Rumours Of War

‘One moment, Major Hervey. The Gravesend packet this morning brought several weeks’ copies of the London Gazette.’ He handed him another sheaf of papers. ‘You will find some of them of interest.’

Hervey sat heavily in the leather armchair in his sitting room, once the two tabbies had obligingly quit it. His anger had risen with every step he had taken from Colonel Norris’s quarters, and not simply because he considered his design superior to Norris’s; it was the man’s extraordinary obtuseness that offended him so. He could be ‘Black Jack’ Slade reincarnate, except that Norris did not – at least at present – appear to share Slade’s rancour. He took up the first Gazette as he waited for Johnson’s coffee, his hands not quite still even now.

The London Gazette, the official intelligencer: it was old news, but welcome – anything that might divert him for an hour or so.

The trouble was, he had known full well, Norris would not admit of any idea but his own, especially not an idea that suggested superior information or understanding. It had been that way since their first night at sea, as if the man were at pains to preserve the enterprise as his and his alone. Hervey sighed. Norris was, indeed, every bit the reincarnation of Slade – for if he did not seem to have the rancour then it was but appearance alone; the man was mean-spirited as well as dim-witted.

Johnson came with his coffee. He took it with merely a nod, still rapt in thought. And then he frowned. No, it was not possible to say that Norris was dim-witted. Even a man as peevish as Norris could not otherwise have advanced to colonel, for in the artillery and engineers promotion was on merit not purchase. And he had, too, secured the Duke of Wellington’s approval at the Ordnance. Some of his wits, very evidently, must be sharp. Perhaps Norris was altogether sharper-witted than he supposed; perhaps, recognizing his own limitations – that his talents were those of calculus and cannonading rather than campaigning – he had grasped at a plan that had once succeeded and which, because it had been the duke’s own, he could never be blamed for advancing? Hervey wondered, indeed, if he ought not to proceed on the absolute assumption that Colonel Norris’s wits were venal rather than dull.

He threw aside the first Gazette; it bore nothing of the remotest interest. He began reading the next.

‘Johnson, hear this!’

Private Johnson, bent in front of the reluctant fire, halted the bellows work and turned his head.

Hervey began to read aloud:

Whitehall, October 3, 1826THE King has been pleased to direct letters patent to be passed under the Great Seal, granting the dignities of Viscount and Earl of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland to William Pitt Baron Amherst, Governor General of India, and the heirs male of his body lawfully begotten, by the names, stiles, and titles of Viscount Holmesdale, in the County of Kent, and Earl Amherst, of Arracan, in the East Indies.The King has also been pleased to direct letters patent to be passed under the Great Seal, granting the dignity of Viscount of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland to Stapleton Baron Combermere, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, and General and Commander of our forces in the East Indies, and the heirs male of his body lawfully begotten, by the name, stile, and title of Viscount Combermere, of Bhurtpore, in the East Indies, and of Combermere, in the county palatine of Chester.

Johnson began working the bellows again, and a good deal more noisily.

‘You are not disposed to bask in any of the reflected honour?’ asked Hervey, with mock surprise.

‘Thieves’ honour, sir?’

Hervey was already scanning the third Gazette. ‘Ah, now this will serve very well. Listen.’

War-Office, 5th October 1826

HIS Majesty has been pleased to approve of the Regiments under mentioned bearing on their colours and appointments, in addition to any other badges or devices which have been heretofore granted to those Regiments, the word

“Bhurtpore”in commemoration of their services in the assault and capture of the fortified town and citadel of Bhurtpore, in the month of January 1826:6th Regiment of Light Dragoons11th Regiment of Light Dragoons16th Ditto14th Regiment of Foot 59th Ditto

‘Ay, well, that’s fair enough,’ said Johnson, halting the bellows-work to think on the honour.

Hervey was now wholly diverted. He suddenly stiffened. ‘Johnson, hear this!’

Whitehall, October 9, 1826

HIS Majesty has been pleased to nominate and appoint Major-General Sir Archibald Campbell, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, to be a Knight Grand Cross of the said Most Honourable Order.

‘All Dutch to me,’ said Johnson, laying down the bellows and watching the flame for signs of relapse.

‘No, I forget, you were not at Rangoon. But never mind. Listen . . .’

He read the list – general officers, all familiar to them both from Bhurtpore, and all made knights of the lower grade.

Johnson kept his eye on the flame throughout.

‘That is very pleasing, you know,’ said Hervey, lowering the page and looking directly at him.

Johnson, supposing this to be an extended hearing, set aside the bellows and squatted on the fire-seat.

‘They were the most energetic of men throughout. And they took their place where it was hottest. I’m glad to see them honoured thus.’

‘Is that it then, sir?’ asked Johnson, rising.

‘No, it is not. Mark carefully . . .’ Hervey read out a dozen more names, all colonels from the regiments at Bhurtpore, all made companions of the Military Order of the Bath.

‘Ah, them’s fair,’ declared Johnson.

‘And, I am very pleased to read, Lieutenant-Colonel James Skinner, of the Bengal Native Irregular Cavalry.’

‘That’s fair an’ all.’

‘And hear! Lieutenant-Colonel Eustace Joynson, Sixth Light Dragoons!’

‘Bloody ’ell! Old Daddy Eustace!’

‘And justly so. What would it have said of the regiment otherwise?’

‘Anybody else?’

Hervey’s mouth fell open.

‘What?’

‘Brevet-Major Matthew Hervey, Sixth Light Dragoons.’

‘Well . . . bloody ’ell, sir!’

‘Quite, Johnson.’

‘Well . . .’ Johnson stood up, looking for once as if he were lost to know what to do. ‘Well . . . I just don’t know what to say, Major ’Ervey.’

They shook hands. It was the first time they had ever done so.

Hervey put down the Gazette and went to a side table. ‘We can take a little wine to celebrate.’

‘Just a wet, though, sir. I’ve got all yon tackling to put back together.’

Hervey poured them decent measures of Madeira nevertheless. ‘You can do that with your eyes closed.’

‘As a rule, ay, but some o’ this fancy stuff t’Portuguese gave us is damned mazy!’ Johnson took a good gulp.