It's Not Indigestion I'll Eat What I Like Page 2

  Welbeloved looked thoughtful. “Did he say who that is?” “Not to me, Sir. No doubt he will introduce you before dinner.”

  “Very good. I’ll be away. Oblige me by keeping a look-out for Lord Vere on the quay and bring him along with the MacKays when yew come.”

  The twittering of bosun’s pipes saw him over the side and he remembered to hold his sword away from his legs when getting into the barge. The thought of entangling it and landing sprawled in his finery among the oarsmen caused him to smile widely; a grin reciprocated by the short but massive coxswain who welcomed him into the boat. “May the compassionate Lord continue to look kindly on your endeavours, Commodore Bey.”

  “And unto you also, Abdulla Mustapha Dimitri Spiros Seamus O’Toole. May He ever watch over you.” The exchange was in Turkish, to the visible astonishment of some of the boat’s crew. He continued in English. “It is good to see yew again Seamus. No doubt still trying, without success, to keep the Captain Bey out of trouble?”

  O’Toole steered toward Titan before replying. “Sure, the enthusiasms of youth have been little diminished, your honour, but he carries a greater weight of responsibility along with him. Did you not feel this so, when you traded your ‘Bey’ for a ‘Sir’?”

  “This I shall discover in the next few weeks, Seamus. So far, I have been blessed with intelligent, brave and talented young men who are happy to keep my enthusiasms glowing and ready to flame. In addition, the Condesa, whom yew met at La Coruña, has now presented me with a son, named for Charles Cockburn.”

  “Blessings on him then, your honour, be sure to let the Captain Bey know the compliment you pay him.” The barge slid gently alongside. “Be watchin’ out for that sword, Sor!”

  Welbeloved hitched it behind him and grasped the hand ropes, running up the ship’s side as if to prove he was ten years younger. It was a mistake as he nearly lost his hat, but had the presence of mind to clutch it and remove it in an exaggerated gesture to acknowledge the salutation of the pipes and the marine band as he all but stumbled onto the deck.

  Sir Charles Cockburn strode forward and clasped his hand warmly, laughing not entirely sympathetically. “Welcome Joshua. I’ve had a little more practice than you, but I still have to be careful.”

  Welbeloved growled. “It’s all very well for yew, Charles. Yew know very well how I’ve hated these ridiculous hats ever since yew pressed me in ’99. The only things worse were those balloon turbans that the Turks insisted we wear.”

  “I remember them well. It was Sidney Smith, as I recall, who called us nautical mushrooms, or some such, and then had to wear one himself. You’ll probably find my Flag Captain remembers as well. I don’t have to introduce Captain Guest, I’m sure.”

  John Guest stepped forward, smiling diffidently as usual. A sound seaman and a good officer, he had been dragged up in rank by hanging onto Cockburn’s coattails, without having an ounce of ‘interest’ of his own to count in his favour. A solid, rather unimaginative officer, now commanding a two-deck, seventy-four and risen far above his wildest expectations, though not above his competence.

  Welbeloved clasped his hand warmly. “One of the advantages of the Royal Navy, John, is that the longer yew serve, the more likely yew are to meet the select circle of friends yew have made over the years.”

  Guest nodded vigorously. “Very true indeed, Sir Joshua, and thankyou for suggesting that I am a member of that circle. The disadvantage is that in such a small world one is frequently thrown together with those whose definition of friend is someone who can advance their prospects.”

  “I wouldn’t disagree, John, but for those of us who have clawed our way up the ladder, I think being worthy is the criterion. I see many who are worthy and may they always outnumber the unworthy.”

  He looked closely at a diminutive figure at the end of the line. “Talking of the worthy, I see yew have managed to retain the best Master in the Service. Well met, Matthew Miles. I have long wished I had someone to navigate me round Spain as professionally as yew took us round the oceans.”

  Miles smiled happily. “You never asked me, Sir Joshua, but in any case, I hate walking and horses frighten me to death.”

  They were still laughing when they retired to the great cabin. “I’m glad you could come before my little entertainment, Joshua. There is a lot to catch up with before I leave your brigade with you and take the rest of the transports to South Africa to reinforce the garrison there. I am to be back to join the fleet in the Mediterranean by June. Think about whether there is anything we can do to support you and leave word at Gibraltar.”

  Two hours later, they were still talking. Cockburn was delighted to learn of Carlos and promised to stand as Godfather, even if he couldn’t be present for the baptism. He boasted that he also was going to be a father again in the autumn and almost seriously speculated on whether a girl would be an ideal match for Carlos in another twenty years.

  They progressed to the marines that had been escorted out to Lisbon. “Admiral Harrison put his considerable weight behind getting me this squadron and rounding up the men you need, Joshua. Implicit in this was my co-operation in getting them equipped with suitable uniforms. You have no idea how much opposition there has been to getting them out of their red coats, even though it is one of the points that Lord Wellington was most insistent upon.

  Knapsacks, cartridge pouches, shoes and even fifty horses and harness were no trouble, but I had to requisition enormous quantities of cloth dyed buckskin brown and we’ve had all the sailmakers in the squadron acting as tailors. Every marine and sergeant is now kitted out as close as my memory served to one of your killers. I think you’ll be satisfied with the result.”

  “If I didn’t know yew so well Charles, old friend, I would be overcome. As it is, I would have expected no less of yew and can only give yew my most heartfelt thanks. But yew stressed marines and N.C.O.’s. Have they sent me no officers?”

  “Oh they have indeed, but they have also sent Lieutenant-Colonel Bailey to be your Second-in-Command and he has forbidden the officers to wear ‘improper dress’. I’m sure that was the phrase he used.”

  “I see!” Welbeloved looked faintly amused. “No doubt Colonel Bailey has impeccable credentials in drilling and inspecting pipe-clay, and I would guess that he also has powerful family interest and that a member of that family sits on the government benches in Parliament.”

  Cockburn looked at him quizzically. “You always did have this amazing talent for going straight to the heart of a problem, Joshua. You are almost correct except in one small detail. There are two of his relatives in Parliament, one in the Lords and one in the Commons.”

  “Just as well then, that the mail takes two or three weeks to reach London from here. Do I understand yew correctly? Yew have made uniforms for the officers but they are not allowed to wear them?”

  “That is so. There is even a spare uniform for Bailey, but we had to guess at his measurements.”

  Welbeloved pulled out his watch. “Two hours until dinner, Charles?” Cockburn nodded. “Should yew oblige me by hanging out a signal? I want Bailey and all his officers here for my inspection in one hour. D’yew think John Guest will put up with the disturbance?”

  “My dear fellow, neither of us would miss it for the world.”

  ***

  The next hour was a busy time with boats arriving at the Flagship from the transports and the en flute sixty-four that had brought the marines from England.

  When Welbeloved walked out of Cockburn’s cabin there was a line of captains and lieutenants waiting for him. As he appeared they were brought smartly to attention by a young, portly, red-faced officer wearing a uniform showing the insignia of a Lieutenant-Colonel. Fourteen glowing red coats, tall black bicorn hats, pristine white breeches and broad white shoulder belts supporting swords, with gleaming black calf-boots. All this forming the foundation for varying degrees of coloured braid, depending on the rank of the wearer.

  Bailey removed his hat in sa
lute and Welbeloved responded by lifting his own six inches and replacing it quickly. “Lieutenant-Colonel Bailey, Sir Joshua. Commanding officer of the three hundred officers and men sent to reinforce your Naval Brigade. I am appointed your Second in Command. If you will honour us by inspecting your officers, I will introduce each one as we walk along the line.”

  As it was Welbeloved who had ordered the parade, he was highly amused at Bailey’s presumption in presenting it as his own and his assumption of the number two position.

  He merely smiled serenely at Bailey and said quietly; “I will inspect yor officers, Colonel. Yew may present each one in turn.”

  Bailey stuck out his chest triumphantly, convinced that he was winning this contest to maintain his adored tradition. He became magnanimous. “They are your officers now, Sir Joshua.”

  Welbeloved looked at him disinterestedly, a trick he had often seen Vere perfecting when things were not going entirely to his satisfaction. “I am well aware of what I said, Colonel. Now oblige me by standing straight and still as I start by inspecting yew.”

  Suddenly Bailey had the sinking feeling that the contest he thought he was winning was not even a contest. He stiffened to attention while Welbeloved took his time looking at every detail of his uniform. Finally he smiled his approval. “Excellent Colonel. Yew may now present yor officers.”

  They walked down the line together. Each officer was introduced by name and rank and was subjected to a minute appraisal before receiving a nod of approval when they moved on to the next man. There were four captains and nine lieutenants. Welbeloved suspected that there should have been a major, but that Bailey had been promoted urgently, as a sound man who could keep this wild Commodore on traditional lines, by taking on the post of his deputy and overseer.

  The inspection over, Welbeloved stood in front of them and addressed them in a loud, clear voice.

  “Thankyew Gentlemen. That was most impressive and instructive. I doubt whether the parade ground at Chatham has ever seen such an exemplary display. Yor Colonel Bailey is to be complimented on the standard of dress yew have achieved.”

  Vere and MacKay had come aboard at the same time as the officers and now came forward to stand on either side of a canvas chair that had been placed for Welbeloved.

  He seated himself and looked at Bailey. “Shall yew and yor officers form a semi-circle around me so that I can talk to yew all?” He waited while they crowded round. “Move back a trifle, Gentlemen and seat yorselves on the deck. I do dislike looking up at people I’m talking to.”

  Welbeloved was not a spiteful person, but he did derive a certain malicious satisfaction from the realisation of what the tar between the scrubbed, white planks of the deck would do to fourteen pristine pairs of white breeches. He was also well aware that tight white knee-breeches were not designed for sitting on the deck, cross-legged or sprawled in an undignified position, putting them at a further disadvantage against the Commodore and the two forbidding figures standing either side of him.

  He looked them over and used his carrying voice so that they should all hear every word. “There has been a small misunderstanding, Gentlemen, and it is only right and just that yew should know the true state of affairs.

  As yew know, my name is Welbeloved and for three years now I have been leading a specially trained unit against the French invaders of Spain and Portugal. Our success can be measured in many ways. To start with; every man in the unit can claim to have killed, captured or routed over fifty French veteran soldiers each during that time. People throughout Spain have given us the name ‘Avispónes Morenos’ which can be translated as the Brown Hornets. Lord Wellington has agreed that we be known simply as the Hornets.

  We are successful because we wage war in a different way, with superior weapons. We travel on horseback but we fight on foot, usually by ourselves and apart from the army. We are highly trained to a degree unmatched by any army in the world.

  Yew see me here wearing my dress uniform. It is a uniform I am proud of, but I would not dream of going to war in it. I would not be alive today if I had. My undress uniform is identical to what yew see before yew on Colonel Lord Vere and Major MacKay and a similar uniform has been made available to every man that sailed with Sir Charles Cockburn to Lisbon.

  Now we come to the misunderstanding. Yew and yor marines are not reinforcements for the Hornets. Yew are recruits, to whom we will give as much training as we can before the French attack. If we can bring yew up to an acceptable level of competence, yew will be accepted into our cadet organisation, which is known as the Avispas Verdes or Wasps.

  As far as yor men are concerned. As is the way of such things, they have no choice but to submit to our training, and will either be accepted or rejected. We are hopeful, but not optimistic, that we can retain up to two thirds of them, depending on the quality of the men yew scraped together.

  As officers, naturally yew have a choice. If yew decide not to submit yorself to this ordeal; and I assure yew it will be an ordeal; yew may continue to the Cape with Sir Charles. We have several volunteers from his squadron who are anxious to claim yor places.

  Those who remain will be expected to set an example and yor special training will reflect this. I shall instruct yew myself and yew should know that my original rejection rate for the men was two out of three.”

  He looked at his watch. “Yew have two hours to decide if yew wish to transfer to Sir Charles. The rest of yew and yor sergeants will parade at dawn on the quay in yor undress uniform. For the duration of yor period of training, yor rank will be Marine and any order given to yew by any Hornet or Wasp will be obeyed instantly. Yew will be issued with a breech-loading musket and will rapidly become expert with it. Luggage will be what yew can carry on yor back plus a valise no bigger than three feet by two feet by one foot. That will travel on a wagon and should not contain anything essential, in case we have to abandon the wagon.

  A week from now, we will have ridden and marched into the heart of Spain and yew will be fitter than ever before in yor lives. We need more horses and equipment for all the recruits and the only place to get them is from the Frogs, so yew will have seen action. Everything that I ask yew to do I shall be doing myself and most of yew are at least ten years younger than I am. Until the morning then, Gentlemen.”

  They all scrambled to their feet, their expressions ranging from thoughtful through shocked to excited. Guest signalled for the boats to take them back to their transports. Bailey rushed up to Welbeloved. “You can’t seriously expect me to be subjected to this ridiculous regime! I am a senior officer! I direct the men! I don’t play soldiers with them!”

  Welbeloved looked at him sadly. “I too am a senior officer Colonel, and it is customary to address a senior officer with respect. However-” He held his hand up to still the spluttering. “-let me reply. I shall submit myself to this regime although I do not seriously expect yew to do so. I would nevertheless respect yew a great deal more if yew did.

  Therefore, I have laid out the alternatives very clearly. It is a matter for regret if yew find them unattractive, but I can suggest that in yor case I can speak to Admiral Berkeley. I don’t doubt that he would welcome yew on his staff to help collect and redirect the recruits that we reject. After that, I am afraid that we have run out of options.”

  ***

  The dinner that night was a joyous reunion. In addition to Guest, Martin Linnett and Thomas Morgan were present. Linnett had been midshipman in Hobby and had eventually taken over command of her. He was now Captain of a handsome thirty-six-gun frigate in Cockburn’s squadron. Morgan had been a protégé of Admiral Troubridge and had joined Hirondelle before the events leading up to the siege of Acre. He was commanding the sixty-four-gun en flute third rate that had come out filled with Welbeloved’s marines. He was itching to get rid of them so that he could recover his guns from the hold and, for the remainder of the trip to the cape, get over the indignity of being a lowly transport ship.

  MacKay had been a mere
Marine in Hirondelle. Now he was treated with something like awe by some of the people who had barely noticed his existence then. The fact that he and his bride appeared as such dangerous and even frightening warriors struck a chord in the emotions of the fighting men present.

  One final, complicated transaction was agreed between Cockburn and Welbeloved. The grateful Pasha of Acre had gifted the schooner Calliope to them both, ten years ago. She was a speedy, armed and commodious vessel and had been used ever since as a tender for Cockburn’s commands. When Welbeloved suggested that she would be an ideal vessel to service the Hornets, Cockburn handed her over immediately and promised to get Admiral Berkeley to arrange for the Admiralty to hire her. That way, one of his deserving lieutenants could be given command and the present crew could continue to serve.

  In return, Welbeloved ordered Parsons to consider himself part of Cockburn’s squadron until further notice. Daphne was far too useful a warship to act merely as a courier vessel for the Hornets. She would strengthen Cockburn’s squadron and at the same time enable Parsons to keep a weather eye on his nephew, who had been offered a berth in Linnett’s frigate.

  Welbeloved was certain that Admiral Harrison would endorse any recommendation made through Berkeley, who could possibly be made to become more supportive of the Hornets if he had nominal overall command of Welbeloved’s ‘Flagship’.

  CHAPTER 2

  Thankfully, the wind and the rain that had been making life miserable all morning for the fifty brown-clad horsemen, had now abated. From the look of the sky to the west, there was still the chance of an occasional shower, but the scattered clouds were thinning from a thick cumulus aspect and few of them appeared to be carrying rain.

  It was just as well for the double files of men and women strung out in three groups along the road parallel to the river. No longer on horseback, they were marching and trotting alternately for the last ten miles of their daily journey into the heart of Spain.