Hervey 07 - An Act Of Courage (12 page)

Nor, indeed, would Sir Edward Lankester. He had succeeded to his father’s baronetcy not two years before, his temperament as a soldier was effortless accomplishment, and his inclinations were as Tory as those of his major and commanding officer. Without question he agreed with Lord George’s opinion that lessons were better learned hard and soon.

‘Very well, gentlemen. Let me now tell you what is in the mind of our commander-in-chief.’

It was said without the slightest condescension or self-delight, Edmonds was certain. Nor was it self-delusion: they all knew very well by now that Lord George Irvine was a coming man, and that he enjoyed the confidence, in the widest sense, of Sir Arthur Wellesley. This of itself changed the character of the regiment somewhat, for to have a lieutenant-colonel of such evident quality and influence both increased the respect in which they were held by other regiments and multiplied the prestige of every man, for the meanest dragoon was no longer a mere legionary in this army of fifty thousand, but a man with connection (only once removed) to the commander-in-chief himself. What that profited a man was another matter, but without doubt it felt better to be in a regiment commanded by the likes of Lord George Irvine than in one whose lieutenant-colonel was of no account outside.

Edmonds knew exactly the value of such a connection. They would be made privy to Sir Arthur Wellesley’s intentions, not merely to his instructions. That was a pearl of rare price to cavalry, for it was in the nature of war that events could only be dictated (if at all)
before
contact was made with the enemy. It was then that the cavalry – the commander-in-chief ’s eyes and ears – was of incomparable worth. Since, too, the commander-in-chief could not communicate rapidly with his cavalry when they were dispersed, much depended on the judgement of the individual cavalryman – on his
coup d’oeil
, as the theorists had it.

Without knowing what was in the mind of a general, forming a right judgement was a hit-and-miss affair – if, Edmonds reflected ruefully, there
was
anything in the mind of the general (he was certain there was nothing in ‘Black Jack’ Slade’s). Thank God that man was left behind in England – never to see service again, he prayed (not active service at any rate)! Edmonds could curse long at the very thought of Slade and the system that permitted such a knave to advance. But so it was, and there was little point in fretting about it. If Wellesley could keep the Slades out of the Peninsula then he for one would be inclined to think favourably of the commander-in-chief. And if Wellesley were to bring Paget here then he would entirely revise his opinion of him! Stapleton Cotton was no Slade – he had seen enough of Cotton to be certain of that – but he was no Paget either, and with so few cavalry at his disposal, Wellesley required a commander of genius. Edmonds was by no means certain that these general officers were universally apt.

‘Edmonds?’

‘Colonel?’

Lord George Irvine smiled. ‘You were in another place, I think.’

Edmonds glanced at his glass; it was all but full still. ‘I’m sorry, Colonel. I truly was in another place.’

‘Well, I may tell you that Wellesley intends to eject the French from the north of the country. He is determined to have them out of Oporto by May’s end.’

Sir Edward scarcely batted an eyelid, but Edmonds was at once on the edge of his seat. ‘I’m astonished. I heard that he would first drive east at Lapisse or Victor; their armies threaten Lisbon more directly than does Soult’s.’

Lord George Irvine inclined his head. ‘And that would have been your counsel would it, Joseph?’

‘By no means. If we move quickly, Lapisse and Victor can be of no assistance to Soult on the Douro, and they wouldn’t be able to take Lisbon without a deal of preparation.’ Edmonds glanced again at the map on the wall. ‘And if Soult’s driven from Oporto, then he’ll have no option but to continue north, and away from any prospect of their assisting him. The Spanish ought then to be able to tie him down in Galicia. We would then have
two
armies to contend with instead of three, for if we were to drive at Lapisse or Victor directly, Soult would hare down from the Douro to be at our flanks.’

‘Then we not only understand the commander-in-chief ’s intention, gentlemen, we approve it!’ Lord George Irvine knew as well as the next colonel that executing orders that were heartily disapproved of went hard with a thinking officer. ‘Cotton shall take a brigade north to make contact with the Portuguese already watching the Douro – ourselves, the Fourteenth and the Sixteenth, and the Third Germans – while Wellesley brings up the army. He’ll keep a division here for the defence of Lisbon in case there’s any move by Lapisse or Victor, and Beresford shall take one of his Portuguese brigades of infantry and another of cavalry to stand astride Soult’s route of withdrawal east, which should drive him north into Galicia. Exactly as you prescribe, Edmonds.’

Edmonds nodded, the merest confirmation – no sign of self-satisfaction.

Sir Edward Lankester, his face impassive, enjoying the comfort of a good chair and passable Madeira (though by no means fretful for the want of comfort when circumstances demanded), recrossed his legs. ‘Who shall do – how shall we call it? – the
éclairage
, Colonel?’

Lord George Irvine smiled. ‘
You
shall, Sir Edward. You will scout for Cotton’s brigade – a day ahead, if may be.’

Sir Edward’s face remained impassive. ‘Very well. Then the sooner we begin, the better.’

‘Just so, Sir Edward, just so. Shall you be ready two days hence?’

‘I trust I shall, Colonel. If I am given the requisite mules.’

Edmonds addressed the proviso. ‘A shipload arrived this morning from Algiers. I believe we may have a hundred of them.’

‘You shall have fifty in that case, Sir Edward. Enough to carry your hard feed, but it shall have to be green fodder unless I get more.’

‘That should not be too great a problem at this time of year, Colonel, although cutting it will take up a part of the day better spent.’

Lord George Irvine looked pleased nevertheless. He knew full well what the difficulties would be, but they were not such as to jeopardize the mission, and in that case there was no profit in parading them. Sir Edward Lankester understood this, evidently: an officer in command of a regiment had worries enough without those of a squadron being added to them. Yet he had known many a captain who could not feel his ease until he had acquainted his superior with every hazard and contingency in consequence of an order. Sir Edward’s was a prudent habit, too, for when he
did
express a concern, he could be certain that he, Lord George, would hear him the better. ‘You are well found, Sir Edward. I think your officers will enjoy the sport.’

‘I am certain of it, Colonel.’

Lord George nodded, then looked at Edmonds again – and with the suggestion of pain. ‘What are we to do with Fourth Squadron?’

‘With respect, Colonel, were I you, I should be inclined to order H Troop to march under your command, and close-by at that. Warde would understand. Joynson might then manage his own troop well enough without the worry of a full squadron – if you keep him rear.’

Lord George smiled. ‘So you may keep an eye on them, Edmonds?’

‘That would be one of the advantages of such a course.’

‘Very well. What say you, Sir Edward?’

A Troop captain lowered his glass. ‘I have known Edwin Warde these dozen years and more, Colonel. Given time he will come to a right method.’

Lord George inclined his head.

‘If you press me to say more, Colonel, I would only add what I imagine is known to you already, that Daly and Quilley are a disgrace to the service no less than to the regiment.’

Lord George’s eyebrows rose. ‘It is insupportable that we should have to speak of such men. Two more reprobate officers it would be difficult to contemplate. They’ve not the slightest conception of duty – and nor, I might add, do I see any prospect of driving them to it. I shall order them in arrest at the next flagrant offence and take measures to cashier them.’

Even Edmonds was taken aback by the resolution. He was minded to rehearse some redeeming virtue, some mitigating circumstance (they were but cornets, after all); but in truth there was none – certainly not charm. ‘A turn-up before the off may be no bad thing. There’s none that dare swerve too much after such a warning.’

Sir Edward took another sip of his Madeira, as if disdaining mention of two men he would not have passed the time of day with had they not been gazetted to his regiment. ‘I hope we may reward the active sorts, Colonel, as well as punish the villains. I am of the opinion that more should have been made of the exemplars of their rank when we returned from Corunna. We had not a single merit promotion given us.’

Lord George nodded. ‘You’re right, of course, Sir Edward. And it must pain doubly when the mess sees so ill an outcome of influence as Mr Quilley. I’ll press the matter on Sir Stapleton Cotton when I see him next.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I have no doubt that you are thinking of laurels ahead for A Troop?’

Sir Edward kept his countenance, for he was in perfect earnest. ‘I am, Colonel.’

On the morning two days following, First Squadron paraded as usual, but Sir Edward Lankester had confided to only three men, the evening before, to what purpose other than routine was the muster. He was obliged, naturally, to inform B Troop’s captain, Jesmond, what was afoot, and he had told his own lieutenant, Martyn, and Quartermaster Watten. Jesmond he had also authorized to inform
his
lieutenant and quartermaster. He had no great expectation of the intention remaining in confidence to those five, however, for even if not a word was spoken of it the mere amendment to routine would signify something. And so when First Squadron paraded, in marching order, no one supposed it was for inspection only, especially since the quartermasters had given orders for the baggage to be assembled under guard in one of the courtyards.

Sir Edward had received his orders in writing the afternoon previous. They bore the lieutenant-colonel’s signature, but he knew the words had been crafted in Sir Arthur Wellesley’s headquarters, and in that case very probably by the commander-in-chief himself. He did not know Sir Arthur except by reputation, but he read in those three succinct sentences what he imagined was the essence of the man – and
everything
of his intention:

Belem
30th April 1809

To the Officer Commanding No. 1 Squadron

You are to march in advance of the Army via Caldas da Reinha, Leiria, Coimbra and Aveiro to Oporto, to form a junction with the Portuguese forces there operating against Marshal Soult and to ascertain the dispositions, strength and intentions of the enemy, especially in their extent south of the Douro river. You are to take whatever opportunity is presented that will serve for the destruction of the enemy by the main force that follows, or, failing that, and in concert as necessary with General Beresford to the east, to drive the enemy northwards into Galicia in order that General La Romana’s Spaniards may effect that destruction. On no account are you to follow in Spain without express approval of the Commander-in-Chief, with whom you are to remain in communication through the QMG Department’s couriers until the remainder of the Regiment closes on the Douro, whence you will revert to communicate to me
.

Signed
Irvine
Lieut Col 6th Light Dragoons

Sir Edward understood that he might at best have a week’s march on the rest of Sir Arthur Wellesley’s force, and a day or so only on the rest of Cotton’s brigade. The distance to the Douro was a hundred and fifty miles, over indifferent roads and with horses not yet fully up to service. He could risk no more than thirty miles in the day if he was to have a squadron even half capable at the end of it. But he could at least pick his best men and horses and take them in advance of the rest of the squadron to make the initial junction, for the Portuguese would already know a deal of what he was required to discover, and he could then simply direct his efforts towards confirming their information rather than discovering it anew. He therefore placed B Troop’s captain in command of the squadron, leaving Martyn in charge of A Troop, and left Belem as soon as muster was over with the remaining officers, a servant apiece, a serjeant, a dozen corporals and dragoons, and a farrier.

Hervey could scarcely contain his zeal as the chosen band set out. Jessye was in hale condition. The other officers may have scorned her to begin with, and they continued with the tease occasionally now, but in those weeks on the Sussex Downs, when Joseph Edmonds had had the officers out for ‘saddle-talk’, they had come to recognize a handy charger and march-horse combined. He had not the slightest doubt that he would win his wager: Fin would be cast before Jessye, and the first fine sabre would be the prize.

His second charger, Loyalist, was of an altogether different stamp, a starling gelding, a racer who had run head-up once too often. But he had got him for a good price and had re-bitted him. Laming had watched his early attempts with disbelief: ‘Hervey, there are three kinds of fool. There’s the fool, there’s the damned fool, and there’s him as hunts in a snaffle!’

But the merest contact of rein and martingale had by degrees brought Loyalist’s head down, and Hervey could only wonder at what thin bar that passed for a bit – as well as mutton fists – had hardened the animal’s mouth in the first place. Instead he had bought a round snaffle, jointed, and sewed a length of sheepskin to the noseband so that the gelding had to drop his head to see front. A few days’ schooling soon implanted the association of soft bit and forward vision in Loyalist’s head, but embarkation had interrupted their training, so that the regulation double bridle was as yet unknown to him. But Hervey had reckoned Loyalist would need the curb nothing like as much as his fellow cornet thought. ‘Laming, half the troop goes with just the snaffle, for they have the curb chain so loose!’