Red Man

by Andrew Wareham

  “Then I shall put the word out – but it might be that farmers’ sons will be the sole applicants.”

  “Bring them in, sir. Our officers are men of their hands not primping cavaliers and pampered gentlefolk. A farmer’s boy will know how to work at his trade.”

  Major Jevons was not sure that he wanted to sit to table with farmers’ horny-handed sons, but he could see that they must have officers.

  “There is word that the men from the Trained Bands are a day distant, Captain Carew. They are marching slowly on the lanes, having taken a direct line across country to come here.”

  “Their sergeants would not have wished to take them through London, sir. The temptation to stay might have been too great as they passed close to their own homes.”

  “They will be reliable once they get here, I trust, Captain Carew.”

  “I think so, sir. They have all marched out to Turnham Green and been shot over. Besides that, they have all heard of the wicked doings of the King’s men at Brentford. They want blood, I am sure, sir.”

  “I pray they may not get it, Captain Carew. Surely men of goodwill may find another way to resolve these issues.”

  The two shook their heads. It was too late. Blood had been spilled and there was no longer a chance of peace.

  “The King has shown himself to lack honesty, sir. He cannot be trusted. He betrayed his own great supporter, Strafford, to the axe. Will he not be false to lesser men equally easily? We make a treaty with this man of blood and he will break it, claiming that he is bound by the Will of God and nothing else. He must be deposed, at the very least. The best we can do is to send him out of the country, and his whole family with him, and replace him with a reliable, Protestant prince. A new King and a strong House of Commons and the country may be ruled in peace again. Nothing less will suffice.”

  “What if he will not go, Captain Carew?”

  “Then he must accept his fate. He cannot stay because he cannot be trusted. The best would be for him to die fighting. The war could come to a quick end thereafter, possibly – although not necessarily - with his son taking the throne.”

  Major Jevons could not consider the King’s death without shuddering. He did not know that there could be forgiveness for any man who had stood on the field of battle where he died.

  Micah was inclined to be contemptuous – they had risen in arms and that meant battle and the death of many, of lesser and greater degree quite equally.

  “He has chanced all in battle, sir. That means that he has placed his own life at stake, just as much as you and I have done, sir.”

  “Easy for a young man to say, Captain Slater. I have lived long years under the governance of the King and his father. It is not easy for me to stand in arms against him.”

  “It should not be easy, sir. To rise and bring war to the country should be a hard decision, not one to be made lightly. The death of many and the destruction of their lands and families is not a matter to be considered casually, sir. We should take careful thought and pray long hours for guidance – but then, we must be resolute to do what is right. It is the Lord’s Will that we battle. We shall prevail, sir, even though we wade knee-deep in blood to achieve the right and true end.”

  Micah believed the words as he said them. Afterwards he wondered just how honest he was. He had drifted into the rebellion, had never given a deal of consideration to his actions. His friends had led and he had followed and he suspected that if their path had led him into the King’s camp he would be just as fervent a Cavalier – though not an officer, bearing in mind his birth.

  Even more thought suggested he was where he belonged – the King’s Party had no place for a reprobate quarryman.

  They had been given rooms in the big house – a mansion, in fact – with comfortable beds and fireplaces against the winter cold. They lived, in Micah’s opinion, in luxury. He was much in favour. He wondered in passing just how rich the Jevons family might be and how much land they held to provide such wealth.

  Major Jevons proudly explained that his father’s father had been a seaman, master of his own ship in Good Queen Bess’ day and that he had roamed to the Spanish Main.

  “Took a galleon, so he did, Captain Slater, and brought back the contents of its hold. One half was paid into the Queen’s own privy purse and the rest was divided up, half to the ship, the rest to the men in their shares. He owned the ship and he had the largest share besides as Master under God. His takings bought an acreage and built this house on it and still left a deal of money to live on and invest. He bought other ships and sent them out and as well bought a ropeworks at Chatham and a brewery down Faversham way and took shares in two separate shipyards on the Medway. In later years he was able to buy up other, smaller estates as well.”

  “And so he kept his wealth, Major. An able man. I am surprised he was not made a lord as well.”

  “He could have been, but he was a humble man and had no wish to pretend to be one of the gentry and to force himself into their company.”

  It seemed to Micah that the old gentleman had been a man of great virtue. He hoped he might achieve a small part of such success for his own family, so far distant in Lincolnshire.

  The men from the Trained Bands marched in, nearly two hundred strong and with four experienced sergeants among them. Trailing along behind was a motley group of youngsters of almost the same number, most of them unarmed and wearing an assortment of smocks and breeches and gaiters, drawn from the fields to join the cause. One small contingent of a score or so marched rather than shambled along and carried twelve foot pikes and wore helmets; they had been training on their green when the Trained Bands came by and had simply tagged on behind, off to fight for real, so they said.

  The battalion suddenly numbered well over eight hundred and they could expect to be turning men away within the month, their thousand made up.

  Major Jevons thought it best that the experienced men should be kept together in the two biggest companies so that the regiment would have a spearhead of the most effective men who could bear the brunt of the first battles and show the green youngsters how to go to war. He had the command and it was wiser to obey than to argue.

  Just two days later Micah stood on the parade square and looked at one hundred and fifty men stood in a block of fifteen rows of ten men abreast. They all wore the buff coat and boots and belts, although they were unarmed as yet. Two sergeants stood in front, facing him, and the young lieutenant and ensign Jevons had appointed stood to attention at his side.

  Micah inflated his chest.

  “Men, we are to be shot. Major Jevons, who has the ordering of the regiment, wants one company of the best to have pikes, the other muskets. Captain Carew has worked pikes in the Germanies and I have some knowledge of muskets fighting the Scots, so that is how we have arranged ourselves. Many of you, I well know, have carried a firelock before now. We shall drill even so, until you can all work your muskets in your sleep. That way, you will stay alive when the dragoons come chasing down on you. More importantly, the dragoons will not survive the unwisdom of closing with Colonel Jevons’ Regiment of Foot! We shall be the best of regiments – and you will be the best company. Best of the best, that is us!”

  They did not cheer – that was not their way, but a number of heads nodded in sober agreement. They would meet their fierce captain’s demand.

  “Today and for the next while, we shall draw muskets from the Armoury and drill with them. We shall work together to form into two lines, as if we man a wall or stand behind a hedgerow. Then we shall learn to fire in three lines, in order on the open field, fifty and fifty and fifty, to command. After that, forming a square. First a company square and then two or more companies together. When that is done and I am satisfied, then we shall draw powder and ball and fire the pieces until you are able to hold them level and pointed straight. In three months we shall be a company of fighting men, able to hold our own on any field. Sergeants, take the men to the Armoury.”

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p; Micah stood back and watched the men march in loose order off the ground and file into the big barn and then come out of the far door laden down with musket, stand, powder and ball and match. He was pleased to see the experienced men of the Bands showing the green men how to hold and wear each properly so that they could march carrying their weaponry. He turned to the young officers

  “Best to leave the sergeants to the job today, gentlemen. They will simply show the men who need to learn how to stand. As well, they will watch and see who should be made corporal. They will tell us the names tonight and I shall appoint the men when we parade in the morning.”

  “Will not that give the sergeants too much of authority in the company, Captain?”

  “No. We must trust them to behave as good men should. They have had the chance to put their names forward as officers – and they would have made good lieutenants, if that had been their wish. They have chosen to remain in the ranks, for preferring not to take the greater responsibility. They will not usurp your place, gentlemen, for not wanting it. They have my trust - and must be given yours as well. They know far more than you or I and will allow us the benefit of their experience when the time arises. Listen to them before you give your orders and do not go against them without the best of good reason. They are good men and will not let you down. Offer them the same courtesy.”

  Lieutenant Halleck was not sure that he wished to be guided by a mere sergeant – he was a gentleman born, after all, and a man of full age.

  “That, I know, Mr Halleck. Your father owns a landed estate and you have ridden since boyhood and have used a sporting gun. These are useful talents, I believe, but you have not yet been to war. The sergeants have been shot over literally dozens of times. Each spent more than ten campaigns in the wars in the Germanies, fighting repeatedly in skirmishes and actual battles. They have knowledge that you do not, and far more than I have. My pistols and blade have seen blood, but not the tenth part of theirs! Yours have seen none. Learn and you will know what to do within a few months. For the while, you must accept that you are no more than a very new apprentice to your trade.”

  Mr Halleck was sure that he would require very little teaching – war came naturally to the gentleman, it was in his blood.

  “Excellent! Be sure that your blood remains in your veins long enough to be of use to us.”

  Ensign Walsh, who was very young, said nothing but looked a little green at the thought of blood.

  “Today, gentlemen, I will take you to the yard at the back, out of sight of the company, with your blade and pistols. Mr Halleck you will wish to assist me with Mr Walsh, I do not doubt.”

  “Well, yes, of course, sir. With the blade I can be of some use, I believe. I have not actually had experience of the pistol – one has small use for the dragoon pistol in ordinary life.”

  “True indeed, yet it is easy enough to master. Come now. Let us be about our business. The sergeants will be happier to see our backs while they kick the arses of the slower of the green boys.”

  “But… Surely not, Captain!”

  Micah grinned and nodded.

  “Some of the boys – most of them, very likely – are no more than plodding hinds, used to the pace of the plough horse and the dung cart. It will need a sharp reminder to get them to move quickly, something they have never in their lives needed to do. The sergeants know that and will provide all that is needed, but best done out of an officer’s sight.”

  Ensign Walsh could not understand why; Halleck, equally ignorant, chose to be silent and seem wiser.

  “What will happen is that some ignorant young fellow will feel the toe of the sergeant’s boot and know that he is a free-born Englishman who will not take such an indignity. He will turn around and swing a punch. What must you do if you see a man try to hit a sergeant?”

  “Why, sir, I will order his arrest on the spot and see him tied to the whipping post at very least. If it should be in the field, then I will have him before the Major and see him hanged for his pains.”

  “Exactly! That is why you must not see him. If you are witness to great insubordination, then you must act – so take yourself away and let the sergeant deal with the business himself. Any farm boy who swings a punch at an old sergeant will soon learn the exact nature of his mistake – a boot where it hurts and a solid clout around the ear, if he’s lucky! We do not wish to flog and hang our men, yet as officers we must do just that if we are presented with evidence of their wickedness. So, we avoid such a sight.”

  The boy was puzzled. He was still a young lad, his voice broken but not so many months previously. He was determined to go to war, to do his duty as he had learned it in chapel, but he was unsure in the world of men.

  “If we avoid seeing the misconduct of the men, sir, how do we prevent it?”

  “We do not, Mr Walsh. The sergeants have the job of presenting us with a company of fighting men. They will do that without using the whip if at all possible, for the men are all volunteers who wish to go to war and will resent a flogging. They must remain willing to fight at our heels – and that means a light touch with them. Our job is to stand tall in front of them when the smell of powder is in the air. First into the field in victory and last off in defeat – that is us. For the best, we should have blood on our blades and they should see us shooting off our pistols, and killing our men.”

  “What do we do in barracks, sir?”

  “Very little; the men do not want us interfering in their ordinary lives. They are volunteers, not pressed men, and must be shown the respect they believe they deserve. Discipline comes in battle, and they will learn that and discover why we demand it of them. Other than that – there is much to be said for keeping out of the way.”

  The boy was left even more unsure, but he had heard mention in the mess of the Red Man and exaggerated tales of how the nickname had been earned. He was not to argue with such a one.

  The back yard behind the barns had been turned into a butts with sacks stuffed with hay and straw against the rear fence to prevent stray rounds flying across the countryside.

  “Pistols, gentlemen. Load.”

  The two carried a pair of dragoon pistols apiece. They were long-barrelled and heavy, intended to be kept in saddle holsters and discharged at ten or at most twenty feet. Accuracy was not a major factor – they were to be pointed rather than aimed, to be used in the close melee or by dragoon troops performing the caracole.

  Practice was for horse soldiers to form a line and cross the front of foot at a distance of a few yards, discharging their first pistol and then to ride a few more yards and about face and swing back to fire the second. A well-disciplined regiment of horse could break a battalion in a single caracole and take few casualties because the matchlock was so slow to reload.

  “You may find it easier to use a lighter pistol when on foot, as we can expect to be in battle. I carry six on a crossbelt when the need arises, lighter than dragoon pistols, heavy enough to knock a man down.”

  Rootes was waiting with the belts and came forward to strap them round Micah’s waist and to his shoulder.

  “Loaded, sir.”

  “Thank’ee, Rootes.”

  Micah stood to the front and pointed across to a scarecrow figure on a post at twenty feet distant.

  “That’s our target for the day. Watch.”

  He placed his feet and readied himself.

  “Draw the pistol and point it, being careful to hold level. Thumb back and squeeze…”

  The pistol crashed and a sack of hay at the fence jerked as the ball hit it.

  “Holster and pull the next… and the third…”

  He fired six rounds in the space of a minute. Two of them hit the target.

  “Better than normal. I carry six pistols in the hope of hitting once. The balls may well hit into the ranks behind the front. If they miss everything, they will still cause men to duck and be less bold. If the attacker is horse, then aim at the animal – it’s far bigger and you will hit more often.�
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  They had both jumped at the first explosion, stood still now, trying not to seem shamefaced.

  “Mr Halleck. Your turn. Level and squeeze, do not snatch at the trigger.”

  The lieutenant fired twice, loud crashes, and his three-quarters of an inch rounds ripped holes in the sacking.

  “Well done. You held level. You missed the target, but a soldier would have heard balls whistling past his ears – which is never a pleasant sound and brings men to their knees in fear very often. Mr Walsh.”

  The boy shot and stumbled, nor expecting the kick of the dragoon pistol with its heavy charge. He collected himself and drew the second and forced it to the level, despite its weight, and managed to nick the very side of the target.

  “Oh, good shot, Mr Walsh! You see the size of the ball your pistol fires – imagine that hitting your hip!”

  The boy looked sick at the thought.

  “That would put that man out of fight, Mr Walsh. He would be down and probably screaming too. Think how his friends in the ranks will feel as they see and hear him.”

  Micah spoke forcefully, watching the boy’s face. There was a chance that he would be so revolted by the thought that he would drop his weapon and go home, never to fight again. If that was so, better he should discover now he was no fighting man before he could let the men down in battle.

  “Thank you, sir. Should I ask my father to buy me more pistols, do you think?”

  “If you can take their weight then four or six of the smaller, shorter pistols such as I carry will make good sense. You as well, Mr Halleck.”

  “Yes, sir. What of our swords, sir? Yours is heavier than mine or Mr Walsh’s.”

  “I am bigger than either of you, I believe, and, importantly, stronger by far. Years of working a slate quarry have given me a chest and shoulders such as few men possess. I do not boast, I merely point out the fact. I bought the backsword for being a weapon I could swing all day if needs be.”

  He drew the sword and handed it across.

  “Feel the simple mass of the sword, Mr Halleck. You will see the thickness of the back, strengthening the blade but making it heavy as well.”