Unspoken was that it would be to Septimus' advantage as well. He might find himself steered towards a vacancy for colonel in a regiment about to join a desirable campaign or perhaps even be granted a sinecure, a position at Court that involved no work but carried a pretty little salary for life. The possibility of a knighthood or lesser order was always there for a soldier who was well in with the right people. Most importantly, it meant that Septimus had a patron, a man with friends at Horse Guards who would know his name; he would no longer be just another major in a battalion of the line.
Days before Septimus was to expect the presence of Colonel Vaughan he was called again to the Governor's offices, once more to Mr Burtonshawe's presence.
"Colonel Vaughan expects to show himself on Tuesday next, Major Pearce. His tailor has assured him that all of his uniforms will be in his hands not later than Monday, and one must look the part, particularly if one is late of the Brigade of Guards!"
Septimus suppressed his smile.
"That was not, however, why I begged the honour of your company, sir. The convoy is due soon, and it will contain a pair of small drafts for the Hampshires and for the Devonshires as well. The Governor has arranged with the appropriate people in high places that the Devonshires will remain in garrison for the remainder of their time. As a consequence, they will have less need for men, and their draft is to be directed to you. This is unusual, and may cause eyebrows to be raised in Horse Guards, but if the campaign is successful then nothing will be said. Winners are very rarely at fault, sir!"
Septimus was pleased, but could see one significant drawback.
"The new recruits will have no great objections, I should imagine, sir - to them one battalion will be much as another, their loyalties yet to be fixed. Their sergeants, however, may well be distressed to be pushed, willy-nilly, into another battalion after many years of service with their own. Loyalty to one’s own set of Colours is all, sir, our battalions live by that faith. Might I recommend, sir, that the senior men be given the option to join the Hampshires or to remain with their own people?"
A few minutes of urging the importance of his case and it was agreed that the sergeants, and any corporals as well, might be given a choice.
"That said, sir, I am pleased indeed with the Governor's wise proposal. To flesh out our ranks can only be to our great advantage, sir!"
Septimus had met Colonel Vaughan in passing at various dinner parties, doing little more than exchange bows and perhaps a few bland words of praise of the host's efforts to feed and wine them. He knew him as a tall man, little less than his own height, and not yet run to fat despite being well into his thirties; he had, smugly, observed him to be balding, his own locks still possessing the gloss and strength of youth.
In the nature of things Guardees had little to say to officers of the line - they were of different flesh and the Gentleman's Sons were immeasurably the superior. That had to change and both must make concessions, for they had to be seen to work easily together. The passing of Colonel Horncastle meant that the eyes of the scandal-mongers would be upon them seeking eagerly any evidence of the out of the ordinary.
Septimus said as much to Burtonshawe and a dinner party had its guest list amended so that the Pearces and the Vaughans should both be present. They met and took public delight in seeing each other and spent time and drank port in conversation while their ladies sat together over the tea cups and talked happily and visibly.
Marianne had the more difficult task, being County while Mrs Vaughan, an Honourable in her own right, was of the aristocracy and was used to the London Season. They had no common acquaintance, but both had children and Marianne's obvious pregnancy provided an immediate topic of conversation, bringing up a family in India being no simple task.
Septimus broached the topic of parading Colonel Vaughan in. Normal procedure where one man followed another would be a 'hand-over, take-over', the outgoing colonel bringing the battalion onto the square, the new man leading it off. There was also an established procedure for stepping into dead man's shoes, but there could be difficulties when the previous colonel had left in dubious circumstances and the new man was coming to make things right again.
"I had thought, Colonel Vaughan, that the simplest course would be for you to take the parade from me in normal fashion, as one would every week. No great fuss, no performance of welcoming a new man, of ushering in a new era, as it were; simply a case of business as normal."
"'The King is dead. Long live the King', in effect, Major Pearce."
"Yes, sir. Everything is different but nothing has changed, sir."
"And, of course, you trust that nothing will change, Major Pearce."
Septimus avoided that trap.
"Not quite, sir. I have taken some pains to change nothing, sir, during my few days of occupation of your seat, though I have noted one or two habits and customs in the battalion that would be better altered. If I had made a change which you disliked then there would be an immediate appearance of conflict. That we neither of us desire, I believe, sir."
"We do not indeed, Major Pearce. A parade on Tuesday morning for what, seven o'clock?"
"Thirty minutes earlier would be better, sir. The men appreciate being taken off the square before the sun has gained its full heat. It is our habit to march the men on at fifteen minutes after six, sir, and to get them into their barracks rooms before half past eight, at latest. On a working day they will change and hand their dress uniforms to the boys to sponge down and press and then take a smoke break before going to drill or the butts. It has been our way to allow considerable leniency in the matter of working dress, sir. Experience in the field says that it is impossible to remain smart in the mud - and it is always muddy! The officers should look within reason tidy, and the sergeants will have shining brass and snow white pipe-clay if it is humanly possible, but the men must keep a perfect musket and let much of the rest go hang."
Vaughan nodded thoughtfully, digesting a very new set of habits; muskets were little more than an oily and greasy nuisance to the Guards.
"So, Major Pearce, you are saying to me that three rounds a minute is our sole true concern. All other considerations are secondary to that."
"To an extent, sir. I much prefer four, sir, for one thing. For the second proviso, their drill must be exact where it matters. They must form square, come into line or back to column of route at the double; they must wheel left or right equally well. They must keep their time so that there are no gaps. This chocolate soldier silliness of the parade ground we do not need, sir, but the commands that bring them into and out of battle they must master absolutely."
"I can accept that, sir. Is four rounds a minute a practical aim, Major Pearce?"
"Not wholly, sir. Stood on firm footing in the butts on a dry day, yes, I would expect it of them all, except for the rawest of the recruits. In the mud with rain threatening and cannon firing and skirmishers being a nuisance and a column threatening or a line actually firing - well, that can be a different matter, sir, and three does very well."
Colonel Vaughan became even more thoughtful.
"If our practice is unreal, Major Pearce, then of what value is it?"
Septimus was taken aback, having never had to answer that question before.
"It keeps the men busy, sir, and idle soldiers are a menace to themselves and the whole world besides. Secondly, it brings them together by giving them skills that outsiders do not possess. Thirdly, they can learn the beginnings of their trade in the butts and on the march. But I suspect, sir, that no man is really a soldier until he has been shot over. I know that I was lucky to see a little of action while I was still an ensign and then again as a new lieutenant, and with an experienced captain to hold my hand, sir!"
"While I must make do with an experienced major, I fear! Half past six on Tuesday morning, Major Pearce."
"Yes, sir. I will have an old sergeant there to bring you to the square at the exact moment, sir. He will have done the same for me
a few minutes before, waiting for the parade to be ready for me."
Vaughan was unused to that arrangement. The Guards paraded every morning, that being one of their major functions in life, and all went as clockwork on the ground. Guards officers did not need to be told what to do or when.
"What of meeting the officers, Major Pearce?"
"In the Mess, sir, thirty minutes after the parade is dismissed, sir. To give them time to change their sweaty English uniform, sir. I would dearly love to see provision made for the Tropics, sir. An officer's coat and breeches cut from cotton cloth rather than heavy wool would be a benison indeed!"
"I believe the proposal has been made to Horse Guards, Major Pearce. Three general officers had heart attacks at the very thought and the matter was shelved!"
Septimus laughed and said he hoped that medical aid had not arrived too quickly.
"I have observed the Company's officers, Major Pearce, in their uniforms of cotton drill, and they do not wear as smartly as our red woollens, I believe."
"True, sir, but I am told that they are far more comfortable, especially in the field. Not to worry, sir - the matter is one that we cannot alter, therefore we must live with it. While considering uniform, sir, I am given to understand, sir, that the leather stock is not to be seen in India, on medical grounds."
Protection of the men's health and fitness made a perfect excuse for most of the line battalions to refuse the stocks. Only a few commanding officers insisted upon them overseas.
"Then we shall not change that ruling, Major Pearce. What is the battalion's habit when it comes to forming the line of battle, sir?"
Septimus raised an eyebrow, accepted that he perhaps been a little dogmatic with his new superior.
"It has the habit of obeying command, sir."
Vaughan laughed, raised a hand in acknowledgement of a hit.
"We shall work together well, I believe, Major Pearce! The Mess dines in twice a week, I believe. Would that be better made thrice?"
"In many ways, yes, sir. It brings the married men into the Mess of an evening, which is much to the good, and it enhances the spirit of brotherhood. The problem would be, sir, that the bulk of the officers have little or even no private income. More than one will transfer to the Company Army at the end of this posting for that reason; one can live well on one's pay in the Company, sir. Dining-in more frequently must lead to an increase in Mess fees that not all could pay without falling into debt."
No Guards officer was without a substantial income of his own - purchase was refused to the impecunious. Colonel Vaughan had never met the problem. Guards officers might fall into debt, sometimes for massive sums, but these would be accrued for gentlemanly reasons, at the card table or on the racecourse; to be unable to pay one’s way in the Mess simply could not occur.
"I had heard rumour to such an effect, of course, Major Pearce - but, how can it be? How can a well-born gentleman not possess an income?"
"Ah... I do not know how to express this with tact, sir. I am, of course, renowned for possessing little of that quality... To be open, sir, the word 'gentleman' is one that may be defined quite widely. I believe that Captain Taft would qualify in the most traditional sense, having two Irish peers for grandparents; but for the rest of us, sir, well... My wife, for example, is the daughter of a Hampshire squire, a two thousand pound a year man, and I was held to have married above myself!"
Vaughan choked and refilled his glass quickly. He could not remember ever having shaken hands with a mere squire - a common bow had always sufficed in his family for that sort.
"Most of the officers come from the same background as myself, sir - younger sons of well-to-do merchants or doctors or attorneys or rectors. My brother, Mr George Pearce, is proprietor of one of the largest firms of merchants in the whole of Southern England, and I believe is in receipt of not less than ten thousand a year, but our grandfather was a blacksmith. It is our commissions that make 'gentlemen' of the bulk of officers of the line, sir."
"I had not realised. Perhaps I should have, for, unusually for a Guards officer, I can count! The army has more than doubled in the last few years of war, but the number of gentlemen by birth has remained the same. Very many of the new officers must come from the middle sort of people. I am glad you have explained that to me, Major Pearce, for I could easily have caused offence to most worthy young men."
They left the topic, spent a few minutes and another glass chatting over local gossip, parted on overtly cordial terms, taking care to be observed.
"Marianne, you know more of this sort of thing than I do, who must make the first invitation to dinner? Must I play host to the colonel or he to me?"
"We must welcome the newcomers to our regimental family, Septimus. Dining-in on Wednesday and Friday; two days of rest and settling-in; a military dinner party on Monday. I will send cards tomorrow. The Burtonshawes; Major Reynolds - though he is a nuisance being single; the colonel of the Devons and his two majors - they are all good company. That makes eleven, which will sit us thirteen to table, which will never do. Another military gentleman is necessary - Mr Hungerford and his lady will do very well."
"Hungerford? The merchant? I did not know he was military."
"He was a captain in a Yorkshire regiment and was wounded in a skirmish up country, was unfit to sail when the battalion took ship back to England. I believe he was expected to die, in fact, but chose instead to recover. He turned to trade for something to pass the time while he grew fit in himself again and discovered an aptitude and a liking for the occupation and sold out; some ten years since, I am told."
Strange - Septimus could not imagine himself selling out by choice, to take up another occupation. In twenty years, in his forties, then he might well opt for the quieter life in his own house in Winchester - but even the thought of that did not wholly attract him. It might be different when he became older, perhaps.
To Septimus’ surprise and pleasure, all went well and Colonel Vaughan settled in easily, was soon simply ‘the colonel’ in the minds of all of the officers. He was a tactful soul and when, for example, he insisted upon an improvement in the quality of the wines in their cellar he did so in quiet conference with the Adjutant and it was observed that the price of the bottles as charged to Mess Bills went down, to the relief of many. The Mess had to maintain hospitality, possibly on a greater scale in India than elsewhere, and King’s officers living on their pay often regretted the fact, but with the coming of Colonel Vaughan the hospitality became more generous while the costs fell; the younger officers naïvely applauded his efficiency and the older were simply and quietly grateful.
The men had been fearful when they heard that the colonel had been a Guardsman, but they soon discovered that he demanded much of the soldier’s skills and almost nothing of the London nonsense. He became popular as well for his unwillingness to countenance the lash. The old soldiers grinned quietly as they heard Stroppy Seppy explode in outrage and demand to see erring privates’ backbones, only to be overruled by the colonel who felt sure that the men would mend their ways if given another chance; they had seen that game before and knew that it often worked. The sergeants all played their part as well, regretting that the colonel was so soft on his men and prophesying doom as a result. The good soldiers discovered that they enjoyed the life; the bad did their best to become good, fearing that the colonel would be forced to give way eventually; the new drafts rushed and bustled and learned their trade almost unwittingly, thankful that there was a protector for them in their battalion.
The new drafts provided Septimus’ main activity during the remainder of the Dry Season. Nearly two hundred men had been welcome, and were necessary, but they were a damnable nuisance in an originally efficient battalion. They brought the numbers over six hundred, ten companies of sixty and a headquarters party, which was all very satisfactory, until the new bodies were actually inspected.
The men had come out from England, and therefore were all British, until enquiry was ma
de. In the nature of things, a proportion was Irish and a few Scots, and not all of them spoke the English language with any fluency, though six months aboard ship meant that all could make themselves understood.
Less to be expected was the contingent of men from the Germanies, who transpired to have been taken from a captured convoy of French ships in the Mediterranean, conscripts sent off to fight for France and volunteered, or so it was said, to serve a more congenial master. These men were mostly farm-boys from the eastern plains, often big men and with some expectations of military service, conscription being part of their lives, but they had their own habits and showed reluctant to change them.
Nearly one half of the draft were gaol-delivery men.
It was to be expected that soldiers were often criminals – few would volunteer to serve in the ranks - but for those enlisted at home, the felonies were often rather minor - poaching or swearing at the squire or the like. The men who were taken in manacles from the deepest cells and prodded up the gangplank to go to India were too often of a different nature. Most of the new criminals had seen a judge put on his black cap, had listened to a grave voice condemning them to be hanged by the neck until they were dead, and not all had been unjustly convicted. There were house-breakers and burglars, who could be decent enough fellows in their spare time, and there were violent brutes who were animals every minute of every day; besides that were the more-or-less insane, not quite candidates for the stone cell and chains of the everyday madhouse, but erratically dangerous.
Thus some eighty of the men were the nastiest of gaolbirds and they had to be turned into soldiers as well, their violent predilections channelled into acceptable courses, and their naturally undisciplined ways forced into the habits of the army. That they often enjoyed killing people was no great drawback in a soldier, but it was necessary to ensure that they killed exclusively the right people.
Raging Rajahs (Man of Conflict Series, Book 2) Page 21