'Thank you, sir!
He led them, a raggle-taggle Battalion, out of Foulness. As the dawn leeched the dark sky pale they approached a ford across the Crouch, and Harper, marching at the front of the column, was teaching the lead Company the words of 'The Drummer Boy.' 'Sing, you protestant bastards! Sing!
By the time they had crossed the Crouch, and the first stragglers were limping to catch up, the lead Company knew the first three verses. It was not a song that was heard much on Britain's roads, where the officers liked to pretend that the only marching songs were patriotic and stern, but the tune was catching, and the drummer boy's exploits extraordinary, and the men bellowed out the lines about the lad's pleasuring of the Colonel's wife with a gusto. Beyond the Crouch, as they approached a small village, Sharpe called a halt. Geese flew overhead. A miller cranked the sails of his mill to catch the wind, and Sharpe looked at the men who collapsed onto the side of the road and he decided that, given a chance, these men could fight as well as any in Spain.
They must be given that chance. He had no proof now, no evidence of the crimping, and Sharpe knew the evidence was lost. If he had been more gentle with Jane, if he had not blundered into a proposal of marriage on just the fourth time he had met her, then she might even now be planning to find the books. Yet he had frightened her away, before he could tell her where she might find lodgings or help, before any of the small, all-important details could be settled. His ten guineas were doubtless lost, scooped up by a servant, and Sharpe rode to a desperate risk.
'No proof then, sir? d'Alembord rode alongside Sharpe.
'None, Dally.
d'Alembord looked at the red rose in Sharpe's buttonhole, decided to say nothing, and gave a confident smile instead. 'We'll just have to get confessions out of these buggers. He waved at the officers and sergeants ahead.
'Their word against Lord Fenner? Sharpe shrugged. 'I think I've got a better idea. He told d'Alembord his thought of the previous night, the outrageous, splendid, desperate idea, and d'Alembord, after hearing it, laughed. Then, realising that Sharpe was serious, he looked appalled. 'You can't do it!
'I can, Sharpe said mildly. 'You don't have to come.
'Of course I'll come! The worst they can do is hang us, isn't it?
Sharpe laughed, grateful for the support. He was finding this morning, this day, this march, a trial. Not just because of the foolhardy action he planned, but because he was bitterly regretting his stupid, impulsive proposal of marriage. He had shocked her. He felt a fool. He felt as if he had been given a chance to approach something precious and wonderful, and, with crass clumsiness, he had spoilt it. He tried to convince himself that he was fortunate she had not accepted him on the spot, but instead he felt only regret for his tactlessness.
Jane Gibbons haunted his thoughts to embarrass him, and his enemies haunted them to make him fearful. As soon as Girdwood reached London, the orders would be written for Sharpe's arrest. Doubtless Fenner would send to Foulness first, then to Chelmsford, and Sharpe watched the road behind his columns as though he expected to see the messengers galloping towards him. His lead over his enemies was slight, and each hour that passed as the unwieldy column trudged along the dusty road, brought failure closer to him.
Sharpe knew he must not show his fears. He found Horatio Havercamp and called him to one side so that the Sergeant walked beside Sharpe's horse in an interval between Companies. 'Sir?
'How much did you make, Horatio?
'Make, sir?
'Horatio Havercamp, I started in this army where you did. I know all the bloody tricks and a few even you haven't bloody learned. How much did you make?
Havercamp grinned. 'We got the poor buggers' wages, sir.
No wonder, Sharpe thought, the sergeants had been so keen to discover any small fault with a man's kit that would deserve a deduction from the pay. Those deductions made up the sergeants' extra income. 'So how much did you make?
'Three pound a week? Varied a bit, of course.
'Five pounds a week, maybe?
'Say four, sir, Havercamp grinned cheerfully. 'But it was all official like! Above board, sir. Orders.
Sharpe looked at the sly face. 'You knew it bloody wasn't.
'Didn't do any harm, sir, did it? The army needs men; they've always paid for crimping, so why not us?
'But didn't you ever wonder what would happen when someone found out?
The Sergeant still had his look of sly enjoyment. 'If you was going to arrest us, sir, you'd have done it. You haven't, which makes me think that you need us. Besides, have you ever seen a better recruiting sergeant than me, sir? He grinned at Sharpe and took from his pocket the two golden guineas which, with his marvellous dexterity, he made come and go between his knuckles. 'It ain't every sergeant who can say he recruited Major Sharpe, is it?
Sharpe smiled. 'Suppose that I think you'd be more useful to me in Spain?
'I always heard you were a sensible man, sir. You find recruits here, sir, not there!
'But there are no profits in it any more, Sergeant.
'No, sir. Sergeant Havercamp smiled happily. He knew the profits were still there, not perhaps of the same magnitude, but recruiters had to carry government cash, and if he organised just two fictional jumpers a week then that was two guineas to be split between himself and his corporals. Sergeant Havercamp knew he would do very nicely, even if, as was the usual practice, officers were sent with each party. Horatio knew how to fix an officer's purse as well as any man's. 'Anything else, sir?
'One thing. Is there a Mother Havercamp? You know, the one the General chats to over the garden gate?
Havercamp laughed. 'Haven't seen the old maggot in years, sir. Don't want to, neither.
Sharpe laughed.
They came to Chelmsford in the middle of the afternoon, flooding the sleepy depot with men, and the problems that had plagued Sharpe before dawn were now magnified a hundred times. It was here that his real work had to begin.
He had been thinking of this moment ever since the idea had come to him across the table from Jane Gibbons. He had tried to anticipate the problems, but even so there were a thousand details he had not thought of, and, outside of d'Alembord, Price, and Harper, he had no capable men to cope with the chaos.
He did not have the proof he needed to shield these men from Lord Fenner, nor, he thought now, would that evidence come. If Jane Gibbons did help him, if she brought the accounts even at the very last moment, then he would be spared the desperate risk he planned, but without such proof he must do what his enemies had already done; he must hide the Battalion.
Not all of them, for not all were ready to do what he would ask of them. He split the four trained Companies away from the others, and to those four Companies he issued uniforms and muskets. The others, the untrained or half-trained recruits, he must leave here and hope that, within the next four days, no one would succeed in taking them away.
'Sir! Charlie Weller broke the ranks of his squad and ran to Sharpe's side. 'Please, sir!
'What is it, Charlie? Sharpe was watching the barracks archway, fearing a messenger from London.
'I want to come with you, sir. Please? Weller gestured at the four Companies in their bright new jackets. 'They're going to Spain, aren't they, sir!
Sharpe smiled. 'You'll get there one day, Charlie.
'Sir! Please! I can do it!
'You're not even musket trained, Charlie! The French are good, you know. Really good.
'I can do it, sir. Give me a chance! There were tears in his eyes. He gestured towards Sharpe's rifle. 'I'll show you, sir!
Sharpe pulled his rifle out of reach. 'So you can shoot a gun, but it's not like shooting rabbits. These bastards fire back.
'Sir!
Sharpe looked at Weller's desperation and he remembered how this boy had run after the recruiting party in the dawn. 'Tell Sergeant Harper you're in Lieutenant Price's Company.
