Raging Rajahs (Man of Conflict Series, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  Sir Ronald could not accept that responsibility - the cost would be too burdensome on the local worthies.

  "Then we must move on, Sir Ronald. We can reach Derby tomorrow, I am sure, it is an easy march to the south, on lower ground, and your constables must instead accept the burden of keeping the King's Peace."

  There were twelve constables, unarmed and not one younger than sixty. The post of parish constable was invariably granted to an otherwise indigent old man who must be supported by the Poor Law if he was not given the job.

  The magistrates consulted with each other and reluctantly offered a pair of barns on the nearest estate. They would supply beef and mutton and bread as well, between them and perhaps something in the way of cheese and beans.

  "Very good, gentlemen. Please tell me where you want me to use my men. I assure you that I am at your willing disposal!"

  There was, they told him, a strike, a withdrawal of labour, at the largest of the nearby pits. Men had been found elsewhere and brought in to take the place of the strikers and there had been a pitched battle already as they had attempted to go to their lawful work. Stones and brickbats had been thrown; lanes had been blocked; threats of arson of the master's house had been made - the situation was out of hand. The army should escort the new employees to their jobs in the morning, if they would be so good.

  "Is it possible to delay for one day, gentlemen? I and my officers would wish to ride the ground first, if it be possible. It may be that there will be places where I would wish to post a platoon, or a whole company even, to prevent ambush. You say there have been threats to the master's property? It would be possible to place a picket there to ensure that no such event occurs."

  "In fact, Major Pearce, I am the master, and it is my barns that your men are to be billeted in."

  The speaker was a pleasantly rotund gentleman with a gently deprecating smile, introduced himself as Mr MacDonald, the family once of the Highlands, but long civilised now, ha ha! He explained that he had found it necessary to reduce wages by a mere four shillings a week, due to a temporary problem of flooding which was rapidly being amended.

  "The men have no concept of the risks I take, Major Pearce! My profits have fallen quite drastically but they do not care for that. Forever complaining, yet mining is recognised to be a dangerous occupation - no man could be more sorry than me that eight were drowned when the inundation occurred!"

  Septimus smiled uncertainly, expressed his sympathy.

  "Thank you, sir. I can assure you that I was most upset by the whole affair. Indeed, my doctor found it necessary to take a whole pint of blood from me!"

  "What of the families of the dead men, Mr MacDonald?"

  "None, sir, luckily - the colliers keep together in their own little clans where possible. Three men - a father and his two sons, and the wife and two daughters made up six of the dead, and two young unmarried men who were apparently consorting with the young girls - and them hardly of an age, disgraceful! The net effect was that there was no great loss at all, and I cannot understand why they make such a fuss about so fortunate an outcome. No widows to demand charity! No orphans to stir our hearts to pity! Let us look forward, sir, to the future - no good comes from this obsessive wailing about the past!"

  "I appreciate your concern, sir. We shall make then, a reconnaissance, as we military men say, in the morning?"

  "I do have no fewer than one hundred and twenty men eating their heads off in idleness, Major Pearce, but, if you must examine the lay of the land, then so you must! I have to say that it does sound as if you are just a little worried that a mob of unarmed men might put your troops to rout, but no doubt you know your own business best, sir!"

  Septimus recognised the provocation and chose to ignore it – one must make allowances for the infelicities of the underbred.

  "I am sure I do, Mr MacDonald. I would beg the assistance of one of your men tomorrow to show me where your new employees are to be discovered and then to take me along the route to your pit, sir. Shall we say at eight of the clock?"

  Septimus was less than pleased to discover that no separate provision had been made for the officers. He informed MacDonald that the half-battalion would provide an escort for the one occasion before removing itself to Derby, where he expected more gentlemanly treatment. The mine-owner countered with an offer of accommodation for the Major and his captains in his own house; he had no room spare for the lesser fellows, he said.

  The new hands who were to oust the strikers were all Welsh, Septimus discovered, and were camped out a mile from the pithead, at the canal basin where there was a ratty, dirty but otherwise empty warehouse. A trackway led uphill to the mine with a narrow road usable by a horse and cart paralleling it. There were low hills on either side, lightly wooded and offering little cover to an attacker, but at the half mile mark the trackway and road led through the colliery village itself, the brick and stone-built terraces within twenty feet of path the men must follow. Back alleys gave a dozen ways for men to congregate, throw their stones and run.

  The wooden rails of the trackway had been burned, which made very little difference to Septimus but showed that the strikers were serious in their commitment to disorder, he believed.

  "Officers to march with their companies, Mr Eeles. This is no place for horses."

  The trackway levelled off from the village to the mine and he could see sufficient of it; he chose not to enter the narrow confines of the terraces accompanied by just three men. He turned to the mine overseer walking at his side, asked whether there was another road into the mine.

  "Nobbut the one, sir, followin' the dale."

  He could send a company to march the hills and make their way down to the mine head, he supposed, but he had doubts about the wisdom of such a course. The miners must know the uplands better than his men could - their youngsters would certainly tramp them, rabbiting and berrying if for no other reason.

  "Light Company to lead. B and D to flank the new men, on either side of the column. The Grenadier Company and E to hold the rear and be ready to respond to assault. If they have men who have gone for a soldier in their midst, then we could have a small-scale campaign to fight here, Mr Eeles. Good land for a defence, I think!"

  "Have they guns, sir?"

  "Possible but unlikely, Mr Eeles - they are not of the sort to possess fowling pieces."

  "At what time do you propose to lead your new men out in the morning, Mr MacDonald?"

  "My overseer will expect them to start at six, Major Pearce. Thus, leaving their place at the canal soon after five, I would imagine, sir."

  "You will accompany them, I presume, sir?"

  "At five o'clock in the morning, Major Pearce? It is not my habit to rise at that hour, sir!"

  "I must have a magistrate in company, sir, preferably three, but one will do at a pinch. The Riot Act must be read before I can order my men to take any action other than to defend themselves."

  MacDonald knew his law sufficiently to accept that Septimus was right. There would be a presumption of murder was any rioter to be shot without the Act being read - no soldier could take the risk as there had been more than one conviction of an officer in the past.

  It was a very sour magistrate who stepped down from his carriage in company with Sir Ronald Tate at five o'clock.

  "Better that Sir Ronald be present as well, Major Pearce. As the mine-owner I could be accused in court of partiality, but he cannot."

  "Very good, sir. My men are to hand and the new workers have been told where to stand and what to do. We may step out just as soon as you are ready. I would advise on foot, gentlemen - horses may be frightened into ill behaviour, may even bolt, when the rocks fly and the muskets sound."

  Neither man fancied the walk, but they could not find a rational objection.

  "Sergeant Hardy! Yourself and a full platoon to guard the two gentlemen at all times, if you please. From the Grenadier Company would be best - tall men who can shield them from thrown stones with th
eir bodies if need be."

  That would not be a popular task, but the gentlemen would no doubt purchase a bottle for the platoon; if they did not - and neither seemed of the open-handed variety - Septimus would do so himself, passing a quart or two of gin anonymously to the sergeant to hand over.

  They set out, slowed from full march pace by the Welshmen, most of whom were barefoot and none well-fed. Presumably all had been without work, hence their willingness to risk strike-breaking. Edwards had explained that they would be called 'blacklegs' by the strikers - for their feet being covered in coal dust from working underground while the strikers remained clean.

  There were children up on the slopes, set to watch; they saw them scurry up to the colliery village.

  "Grenadier and E Company to march loaded! Mr Brookes, fire at my command, if you please. Mr Edwards, butts only until otherwise ordered!"

  The other captains took note and passed the word to their juniors.

  "Keep up the pace. Take no notice of words! Sergeant Dowdy! When the command is given I want all stone-throwers to be dealt with by the Light Company and the marksmen."

  The trackway and road were blocked at the entrance to the village, a hundred or more silent men stood in lines, shoulder to shoulder.

  Septimus led the magistrates to the front.

  "Gentlemen, I must await your instructions at this point."

  They dithered.

  "I suggest, gentlemen, that you order them to disperse, on grounds that they are blocking the public highway. If they do not do so, then you should read the Act."

  Sir Ronald stepped forward, reluctantly, clearing his throat.

  "Go away," he called weakly. He coughed and tried again. "You must move off the road and let us pass by in peace."

  A voice from the back ranks, out of sight, shouted something back in a thick local dialect that Septimus could not precisely catch. The meaning was obvious though.

  "I warn you that you must move away peacefully."

  "Stuff your warning up your arse!"

  That was clear enough.

  "Read the Act, sir," Septimus whispered.

  MacDonald, who had the better speaking voice, he believed, took the sheet in his hands and stepped forward, shouted the few necessary words clearly. Every man could hear all that was important, knew that Riot had been declared.

  "Mr Edwards, advance your company."

  The narrowness of the trackway and road together allowed them to advance in two ranks with no room for rioters to pass them.

  There was a shower of fist-sized stones as the company closed within thirty feet of the mob; men fell.

  "Light Company, load and be ready to clear the road!"

  The skirmishers formed their pairs and ran to the flanks, a few yards up the hillsides to places where they could see clearly and pick out targets at a few yards distant.

  Septimus paced forward, bellowed as loudly as he could.

  "Go home! Get out of the way or I will order my men to move you. Men will die if you do not go!"

  He was targeted by a dozen stones, fell to one knee, dizzy from a blow to the head.

  Brookes and Edwards shouted 'Fire', almost simultaneously. The other captains called their men to load.

  The bulk of the soldiers fired deliberately high or wide, not fancying killing their own folk and judging that the sound would be sufficient. A score at least aimed at the rioters, eight of them falling to the mud, bleeding heavily.

  The mob broke and ran, pursued by swinging musket butts - the men might not have been prepared to kill but they had no objection to handing out vigorous beatings. The families who had been watching scattered up the hillsides; they were not chased.

  Edwards was at the head of his men, roaring them on and pointing out targets. The rest of the officers began to pull their men back into control.

  Septimus stood and staggered and swore and brushed the blood away from his eyes and shouted for the companies to reform.

  Ten minutes and most were under command.

  Smoke rose from a terrace of older cottages, thatched rather than tile roofed. Edwards brought his men back from them.

  An hour later and the strike-breakers were mostly busy underground, a few remaining at the pithead with pickaxe handles in case of need.

  Septimus marched the half-battalion back; four of the men were on stretchers, heads split open and too dazed to walk. Passing the village they saw that the fires had spread, nearly half of the cottages in flames; there were five corpses laid out at the side of the road. They made no attempt to take count of the wounded.

  Mr MacDonald was in a state of open rage - they were his cottages and would cost as much as forty pounds apiece to replace after he had evicted the remaining strikers. He did not consider that the army had served his needs at all well and promised to raise Cain with the Lord Lieutenant, with the County Members, even with the King himself, for he had, he said, means of access to members of the Court.

  Edwards offered a more than normally contemptuous sneer and volunteered the opinion that 'the fat little bastard had never seen more of the King than the back of a guinea'.

  Septimus thought he was probably correct, but was in no mood to say so.

  "Strike camp and march out this afternoon, Mr Brookes - I doubt we have a lodging tonight! Mr Eeles, be so good as to ride into Derby and discover billets for tonight - there is a good chance that there will be space in the barracks because the Derbyshires are said to be spread about the whole county."

  They were gone by noon, leaving behind them a subdued but resentful population. Septimus cared not at all for that - his head hurt and he was sure the cut would leave a scar.

  Man of Conflict Series

  BOOK TWO

  Chapter Three

  Septimus paced slowly up the steps of Horse Guards, his first ever visit to the headquarters of the British Army. It was also his first trip to London and his first stay in a hotel; he realised that he was the country-boy come to Town and felt as vulnerable as when he had travelled to join the New Foresters at Christchurch.

  Cooper had dressed him with extra care, polishing boots and belt until he could see his face in them, and he had taken a hackney coach from the hotel, as much to protect him from the dust as to save him the walk. He was as well turned out as any of the shiny headquarters lackeys he could see doing remarkably little in the immediate area.

  A sergeant took his name and directed him to the appropriate offices and he was waiting for the attention of the General Officer Commanding far too quickly for his own satisfaction. He ran over his justification of his actions, carefully tailored to the prejudices of the man he was about to speak to. The general was the son of one bishop, had a brother who was another, was said to be much in favour of the hand of peace and friendship.

  He was called into the office, exchanged salutes with the General and was briefly introduced to the pair of aides, a captain and a lieutenant, also present. He saw the younger man sit to his desk and set out paper and ink to take a record of their proceedings; it seemed far too much like the preliminaries to a court.

  “Now, Major Pearce, you have had a busy summer, sir!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You were sent to the aid of the civil power in Lancashire and proceeded with a half-battalion to perform the task with a high degree of efficiency. I have here three separate reports from the office of the Lord Lieutenant of the County, each of which names you as a most effective officer, considerate of your duty and of the obligations, I quote, ‘of a Christian gentleman to those set beneath him’.”

  The General waited for a response.

  “I believed the bulk of those involved in disorder to be misguided, sir, and very often at desperation point for lack of food for their families. Some few were actively criminal but many more were simply foolish. The criminals I had no mercy for, sir, but I am very unwilling to beat or bayonet or shoot a man who is at wit’s end because his children are crying for hunger.”

  The Gen
eral was known as a devout gentleman, one of the growing number to be found in the professional army. Religion was becoming fashionable in some quarters, it seemed.

  “You are more tender-hearted than many, Major Pearce, but I am not to say you are wrong. The disorder was ended, sir, and with a mere two shot, none hanged and fewer than three hundred assigned to the service of the King. I am inclined to regard this as one of the most successful actions of many years. But what on Earth happened in Derbyshire, Major Pearce?”

  Septimus had thought very carefully of what he should say.

  “I lost control of the men, sir. You will observe the scar across my temple and leading into the hairline, sir. Almost completely healed and little enough when new; a stone hitting my head and rendering me almost insensible for a minute, dazed and confused for another five. The men reacted with anger at the sight of my blood and it took me some little time to bring them under command again, sir. I accept full responsibility, sir; the fault is wholly mine, for I had not considered being struck down and had not given my second sufficient instructions on what to do if I fell.”

  The General glanced at Septimus’ written report of the morning.

  “You mention ‘a minor wound’, Major Pearce. You did not make it clear that you were even temporarily incapacitated. Modesty is all very well, sir, but should not be taken too far. I accept that you were at fault for not giving your junior precise and unequivocal orders and that he may have made mistakes as a result. It is an error that any might make in such circumstances - it is not, after all, to be compared to entering the field of battle when a wound or death is to be expected. How experienced is the young man?”