Billy Bacon and the Soldier Slaves (Colonial Warrior Series, Book 1)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Which company first, sir?”

  Billy knew it would be A then B, the experienced sergeants to discover the inevitable difficulties and surmount them.

  There was moaning at first, until the men discovered that the plantation owners were glad to see them, or at least were delighted to see their muskets. They were welcomed and well fed, a couple of pigs typically set on spits across firepits for them, together with masses of roots and fruit to follow, with a modicum of alcohol besides. Billy had no doubt that a number of the female slaves were also accommodating; it was illegal to give money to slaves, which meant that even tuppence was very welcome.

  There were very few patches of swampland on Antigua but the march round the coast found most of them, and their mosquitoes. The first cases of recurrent fever occurred soon after their return to barracks; the regimental surgeon had heard of bark and the tiny hospital at English Harbour possessed quantities; Billy showed the surgeon how to properly use the medicine and only one of the company died, but he was one of the forty-year olds, his constitution weakened by his years of poor food and worse drink. Two weeks and Billy was able to report the first epidemic over, three of the men still showing symptoms that would probably never leave them, their kidneys affected and bladders apparently weakened.

  “Got to piss every hour, sir, no matter whether they drinks gallons of water or none at all. As much at night as in the day, sir. Better they should be sent back to England, sir, discharged as unfit, for they will be hard-pressed to keep up on the march, and they might get worse at any time. They say, sir, that this mal-aria – the bad airs, sir – sometimes don’t never leave a man, not fully.”

  The surgeon agreed and the soldiers were discharged and put aboard a store ship returning to Bristol. They would be fed sailors’ rations on the trip across the Atlantic and paid off the sums due to them at the quayside in Bristol, and then they would be on their own, civilians, the Army with no further responsibility to them. They might have as much a pound in their pocket, which might be sufficient to get them back to Warwick or Birmingham where they would have a legal claim on the Poor Law at their home parish, provided they could prove birth there.

  “Four lost from the company in the first five weeks, Sergeant Bacon!”

  Captain Higgins was inclined to be despondent, the more for having watched four of the five other battalions take ship on expeditions to capture French islands.

  “Very good, sir. I had thought to lose more, sir. We would have done had we been sent to Kingston, sir – much worse for real fevers there, sir.”

  That was not the most reassuring of news to Captain Higgins.

  “Why did none of the officers catch the fever, Sergeant Bacon?”

  Billy had no idea, was inclined to ascribe it to luck; he was unaware of the significance of the three officers being put up in the plantation houses, which had mosquito nets for the comfort of their people.

  They fell into routine and decided that the posting was not unpleasant. There were few parades and those over quickly in the half-light of dawn and early morning when inspections of uniform were not easily made. During the hot hours the men simply rested, playing cards or dice or simply chatting in the shade; in late afternoon they might be forced to don full uniform for guard duty; on every second morning in barracks they would make their way to the butts to practice with powder and ball and create a martial noise that kept the distant general happy. All went well until a naval brig tied up in English Harbour from service along the coast of the Main, having worked inshore through the Guianas and along the Caribbean coastline as far as Caracas before returning from her cruise. Some of her men were feeling unwell as they came ashore, but would not report sick for fear of having their shore-leave cancelled.

  Within two days the shore hospital was full with Yellow Fever victims and the town was in panic. It was firmly believed that Yellow Jack was spread by bad airs breathed out by the victims and inhaled by the healthy; there was no apparent limit to the distance over which this contagion could occur and all of those who could fled the town, taking up shelter their relatives were obliged to offer throughout the seven Parishes of the island, to the terror of the existing residents.

  More than a half of the buildings in English Harbour were left empty and the Army, which effectively meant the Fencibles, drew the duty of patrolling the streets and preventing looting. It was hard work, walking the roadways in the heat of the day, and demanding for a thin battalion even in a small town. The soldiers were also terrified that Yellow Jack would get them; they saw the funerals from the hospital as more than a half of the brig’s eighty sailors succumbed to the toxic stage of fever and, reasonably, feared that they would be next.

  There was no significant swamp within mosquito flight of English Harbour and the Yellow Fever virus did not enter its urban cycle and consequently did not spread outside the unfortunate crew of the brig. A month and the outbreak was accepted to be over and the population returned to English Harbour; regrettably, they brought typhoid with them. The Spotted Fever did not display the inhibitions of the Yellow and spread very rapidly; its death rate was lower, in most families fewer than one in five actually dying, though some, in the nature of things, were unlucky.

  The Fever hit the barracks in English Harbour and struck down its proportion of the soldiers there. The Warwickshire Fencibles had drawn the bulk of their recruits from the towns, a great number from Birmingham in fact. The town dwellers had grown up in and close to rookeries poorly served for sanitation, were to an extent immune to the depredations on the gut of the Gaol Fever family; the typhoid came and made a number ill to a lesser or greater extent, but fewer than one in twenty died.

  The other regiment still in the barracks had drawn a quarter of its men from the moors of Northumberland and most of the remainder from the potato fields of southern Ireland. A few of its men were criminals who had survived the true Gaol Fever and were immune to mere typhoid; the rest fell in droves and died by the score. One half of the country boys died in a week and the remainder were weakened and slow in convalescence.

  Colonel Searson was called to the office of the General Commanding, was required to state his exact number of men fit for service.

  “Four hundred and ninety of men and corporals, sir. Eleven sergeants. One major, ten captains and thirteen lieutenants and eight ensigns, having lost two lieutenants and two ensigns to the fevers. The Adjutant died and has been replaced by a lieutenant, sir.”

  “You have available at twice the numbers of the Northumberlands, Colonel Searson. The single battalion of Welshmen sent out to the French colonies to our south has run into trouble, it would seem, and must be given assistance. It was not expected that they would be unable to roust a few Frenchmen from their little fortifications, but such must have been the case, for we have heard nothing from them. The bulk of the men available to us have gone to Trinidad and Tobago, and are achieving very respectable success there. There is no sense to sending the Northumberlands into the field in their present case, so you must take your battalion to battle. Are you certain of your men’s fitness to campaign, Colonel Searson?”

  “I am, sir. Their drill has always been of the best and I have taken pains over the past few months to bring their musketry up to an equivalent standard. I have been fortunate in my officers, sir; many of my young men are of the very best. I was lucky as well to attract two regular sergeants to the battalion, and they ‘ave worked hard to bring their companies up to scratch and to provide a model for the others to emulate.”

  The general heard all that was unsaid, and noticed the dropped ‘h’ and the embarrassed emphasis on the next. It was clear, he thought, that Colonel Searson was determined to show that his regiment was the match of any of the more conventional regulars; it was also obvious that the good colonel was turning himself into a gentleman, overcoming the significant natural obstacles to that course. Why not? The need was for a working battalion that would save a losing campaign, and protect the general from the n
eed to report failure to Horse Guards.

  “Ships will be available within the week, Colonel Searson. Draw campaign necessities, powder and ball particularly, and ready your men to board and sail on Friday, weather permitting.”

  “Friday, sir? Many think that to be an unlucky day to sail.”

  “Send any who object to me, Colonel Searson. I shall demonstrate to them just how unlucky it is to be superstitious.”

  Colonel Searson laughed and said that he did not doubt he could settle their qualms himself.

  “What will our exact orders be, sir? Are we to subordinate ourselves to the existing regiment on the island or must we supersede them with instructions to attack and bring the invasion to a quick and successful end?”

  “Good question, Colonel Searson. Give me a minute to think.”

  Colonel Searson must be junior, more recently promoted than the man on the island, would normally therefore come under his command; but the man was a failure using a force which had been deemed sufficient to do the job. Give the existing commander another five hundred bodies and he might well waste them, as he evidently had his own men. The simplest solution was to appoint Colonel Searson as Brigadier while on the island. Brigadier was an administrative position, not a promotion, and would come to an end when the fighting finished; it did imply a natural superiority, however, and the man who was once made brigadier might reasonably expect to take the place again in the next campaign, unless he failed in the first instance. The general did not want some unknown half-bred militiaman to become his effective second; still less did he want failure against his name.

  “You must be appointed Brigadier, Colonel Searson – for the duration of the successful campaign, of course. It is not to imply any particular expectation for the future, of course, but you must equip yourself with the correct uniform, of course.”

  Colonel did not notice quite how many ‘of courses’ there were in the general’s begrudging offer of promotion; he was too delighted to listen to minor irregularities of speech.

  The island’s leading outfitter would be able to display Colonel Searson in the splendour of general officer’s uniform – money, which Searson certainly had access to, would enable near-miracles of tailoring to occur.

  Colonel Searson had not expected brigadier to result from this first opportunity to shine, but, considering the matter, he could not be too surprised that his evident ability had been recognised.

  “Thank you, sir. Tell me, sir. What is your opinion of the rank of sergeant-major? Horse Guards is proposing to offer guidance on the question, but I have yet to see it.”

  “The word is that the rank is to be brought into general use in the Army – the Guards, of course, to make their own rules. Cavalry regiments will create an equivalent. I presume you have a man for the post? You mentioned two regular sergeants who had been of great value to you.”

  “The older of them is anxious to rise in the world and would suit the rank, I believe, sir. The other is also capable of taking promotion, though to what degree, I do not know.”

  “Wiser not to push a man too far out of his station in life, Brigadier Searson.”

  Saying the words, the general wondered if he had not just been guilty of so doing; unavoidable, occasionally.

  “Promotion from the ranks never occurs in the Militia, sir, or in the Fencibles, that half-way stage between Militia and Regular, so I have no experience of the phenomenon, as you must know. But, I am told that as many as one in ten of Regulars are officers who ‘ave come hup from sergeant.”

  The general might have preferred not to have been reminded of that fact; particularly, he wished to turn a blind eye to the event in his command, knowing that by the end of four or more years in the Sugar Islands at least one quarter of the officers would be rankers, some of them having reached a captaincy.

  “True, Brigadier Searson. But, do be careful, sir. Remember that a man once made ensign or lieutenant in the field cannot return to sergeant’s estate. Once made, the man is forever a gentleman!”

  “Both of my men are careful in their speech, sir. In fact, sir, they sometimes put me to shame!”

  Colonel Searson was able, he thought, to relax in the general’s company, having just received such a mark of confidence in himself.

  “They are younger than me, of course, sir, and more able to adjust themselves, one might say, to a change in their circumstances. I shall take a wife when I return home, sir. My son will face none of the problems that I have surmounted!”

  “One must indeed be grateful for that, Brigadier Searson. You must be anxious to speak to a tailor, sir. May I recommend Mendelssohn’s establishment?”

  “Sounds like a Jew-boy, sir!”

  “I believe him to be of the Hebrew persuasion, Brigadier, but he is far the best tailor on the island.”

  Colonel Searson agreed that he must patronise the man, but he did not promise to like the experience.

  The general saw Brigadier Searson to the door and returned, grimacing, to his desk, calling for his senior aide-de-camp to join him.

  “Did you hear that, Rawlins?”

  “I did, sir. Not a lot of choice, sir. The campaign must be won, and that appalling specimen of humanity will move Heaven and Earth to be successful. An appointment as Brigadier, crowned by success in battle, and anointed by his family’s hundreds of thousands, will see him a Knight, sir. He must be aware of that. A second success may well reflect sufficiently upon the family for his elder brother to be made baronet at least; he may be able to parlay it into a peerage, in fact. The word is that the family is determined to attain gentility, sir, the expensive way being the sole route open to them. I heard a whisper before we sailed that Colonel Searson is considerably more refined than his brother.”

  “My word! The House of Lords will be delighted when the day comes for him to swear his oaths before the Woolsack!”

  Captain Rawlins scowled – his eldest brother had recently succeeded to the barony and he had a value for the exclusivity of the peerage, being able to forget that his own grandfather had made a fortune from the slave-trade before turning respectable.

  “What do we know of the officers of these Fencibles, Rawlins?”

  “Not much, sir. Several are related to Searson – which is not surprising, families have their own regiments, after all. A few bought in for their commissions having no premium – they all sold for the official price and not a penny more, and not all of them sold at all. I know that three at least of the lieutenants exchanged into the Fencibles, and believe it to be the case of one of the captains and their major.”

  “Nasty! If they had simply run out of money – well, that can happen! If their own regiments did not want them, then that is a different matter.”

  Both men knew that regiments posted to the Sugar Islands were more likely to have officers exchange out than in; for a vacancy to be taken by a man of the same rank surrendering his original commission to join them was out of the ordinary.

  Normally the explanation would be that the officer in question had gambled carelessly and had accumulated a debt of honour that he could not clear; had it been tailor’s bills, the regiment would not have been concerned, but defaulted debts of honour brought shame upon them all. Such unfortunates normally found that the Colonel of the Regiment – usually a rich man – would deal with the debt, provided that the officer removed the contamination of his presence from the Regiment. For those who would not shoot themselves, a transfer to a foreign-going battalion sufficed, with the understanding that they would transfer again on the battalion’s return, never themselves coming back to England. They might otherwise be wholly adequate in their rank, useful members of their new Mess.

  Less commonly, an officer might be persuaded, forcefully, to transfer if he was found to be unacceptable for other reasons. An officer who showed in the least shy – perhaps avoiding harder fences in the hunting field – would be rapidly shown the door; a man careless in the lists of love who was found in the bed of a seni
or officer’s wife might well discover England far too hot for him; others might show differing causes of offence, sufficient for the Mess to cold-shoulder them and make their lives a misery, sometimes by the most overt bullying, and could take a transfer as the least worst option, though commonly such unfortunates put a pistol to their head.

  Whatever the cause, any man who transferred, who volunteered to come to the Fever postings, was a source of some doubt.

  “Anything known of the major?”

  Captains and lieutenants were not so important, but a major could easily succeed to command of the battalion, which might be unfortunate.

  “Not a word, sir. Might be entirely above board, sir. A man who had been unlucky, had never managed to get out on campaign, perhaps. Fairly much certain of smelling powder in the Sugar Islands, sir. Might have it in mind to purchase his last step and want to have a successful campaign to his name first.”

  A new colonel who had recently shown well in the field would have a greater chance of taking his battalion out on an early expedition and of making his name. Colonels achieved their step to major-general exclusively by seniority; there were many major-generals and few jobs for them, so a good reputation in the field would be very useful to a man wishing to take actual command of a division. If the colonel lacked influential relatives then he was reduced to displaying military ability if he was to be used as a general, though merely winning a few battles was far less valuable than possessing a brother with a title or a sister who was mistress to a Royal Prince.

  “Watch him, Rawlins!”

  “Naturally, sir. Should we send the battery of four-pounders with Searson, sir?”

  Four-pound guns were very small, and were valueless in a siege, for example; they could be very useful to cut up charging cavalry or to force infantry out of a square. Six four-pounders might be effective, but they could be no more than an encumbrance that must not be lost. To lose one’s guns was the ultimate military disgrace short of having the colours taken. Many generals refused ever to risk guns in a forward position in order to protect their name from the possible ignominy of losing them; better to lose a few hundred infantry than a single gun.