An Act Of Courage

Sanchez shook his head again. ‘I do not know. I heard mention of . . . espionage.’

Hervey did not reply. The outcome of such a trial, if unfavourable, was known to them both well enough. He felt his spirits plummeting like a stone into a deep, dark well. A military tribunal at Badajoz: the wheel had come full circle. Nothing could be more painful to a soldier’s pride than to be arraigned before a military court. He had never spoken of the first time, with anyone – not with Daniel Coates, nor even with Henrietta. In a pocket of his writing case there was, still, a sheet of paper, a convening order for a court martial seventeen years old – his age, almost, at the time of its signing. He did not rightly know why he kept it. His penance, perhaps. But had he not redeemed himself a hundred times since then? A military tribunal – a court martial: the wheel had, indeed, come full circle, and he dreaded being broken on it.

COURT MARTIALA General Court Martial shall convene at Badajoz on the 10th day of September, 1809, in pursuance of a warrant from Lieut.-General Sir A. Wellesley, commanding his Majesty’s Forces in Spain, to hear charges against Cornets M. P. Hervey and F. K. Daly, both of his Majesty’s 6th Light Dragoons (Princess Caroline’s Own).

PRESIDENT,

Colonel Sir JOHN PATTINSON, Bart.

MEMBERS,

Lieut.-Col. J. A. CHATTERTON, C.B. 3rd Drag. Guards.Brevet-Major C. TOWER, R. Artillery.Major P. MITCHELL, 4th Reg.Capt. A. J. APLIN, 88th Reg.Capt. F. HAWKINS, 88th Reg.Capt. WARBURTON GREY, R. Engineers.Capt. J. S. SECCOMBE, R. Artillery.Capt. the Honbl. F. PURDON, 7th Reg.Lieut. R. J. INCE, 60th (Royal Americans).Lieut. W. PODMORE, R. Artillery.Lieut. C. ZWICKY, 97th Reg.Lieut. A. J. NEWTON, 48th Reg.

JUDGE MARTIAL

DAVID JENKYNS, Esq.

Deputy Judge Advocate General.

As the regulations required, Hervey and Daly had been placed in close arrest the evening before the court assembled, though each separately. They were not incarcerated, rather were they confined to quarters in agreeable houses near the Las Palmas gate, close to the convent that would serve as the court. But it did not go well with either man to have his liberty suspended: Hervey felt the deepest humiliation at having Cornet Laming sit the evening with him as escort, while Daly fulminated against ‘the ungentlemanlike refusal to accept his parole’.

In the morning they dressed in best regimentals, but without sword, belt or headdress, which were carried instead by the escorts. At the convent, Hervey met his defending officer, Lieutenant Martyn, and walked with him to an ante-chamber to wait for the court to assemble. Cornet Daly was already there. He made no sign of greeting, looking straight ahead, so that when they were asked to form up ready to march into court, Hervey found himself taking position in front of him, as his marginal seniority demanded, with added discomfort.

One pace behind Hervey was Laming, however, a reassuring thought if not an altogether happy one. ‘Prisoner, attenshun.’

Laming said it so softly that Hervey barely heard. ‘Be a good fellow and speak up,’ he said, turning his head to the side.

In doing so he saw Serjeant Treve, who had been orderly quartermaster the night of the incident, waiting to be called in evidence. John Knight was standing nearby, too, and Private Brayshaw, his assistant, and the orderly corporal of that night, and the inlying picket-commander, and several dragoons who had been on guard – all waiting to give evidence. Inside the court, he knew, there would be spectators, from the regiment and from the army. He felt sick with shame.

‘Prisoner, quick-march.’

Hervey, prisoner: it was scarcely to be borne. He had done his duty, and it was come to this. When would they hear of it in Wiltshire, or at his school? The ignominy stretched before him like the open sea.

‘Halt.’

Again, Laming could hardly bring himself to breathe the word of command. Hervey halted by some instinct rather than obedience.

Behind them, Cornet Wyllie from C Troop, Daly’s escort, gave the commands very decidedly.

Hervey looked directly at the president. He did not know Colonel Pattinson, as was only right, but he had heard of him. He had been with Sir John Moore at Shorncliffe and had a reputation for discipline, if not quite of the ferocity of General Craufurd. He wore his bicorn low on his brow, betokening, thought Hervey, an angry disposition towards the proceedings. He could have no objection to the colonel’s being president, however, though that was his right, as it was Daly’s too.

He looked at the other officers in turn, twelve of them, making thirteen in all, the minimum required for a general court martial. The junior member was Newton, lieutenant of the 48th (Northamptonshire), the regiment that had done more than any to save the day at Talavera. What would he make of a quarrel between cornets of light dragoons – an affair of peacocks? Next was Zwicky, from the 97th (Queen’s Germans); what might his notions of high honour make of the conduct of two British officers? The other two lieutenants, Podmore in the blue of the Royal Artillery, and Ince in the green of the Sixtieth’s rifle battalion, he imagined would think much the same. The captains, three in red, two in blue, looked as if they would share the opinion, but more vehemently. Hawkins, second of the two Connaught captains, had a raw powder-burn across his nose and left cheek, vivid evidence of a fighting disposition. What would he care for a brawl in the horse lines, safe behind the infantry’s pickets? Would he know that the Sixth had had their share of fighting too, had gone hard at the French time and again, first with Moore and now with Wellesley? It was the old trouble – the work of cavalry, light cavalry especially, went unseen for the most part. It was too easy to think of them trotting here and there looking as if they were off to escort the Prince of Wales at Brighton. No one had seen them on the march to Corunna, though they had held the French cavalry at bay and bought the infantry precious time. But they had not been there when Sir John Moore had finally given battle, for he had sent his cavalry rear. There was nothing to earn the contempt of a soldier more than to be absent from a battle.

Captain the Honourable F. Purdon, 7th Foot, the Royal Fuzileers, a peer’s son from (it was said) Sir Arthur Wellesley’s favourite regiment: what would he make of a drunken squireen and a parson’s son who resorted to his fists? The Sixth’s reputation would be tarnished, whatever the outcome. And the tarnishing would be under the gaze of their new commanding officer: Lord George Irvine was taking his seat behind the prosecuting officer’s table.

Hervey now glanced at the two majors. They looked every bit as severe as Joseph Edmonds. Finally, he turned his eyes to the lieutenant-colonel, the only cavalryman, from the quartermastergeneral’s department of Sir Arthur Wellesley’s staff. He presumed the exclusion of any other was deliberate, perhaps because it was difficult to find anyone who did not know something of the affair; perhaps because another officer of light dragoons might be prejudiced in his opinion.

The president broke the silence. He read out the warrants for the convening of the court martial, then turned his gaze directly on the accused. ‘Do either of the prisoners have objection to me or to any other member of the officers here assembled for the purpose of trying the cases before the court?’ He addressed the question directly to the two defending officers.

Lieutenant Martyn, standing to Hervey’s right, turned to him for an answer.

Hervey shook his head.

‘Mr Hervey has no objection, sir.’

Lieutenant Beale-Browne asked the same of Cornet Daly.

There was an exchange, sotto voce, but evident enough.

‘Mr Daly objects to Captain Aplin on the grounds that his family and Mr Daly’s are in dispute over certain