With the dawn came General Spencer and General Erskine himself to find the 105th. Both rode first into, then through, the camp to discover Lacey and O’Hare outside their farmhouse, taking breakfast in the sunshine. These stood up at the arrival of their Divisional and Brigade Commanders, but the two cordially strode forward, offering their hands in a very open and civil manner, but Spencer had rather bad news as he turned to Lacey.
“Good to have yours with us, Lacey, but your men will have to move back to where the rest of the Brigade are. They arrived last night. Sobral is outside The Lines. Do you have any in there?”
“Yes Sir. My Light Company.”
“Good. Keep them there. I’ll send the rest of the Brigade’s Lights in with them. Meanwhile move your men the other side of this sharp looking hill, Monte Agraca, I do believe it’s called.”
He pointed, but it was fairly obvious. On top was the semaphore mast noticed by Lacey and all around were earthwork redoubts.
“The Lines start beyond there so remaining here you are outside. Get beyond and restore your camp. You won’t be in any earthwork; the Peer’s got Spanish and Portuguese for that. Our job is to ready ourselves to march to meet any threat. He’s improved the roads as much as thrown up all those mud pies!”
As they all laughed, the pair returned to their horses and mounted.
“Right. Must be off to the others. Good luck Lacey! O’Hare!”
Within two hours, the 105th had moved the other side of Monte Agraca and the 105th Lights found themselves sharing the buildings of Sobral with the Lights of the 50th, the 92nd and the 60th Rifles. However relations were immediately much less than cordial, as some men of the 50th moved in beside the mess of John Davey who, up until then had had a large house all to themselves. A highly belligerent Midlander Corporal saw the 105th men and immediately vented his spleen.
“We hear tell that you lot give our rations away last night!”
All the men of Davey’s mess turned towards him, but, unsurprisingly, it was Tom Miles who answered.
“And you think we gave that order!”
“I’m not saying that, but what I do know is that you’ve been fed and we haven’t. And I see that’s a fine cooking pot you’ve got going there. Very fine and very full!”
The men of Davey’s mess looked at each other, but Miles remained belligerent.
“’T’as been plenty of times we’ve been on the wrong end of a deal like this. Many a time. Was you on The Retreat? ‘Cos that was real hunger! Not just missin’ a day’s rations.”
There was only one ‘Retreat’ that could be referred to in such terms, the retreat to Coruna, but the Midlander did not give an inch.
“Yes we bloody well was! Bentinck’s Brigade. And up above the village come the battle.”
Miles was somewhat taken aback, but at that moment Ellis came in, alerted by the noise of the argument and well aware of the subject and the protagonist of the 105th.
“Give these lads what you can. There’ll be another supply for us all, come Noon.”
He paused to look at each 105th in the room, particularly Miles.
“Besides. Remember that second column we took on at Vimeero? They Grenadiers. Well, we was on one side and these boys was on the other.”
He allowed that to sink in.
“Give what you can!”
That was enough. All in the room reached for their haversacks, bar Miles, him still with something to say, it being disobedience serious enough to see him charged and flogged, but his ill mood did not allow him to hold anything back.
“An’ just how much is left in your haversack, Sergeant?”
Ellis opened his own rations haversack, thrust in his fist to pull up the bottom and turn it inside out, for nothing to fall out bar some biscuit crumbs. He much more enjoyed the complete defeat of Miles to putting him on a Charge.
“Nothing! I gave the lot to their Light Company Sergeant!”
Miles had no choice now but to reach into his own haversack, extract the contents and place them in the waiting sack of the Midlander Corporal, who was clearly of a character not dissimilar to Miles’ own. He was not finished.
“And who are you?”
That question Miles understood perfectly. He was not being asked his name by way of social introduction.
“The One Hundred and Fifth! Like it says there!”
He pointed to the steel badge where his crossbelts joined, but a grin came over the Midlander’s face.
“Ah, the Rag and Bone Boys!”
Miles was close to hitting the Corporal, but Ellis was watching every move and Miles had his own riposte. He had read the number 50 on the Corporal’s badge.
“So, you’ve heard of us! Well, we ‘aven’t ‘eard nuthin about you, an’ no reason why we should. Fiftieth is it! An’ what do they call you, like?”
The Corporal straightened up and there was some pride in his reply.
“The Dirty Half Hundredth.”
Now it was Miles’ turn to grin.
“Dirty for why? Dirty deeds an’ goin’s on?”
The Corporal raised the cuff of his sleeve.
“Dirty ‘cos our facings is black. Like that.”
A fight was very near, especially with Miles so thoroughly involved. Ellis stepped in.
“Enough!”
He looked at the Corporal.
“We’ve given all we have. There’s no more, and a supply wagon will be up come Noon. Best you get back and eat what you’ve been given, if you’re sayin’ that you’m all that hungry.”
The Corporal looked around the room and nodded his thanks to all, as did his companions, but for Miles he reserved a malignant scowl, but they did leave and Davey then shared out the hot stew. No-one spoke again of their loss, because it was of no real concern, all now being well fed.
However, one particular concern was uppermost in the mind of Jed Deakin as he climbed the hill that led out of the deep valley between Sobral and Monte Agraca. As a Colour Sergeant he had some licence to come and go as he pleased and today was the day he would confront Lieutenant Maltby, who was away from the main 105th camp and in Sobral with his Section of the Light Company. Once into the village and when he eventually came to the buildings occupied by the 105th Lights, the first Officer he found was Captain Drake, out in the street. He sprang to the attention and peeled off an immaculate salute.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Sir, but I was hopin’ to see Lieutenant Maltby. ‘Tis a private matter, Sir. I’d be much obliged if he could give me some time.”
Drake, cheery as usual and being asked by their highly respected Colour Sergeant, replied in the affirmative.
“Yes Sergeant. I’m sure he’ll speak with you. Would you like to come inside?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Sir, but I think that this is a matter best dealt with in the open.”
Drake’s face clouded somewhat, but he managed a smile as he mounted the first step into the building.
“As you choose, Colour Sergeant. I’ll just ask him to come out and see you.”
Drake disappeared as Deakin rehearsed again what he was about to say. He knew how delicate the matter was, that he, a ranker, would be confronting a Commissioned Officer over his conduct. Within a minute Maltby emerged and Deakin repeated his immaculate salute, but Maltby spoke first.
“Yes Sergeant. What is it?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Sir, and thank you for your time, but I think it best that we walk off aways, off from here, Sir.”
Deakin took a pace along the road and was much relieved to see that Maltby was following him. When they were side by side, Deakin began.
“It concerns Eirin Mulcahy, Sir. You know of her condition, Sir. An’ your name’s been mentioned.”
Maltby stopped and looked hard at Deakin.
“This is no concern of mine. How do I know that I am the Father?”
They were in an open space and so Deakin answered.
“You can say that, Sir, but if you’ve ‘been ther
e’, if I can put it like that, then you may well be, Sir. The Father, that is. And Eirin Mulcahy’s no easy wench, Sir.”
Maltby said nothing and so Deakin continued, relieved that at least there would be no argument over that point, at least not at this stage.
“We all knows that marriage is out of the question, Sir, but there is the question of responsibility. She’s a good girl and I served with her Father, till he was killed at Maida, and I took over the family. She should be provided for, in some way, Sir. Her and the child.”
Maltby’s head jutted forward.
“But I deny that I am the Father. Why should I be responsible for any ‘providing for’, as you put it? And inevitably at some cost to myself. In addition, she’s a Follower. Don’t they march with their Regiment, even though pregnant and giving birth as and when, during the campaign?”
Deakin nodded.
“They do, Sir, and like as not half the babes do not come to full term or dies within six month, or the Mother herself dies. That very thing happened in our Mess. Joe Pike’s wife lost her baby on the retreat to Corunna. She couldn’t hold it to full term, what with the cold and the hunger. And this new campaign, what’s coming, will be in the Winter, what’s also coming. I wouldn’t give much for her chances, Sir, if we’n forced into another Winter retreat.”
Maltby was unmoved.
“That’s our lot. For all of us.”
Deakin twisted his face into a pained expression.
“Well now, Sir, lookin’ on it that way could be a mistake and may I say that I have come across this before and I’ve seen both a good and a bad outcome, dependin’ on what’s done next.”
He paused.
“May I speak plainly, Sir?”
Maltby nodded.
“Well, as the philosophers say, Sir, ‘tis not what the truth is, that counts, ‘tis what men believe to be the truth and all in your Section believe you to be the Father. The next point is that you go into battle with these men at your back and all around you. Could be this very day. All has deep feelings for Eirin as one of their own, and they knows what the future may well hold for her. If we has to take her with us when she comes close to her time, she won’t be able to keep up, Sir, and she’ll get left behind. Then she’s just an unmarried Mother, like as not, to end up a pauper in some gutter somewhere, both her and the child finally took with consumption or somesuch.”
Maltby interrupted.
“Why should all this land on me?”
Deakin ignored the question and continued with his theme.
“She’s safer if we can leave her somewhere and be cared for. Your men will hold you in very poor regard if you does nothin’. And here’s the point for you, Sir. Who knows what can happen in a battle? All your men is killers, Sir, it be their job, to single out one man and put’n down. Blow his head off! They does it time after time. They aren’t the lads who stands in a firin’ line, and just gets off their ten into the smoke. They’s all ready to kill individual men, as they sees it.”
Maltby shot up straight.
“Are you threatening me, Sergeant?”
Deakin took a deep breath.
“No Sir, not at all, I’m just trying to tell you how things are and, like I say, I’ve seen both, a good and a bad. As your men see it, if you do nothing for Eirin, then you’m just a dishonourable scoundrel, as’ve used one of their own and then cast her aside when she comes with child. You can see the danger for yourself in that, Sir, and I do tell ‘ee, Sir, that ‘tis real!”
Suddenly, what Maltby had heard on the march from his men, some days back, now came to mind. Those words, spoken by men such as those of his Section, as Deakin had described them, provided threat enough. He paused for thought, a space which Deakin allowed him.
“What would they have me do? Set her up in a house in England? I have no resources for such as that.”
“No Sir, not that. She’ll still be in no good state, Sir, alone with a child and unsupported. She could pass herself off as a widow, husband killed in the wars, but she’d still be alone and all short of coin. No one expects you to see her and the child set up for life, but, for your own reputation, Sir, amongst your men, you needs to do something, if only by way of acknowledgement, like, to show you’m prepared to help pick up the pieces.”
“So what would you have me do? What was a ‘good’ in your experience?”
“Well Sir, the first worry is going on campaign in her condition, which will just get worse and harder when we pushes the Frogs back up, as we surely will. At some point we’d have to leave her behind somewhere and that’s when it could all go wrong, like I’ve described. To cope with that, and this is what I’d call a good outcome, Sir, most Convents in these parts will take in expectant Mothers and care for them, even into the child’s first years. How they treats the Mother, as a skivvy or as someone to be given a bit more care, depends on the contribution made to the Convent’s coffers. They expects some payment, in fairness. ‘Twill not be much, but that’s where you come in, Sir, and the lads as knows Eirin will chip in too, Sir.”
“And when the child grows up?”
“Too far into the future, Sir. What matters to us all, me and those as knows Eirin, is that she’s cared for during her time and after, when the child is still too small to walk and do any carin’ for itself. After that time, I’d say ‘tis likely she’ll become a Follower, Sir, and become the wife of some lad as’ll care for her. As I cares for my Bridie and hers, even though none of they four is mine, Sir.”
Maltby folded his arms and considered for a few seconds.
“What sort of figure did you have in mind, Sergeant, that will persuade a Convent to take her in and treat her above and beyond that of a mere scullery maid?”
“In my experience, Sir, to get enough, I’d say you needs to put in a month’s Officer’s pay.”
Maltby was unmoved, which encouraged Deakin. It would seem that for Maltby, such a sum was not too great a sacrifice. Then Maltby spoke with a level voice.
“Nine pounds and fifteen shillings!”
“If you made it a clear ten pounds, Sir, I’m sure that’ll do the job.”
“And some of yours will also contribute?”
“Yes Sir, as’ll probably bring it up to fifteen or so. That’s the figure I has in mind.”
“French plunder!”
“There be no other source, Sir, not for the likes of such as us.”
“So, ten pounds from me?”
“Yes Sir, then you’m free and clear, but when the time comes for Eirin to go, a bit of concern and good wishes for her afore she goes, into her confinement like, would not come amiss, Sir. Not only with her. There’s her Mother for one.”
Maltby nodded.
“You’ll tell my men? What I have agreed to do.”
“I will, Sir, within this very hour.”
With no more said, Maltby spun on his heel and walked off. Deakin looked at his receding back.
“I’ll be in touch then, Sir. When the time comes.”
Maltby raised his left hand from his sword hilt in some kind of acknowledgment, but said nothing more. Deakin waited for a respectful distance to come between them and then followed. After some enquiries, he entered a building that was on the very edge of the town, to immediately come upon the perfect man for his purpose, John Davey. The respect between the two men was absolute, but Deakin said but one brief statement.
“Maltby will help us get Eirin into a Convent. So he has said. He’ll throw in one month’s pay, which will do it, what with ours thrown in. Tell the lads.”
Davey nodded and Deakin left the room and the building. Simultaneously, Maltby was entering the room reserved for the Light Company Officers of Erskine’s Brigade. His entrance caused Drake to look up.
“Hello Stuart. Your business all squared away? Nothing serious, I hope.”
Maltby smiled dismissively and shook his head.
“No. Nothing serious and all now dealt with.”
Then a Major of th
e 50th burst in, dusty and breathless from his short ride.
“Sobral’s to be given up. Everyone to pull back to the redoubts! Orders from Division.”
oOo
The dawn of the following day had fully broken, as the Light Companies of Erskine’s Brigade trooped back into Sobral, from the orders of their Commander in Chief, no less. Drake was not alone in his complaint.
“So what was the point of that, Spencer pulling us out for the night and The Peer putting us back in?”
Carr still remained the commanding Major of the four Light Companies and he had no answer, other than to say that there was no answer.
“Bad mistake! Staff mistake! Miscalculation, who can say? My worry is that we’ve lost a night to get the place fortified. We’ll be attacked, be certain. Massena will want to try us out.”
He pushed open the door of what had, yesterday evening, been the Officers’ billet.
“Just get around, will you, Nat, and make sure that where we all were yesterday evening is where we all are now. I want no distractions from arguments about who’s now got what and shouldn’t have. With all settled, get the place Johnny proof, or as much as. He’ll want this place and he’ll get it. We’re outside The Lines, so our job is to make him pay a price, but a low one ourselves.”
Drake dumped his portmanteau which he had carried across the valley himself and quickly left to tour the buildings and the yards that were held by the 105th Lights. Maltby’s Section was one of the first he came to, holding their own billet houses, but also a paddock that had probably been a pig-sty, but all the animals had long since been taken into The Lines. Nevertheless, the unpleasant evidence of their occupation was being shovelled over the wall by as many of the men as could be furnished with shovels. Drake was happy with the way the windows of the billets had been narrowed, but not the paddock. He found Chosen Man Davey.
“Where’s Lieutenant Maltby?”
Davey leaned on his shovel.
“I think he’s upstairs, Sir, watching down the road.”
The Plains of Talavera Page 62