Had they learned to march, to stand to attention, to salute?
Well, no they had not, but did not doubt it would be jolly easy to pick it all up.
“God help us all! I shall assign a sergeant to assist in your early days, gentlemen. He will show you how to wear your uniform, how to march and the meaning of the most important commands. You will spend one hour a day with him before breakfast learning the skills of the parade ground. You will dress in working uniforms – your batman will tell you what to wear – and will be present with a company at all times during the day, observing and taking part as appropriate. You will learn the route march, gentlemen. When the men do their fifteen miles a day with full packs you will step out at their side – it will be easy for you of course, not having a sixty pound weight on your back! We will sail for Denmark within a few weeks, and if you are not fit for the field, you will remain behind in barracks.”
The one of them, a Mr Purkiss, chubby-cheeked and pink, un-military seeming, saluted his best and said no more than ‘yes, sir’. His companion, Mr West, was inclined to sulk and think it was not fair.
Septimus called for Major Carter.
“Two bloody boys for you, I am afraid, Carter. Ensigns, all purchased and nothing to be done about them. I have spoken to them and warned them that they will stay behind if they cannot perform to my satisfaction. Purkiss, I think the name was, showed up well enough – he don’t look much, but he might do. The other one, West, is likely to be a pain in the arse – no mercy if he don’t shape up!”
“I shall run them into the ground, sir. I do not wish to carry passengers to Denmark. I see we have a Chaplain, sir.”
“We do, and we must now institute a Church Parade on Sundays. We have no enclosed place to use so they must muster upon the square. If it should come on to rain then the Parade must be cancelled, of course – we cannot risk the health of our most valuable soldiers.”
Carter kept a straight face and agreed that it must be so.
"Chaplain, sir. Mr Scott wishes to know how many of the private soldiers are communicant members of the Church of England. He will wish to hold confirmation classes for those who are not."
The adjutant kept a carefully expressionless face and seemed to be addressing himself to the window, well out of line of Septimus' eye.
"Tell the Chaplain he can go and f... No, wait a minute, Mr Green. Let it be known in the battalion that all Romanists and Methodies and Bush Baptists and such like are excused Church Parade, which is exclusive to practising members of the Church of England. Then, shall we say on Thursday, giving the men time to consider so important a matter most carefully, we shall call for the names of all those who will present themselves in full dress uniform for Church Parade. I am aware that the effect of the Test Acts is to demand that every officer shall be a communicant of the Church of England; inform the Chaplain that I will expect officers to attend except when the demands of duty supervene - and if any damned fool can't find something to do of a Sunday morning then he can go out on the square."
The Chaplain came to Septimus in person on Friday, deeply perturbed, wondering whether Horse Guards should not be informed of his shocking discovery.
"Three private soldiers and one sergeant and the sergeant-major are confirmed in the Church of England, sir. Of one thousand and eighty Other Ranks, including bandsmen and the headquarters people, only five cleave to the Established Church! More than four hundred state themselves to be followers of Rome and two hundred are Wesleyans of the strictest sort. The rest claim to be, without exception, devout Baptists, so the sergeant-major informs me."
"Then we should perhaps count our blessings, Mr Scott. This is easily the most devout battalion in the whole of the Army. From all I have ever heard it is rare indeed to find two hundred men who will admit to any religion at all. With but five members in your congregation a parade seems inappropriate, sir - it might open you to mockery. I am sure that you can fit them into your office for a service."
"I have no office, sir. The adjutant was unable to find a spare room."
"Oh, dear! Perhaps a cell in the guard house - though I doubt any will be empty on a Sunday morning - Saturday night is often rather drunken. Mr Green!"
The adjutant, who had been listening behind the door, entered the office.
"Mr Scott requires a location in which he may hold a service of a Sunday, Mr Green."
"Certainly, sir. There is a shed where the gardener was used to keep his tools when the barracks were empty and a few men remained to maintain the grounds and buildings. I am sure it can be swept out, sir."
"Very good, Lieutenant Green. A coat of whitewash as well, sir, and all will be quite ideal."
Mr Scott began to feel that the colonel might be mocking him, but he decided that he preferred not to protest – the colonel was a very imposing gentleman.
The messenger from General Wellesley's offices arrived with his bag which he handed to the adjutant; as they were officially on campaign all communications from Horse Guards were channelled through the General's people.
"One sealed packet, personal to you, sir. The rest seem to be no more than routine by their superscription."
Septimus took the packet and peered suspiciously at the seals impressed in the red wax; they seemed official but he could not read them or recognise the coat of arms. He took his penknife and carefully slit the wrapper, pulled out sheets of heaviest cream-laid paper, the sign of high officialdom - only the most senior addressed themselves on paper costing five pennies a sheet.
"I must present myself at Horse Guards on Tuesday next, Mr Green, at ten of the morning, which means I must stay in London on Monday night. Damned costly business! It does not specify dress, so I need not doll myself up for the Court, which is one relief. Is the General here or in London, do you know?"
General Wellesley had little to do until the force actually sailed and spent most of his days in his London office, being still a junior minister of the Crown as well.
"London, sir. Parliament is sitting."
"Then I must make my number with his staff; inform them that I shall be away from the battalion for a few days. I shall drop down to Winchester, I think, for the rest of the week, Mr Green."
There were advantages to rank - it was not all paperwork and a stern face.
The instruction to report to Horse Guards was characteristically vague - it made no mention of whom he was to report to. He was not entirely certain which hotel he should patronise either, mentioned the problem to Major Perceval.
"Dorchester, sir, there really is no other. I shall send an Express to my father, sir, if I may presume so far, and he will ensure there is a room, sir. They can be a bit sticky, sir, sometimes; might not want a colonel of a mere regiment of the line in the house, don't you know! The old chap will tell them just why they are wrong, sir!"
"That would be very good of him, Major Perceval."
"Not at all, sir. The old chap knows you gave me a nudge towards my lady, gave me the wink, as it were. You look after one of us, sir, well, it goes without saying, I mean to say, sir."
Septimus thought he could make sense of that statement - favours were to be returned, it seemed.
The
Dorchester had a room for him and quarters for Cooper and Dinesh, and thought the more of him for having a retinue, a sense of position.
The morning took him to Horse Guards, dashing from the carriage supplied by the hotel to the entrance in pouring rain; it was unpleasantly cold, but the air smelled clean and fresh, a rarity in London, only to be discovered in wet weather.
"Pearce, of the Hampshires."
The sergeant guarding the portals peered into his book and stiffened to attention again.
"Commander-in-Chief's offices, sir. His Royal Highness is to see you, sir. I believe Lord Maitland is to speak to you first, sir."
A very smart civilian messenger took Septimus upstairs and delivered him to a large office with bay windows and carpeting and portraits on the walls, the marks of seniority. A lieutenant took him to a staff-colonel who led him into a smaller office devoted to the one man, Lord Maitland in person.
Septimus, carrying his shako, stiffened to attention.
"Do take a seat, Colonel Pearce. We have finally been able to tidy up this business of Colonel Vaughan, sir. He died aboard ship, having taken a pistol to one of a party of seamen who broke into his cabin in the initial boarding. His wife died as well. Nasty sort of affair, I do not doubt. The bodies were heaved over the side and it took some time to discover what had happened, but papers were finally returned to us this month. There is a cartel crossing the Channel now and we have the chance to discover such information again. The way is now clear for you to formally purchase, sir."
"I will do so immediately, my Lord."
"Good; you have done very well with your battalion, sir. Cast your mind back some four years, Colonel Pearce, to the meeting with the Company major, Edgeworth by name, in Bombay."
"Easily done, my Lord. I have not killed so many men in duels that he is to be forgotten."
"Quite! What sort of man was he?"
"A bully, my Lord, one of vicious habits. It was an amusement of his to provoke duels with the smallsword, with which he was a master. He would insult viciously and without provocation when the mood was on him until he forced a challenge, and then he would play, sir, humiliating his opponent before drawing blood, a small cut in the arm, no more, to end the affair."
"Nasty, in the extreme. Your seconds, it would seem, brought his games to an end."
"They did, my Lord - young men for whom I have a value and who believed that I was as much a master of the pistol as Edgeworth was of the sword. There is a degree of ill-feeling between Company and King's officers and they used this to provoke Edgeworth's people to accept pistols."
"And then you killed him, Colonel Pearce."
"Of course, my Lord. That is what one does with the pistol."
Maitland had never spent time in the field and found himself upset by so casual a statement.
"Oh, well, I suppose... We are to speak with the Duke of York, Colonel Pearce. Address him as Your Grace when he is upon Army business. He prefers not to be Royalty in his office."
The Duke of York was fat and closely resembled his father - bulbous, goldfish eyes; red cheeks and receding chin; low forehead and, for a military man, a poor stance, simultaneously bent over with belly thrust out. He was not helped in his appearance by the fashion for skin-tight pantaloons, although he was able to display the attributes of a decided masculinity. In common with his eldest brother he displayed a marked degree of intelligence; unlike the Prince of Wales he had a sense of duty and a willingness and desire to work.
"Ha! Colonel Pearce! You have one of the largest battalions of the line, sir! Is it too big to handle on the field of battle, sir?"
"That would depend, Your Grace, on where that field was located. In a siege, either attacking or defending, it would be easily controlled. Given a clear and open battle ground, downland for example, where one could see for half a mile, again it would be a matter of some simplicity to keep the companies in line and pointed correctly. In woodland, or in a pasture land of small fields and high hedges, then there would be severe difficulties. Fighting through a town is another matter, of course, Your Grace, because every company is always on its own then; if one's subalterns are well trained and amenable to command, then it is possible to give them an objective and leave them to achieve it."
"How does one train officers, Colonel Pearce?"
"If they are willing, Your Grace, then they must learn the drill as ensigns, and to give commands; as lieutenants they must learn the company books and the manoeuvres; as captains they must teach themselves to know their men and lead them. I would wish, Your Grace, if it were ever possible, that there should be a Military School which every ensign should attend for no more than three months when he purchases his commission. They would learn how to wear a uniform; how to drill; how to march and, most importantly, how to look like an officer - straight-backed, alert and proud."
"Cavalry as well, sir?"
"They would need six months, Your Grace, and very patient teachers."
Maitland looked indignant - the cavalry were the province of the gentleman, who was a natural soldier and did not require 'training'.
"What should we do to make the most of the men we have, Colonel Pearce? It is increasingly difficult to recruit."
"Pay them more, Your Grace, sufficient to keep a wife and children in a slight degree of comfort. Then educate them and give more authority to the sergeants, let them become more like lieutenants, Your Grace. We find it hard to lay our hands on officers of a reliable quality; let us use the men we already have. The Army should become a proud profession, Your Grace - the Red Coat a mark of distinction and true honour."
"It could never be done, sir. Parliament would rise in outrage at the very suggestion. Officers must be a race apart."
Maitland agreed - it seemed to him that Colonel Pearce was a man of very advanced ideas - the country was not ready for them.
"General Moore says much the same of his Riflemen, Colonel Pearce. They are taught to fire independently, it seems."
"There are five companies of the Ninety-Fifth on the expedition, Your Grace. I shall observe them with interest. They, of course, possess an accurate weapon of far longer range than the musket. It is probable that the rifle will mould the soldier. My men are to fire volleys at fifty yards, a different skill."
"The French and the Prussians make much of the bayonet, Colonel Pearce, believing that the musket is intrinsically so inaccurate as to be almost valueless as a firearm."
"Given practice powder in large quantities then they would soon change their minds, Your Grace. The bulk of foreign soldiers do not fire a sufficiency at the butts and of a consequence do not shoot straight. England is a richer country and has India as well - as a result we have saltpetre and tons of gunpowder for the men to fire. I have seen a little of combat in small bickerings, little more than skirmishes, Your Grace, but I have observed my men to fire faster and straighter than the French and consequently to kill them most efficiently. The same for Indians, Your Grace. I have seen only a few killed by bayonet, more by cannon and the great bulk by the volley."
"Interesting, sir. Thank you. I believe you are able to purchase finally, Colonel Pearce?"
"I am, Your Grace, and will set the matter in hand this day."
"Very good. General Wellesley mentioned your name to me as a good soldier, and what I have seen of you makes me inclined to agree with him, sir. I trust that I shall be able to speak to you again after this Danish business is over! What do you think of attacking another, peaceful country for the purpose of snatching its fleet, sir?"
"I think that is a matter for my King and his Ministers, Your Grace. It will be a bad day for this country when soldiers raise their voices in the field of politics! As I remember it led to trouble in Cromwell's day!"
"So it did. You say that you will obey orders without query, Colonel Pearce?"
"Normally, yes, Your Grace. Should an order be intolerable, then I will say so and refuse it."
"A court-martial for mutiny could result from
that, sir."
"And a firing-squad, Your Grace. Was I afraid to die then I would not be a soldier, Your Grace!"
"Well said, sir."
Maitland escorted Septimus from the building, commenting that the Duke was upset in his own mind about the forthcoming action against Denmark; it was an act of aggression and the Danes would resist it, probably in a rather feeble fashion.
"Unfortunate, my Lord! Was Bonaparte not so ruthless an aggressor against the whole world then this war would not be fought. The Danes are to be attacked because we must put the Corsican down. They would be safe was it not for him."
"That is a comforting philosophy, Colonel Pearce."
"There is a war, my Lord. It must be won, and it is my place to do all I can to achieve that end. I am not to be a parson, forever preaching to love my neighbour. When the need arises I am far more likely to shoot my neighbour, I fear!"
Maitland farewelled Septimus and then made his way back to the Duke's offices.
"An able but ruthless man, Your Grace."
"A soldier, no more and no less. He is not a gentleman born and is not truly one of us, nor will he ever be in his mind, I suspect. He is in possession of an estate, is he not?"
"Yes, Your Grace. The Lord-Lieutenant of Hampshire informed me when I enquired that Colonel Pearce owns more than a thousand acres in freehold; the most newly purchased, some of the richest land in the County. He has an elder brother who is one of the great men of the merchant community and the Colonel must be worth four thousand a year, possibly more. He has two sons and a daughter, the wife being from a leading family of the County."
"Then he has the funds to support an increase in his dignity, I believe."
Septimus made his way directly to the office of the agent who had organised his previous purchases. The process was one of pettifogging lawyerdom - documents to be attested, oaths to be sworn, cash to be paid over - all far easier done by proxy unless he wanted to be posting up and down to London a dozen times.
Fire and Folly (Man of Conflict Series Book 3) Page 10
