“Sit down Thomas.” My father reached for a cigar in a box on his desk and then after a moment’s hesitation, he did something he had not done before, he offered me one too. I had experimented with cigars at school and smoked a few times at Inns during my recent summer of debauchery and so reached forward and took one. After we had both gone through the ritual of snipping the end of the cigars and lighting them from the candles on the table we sat back and stared at each other through a smoky fog. I was determined to appear like a man before my father and so was trying hard not to cough and hoping that he could not see my eyes watering through the smoke.
“Thomas you cannot imagine the horror of a battlefield. I was at Marburg and swore that I would never see one again.”
I knew he had done some Army service when a young man and had fought at Marburg in ’60 but this was the first time I had heard him talk about it.
“We fought on a riverbank early on a hot summer’s day. There was a thick river mist. I was in charge of an outpost platoon that was supposed to warn of the enemy approach, but in the fog we lost our bearings. We heard marching and crept forward unsure if we would find the French or our own British and Hanoverian troops. The French came out of the mist in their white coats like ghosts.”
He paused to take a sip of port and then continued, his eyes looking at one of the candlesticks as though lost in his memory.
“They were only fifty yards off and saw us in our dark red tunics easily. I heard some shouted commands and within a few seconds they had stopped and fired a volley in our direction. We were hugely outnumbered with half a dozen of their muskets aimed at each one of us. The crash of their fire was deafening. I felt a tug at my coat where a ball passed through and I am sure I felt the air move as a ball passed close to my cheek. For a second I was frozen and then I looked to my right, the man next to me had been hit in the chest and head. The back of his head had exploded out and he was already dead before he started to fall. Further down the line nearly everyone seemed to be hit, several already falling, a couple still standing and staring with shock at the growing crimson stains on their shirts. I looked round and the man to my left was on his knees holding in his guts and rocking backwards and forward and starting to whimper. I must have stood there several seconds before I looked again at the French. The smoke from their volley had hidden them but now they started to appear, marching out of the smoke with their bayonets iron grey in the mist.”
Now he looked at me and spoke more briskly to ensure that I got the point of this story.
“I turned and ran. No thoughts of military glory, just survival. I ran. I did not know in which direction only that each step was taking me away from those bayonets. Only five of our section survived that encounter.” He paused to take a puff on the cigar. “As it turned out we had done our job well from the Army’s point of view. The French started to move in the direction we had run thinking we were running back to our lines. The volley gave away the French position and the British infantry attacked their flank, again coming out of the mist and finding the French facing the wrong direction.
The mist melted rapidly as the sun came up and revealed a sight I will never forget. The regiment that had attacked us was now mostly dead and dying in the field where they had found us. They had been attacked by our infantry and our cavalry had ridden ‘em down when they broke. I wandered the field of dead and dying until I found the bodies of the men I had been with. One was still alive and I held his hand while he died. He made me promise that I would do more with my life than rot in some foreign field and I kept that promise.”
I stared with shock; I had never heard my father talk so openly and honestly about his past. For a moment he seemed embarrassed himself and then he pressed on.
“Now I don’t doubt that when you think of the army you think of all the attractions of the officer’s mess and the effect the uniform will have on the ladies.” Well he had me there. That was exactly what I was thinking about.
“But we don’t have an army on the continent now father, I will have plenty of time to learn soldiering.”
“You don’t survive by learning soldiering, at least not unless you are a general.” He was talking with passion now and banged his hand on the table to make his point. “It is luck boy! When the balls start flying it is sheer bloody luck if you survive unscathed. Look at Marburg, we killed six times the number we lost, why? Because some silly fool got himself lost and blundered into their lines. You are only here because some very long odds came off that all those Frenchie balls went wide. I know it and I don’t want to see a son of mine gamble like that.”
He took another sip of port and puffed again on his cigar before continuing calmly. “This world is corrupt you must know that. Soldiers and even generals are pawns in the games that politicians play to gather influence and destroy their enemies. They move the pieces and grow fat from patronage and sleep comfortable in their beds while they send others to die in the blood and the shit. Look at James he knows how things work.”
My father had helped my brother James find a position with the Navy Board overseeing ship repairs.
“Why he tells me that private dockyards are ten times more efficient than those run by the Navy board where every dockyard manager and clerk grows fat on the wages of nonexistent workers.”
As it turns out both my father and brother were wrong there, the situation was even worse. In 1803 a parliamentary commission found that three hundred men could build seven ships a year in private dockyards but in naval yards with three thousand men officially paid on the books they could barely manage to repair seven ships per year.
“No I’ll not buy you a commission in the Army, you will go to work for Castlereagh. He is at the centre of things at the moment so there is plenty of opportunity to make an impression. Give it until you are 21 and then we will talk again. Remember while I am alive I can pay you an allowance but when I am gone James will inherit the estate and he will have his own children to support then. You need to secure an income and you won’t manage that on half pay in a regiment.”
~~~~~~
Chapter 2
So that was it, the die was cast. Whether Sally really was with child I never discovered. I saw her again two years later and she gave me a very surly look. She had a child on her hip then but it was hard to judge the age. Anyway it could not have been mine for it was an ugly little squirt.
I left for London the day after talking to my father. I did not sleep well that night as my father had given me a lot to think about. Up until then I had taken it for granted that I was part of a wealthy family. I had not thought too much about the future and had tried to ignore the fact that in time the bulk of the wealth would go to my brother. My father would leave me some funds so I would not be penniless but the estate, London house and most of the investments that supported the house and estate, would go to James. It was the way it had always been with families, the eldest son inherits and I did not begrudge my brother his wealth. But now I had to start my own way in the world and it seemed the sooner the better.
It was nearly noon when I left on horseback with a pack pony for my luggage and Jasper the groom as body guard. The Old Man had given me ten guineas for the journey, far more than I needed, and a note for another fifty drawn on his bank to tide me over while I got established. While the roads were safer than they had been, a wealthy young man travelling alone with a lot of luggage was asking for trouble. So I was glad to have Jasper alongside, his presence would help deter any thieves. We each held horse pistols in our saddle bags but any sensible man would only use these if they were desperate. It was virtually impossible to hit someone from a moving horse and so these blunderbuss type pistols scattered the shot over a wide area. The result was that you were likely to only wound and enrage an attacker while the recoil could easily break your wrist, leaving you defenceless.
At a leisurely 30 miles a day pace it would take around two and half days to reach London and Jasper was good company. He had been a soldi
er too although seemed strangely reluctant to talk about it – perhaps my father did not want him to give me ideas. Instead he talked about his days as a drover driving animals to London, joking about the noise the geese made when they herded them over trays of hot tar to coat their feet before walking them in sand to protect their legs for the journey. Protecting the animal’s feet was essential for the drover for if they would not make the distance he would not be paid. He told me how once his father had made him give up his socks and one boot to make some shoes to protect the feet of a prime sow. We passed some pigs on the journey and they all wore their little woollen socks with leather soles and we checked the drover’s boy had his boots on.
Now you may be wondering why I am wasting your time with these bucolic memories. Well I didn’t realise it then but country life in England was about to undergo the biggest changes it had seen since the Black Death plague in medieval times. When I took that journey most country people we passed were self sufficient through the use of common land. Each village would have some fields that everyone from the squire to the poorest peasant could use to graze sheep, cows or raise pigs. Other fields were for crops, with many laid out on a strip system dating back to before the Norman Conquest.
This was about to change as landowners were realising the value of this common land and getting Acts of Parliament passed so that they could enclose them, throwing off the common folk and leaving them to starve or move on. An Act of Parliament was passed the following year which made the process much more straightforward and ultimately saw over a fifth of the land of England enclosed.
Many of the peasantry I saw on that journey were soon to be forced from their land and most wound up in cities or the growing industrial towns in the north. There jobs were being created through new technologies such as steam in cotton mills or foundries or mining for coal.
There are many nowadays that say these workers have a bad lot and compare their lives to some rural idyll that they enjoyed before. But let me tell you that there was plenty of bare arsed poverty in those villages when we passed through them. In a factory your income is not dependent on the weather or your pig dying unexpectedly. There was no poor-house then, if you could not feed yourself you had to beg and in many villages we had to push our way through scabrous children and some adults in rags begging for coins.
On horseback we were not tied to the coaching inns which did their best to fleece travellers of any money they had. Instead we stopped at inns that Jasper knew from his droving days. They turned out to be very comfortable and with hearty meals made from animals that had got ‘lost’ from the flocks. Over the two nights we dined with some farmers, a lawyer heading north and a parson. All were red cheeked cheery fellows until the conversation turned to tax – which it invariably did. To pay for the war with France and Spain the Government had just introduced a tax on income. The government was already taxing all manner of things from tea, tobacco, sugar and even windows and this catch all tax was seen as the last straw. Of course we all conveniently ignored the fact that the brandy we drank after the meal while we joined in the cries against Government corruption and greed was probably smuggled tax free from France.
On the afternoon of the third day we approached London. Even after travelling roads well covered with animal dung, we could almost smell London before we saw it. London was growing fast but it was a city of big contrasts between rich and poor. The new buildings springing up on the outskirts were not keeping pace with the growth in the population. Poor people were crammed into every available space with tenements and slums down every alley. At the same time areas were being cleared for the wealthy in the centre of town and new spacious villas and terraces were being constructed. This compacted the poorer areas even more. The streets were filthy from the human waste thrown into the road and people were everywhere. Several times Jasper had to use a cudgel to keep prying hands from the pack horse and sometimes we had to spur the horses through some crowds to avoid being waylaid.
My brother had bought one of the new townhouses in a smart terrace in one of the better parts of town. Before I rang the bell I stood with my back to the door and surveyed what I could see of the city. Another identical terrace was being built on the opposite side of the street but over the scaffolding you could see churches, warehouses and a sea of buildings of every description down to the distant river. This city was where I had to make a name for myself. It was where things happened, a growing empire was controlled and lives won or lost. It was my new home. With mounting excitement I turned back and pulled on the bell chain.
“Brother Thomas, how good to see you.” My sister in law welcomed me to their new home. I liked Emily, she was far too good for that pompous brother of mine but they seemed happy together. She showed me around and pointed out the new furniture and decorations in the latest regency style. They were pleased to have me as a guest until I found work and could support myself. That evening they took me out in a cab to see the sights in the town. As we passed the old St Stephen’s Chapel in the Palace of Westminster that now served as the House of Commons, my brother James brought me up to date with what was happening in parliament.
William Pitt had been Prime Minister of Britain since I was an infant and so complete had been his control of parliament it was hard for me to imagine anyone else in the role. But it seemed that we were heading towards a constitutional crisis as Pitt and the King were directly opposed over the issue of Ireland. A French invasion of Ireland four years earlier only failed due to bad weather and there had been a major uprising by the Irish themselves just two years ago. If the French were to get a foothold in Ireland it would give them a new invasion launching point and there would be many disaffected Irish that would join them. It would be a disaster for the rest of Britain. Pitt and Castlereagh, the Secretary for Ireland, were determined to bring Ireland fully into the union of England, Scotland and Wales to make it less likely they would break away or support an invader. But this involved giving Catholics the same rights as Protestants to sit in Parliament. There was however huge opposition to this from the establishment, led by the King himself. Pitt had just got the Act of Union passed in parliament which added Ireland fully to the Union of England, Scotland and Wales, with a new Union Jack flag created as a result. There were rumours though that the King would block the proposals to give the same rights to Catholics. This would leave Castlereagh humiliated as he had given assurances to Catholics that it would be part of the bill. Relations between the King and the Prime Minister were at an all time low.
“Castlereagh will see you,” James said “but you need to be careful. Both Pitt and Castlereagh seem to think that they can talk the King round but I have heard that the King is completely entrenched. Even if he can find you a position if Pitt resigns so will Castlereagh and your post may go with it. If you get into an office, try and quickly make some friends amongst the Whigs too as they could soon be in power.” This did not fill me with confidence that I was about to start a long and prosperous government career. In fact it looked like after seventeen years of stable government I had chosen exactly the wrong moment to try to look for work.
If I was depressed at my prospects before then I certainly was not encouraged by my meeting with the man himself. In the end I finally introduced myself to Castlereagh not at the Irish office but at his home at Cleveland Square. I was there exactly on time but had to wait half an hour as he was running late from the House of Commons. His wife Emily was very apologetic and organised tea while I waited and when Castlereagh finally appeared he also apologised but seemed now in a rush for another appointment. We met in his study and he read my Father’s letter and said that he would try to find me a position. He was tall and I dare say handsome with a soft Irish brogue to his voice.
“What skills do you have Mr Flashman, you speak French and Latin I suppose?”
From school sir yes and Spanish as my mother was Spanish and she taught us.”
“Interesting, that is more unusual, although not a lot of use
in Ireland but leave it with me Mr Flashman. As you will know it is a difficult time at the moment but I do mind your father well. He has helped me in the past and I would like to return the favour. So let me look out for the right opportunity and I will be in touch.”
As I was about to take my leave the door opened and a much younger man strolled in.
“Dammit Robert that blasted bitch has done it again.”
At that moment he noticed me in the room and came to a sudden stop. Castlereagh with a weary smile introduced us.
“Thomas Flashman, I would like to introduce the impetuous young fool that is my brother Charles Stewart.” We shook hands as Castlereagh added “Thomas has only recently arrived in London and is from a fine respectable family and so I don’t want you leading him into any of your haunts of depravity”
“As if I would dear brother” says Charles in the same soft Irish accent while giving me a wink. “New in London you say, well you’ll be looking for places that sell hot buns and fine French pastries I’ll be bound and I know all the best ones as anyone will tell you. Now don’t worry brother I can think of a spotlessly clean place I can take our Mr Flashman to that will wash off that country dirt and leave him fine fettle for whatever you have planned for him.”
Castlereagh gave a resigned smile “Mr Flashman you had better leave us while you still can as I must detain my brother for a word in private.”
I left the room but instead of leaving the house I waited in the hall. After a few minutes Stewart came out and grinned broadly when he saw me. He was around 22 then, tall, broad with sandy curly hair and normally he had a devil may care attitude. But as I discovered later he was a troubled man and occasionally when drunk and with company he trusted he revealed his tortured inner self. But then I knew nothing of this, I just saw someone who could save me from stumbling blindly around by myself and introduce to me the best places to have fun in London. Both my father and my brother had stressed the needs of making the right connections and the brother, well half brother as it turned out, of my new patron seemed a good place to start.
Flashman and the Seawolf Page 2