“Yes. All mine is able bodied, able to fetch and carry and be of use around the camp. If I’m lucky, mine will come. What’s the number?”
“Eight families each company is what I’ve been told.”
Mulcahey nodded and returned to his family.
John Davey and Molly sat in gloom.
“She’s too young Molly. Even if you were drawn, they’d draw again until they’ve got families all that can pull their weight. Besides, from what I’ve been told there’s danger, for you both, and disease. Too many men has to bury their families in the faraway places they serve in. I don’t want that to happen to you. Campaignin’ can be real hard, too hard for the likes of a mite like ‘Tilly. I’m too fearful for her.”
Molly seized his hands and chewed her lower lip. Tears were starting in her eyes.
“You could be gone years, John, what’ll happen to us?”
Davey misinterpreted the meaning of “us”.
“Me ‘n’ you, we’ll always be together Molly. Far or near.”
Now the tears did come, but Davey continued to answer her real question.
“I’ve got family, not too far, at Devizes. Place called Far Devening. They’ll take you in and care for you, better there than you’d be here. I’ll get Parson to write a letter. You take it to our local Vicar, Reverend Blackmore, and he’ll take you to my Mother and Sisters, and read out the letter. They’ll take you in. One sister is married with children, they’ll be playmates for ‘Tilly. It’s for the best, and I can send you money. You’ll get all my pay. The Purser says he can do that. What use will I have for money in some foreign place?”
Molly sighed and dried her eyes. To Davey, she looked resigned and he felt content. ‘Tilly came up onto the bench and embraced her Mother. Davey was re-assured. It was sad, but it was settled. At that point the ten draw bags arrived, one for each company and according to their company, the men placed their names into the bags, which were then taken away.
Morning came and breakfast, but no result of the draw, but elsewhere one name had been decided. Sleightman called in Sedgwicke and told him that he was going on campaign. Sedgwicke’s stomach turned over in horror.
“But I thought there was a draw, for the sake of fairness.”
“Well, yes and no, Percy. It’s not quite like that, not for us storesmen. I has to name someone that can be trusted, someone that will keep the Colonel happy. That’ll be you Percy.”
“But I’m not even a Lance Corporal Storeman. Mitchell and Stevens are Corporals. Why am I selected over them? They’ve been in the stores for years, whilst myself, barely months. Also, they’ve been on campaign. If someone should have their name taken out of the draw, it should at least be one of them.”
“They’re old, Percy. You’re young and spry. You can cope; the Colonel will ask if they can cope. I’ll tell him no.”
“That’s not true, both are strong and fit. You’ve seen them around the stores, and I reiterate, both have been on campaign before. I’d surmise that they are just what Lacey would want.”
“Now never mind your fancy words, Percy. “'Tis my decision and ‘tis done. Now out. I’ve work to do.”
Sedgwicke left, much disturbed. He was desperate not to go, but would have accepted as God’s Will being one of those to go, if drawn, but this arbitrary decision of Sleightman raised the potent question; why did Sleightman pick on him in particular to go? There was no justification. He went and told his fellow storemen and their comments disturbed him even more.
“Better look out your bayonet and musket then, Parson, because back in the ranks is where you’ll be.”
Sedgwicke was horrified.
“But I’ve been told that storemen stay in the rear, only coming forward to bring up supplies. Not needed to fight.”
“Everyone is needed to fight, Parson, everyone. They can call you forward if things gets tight, they can give the supply job to local hired help, freeing you up, and also, God forbid, Light Cavalry can come calling. They specialises in raiding the enemy backlines.”
He held up his left hand with three fingers missing.
“How d’you think I got this? Caught my hand in a drawer?”
All laughed, plainly at Sedgwicke’s expense. He withdrew to his single and friendless billet, deep in gloom. There, he slowly became resolved. Service abroad and battle terrified him more than Sleightman or anything. Sleightman had taken him out of the draw, the removal of Sleightman, perhaps, would put him back in it. Whatever needed to be done to get himself into the draw would be done. The outcome was then in the hands of God and prayer would save him.
Lunchtime came and with it the lucky names. Mulcahey was chosen, also Private Henry Nicholls, wife of Nelly. The topic was also discussed over lunch in the Mess, but not of a draw, this didn’t apply to Officers, simply the decision, should the family come or not? Carr addressed Padraigh O’Hare.
“May I ask, Sir, if you are taking your family?”
“You may ask, Captain Carr, and the answer is no. Both my wife and I think it best that my family remains here, at least within the Isles. They will return to Ireland, to our family home. There I know that they are safe and well cared for, leaving me to concentrate on my duties, which will be many, you can be sure.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sure you’re right. A good decision, certainly for the best.”
“You may be right, I hope you are, but there’s many a young Officer, with a young bride, who thinks me wrong.”
“Perhaps, Sir, but different circumstances. It’s children that make all the difference, surely?”
“You are right, and I have five. They make the difference.”
At that point, D’Villiers, late to lunch, came bursting in, waving a piece of paper.
“Something cheerful at last, I’ve just taken this from the board. We are all invited to a Ball at the General’s. 14th April, the day before we march. I must send for my best togs. Boots and breeches.”
oOo
Sedgwicke left the bottle unopened and lay awake, his mind alternating between fear and puzzlement. Fear of the firing line in a battle and puzzlement at why he was being taken out of the draw to remain in barracks or to go on campaign. He dwelt mostly on the latter, starting with the obvious fact that Sleightman had singled him out for the campaign because he wanted him gone. Was it because he was a threat? No, surely. Sedgwicke knew that he could not be a physical threat to anyone. Because of what he knew? What did he know? Sleightman could obtain copious amounts of rum, far above the legal ration. He had some dealings with a local Landlord, letters to and fro, and then there was the barrel taps. Oddly long and definitely not standard. He rose, lit his candle and took it through the stores to the barrels. He studied the row, 12 in all, the candle shining dully on the steel hoops, all barrels tilted forward to place the tap at the lowest point. Suddenly, it came to him, simple and obvious, but only if you knew what Sedgwicke did, that Sleightman used a tap of extra length. Sleightman was stealing rum. Sleightman was a criminal. It could be proved and criminals were taken away to gaol.
He returned to his bed, thought out his plan, then slept. The day after next came his chance, another letter to be taken to the Five Feathers. The envelope was standard paper, sealed but with no writing on it. He went to the Colonel’s Clerk and obtained the duplicate of the paper. He wrote nothing on it, neither inside nor on the cover, he simply folded it and sealed it with red wax. Being careful to keep Sleightman’s letter separate from his, he took himself off to the Five Feathers, surprising himself that he felt so calm. His plan received a boost when he found Wilberforce Johnson busy at his own ledgers, making it likely that Sedgwicke’s letter would only be opened some time after his departure, which would give him time to get back inside the barracks. This was confirmed when Johnson merely indicated where to put the letter and then simply waved the reply in Sedgwicke’s direction. He took it and hurried away.
He both ran and walked at the best pace he could manage to reach the safety of the sentr
y at the arch, then over to the Colonel’s Office and up to the Sergeant Clerk.
“I need to see the Colonel.”
“He’s busy.”
“It’s urgent, very urgent.”
“I can take you to Major O’Hare.”
“That will be sufficient.”
They both went outside the building and walked to the next door. Sedgwicke’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Johnson, just inside the arch, straining against the muskets of two sentries and shouting at an Officer. Inside, Major O’Hare was at his desk. The Sergeant Clerk made their presence known.
“Excuse me, Sir. This man needs to see either you or the Colonel, Sir. He says it’s urgent.”
“Right, Sergeant. I’ll deal with it. You may go about your duties.”
Sedgwicke waited until the door had closed. O’Hare sat patiently waiting.
“Sir, I have evidence that Sergeant Sleightman is stealing rum and selling it to an Inn in town. The Five Feathers, Sir. Here is part of my evidence,” and he placed the two letters on O’Hare’s desk, pointing to each.
“That one is from Sleightman to the Landlord, one Wilberforce Johnson. That one is Johnson’s reply. Both are unopened and are as written by them. Sleightman gives me the task of delivering and taking delivery of these letters. I believe that inside there will be proof that Sleightman is selling Johnson Army rum.”
O’Hare looked at Sedgwicke, then at the letters. He took his paper knife and opened first the one from Johnson. It contained a Five Pound Note, drawn on the Somerset Agricultural Bank. When the other was opened, there were only two pieces of information. A date, 4th April, and five characters XX4BY.
O’Hare looked up.
“Sedgwicke, isn’t it?
Sedgwicke nodded.
“They call you Parson.”
Sedgwicke nodded again.
“This proves nothing. Money is changing hands, as it does with local suppliers, and this, what looks like code, proves nothing.”
“On the contrary, Sir, I know how it is done. Any payment should show what it is paying for. The £5 letter does not. The code on the other identifies the barrels that Johnson must obtain from the drayman when he collects the empty barrels and then delivers new. Sleightman always loads two or three barrels himself, all with some chalk mark such as that. He calls the barrels “ullage”, that is rum left over in the barrels with sediment and therefore undrinkable. The date is the date of the delivery, tomorrow; the drayman is coming tomorrow. Also, Sir, evidence is in the stores. Sleightman obtains the rum for his own selling by using long taps. A long tap in the front face, sloping up with the slant of the barrel, will be exposed sooner above the rum inside as the level falls. This leaves much more in the barrel than a shorter tap. It’s a question of simple trigonometry, Sir, if I may show you,” and he drew a diagram on a spare piece of paper.
“You can prove this?”
“Yes Sir, but I think we need to go now. I saw Johnson at the gate. He may have got to Sleightman who may, as we speak, be destroying evidence.”
O’Hare rose from behind his desk and hurried to the door, putting on his coat as he went. On their way to the stores he gathered up as many soldiers as he encountered and once inside the stores, what he saw chimed with what Sedgwicke had said. Sleightman and Johnson were busy extracting the offending taps and replacing them with standard. They had two barrels to go. Sleightman had a mallet in his hand and was in the act of withdrawing one of his special taps. Johnson was stood close by, holding one of standard length. But Sleightman wasn’t going to submit that easily.
“Good morning, Sir. We’m just changing some taps here, that are not standard. Me and a local Landlord, Sir, Wilberforce Johnson of the Five Feathers, I relies on his expertise, Sir.”
O’Hare looked at Sedgwicke.
“Sedgwicke?”
“There are three barrels in his office there, Sir. All should have that code XX4BY.”
O’Hare looked at Sleightman, who was plainly becoming worried, then O’Hare turned and entered the office. Behind the desk there were indeed, three rum barrels with the code chalked on their tops. He tested their weight. He couldn’t easily lift them, they were all full. He returned to Sleightman.
“Explain those three barrels in your office, Sleightman. All full, all with a chalk code. Why should Mr Johnson here need to know that code?”
Sleightman grew more nervous and began to shake. Johnson stepped back into the shadows.
“Ullage, Sir, left overs. Undrinkable, Sir.”
“Three full barrels, Sleightman. That’s a ration for nearly half the battalion! And why should you take five pounds from Johnson here? He sells nothing that you need to buy; you get your beer and spirits from Army Supplies.
He paused to let the facts sink in.
“It’s clear to me that you are selling something to him, and the answer is the men’s rum!”
“No Sir, you got it all wrong, Sir. Johnson here buys the ullage and then……
O’Hare was no longer listening. He turned to his accompanying soldiers.
“These two are under arrest. Take them to the Guardroom. They are to be locked up.”
O’Hare’s escort needed no further bidding. Here was a culprit caught “bang to rights” in the act of selling their rum, one of their few comforts. Both were seized and hauled roughly away from the scene of their crime. As he passed Sedgwicke, Sleightman hissed his threat,
“I’ll see the colour of your insides, Sedgwicke, you bastard, you see if I don’t.”
This prompted even rougher handling from the escort and, once out of sight of O’Hare, there came back the sounds of blows being landed and cries of pain. O’Hare turned to Sedgwicke.
“Well done, Sedgwicke. Stealing from your messmates is one of the worst crimes within the army. Look in the accounts to see if there is any record of any money being booked in for sales to the Five Feathers. There won’t be, but check.”
“Yes Sir.”
Sedgwicke went into the Office, found the accounts book and checked. As O’Hare predicted, no sales were recorded and no money was booked in. Sleightman was finished. Sedgwicke took the ledger to O’Hare’s office and wrote a note that described his findings, then he returned to his store duties.
Sleightman and Johnson were arrested and escorted off to gaol. Sedgwicke’s star was in the ascendant around the barracks, he had stopped the thieving of the men’s rum and he received many pats on the back and many accolades of “Well done, Parson.” Two days later a Prosecuting Attorney came and took statements. Four days later a Militia Quartermaster Sergeant, a Sergeant Pearson, arrived to take over the stores. He arranged a draw. Two thirds of the storemen would go and they drew for those who would stay. Sedgwicke’s name was not drawn. He was going anyway.
oOo
Taking any excuse, Reynier rode his horse along the cliffs over the Straits of Messina. It was a beautiful clear day; early April at the extreme tip of the toe of Italy was the best time of year to gain the benefit of time spent in Calabria, and the view was made more interesting by two frigates of the Royal Navy, coursing up and down the Straits, less that half a mile off, guarding against any French invasion across this narrow stretch water to Sicily. Had they been able to read his mind their Captains would have returned to the harbour of Messina where the rest of the British forces were. Reynier had troubles of his own on the mainland.
Grateful that he had not been given the duty of besieging Gaeta to the North of Naples, he had been even more grateful to have been given his independent command. He had crushed the Neapolitan Army at the Battle of Campo Tenese and had soon reached the Straits. He had prepared for an invasion, as Napoleon ordered, but the Royal Navy held sway on the waters before him and now irregular warfare was exploding behind him. The Calabrians, finding out what it meant to be occupied by a French Army that lived off the local population and didn’t care what methods they used to find stores of food, were in rebellion, tying down a large proportion of his army.
He watched as one frigate detached itself from the other, spread more sail and gained speed in his direction, heeling over to the added leverage from the wind in the taut sails. 400 metres from him, the course changed to parallel to the cliff and with sharp efficiency, the foresail was backed to the wind, bringing the vessel to a halt and holding her stationary. Reynier watched, fascinated, but this soon changed when he saw a large puff of white smoke emerge from her side, then heard the report, then heard the “whoosh” as a cannonball ploughed into the cliff, perfectly in line with him, but 5 metres below. His horse bucked and reared as a thousand or more seabirds, thoroughly disturbed, rose and wheeled from the cliff face all round. Reynier raised his hat to the frigate and then turned his horse away from the coast. The sea had suddenly lost his interest, invasion was impossible and his thoughts turned inland. What was now paramount was the question of how to subdue a partisan war?
oOo
Chapter Seven
Of Texts and Privateers
What the Ball lacked in opulence it made up for in scale. Being the Regional General, Matthew Perry had more than sufficient weight of authority and influence to secure the Town Assembly Rooms. A recent addition to the town, built in Renaissance style with distinctive Roman influence of columns and triangles, the bath stone frontage rose powerfully from the flat expanse of the town square. Inside was an entrance hall that could alone rival many ballrooms, but its own ballroom stretched for what seemed endless yards to a raised platform that boasted its own acreage. For this roomy space General Perry had arranged the massed bands of two local Regiments, conducted by a local Colonel of Music, who happened to be a good friend, and the area was indeed now occupied by their serried ranks, all in immaculate musical uniform, bearing shiny instruments, behind a palisade of bright silver music stands.
Outside the carriages were drawing up, shiny black in the remaining bright sunshine of the April evening, each carefully taking turns to allow their occupants to alight with the minimum requirement of walking. Few carriages were adorned with any form of heraldry, but those attending were, nevertheless, the great, and the good, and the wealthy, of the County of Somerset and in some cases, beyond that. What an observer would have noticed, however, was the high proportion of guests that represented the military, of all arms; Infantry, Cavalry, Artillery and even the Navy, and most without female accompaniment.
Worth Their Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regiment.) Page 25
