A Call To Arms (21 page)

‘Elizabeth, you astonish me,’ said Hervey, the admiration evident. ‘But I’m afraid that nothing could induce me to go to Warminster Common in search of recruits!’

In the course of the next three days, the recruiting party enlisted fourteen men, including William Stent, lately shepherd to Sir George Styles of Westbury. A dozen more had presented themselves to Serjeant Collins at The Bell, but these he had rejected on various grounds.

‘Two were so punchy, sir, that between them they’d have stood no higher than a noseband,’ reported Collins, carefully consulting his notebook. ‘One was badly scalded about the face, there was another with leg sores that stank very ill, two had crooked spines, one was an idiot, one was taken off by his mother before I could do much more than take his name – more’s the pity, for he was a smart lad.’

Hervey cocked an ear.

‘One had eyes that were very blear,’ continued Collins. ‘One was too close to forty for me to pretend he was under thirty, and two were dead drunk and haven’t returned.’

Hervey shook his head. ‘Were any put off by the notion of India?’

‘Not one, sir.’

‘It is disappointing indeed to have only the fourteen when it might have been double.’

‘But I will say the ones we attested look promising, sir. That Stent has the makings of an NCO, without a doubt, but he’s an unhappy man at the present. He told me he was missing his sheep – not his wife, mind, sir – his sheep.’

Hervey simply raised an eyebrow. ‘And who was this lad whose mother took him away?’

‘Rudd – a well-made lad, about your height, sir. And smart as a carrot new-scraped. I reckon he’d put on his best clothes.’

‘And his mother just came and took him away, you say?’

‘Ay, sir. She’s a milliner. Premises in Silver Street, the lad said. Reckon she has better things in mind for him than going for a soldier.’

‘You spoke to her?’

‘No, she gave me no chance, but I made enquiries afterwards and went to her shop, but she threatened to bring the constable.’

‘Did she indeed? Well, Serjeant Collins, we’re going to have to make one last effort tomorrow. You’re going to Westbury for the fair this afternoon?’

‘Ay, sir. But I’ve been told there was a company of foot there for a month and more and took a fair number of men with them.’

‘Yes, I’d heard that too, which is why I’m contemplating going onto the Common to see what we can find.’

Collins looked wary. ‘Sir, there were men in here last night – and not preachy types – who said that the best thing that could happen to Warminster Common was for the plague to take a hold and then the flames.’

‘Are you saying we should not go?’

‘Sir, with respect, it’s you who are from these parts.’

‘My sister believes there are some likely men.’

Serjeant Collins accepted without question that his captain’s sister could properly know such a thing. ‘Has she names, sir? That would be a start.’

‘Three, yes.’

‘And how would you wish me to do it, sir – with the trumpets, as here?’

‘We could try that, yes. But I shall come with you, Sar’nt
Collins. I can’t very well ask you to go to the biggest fencing crib this side of Bristol while I sit at home waiting.’

Hervey expected a protest, but Collins was of quite the opposite opinion. ‘It’s bound to have an effect. I’ll warrant they never see a gentleman there other than the parson.’

Hervey stayed an hour with him, but no ‘Fellows wanting to tread the path of Adventure’ came to The Bell in that time, and at eleven he left to go to the milliner’s in Silver Street. He was not content to leave so promising-sounding a recruit to the protective clutches of a ‘respectable’ mother.

Hervey wore plain clothes this morning, and was doubly glad of it since he supposed he would not therefore be immediately barred entry from Mrs Rudd’s shop. She smiled at him, indeed, when he entered, and asked him to take a seat while she attended to another customer. He sat looking about him at the lace, the ribbons, and all manner of fancy goods that might brighten a townswoman’s day. There were hats, too, in various stages of construction. Here was a skilled and artistic trade, and it was evident that Mrs Rudd was a true proficient. He wondered if Elizabeth had ever come here.

When Mrs Rudd’s customer was gone, Hervey made himself known at once. This put the milliner in a difficult position – as he had gambled – since in her trade she could ill afford to be abusive and dismissive of a gentleman, even if she were inclined to be. ‘Mrs Rudd – I may call you that, may I?’

She nodded guardedly.

‘I understand that your son expressed an interest in joining my troop.’ He had decided to make his approach as personal as he could.

‘The boy is very young, sir, and does not know his own mind.’ Hervey saw how to deal with both objections. ‘My serjeant was most impressed with him. Although he may be young, my serjeant – who is but seven and twenty himself – believes he has the makings. And if you are in any degree troubled that he might not be suited to the profession, then I give you my word that he may have his free discharge at any time during his training.’

‘I am obliged, sir. But it has always been the intention that Stephen continued in this trade. He has made a very good start.’

Hervey judged it better not to try to counter a mother’s hopes. ‘They are beautiful hats, Mrs Rudd.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ She managed a sort of smile.

‘And there seems no reason why Stephen should not continue in the trade after serving the King.’ He judged her loyalties to be firmly Tory.

Mrs Rudd looked uncomfortable at the inference which might be drawn if she persisted. ‘May I speak freely, sir? And I mean no offence. And we are all grateful and proud of what was done in the wars. But you see, sir, to have a son go for a soldier is not … that is, families in respectable trades such as ours …’

Hervey smiled as benevolently as he could. ‘Of course, Mrs Rudd. I perfectly understand. But we are light dragoons. You saw what sort of man my serjeant was, and those about him.’ It was perhaps fortunate at this exact moment that Armstrong had not been in charge of the party; there could be ‘misunderstandings’ with Serjeant-Major Armstrong.

‘We attend divine service every Sunday at the Minster, sir.’

‘I myself am a clergyman’s son, Mrs Rudd. And a bible and prayer book are provided for every soldier by the Naval and Military Bible Society.’ He sensed he was beginning to overwhelm her objections.

‘And he would be properly treated?’

Hervey could answer with absolute assurance. ‘The officers have as close a feeling for their men as any in the service, Mrs Rudd.’ He judged it now the moment to make a personal guarantee. ‘You would be most welcome to communicate with my father, the Vicar of Horningsham, at any time.’

Next morning, Hervey rode early to The Bell, to find Serjeant Collins looking troubled. ‘Have you seen the news, sir – about Manchester?’

Hervey had not. Collins handed him the
Daily Courant
:

Manchester, August 16th

SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENTS

This day in Manchester has been witness to scenes so infamous as to beggar description. At One o’clock p.m. a large but peaceable assembly of respectable men together with their families was at St Peter’s field to hear the Radical speaker Henry Hunt address them
on the propriety of adopting the most legal and effectual means of obtaining a reform of the Common House of Parliament. The Magistrates had sworn in four hundred Special Constables to serve on the day of the meeting, and also had at their disposal a military force composed of Cavalry, Infantry and Horse Artillery. Shortly after One o’clock Mr Hunt arrived to great acclamation and bands playing, and began addressing the crowd which by various estimates were in excess of Fifty Thousand Persons, but no sooner had he begun but the Magistrates ordered a Troop of The Manchester and Salford Yeomanry to arrest the speaker, and thereupon the Corps charged the crowd with great violence so that within a short time there were many dead and dying on the field and divers more cruelly maimed, and the exigency was made the worse by the appearance soon afterwards of Troops of Regular Cavalry, namely the Fifteenth Light Dragoons, who disported themselves with no less restraint than the Yeomanry.

‘That is very ill news indeed, Serjeant Collins.’

‘Ay, sir. Half the town will think we’re heroes, and the other butchers.’

‘I cannot believe the Fifteenth would have behaved so. What does
The Times
say?’

‘I have not heard tell, sir.’

‘We had better get along to the Common before this becomes street tattle. Did the milliner’s son return yesterday, by any chance?’

Collins smiled. ‘He did, sir. He is coming here this afternoon to attest before one of the notaries.’

It was some consolation, at least. Hervey had still not seen the lad, but Collins’s recommendation was enough – that, and the respectability of the mother.

Thirty or so onlookers watched the recruiting party file out of The Bell’s stable yard, hooves ringing on the cobblestones beneath the arch. The little crowd seemed to no degree different from the day before, and Hervey was relieved that they could go about their business without abuse in the high street, for they would surely meet with it on the Common.

It took but ten minutes at the walk. Hervey had never been to
the Common before, but the stench on this hot summer’s morning alerted him to the rank nature of the place from a quarter of a mile. As they neared the first dwelling, a dismal hovel with a broken roof and a wall which could never stand another winter’s storm, he saw that the Rehoboth stream, whose plentiful sweet water had first been the draw of the squatters, was now but a trickling midden. Children stood all about barefoot in filth. Dogs, cats, pigs, poultry, a cow and even donkeys wandered freely, adding excrement to the mud and ash that was the main street, a foul faecal mulch which the dragoons would curse when it came to boning boots that night. In what manner this was superior to the meanest villages he had seen in India, Hervey would have been hard put to it to say.

Serjeant Collins looked about disdainfully. What adult males were abroad at this hour did not impress by their appearance. ‘Over there looks about best, sir,’ he said, indicating the chapel, the only substantial building to be seen.

Hervey agreed. They halted and dismounted. ‘Calls, please, Trumpet-Major.’

Children appeared, some evidently delighted by the colourful sight amid the drabness of the settlement, others wary, recognizing perhaps the ingress of authority to their free and easy camp. A few women came, one or two owning to motherhood by taking charge of their offspring with a cautionary slap to the ear. Some of the children came closer, wanting to touch the horses. The dragoons received them willingly, but one by one they were hauled away. Before long the party was without an audience except for two young women who stood by the corner of the preaching house, and for a purpose which its sparse congregation of a Sunday would vehemently condemn.

‘Do you want me to begin looking for these three men Miss Hervey has named, sir?’ Collins’s voice carried neither enthusiasm nor reluctance.

Hervey sighed. ‘To tell the truth, Serjeant Collins, I little imagined squalor such as this. I can’t see how any half-decent recruit might come out of here.’

‘A good hosing and a week’s drill and any of these could look likely, sir. It’s all a question of whether they
want
to lift themselves out of this sink. You never know: there might be such as have
been waiting the opportunity for years without even knowing it.’

Hervey nodded. ‘Well, we’ll take no recruits by waiting; that much seems certain. Sound off again, please, Trumpet-Major. And you and I had better begin visiting,’ he said to Collins, grimly.

The dwellings had no numbers, and although the streets had customary names they were not displayed. But Elizabeth had provided directions for each of the three. Good directions, too, for the first they found very quickly. Collins knocked at the door – closed, as were the windows, even on so warm a morning as this. It opened to reveal a single foul-smelling room with a dirt floor partly covered by furze cut from the edge of the Common, and on it a sleeping woman with, next to her, like piglets at a sow, half a dozen infants no older than three. Collins bent to the door’s opener. ‘Does Jobie Wainwright live here, love?’