Raging Rajahs (Man of Conflict Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  “What do they eat, sir?”

  “Damned if I know, Mr Brookes – I did not ask.”

  “Who are they, sir?”

  “Many, Playforth told me, was used to be handloom weavers. Not the best and most skilful, but those who produced the coarsest sheeting – of which great quantities was demanded, it seems. This was the first stuff to be made on the new machine looms, so he said, and took their jobs from them in very short order. The most skilled of the weavers can still make a good living working the best and finest cloths, or so it seems, but even they fear that new looms will displace them soon.”

  “Could we not recruit them, sir?”

  “Willingly, if they will join – though I fear we would have to feed them well for many months before they would carry their weight. Playforth tells me that they fear to go away from town into the army or navy, preferring to stay where at least they feel at home. That, I cannot comprehend, Mr Brookes!”

  “Have not the magistrates the power to send them away, sir?”

  “They have to be caught and hailed before them for a crime first, or for begging at least. It would seem that there are no constables in much of the town, for never having a church and parish in the rookeries.”

  “Perhaps we might round them up, sir, and march them before the Bench and then take them to the coast and put them aboard ship for the navy.”

  Septimus shook his head; he had asked the same of Major Howton before leaving Winchester.

  “We do not have the legal power to make such arrests, it seems, Mr Brookes. We are not sworn in as constables who can take up the ill-conditioned on suspicion and would have to make a criminal case against each man we brought to court. There is a great mistrust of the army - since Cromwell’s day, I am told – and there would be attorneys by the score crawling out of the woodwork to challenge us.”

  Brookes was puzzled; it seemed to him that he was allowed to shoot a man but not to peacefully arrest him.

  “Quite right, Mr Brookes – the one is to maintain public order, the other is an act of tyranny. The Law is a wonderful thing!”

  Playforth was in the square, protected by a small group of lesser Sheriff’s men brought in, he said, from Lancaster. He sent messengers at intervals, reporting on the temper of the crowd.

  All was well until late in the afternoon when the day-shifts came home from the mills. Playforth had warned Septimus that the men worked normally two shifts, day and night, six till six. A few mills had no night hands and they worked sixteen-hour days, six till ten, Monday till Saturday; their men would not be involved.

  “The sixteen-hour men are paid more, you see, Major. The same rate but a good twenty-four hours more a week and taking home as much as six shillings over the top. All the employed men wish to get into their mills and they will never risk their jobs by being seen at any sort of meeting.”

  “Three pence an hour, sir.”

  “For the top hands, yes, Major. Twice the rate of a farm labourer. They are very jealous of their places – none of these Trades Unions for those men!”

  The highest paid men could live on their wages, paying their four shillings a week rent and able to buy bread and a little bacon and potatoes and cabbage besides for their families; provided they were not drinkers, that was. But men working a ninety-six hour week tended not to have the energy or time to get to the beerhouse, so that was to the good as well.

  Lower earners could not make ends meet, however, and they were as likely as not to riot for having less to lose; when they came off shift the meeting could be expected to turn sour.

  Noise started to rise from the square; earlier they had heard just the occasional bellow but now there were bursts of cheers, roars of applause, occasional outbreaks of clapping. A messenger came at the run.

  "Mr Playforth says they got a new man a-shouting at them, sir. Telling them that the soldiers is waiting round the corner for the meeting to break up and then beat 'em as they goes 'ome on their own. Says that the bosses is goin' to 'ave 'em killed for showing off their faces in public, so 'e do."

  "Thank you. Tell Mr Playforth that we are ready. Ask him if he intends to arrest the man for incitement and if he needs help to do so?"

  "They's got to be five thousands of they buggers, sir!"

  "We will do all that we must, sir."

  The noise grew again and they started to hear snatches of song, though they could not pick out the words. Another messenger arrived from behind them, having taken a circuitous route through the alleys.

  "Mr Playforth says they's singing the Ca Ira, sir."

  "Are they, by God! What's that?"

  "Frog, sir."

  Septimus turned to the ensign acting as his runner.

  "Eeles, be a good lad and discover whether anyone knows what this bloody song might be."

  Three minutes and Eeles came scurrying back behind Edwards.

  "It is a revolutionary song, sir, with a chorus that goes, 'les aristos a la lanterne', sir. The street lamps, sir, strung up by the neck."

  "Not much room for doubt there, Mr Edwards. Mind you, we sing 'God Save the King' on occasion; it don't mean we expect Him to do so in the next five minutes."

  "True, sir, but it does say who we are loyal to."

  "Well said, sir. This Ca Ira seems to tell us that these people are not loyal at all. Run back to Mr Mockford and instruct him to bring the ammunition issue forward, Mr Eeles." Septimus inflated his chest, bellowed the order to load ball, loudly enough for the sergeants to hear and commence the ritual set of commands.

  "Thank you for your advice, Mr Edwards. Back to your company now, sir.” He thought a second, decided he must show the intelligent young man that he trusted him. “If we enter the square, Mr Edwards, take your company to the end where the speakers are and detain them and their whole party, using the minimum of force, if you please."

  Edwards' C Company still had no captain and he was senior lieutenant and therefore in command.

  Ten minutes and Mockford had led his cart up, five large chests containing each company's issue. It took nearly half an hour for the sergeants to count out each man's rounds and see them stowed in their pouches; too long in Septimus' opinion, it would not do in an emergency.

  "Far quicker if the men were to fill their pouches first and leave them with Mr Mockford. Five minutes if well supervised. Mr Eeles, note down that is to be done, if you would be so good."

  The runner carried notebook and pencil and was commonly chosen as an ensign who could write a clear hand, not an attribute all possessed.

  "Standing Order to be issued in the morning, sir?"

  "If you would be so good, Mr Eeles."

  The boy was bright and useful, Septimus reminded himself. He asked how long he had been in.

  "Fifteen months, sir."

  "Can you purchase, Mr Eeles?"

  A number of the ensigns were short of cash and relied on the field for their promotions, perhaps one half gaining their first step by that means. Where a battalion remained many years on a Home Posting there could be some rather ancient ensigns and fifty year old lieutenants as well.

  "I can, sir."

  "I shall speak to the colonel when next I see him, Mr Eeles."

  "Thank you, sir."

  Septimus decided that he would in fact send a note to Howton at an early moment; another lieutenant would be handy.

  The noise of the crowd had become an unbroken roar - they could not be listening to an orator, they would never hear a word.

  The last messenger returned, having discovered his safe route through the back-streets and wynds.

  "Mr Playforth says the magistrates have read the Riot Act, sir, or tried to. Please to bring your men to the square, sir - they are breaking into the shops, ripping the shutters down, sir."

  The law was cumbersome, demanding that a magistrate must stand forward and read the actual wording of the Riot Act aloud before he had its authority to disperse a crowd. Saying the words aloud in the presence of the rioters turne
d a crowd officially into a mob that might be broken up and forced to flee. The Riot Act also turned soldiers into constables, to an extent, and gave them certain powers of arrest and coercion, though the law was not at all clear regarding the exact nature of those powers. A sympathetic judge would back every action taken by the soldiers; one who did not love the military might condemn the same acts as unlawful.

  "Form column of march! A Company to lead and form two lines to the right on entering the square!"

  The company commanders had been given their instructions before they had set out from the warehouses, should know exactly what to do.

  Four companies formed their double rank at the foot of the square while Edwards led his sixty men along the side and towards the front, pushing through the flank of the mob, slowed where he met a group of looters at a provision shop. The men were loaded, could not safely swing their butts; he gave the call to fix bayonets and the thieves ran.

  As Edwards reached the front and turned his men towards the knot of speakers and organisers in the middle, huddled together, nervous of the fire of insurrection they had lit, Septimus shouted the order to prime muskets.

  It was meaningless, because the men had already done so in the ordinary way of loading, but it drew the attention of the mob. The noise level fell but the crash of breaking windows continued from the stores.

  "In the air, front ranks, one round... Fire!"

  Nearly one hundred and fifty muskets made a loud noise, a crash sufficient to gain every man's attention.

  The front rank reloaded while the rear stepped forward two paces and levelled their own pieces. The nearest men saw that they were held at the horizontal and ran.

  The panic spread rapidly, those at the back of the crowd having been in the nature of things the least committed.

  "Light Company, marksmen!"

  The company spread into skirmish line and made a performance of aiming at specific looters around the shops. Most of them dropped their spoils and either ran or put their hands up. A few persisted in their crimes.

  "Light Company may fire at will!"

  Two shots rang out immediately, Barnes and Dowdy ordered to pick out clear targets; the rest had been instructed to wait their sergeants' further command.

  Two men fell, their arms full of bottles which mostly broke on the cobbles. Every other man in the mob, two hundred or so too enthusiastic or too stupid to have disappeared into the alleys, froze.

  Edwards brought his prisoners to Septimus while the men in the square were herded together into a huddle in the centre.

  "Fourteen of the ringleaders, sir! I regret that a few ran, sir."

  "You did well to catch so many, Mr Edwards; I did not expect one half of that number! Tie their hands, if you would be so good. Mr Playforth! How do you wish me to dispose of these villains, sir?"

  The magistrates would sit in the morning; the ringleaders could be held in the common cell underneath the Court rooms; the drunks normally to be found there could be rousted out on this occasion. As for the great mass, of prisoners, Playforth was at a loss, supposed it might be best to hold them in the square overnight, under guard and then push them before the Bench a score at a time in the morning.

  Easily arranged, the prisoners kicked into lines, forced to sit down and told to shut up, muskets threateningly close. One of the shot men regained consciousness and began to howl, serving as a reminder to the others that kept them well cowed.

  "Can you find attention for those two, Mr Playforth?"

  "An apothecary has been called, Major."

  "Very good, sir."

  Two companies on duty in the square, two to sleep, four hours about; Edwards' company to hold the Courthouse secure, platoons resting in sequence. Septimus remained on his feet till all was organised and then retired to the downstairs rooms of the Boar where he took a meal and an hour's sleep before going out on his rounds, Cooper and a four man squad at his back.

  Court sat in the morning and discovered Mr Playforth to have been efficiently busy. There was a written bill for each of the ringleaders by name, charging them with seditious words and incitement to riot; additionally he had spoken to each and offered them a choice - Guilty and service in the Navy, Not Guilty and a hanging. All of the first fourteen offered a plea of Guilty and begged to apologise for their foolish actions; each was sentenced to seven years transportation at hard labour, commuted to the King's Service. Two minutes of justice apiece and they were on the road to Liverpool before ten o'clock.

  The remainder were marched into the dock in twenties, having been lined up outside waiting. All had been addressed briefly by the Sheriff's men; it had been pointed out to them that there were some very angry shopkeepers, several of whom were aldermen of the old borough and in a position to call for blood. Any man who wished to plead his innocence was wholly at liberty to do so, and would be remanded in gaol to stand before Quarter Sessions where his case would be heard in front of the magistrates, who were all neighbours and business partners of their victims. The town had a gallows and they could be sure it would be busy after Quarter Sessions.

  Score after score they marched in and cried 'Guilty, Your Honour', in unison; each batch was ordered off to the army or the navy, the men themselves to choose which they preferred in recognition of their contrition. Noon saw an empty courtroom.

  "Well done indeed, Major Pearce! The magistrates have expressed their gratitude to you, a revolutionary situation reduced to nothing at the cost of two dead, sir. An address has been despatched to the Lord Lieutenant and he has been begged to inform Horse Guards of our pleasure. We are quite sure that all is well here now, sir. It does seem, however, Major, that trouble is brewing in the town of Preston..."

  They marched to Preston at the end of the week, the word of their actions in Burnley preceding them; the town was, and remained, quiet for the fortnight they stayed there. They made their way through the spinning towns and then back to Manchester itself, their reputation expanding in front of them, two dead becoming a score in the voice of rumour in the space of a single season, and all remained quiet. The Lord Lieutenant's people, who bore the costs of feeding and billeting the half-battalion while it was in their service, decided that they could send them home again, with their best thanks.

  "The word that has come to us, Major Pearce, is that you should march by way of Stafford, sir, where there is some degree of unrest in the mining towns of the area. I believe that you are to receive written orders to do just that within three days, sir."

  Septimus ordered the companies to make ready to march and looked out his road-book to help Mockford plan their stopping points. All being ready they received the orders and discovered they were to go to Derbyshire instead. There was much unrest in the area and the battalion present had begged for assistance.

  "Over the hills in a direct line, sir? Or by way of Stoke-upon-Trent and round keeping to a far lower route?"

  "Mr Edwards is the native of these parts, Mr Mockford. Let us beg his advice."

  "You will not wish to march over the High Peak, sir! That is no country for a man with a load on his back. The bulk of the roads are suitable for pack-ponies and them not in winter. The longer way is far the shorter in this case, sir."

  "So be it, Mr Edwards."

  They marched on the lowland roads, busy with carriers and a number of stage coaches, and passing canals full of narrow boats carrying their thirty tons of coal or lesser amounts of cottons and pottery. Business was good and there was money in the hands of much of the population, but not in the pockets of the miners, it seemed.

  "They are lazy, sir, forever demanding more money for less work. Reds, every man of them, and the women worse, whining and complaining and never a word of gratitude to the risk-takers who give them jobs. Without the mines there would be nothing at all for them, but do they ever think of that?"

  Septimus knew nothing of mining or of any other trade, but he was wise enough not to take Edwards' words at face value - he was too shrill, too def
ensive to ring true. Besides that, he did not like the man. Even so, if the colliery hands proposed to riot and break the law then he would do his duty; the country was at war and any man who defied his King gave comfort to the French - it was as simple as that! In the same way that it had been right to crush the Irish - and Ireland was part of Britain - it was correct to put down revolutionary pit men.

  "They will receive no untoward sympathy from me, Mr Edwards, but we must remember that we serve the King, not the mine-owners."

  Edwards protested that no man could doubt his loyalty.

  "Nor should they, Mr Edwards. You are a valuable officer and are wholly worthy of my trust."

  They marched into the coalfields and discovered that there was an air of near insurrection; they were jeered from the back alleys and children shouted and whistled at them from the sides of the lanes, knowing that they were safe from the muskets.

  "What is this town, Mr Edwards?"

  "Belper, sir - or the old village that once was here bore that name. It is no more than a mass of the kennels of the mob, not truly a town at all, sir."

  They were met by a group of magistrates, those who made up the bench at Quarter Sessions, accompanied by their constables.

  "I am Major Pearce, sir, and I am instructed to report to the Chairman of the Bench."

  "I am he, Major Pearce. My name is Sir Ronald Tate. What do you intend to do, Major Pearce?"

  "I am here to carry out the orders of the Bench, Sir Ronald. For today I would wish to billet my men. They have marched their miles and are in need of a meal before anything else."

  "Well I am sure you can find a location to pitch your tents, Major."

  "We do not have tents, sir, not being on campaign in a foreign land. Normal practice is to provide barns or an empty warehouse for my men."

  "We shall need the barns for harvest within a few days, Major. I am sure that the warehouses are full, as well."

  "Then we shall make do overnight and march out in the morning, Sir Ronald. It is the responsibility of the Civil Power to provide for my men, sir. That, of course, includes the supply of their rations, at full weight. One pound of beef or pork; one pound of flour; one pound of pease; an ounce of butter or cheese; an ounce of rice; these are the laid down daily issue. The Quartermaster will be happy to discuss substitutions, of course - potatoes for flour, for example; or cabbage and beans should pease not be to hand; and bacon or mutton will always make a welcome change."