The Adventure of the Spanish Drums

by Martin Daley

  “During my conversation with Mycroft later, he appraised me of another little gem. He informed me that the leader of the gang was none other than my old adversary Serge Bazin. Clearly he specialises in bold, high profile, outrageous thefts, as it was Bazin who was the main operative behind the attempted theft of the Mona Lisa during the early months of ‘91. You may recall I spent some time working for the French government at the time and succeeded in thwarting the attempt.

  “He was, of course, one of the late Professor Moriarty’s many foreign agents and the whole episode was the prelude to our ill fated continental sojourn later that spring. Unlike his three colleagues, he is fluent in English and it was he who made the trip up to Carlisle some months ago.

  “When I confronted Vaughan last evening he admitted that Bazin approached him earlier this year and proposed the daring raid. Having an air of confidence himself, not to mention his command of the language, he fitted in comfortably to the military environment. Vaughan told me that the Frenchman scoured the drinking haunts of the local soldiers and finally struck lucky when he befriended the solitary Vaughan in one of his more reflective moods.

  “You may remember that Sergeant Armstrong informed us that he and his colleagues felt Vaughan was ‘… unlucky to be pipped for the Major’s job”, by Young. The captain made the mistake of divulging this information to the devious Bazin and the latter played upon the ‘mistreatment’ Vaughan had received from the army during his long and loyal service. In doing so, he snared the vulnerable officer and convinced him that the plan to steal the drums would benefit them both financially.

  “He and Vaughan then planned the operation for the week when key personnel would be training with their part time colleagues. This would also clear Vaughan himself, of any suspicion, as he would be accompanying his Commanding Officer. Once Bazin knew that he had the local help he had sought, he returned to France and carefully selected the personnel for the job. As you are aware by now, another key member of the group was the one who could pass for Vaughan himself. The other two were simply hired muscle.”

  “So how was the theft committed when Vaughan was not there to supervise it?” I still could not follow.

  “Through sheer bravado my boy!” replied my friend with a flourish. “Vaughan had gone through the layout of the castle with Bazin and briefed him on the lack of security during the night. During my inspection of the keyhole to the storeroom door, I observed several minute metal shavings, lying loose in the base of the barrel. These, I suspected were created by the burring of a new key in the lock. Vaughan obviously had access to keys and again he confirmed this when I spoke with him. He told me that he had keys cut from the originals for his French associates to use on the night of the robbery.

  “He had then taken the spare uniforms of the soldiers who accompanied him to Penrith and issued one of his own uniforms to the member of the gang who matched his build and appearance – hence his use of only two uniforms whilst in Penrith. His look-a-like obviously led the robbery on the night, posing as the absent captain with his associates masquerading as private soldiers of the Border Regiment.

  “The adverse weather on the night in question clearly concerned Vaughan. You may recall that Armstrong told us that his friend and colleague left the field with the injured Yeomanry Officer during the training exercise and that Vaughan failed to return for some hours? The latter told me that he used the opportunity to contact Bazin to check on the latest position.

  “What about the unfortunate guard, Walker, do you think they intended to kill him?” I asked.

  “I do not believe for a moment that this was part of the original plan, things simply spiralled out of control” – Holmes adopted a more solemn tone - “judging by the evidence given by Nixon, upon finding his colleague, I suspect that the gang intended to slip into the castle while the guard went to freshen up, no doubt surprising him from behind before gagging and blindfolding him. Either they mis-timed their attack or Walker turned and saw them, because Nixon claimed there was a pool of blood some yards from the block and then a trail that led into the building. I suggest they beat him and then dragged him into the garderobe block, leaving him for dead. The poor man – semi-conscious – commendably attempted to crawl back out and raise the alarm.”

  “That explains the position of his body when Nixon found him,” I completed.

  “When we visited Walker in hospital, Nixon assumed that he was calling for his wife as he picked out the ‘CH’ sound. It is my belief that Walker was actually trying to pronounce the letter ‘H’ – one of Vaughan’s many nicknames amongst his subordinates – as his fleeting glance of the villains on the night in question, may well have resulted in him mistaking the gang member for Captain Vaughan.

  “Incidentally, isn’t it strange?” – Holmes digressed – “If you recall, during our very first investigation together, our old friend Inspector Lestrade made a similar mistake involving that particular woman’s Christian name.

  “Although I repeat, I do not believe their intention was to hurt anyone, once Walker had discovered them, they had little choice but to incapacitate him and progress with the burglary. Even if Walker did recover and claim that Vaughan had been involved in the crime, the captain would have had a cast-iron alibi, as he was with his commanding officer all the time. Walker’s claim would surely have been put down to his head injury.

  “Once the Frenchmen had possession of the crates, containing the drums, from the store room, they brazenly rode out of the front gate on the assumption that – even if spotted in the poor light – no one would challenge Captain Vaughan and his men as they apparently took some previously forgotten supplies to the training camp. And so it proved as they made clean away with the Border Regiment’s most treasured possessions.”

  “They then took the crates containing their booty to Silloth from where they sailed back to France?” I ventured.

  “Excellent Watson! But this is where fate leant a hand. They intended to sail from Silloth but as we now know, the storm scuppered their plans and their boat was wrecked, so Bazin was forced to make other arrangements. Mycroft confirmed what we already knew; that as his colleagues stayed with the drums in the warehouse, the leader left to organise another boat to meet them in Liverpool, from where they would sail for home. Further time was lost however, as the replacement vessel was not only a slower sailing ship, as opposed to their original steamer, but it had to sail from the southern port of Marseilles. Although we were ignorant of the fact at the time, this protracted delay bought us the time we needed to recapture the trophies.”

  For the rest of our journey I sat in silence, trying to take in the adventure we had just experienced; the intrigue, the daring and above all else, the ultimate betrayal by my former friend and colleague. As with so many of the battles won through the bestial savagery, in the recent Great War, I viewed Holmes’s success as a Pyrrhic victory.

  Upon our arrival at Euston, Holmes and I shared a hansom to Baker Street, from where I needed to pick up some papers, that I had left on my last visit, prior to my returning home.

  Asking the driver to wait, I politely declined Mrs. Hudson’s kind offer of supper and followed Holmes up to my former quarters. I picked up my things and turned to leave.

  “Until next time then, old man!” I said, turning to leave. “There won’t be a next time,” was Holmes’s matter-of-fact reply, “I am retiring.”

  I stopped in my tracks, dumbfounded at what I had just heard. “What? You are joking surely?”

  “On the contrary my friend, I have decided the time has come to step down from this great stage of crime. I have considered the matter for some time and was going to tell you when you called the other day, with news of this case. I knew I could not let down my loyal friend and chronicler, so I postponed informing you of my decision. I will be moving to Sussex to keep bees.”

  “Sussex? Bees?” For the second time that day I was rooted to the spot, thunderstruck with disbelief.

  “Calm
yourself Watson,” said my friend, putting a hand on my shoulder, “I have spoke of retirement in the past.”

  “Yes, but I never thought you were serious!” I said, sounding I’m sure like a schoolboy who has had his catapult confiscated. “You still have so much to offer!”

  “As kind as ever old friend, but I’m afraid I cannot agree. You need go no further than this most recent of cases to see that my powers are diminishing; I have been sluggish in thought and slow on the uptake, relying on good fortune and bad weather to assist me in solving the mystery.

  “No; we all have to hang up our stethoscopes and magnifying glasses sometime, Watson, and I believe my time has arrived. Now, you should return to your wife and I will keep you informed of my whereabouts.”

  I returned home and spent the rest of the week completing my writing of the case, admittedly, still in somewhat of a daze after the revelations of the Tuesday just passed.

  When it came to putting Holmes’s cases into print, he and I had a strict understanding. Whenever my friend advised me of a case he did not wish me to publish, or when either of us felt it was not in the interest of the public or certain individuals to make a case known, I would – upon the completion of its writing – tie it up with a black ribbon, before placing it in my old despatch box. This would act as an instant indicator to myself when, months or even years later, I would delve into my hoard with view to contacting my literary agents at The Strand, who would then, with the assistance of Mr. Paget’s marvellous illustrations, make known one of my friend’s many adventures.

  With this particular case, I took it upon myself to class it as one of the adventures that should go without publication, as I felt great discomfort at the thought of highlighting the misdemeanours of a former friend and colleague, who I once liked and admired tremendously. I simply marked the cover sheet ‘Spanish Drums’, took a strip of the aforementioned ribbon, tied it quite deliberately and made sure it went to the very bottom of the box containing my written work.

  And so ended the final case conducted by Mr. Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street. Of course it did not prove to be the end of his magnificent career, as various clients have called him out of retirement over the past years, to look into their problems; some of which, as I recall, he has investigated while using his old lodgings as his London base.

  The French gang were returned to Carlisle where they were charged with theft and the attempted murder of Private Walker. As for Harry Vaughan, I heard that he received a dishonourable discharge from the army and returned to his hometown of Reading, a broken man.

  Epilogue

  Several years later I had call to accompany my dear wife and her sister on short break in the Lake District. Although travelling north towards Cumberland instantly brought back sad memories of my previous visit to that part of the country, I did not dwell on them. That was until one morning when I was reading the local paper in the hotel over breakfast. There was a piece about the forthcoming ‘Arroyo Day’ at Carlisle Castle. Until that point the significance of the time of year, and the coincidence of our visit had not properly dawned on me. As my wife and sister-in-law had made other arrangements for the 28th October, I asked their permission to excuse myself and take the train through to Carlisle to witness the celebration of the anniversary of the regiment’s famous action.

  The train pulled into the station and I experienced mixed emotions, as the expectation of witnessing the regiment’s celebration was tinged with sadness, as the full recollection of my previous visit came flooding back to me.

  I decided to walk to the castle, given that it was a pleasant afternoon. Leaving the station, I walked across the large natural courtyard area where we had witnessed the arrival of the Liberal Party leader. As I past the County Gaol and City Arms public house, I smiled to myself as I recalled how Holmes and I – incognito – had initiated our entrapment of the remaining members of the Adams gang. Further along English Street young Billy’s words came back to me, when he told us about his father’s Inn and how it was going to be ‘… rebuilt as the county’s top hotel’, following its demolition. Indeed the sight that beheld me was an impressive one; the renamed Crown and Mitre Hotel was a most elegant building. I could not resist entering, not only to admire the ornate decor, but also to see if Mr. & Mrs. Graham and their son, who made us so welcome, were still there. Alas, there was no sign of the former occupants and the uniformed doorman told me that he did not know where they had gone.

  The magnificent castle was just as I had remembered it and many locals were making their way under the portcullis, as I approached. Inside, on the edge of the square, temporary grandstands had been erected for spectators of the imminent parade. I decided on a suitable spot from which to witness the regiment and was about to climb onto the gangway of the grandstand when a voice called out from behind me.

  “Doctor Watson? Doctor Watson, is that you?”

  I turned to find none other than the man Holmes had described as ‘… probably the most honourable and trustworthy man in the regiment’, and who had helped Holmes tremendously in his solving of the case.

  “Sergeant Armstrong!” I replied with genuine delight.

  “Lieutenant now sir,” said the soldier offering a hand.

  “Congratulations!” I said, not having noticed the markings on his tunic, “and very well deserved too.”

  “Thank you sir, what brings you back to Carlisle?”

  “Oh, I am just on holiday with my wife, in the lakes, and I thought I would take advantage of the opportunity of enjoying ‘Arroyo Day’ – something Mr. Holmes and I never had the chance to do the last time we visited.”

  “Well it’s very nice to see you, Doctor. How is Mr. Holmes doing?”

  “He’s fine. After we returned to London he moved down to Sussex where he keeps his bees! Although I do not see as much of him as I would like, I know he still keeps his detective hat on by accepting the odd case. ”

  “Speaking of detectives, how is your cousin, the Inspector?”

  “Yes, old Corny’s still going strong. Still regularly talks about his encounter with Mr. Holmes, I’ll tell him you were asking after him.”

  Armstrong invited me to join him in the VIPs box. We spoke at length on how life had treated us both since our last meeting and simultaneously bowed our heads in sadness when the name of our mutual former comrade came up. Without discussing the matter at length it was clear that we shared a common view; whereas we recognised his crime, we still remembered Vaughan as a valued friend and colleague.

  The parade itself consisted of a young Drum Major and four drummer-boys, all of whom were in period dress from the Napoleonic Wars. They in turn were followed by the modern day corps of drummers with the regimental band following on behind, keeping the crowds entertained with some classic military tunes. In watching the soldiers carrying the drums and colours, it occurred to me that this was the first time I had actually seen the items that we recovered those years earlier. Even though it was a dull October afternoon, the highly polished brass barrels of the drums – that were tipped along the upper and lower rim with the colours of the French tricolour – glinted proudly, as the bandsmen marched past.

  There was then a brief re-enactment of how the drums were captured, carried out by members of the regiment, again in period uniform. Afterward there was an address by the Commanding Officer. Lieutenant Colonel Hulme had retired some years earlier, but the new man obviously shared his predecessor’s pride in the drums and the significance of the day they were celebrating. Speaking with great gusto, he informed his men and the crowd that this was the most important day in the regiment’s calendar and how ‘… they, and the City, should be proud of the regiment’s achievements to date’.

  Thinking back to this event, there now seems to be a certain innocence about his address, given that a few years later, the regiment – along with soldiers from all over the world – would be involved in a war we hope will end all wars.

  I must say however, that I enjo
yed the parade tremendously, notwithstanding the sad memories produced at the thought of our absent friend.

  “Please tell Mr. Holmes I was asking after him,” said Lieutenant Armstrong as we wished each other farewell, at the completion of the afternoon’s celebration. I returned to my wife and her sister and carried on our most relaxing holiday.

  We returned to London shortly thereafter and, when my circumstances allowed me, I made a point of visiting Holmes at his bee-keeping farm, to inform him of my visit to Carlisle and pass on the regards offered to him by Lieutenant Armstrong. My friend was interested little in the regimental parade but said, with a laconic shrug, “I am pleased to see Armstrong is receiving the reward and advancement that was less forthcoming to your former colleague.”

  Historical Note

  The Arroyo dos Molinos Battle Honour is unique to the Regiment and is a central part of their History and tradition. Dr. Watson’s brief account of the Battle itself is an accurate one. It was a successful operation, wreaking havoc on the enemy with very little loss to the allies. In addition there was the remarkable coincidence of the 34th Regiments of the British and French Armies meeting on the battlefield; the British 34th capturing the Drum-Major’s Staff and six Drums of the French 34th.

  For more than a hundred and thirty years the 34th (Cumberland) Regiment and its successors – from 1881 the 1st

  Battalion Border Regiment and from 1959 the 1st Battalion The King’s Own Royal Border Regiment – have celebrated Arroyo Day. Originally the Drums and Staff were just displayed and later they were trooped as part of a formal parade.

  The first record of them is a photograph taken in 1866 and the first recorded use of them was at the presentation of New Colours to the 34th Foot in 1871, when the French Drums and Staff were placed with the Battalion Drums in the centre of the hollow square. The earliest record of the French Drums being paraded is a photograph taken at Crownhill Barracks, Plymouth on Arroyo Day during the first decade of the 20th century, when the Drums and Drum-Major’s Staff were carried by the Corps of Drums wearing their normal scarlet full-dress uniforms. On 28th October 1911, the 1st Battalion celebrated the centenary of the Battle with a formal parade, sports activities, balls in the Officers’ and Sergeant’s Messes and a torchlight tattoo. The magnificent photograph at the very beginning of this book is of the gate of Carlisle Castle – which housed the Regimental Depot – on Arroyo Day 1911.