Hervey 07 - An Act Of Courage

by Allan Mallinson

  Sir Edward looked pained. To the dismay of not being able to feed his troop – horses or men – was now added the distaste of one of his officers fighting with another. ‘I know that it was not brawling, Hervey, but that is what the canteen will be saying. It does not do to have officers appearing at odds with each other. There are badmashes who would take advantage, if I may borrow a word from our Indian friends. It’s not so very long ago that I recall speaking with you of advancement, and here we are now contemplating the very opposite!’

  Hervey shook his head. He was a cornet of but a year – less; Sir Edward Lankester was a captain of much experience. But Corunna had steeled him in considerable measure. ‘Truly I do not see what else might have been, Sir Edward, except to be knocked down by him. If I had merely stood in his way there would have been a struggle of some kind, just as repugnant, for he was much taken by drink. And I have at least spared him the charge of striking a subordinate, which I had every belief he might do.’

  Sir Edward held up a hand. ‘I don’t doubt any of it. But are you able to say that your action was in no degree animated by the anger at seeing the horse?’

  ‘No, I cannot, Sir Edward. But I do believe that it made not the slightest difference to the outcome. Daly was drunk and attempted an assault. I defended myself.’

  ‘A little prematurely, some might say.’

  ‘They would not if they had been there, Sir Edward.’ He paused. ‘And there were witnesses.’

  Sir Edward nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Ah yes, witnesses. The orderly quartermaster and the picket. How do you suppose that would serve – a serjeant and dragoons giving evidence against an officer?’

  Hervey said nothing. It was a loathsome prospect. But he had imagined Daly would be facing two charges: causing unlawful injury – even death – to an animal in the King’s service, and drunkenness (the latter offence obviating any graver charge of assault, threatened or otherwise). Why, therefore, was his troop-leader speaking of witnesses? ‘Sir, I am revolted by the notion, but I believe I acted honourably as picket-officer. I trust that Mr Daly will do likewise now.’

  Sir Edward sighed. ‘There is the rub, Hervey. Warde has told me already that Daly intends bringing charges against you.’

  Hervey felt sick again.

  ‘But be assured, I don’t doubt you for an instant. I shall go with Warde to the colonel to see if this may be resolved directly. For the meantime, I trust you will not speak of it. The very best thing will be to remain active: take a patrol north to see if there’s anything to be bought by way of rations. Return by midday. Take Serjeant Strange with you.’

  ‘Yes, Sir Edward.’

  Hervey took his leave, feeling better for the expression of trust, except that by specifying Serjeant Strange, Sir Edward spoke of some doubt still. Strange was the steadiest NCO in the troop, probably in the regiment.

  An hour later, in the shade of the same olive tree, the adjutant announced A and H Troop leaders to the commanding officer: ‘Captain Lankester and Captain Warde, Colonel.’

  Lord George Irvine looked up from his camp-chair. ‘I can offer you no hospitality, gentlemen, but take your ease, if you will.’ The first of the mules had come up with the regiment’s baggage, so there were at least chairs for them to take, if nothing else. ‘I compliment you both on your stables again. I thought the horses in extraordinarily good condition at muster, all things considered.’ He smiled. ‘Even John Knight says so.’

  ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ they replied.

  Lord George shook his head, and looked grave again. ‘Wellesley’s going to have to fill some bellies, though, if he intends a general action. I’m assured there’s bread and beef on its way to us, and, by God, not before time; but there’s nothing of corn yet.’

  ‘It could be worse, Colonel. There’s plenty of couch grass, at least,’ said Warde, holding up a cigar.

  Lord George nodded, and again at the cigar.

  Warde lit it – a quarter of a fine Havana, which was all that remained of his supply after two months marching in what they had begun calling the Wilderness. ‘I wonder if we might boil up these olives the Good Lord has provided. There are trees for miles, say the guides.’

  Lord George looked encouraged. ‘I think it a very serviceable suggestion.’ He turned to the adjutant. ‘Have someone ask John Knight if there be any objection to that.’

  The adjutant went to find an orderly.

  ‘Now, this wretched Daly affair,’ continued Lord George, briskly. ‘What’s to do?’

  Captain Warde spoke first. ‘Well, Colonel, I questioned him after stand-down this morning. Beale-Browne had already alerted me to the business. Daly says that John Knight would not oblige him in the proper treatment of his charger – which he very imperiously, though correctly, asserts is his own property – so he was obliged to treat the animal himself. He apparently took a brand iron from the farrier, got his servants to assist him and performed the cauter with his own hand.’

  Lord George nodded. ‘John Knight has explained the procedure to me. Evidently the iron must have been red hot, and the horse, enfeebled by the work and short rations, succumbed to the great shock of it.’

  Sir Edward Lankester’s brow furrowed. ‘Is John Knight approving the procedure in general? I have always considered it barbarous.’

  ‘No, he’s not. He very much disapproves of firing what he calls soft tissue, for the reason that it distresses the animal too greatly, and the cauter is prone to infection. But he conceded that his is not the universal view in this regard.’

  Captain Warde looked troubled. ‘Do we consider any of this relevant, Colonel? The charge is one of assault. I wonder, indeed, why Daly and Hervey don’t just have it out with pistols.’

  Lord George smiled benignly. ‘I fear, my dear Edwin, that such an eminently sensible course is closed to us. I’m certain Wellesley would have both of them court-martialled afterwards. No, the matter is relevant if there is to be any counter-charge of negligence, or misuse of an animal. In the case of assault, Daly has a right to bring such a charge, of course, and I am obliged to settle it by court martial. I should have no hesitation in bringing a charge of assault against him, since the picket-officer is my executive during silent hours. But it is all a pretty mess, and would be presided over by a judge advocate and officers from outside the regiment. Will be, indeed, for I don’t see what discretion I may have on account of his scandalous conduct in front of dragoons.’ He sighed, the intense distaste for such a thing perfectly evident. ‘And all this with a general action promising!’

  The adjutant had returned. ‘Shall I summon Mr Daly to your orderly room then, Colonel?’

  Lord George frowned. ‘Yes. And soon, if we must. It were better that it were done quickly.’

  ‘Very good, Colonel. And John Knight says that olives well boiled would be a capital thing, perhaps fed with chop.’

  Lord George’s spirits brightened a fraction. ‘Well, gentlemen, that is something. Let us hope that ravens appear soon for our own stomachs’ sake!’

  In the afternoon, the adjutant summoned Hervey again. Hervey, finding his situation as ‘hero’ to the cornets a queer thing with the threat of court martial hanging over him, tried hard to appear neither anxious nor assured. Barrow’s manner was unusually warm, but the unhappy explanation soon came: Cornet Daly was pressing the charge of assault, he said, and the lieutenant-colonel saw no alternative but to order a court martial, at which, Barrow hoped most fervently, the counter-charges of assault and mis-treatment would be heard.

  ‘In the meantime, Mr Hervey, the lieutenant-colonel wishes you to continue in your appointment, and to discharge your duty with the zeal he would expect of one of his officers.’

  Hervey swallowed hard. ‘The lieutenant-colonel may depend upon it, sir.’

  ‘Very well, you may dismiss. Oh, and the major would speak with you. He’s over yonder.’ Barrow pointed to another olive tree twenty yards away, where the red pennant of the regimental major of the 6th Light
Dragoons hung limp in the still air.

  Hervey saluted and turned, then made for the major’s tree. He did not see Barrow shaking his head slowly.

  ‘Cornet Hervey, sir,’ he announced, two dozen paces later.

  Major Joseph Edmonds, sitting in a camp-chair cleaning his pistols, looked up. ‘Well, Cornet Hervey, a pretty business, this. Sit you down.’

  It was not what Hervey had expected to hear. He took the other camp-chair and removed his forage cap.

  ‘I’ve been told everything. I’ve spoken to Treve and half the picket.’

  Hervey supposed that only Edmonds could have had such disregard for the formalities as to speak direct with a serjeant and dragoons. He returned the steady gaze, now entirely confident.

  ‘Treve said you were boiling.’

  ‘That is true, sir. The horse was a sorry sight.’

  ‘Treve said he was boiling more.’

  Hervey almost smiled. ‘I can easily imagine.’

  Edmonds blew into the firing pan, then held the pistol up to the light to inspect the barrel. ‘Daly is a thoroughly objectionable officer. He has every disagreeable feature of that class of man, and not one of the strengths, as far as I can see. I have no idea what are his means, but he signs credit notes as if they were nothing at all. I heartily mistrust his instincts, and I have told Warde this.’

  Hervey was stunned by so decided a pronouncement from the regiment’s second in command.

  ‘But the trouble is, being Irish, when he’s backed into a corner the only thing he knows to do is fight. And when he is bowed and bloodied, he’ll get up and think nothing of it and expect to carry on as before. If the court martial goes against him – and I can’t see how it can’t – the sentence may yet be lenient, and we shall have him still.’

  Hervey saw things perfectly well, but he could not see to what the major’s words tended.

  Edmonds laid down the pistol, and sighed. ‘Funny things, courts martial, Hervey. Officers from other regiments don’t always see things the same; which is, of course, why there are courts martial. But see – and this is the reason I sent for you – you are not to take alarm when the papers come. The colonel is perfectly convinced of the truth of the affair. He wholly agrees with me with regard to the character of Mr Daly. So you are to return to duties as if this were nothing, you understand?’

  ‘Indeed, sir. That is what the adjutant instructed me, too.’

  ‘Good. And not one word of this is to be repeated.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  Edmonds’s brow furrowed. ‘See, Hervey, we shall very probably face a general action in the next day or so, and I wouldn’t lay odds on the Spaniards holding, in which case we’ll be sorely pressed and may well find ourselves running for the sea again. Wellesley will have want of every high-stomached officer he has.’

  Hervey glowed at the compliment. Edmonds had been his troopleader for but a few months when he had first joined, and he knew his praise to be sparing. ‘I understand, sir.’

  ‘Well then, be about it!’ He picked up his second pistol and began rubbing the barrel as if Hervey had already gone.

  *

  There had been a modest issue of rations for men and horses late in the morning, and both had fed early in consequence. At six, relieved of further duty, and partially filled with bread and beef for the first time in days, Hervey sat propped against an olive tree and took up his journal.

  25th July

  nr Talavera de la Reina

  Country very harsh and dry, and hills many, and with steep cliffs. There are olive groves, however, and vines, and these relieve barren appearance somewhat, but grass is poor and unlikely to sustain unless we graze by the Tagus. Intend visiting Talavera as soon as may be, to see its walls and towers, which are very ancient says Laming, also to buy silk from the royal factory there. We are told our eastward march towards Toledo is halted by the presence of a French army under command of Joseph Bonaparte himself, and that Genl. Cuesta is obliged to withdraw his advance divisions. Sir A.W. has sent fwd a division and Anson’s brigade (23rd L.D. and 1st L.D. K.G.L.) to the R. Alberche to cover the retrograde movement of the Spanish, which vexes us all since the Sixth has not yet seen action except skirmish at Porto! We are brigaded with Genl. Fane’s heavies (3rd D.G. and Royals), but are to join Genl. Cotton tomorrow (14th L.D. and 16th L.D.) to form line of observation between Talavera and the Alberche. They say Sir A.W. is well pleased at the prospect of a general action since the ground he has chosen on which to stand on the defensive is very favourable to the infantry and also to the guns. I do not recall the place, though we first passed this way with Sir John Moore last November, and there is so great a difference between that season and now that I do not believe I should recognize any but a town of some substance. All the rivers are v. low, and some altogether dry.

  J and L are new-shod today and both sound, also my mule Pedro. Sykes has a fever but is not too ill and will not report himself sick for fear of being left behind. Sir E.L. sent me on forage patrol in morning. Found nothing but olives. Commissaries brought in some corn and grey bread and beef, but no wine. Water is sweet, however, and we do not have to boil it with tea. Commissary officers are in high dudgeon for apparently Sir A.W. berates them for lack of address, the Spaniards all being well victualled.

  In spite of vexations too shaming to record, I am tolerably well, and look forward keenly to the morrow.

  All next day, the Sixth stood to the east of Talavera without a sign of the enemy, although they heard skirmishing beyond the Alberche, and occasional cannonading, off and on until the evening. They had shade, at least, and some water, for as well as the olive groves there were big oaks, and the Portiña, which ran from north to south behind them, although for the most part it was a dry ravine, did have pools adequate for watering. Where there were no trees there was stubble, the corn cut a month before by the Spanish, anxious lest what was left of it fall to the French, for Marshal Victor’s men had already made a fine harvest for themselves. They had even made shelters from the stooks, such was the harvest’s abundance, so that as far as the Alberche and beyond, the plain was filled with what looked like yellow bell-tents.

  Early in the afternoon, Major-General Sir Stapleton Cotton had ordered his regiments to off-saddle by half squadrons, but the whole brigade saddled up again for stand-to at last light, and remained saddled until midnight. No other order had come to the Sixth in the entire day, and little news. Cotton himself had stood throughout with Colonel George Anson on the far side of the Alberche, but he had been unable to send back any intelligence of the battle to the east other than from observation, and that very little. General Cuesta’s troops were retiring, seemingly in good order, and neither Anson’s cavalry brigade nor the infantry divisions of Generals Mackenzie and Sherbrooke forward of the Alberche received any change in orders from Sir Arthur Wellesley, so there was no occasion for alarm. At dusk, therefore, Cotton had ridden back to his brigade, ordered the Sixteenth to post videttes along the dry bed of a stream which ran parallel to the Alberche half a mile to its west, and told the Sixth and the Fourteenth to sleep.

  Hervey slept until the welcome order to off-saddle came at midnight, and then he had slept without interruption until five o’clock, when Private Sykes roused him with a canteen of hot goat’s milk, with the compliments, he said, of one of the King’s Germans. Hervey, to whom the sound of the trumpet’s reveille this morning was not so sweet as usual (he had been in a very deep sleep following two nights with next to none), knew he ought to ask how his groom had come by the milk – and, indeed, for how much – but could not summon the strength for the inevitable, lengthy explanation. Sykes was an able servant, but a pedantic one. Instead he leaned half up on an elbow and sipped the pleasing cup. Barely more than a year ago he would have woken to the sound of the chapel bell and the imperative voice of a schoolmaster. He had not disliked Shrewsbury, neither had he actually liked it; he had endured it, usually cheerfully. As well dislike the rain on Salisb
ury Plain! But now he knew what he truly liked, because when the trumpet roused him it thrilled him also. It did not matter that he was hungry, or cold, or wet, or tired: the prospect of the day, booted and in the saddle, with dragoons who looked to him, a man set in authority (all be that of limited degree – at present), was unfailingly reviving.

  A sip or two of the goat’s milk, the brain come fully awake, and he was thinking of the day ahead. A general action, he hoped; bigger, perhaps, even than Corunna. Not for a moment did he doubt the outcome, in spite of the major’s warning. Nor did he doubt himself, even though he faced court martial when it was over: ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof!’ It was in large measure his watch-phrase – and that of the other cornets too. That was the benefit of youth. That was why infantry regiments gave their colours into the hands of sixteen-year-old ensigns, and their companies to youthful captains – ensigns and captains of good family, with the means to purchase a commission and the ardour to do their duty to the bitter end. That was how he understood it, at any rate – the bright side of the purchase coin! What were his complaints at the lack of means to advance by purchase, or his opportunity to display for merit promotion, when the army was facing a general action this day? The commander-in-chief must rely on every man with the King’s commission. Purchase was, at least, a stout bond of surety!

  Every man? Yes, sighed Hervey – as near as made no odds. Even Daly and Quilley. But why repine over those two? What did they matter on a day like this, when the entire army would be drawn up against the French? And, in truth, Daly and Quilley would face shot and shell exactly as he would, and the sabre’s edge, too, if the Sixth were blessed with a charge. And then Daly and Quilley might buy a lieutenancy over his head, the one by extortion of his miserable tenants, the other by some gambling debt in White’s Club! Well, damn their eyes, Hervey cursed! Was he himself worthy of promotion if he could not win it in action?

  These were the cornet’s waking thoughts on the day of the general action at Talavera de la Reina.