Hervey 08 - Company Of Spears (12 page)

Hervey glanced at Emma.

‘I will join you in a while, Matthew. From what I saw earlier it will take Eyre half an hour to assemble his bed.’

‘Nonsense!’ protested her husband. ‘The catalogue says it may be assembled with one hand.’

Emma smiled challengingly.

* * *

In the library, a big room half filled with expedition baggage, Somervile was at once animated. He was a scholar of very considerable learning, and yet to Hervey he had often seemed never more content than when he was cocked atop a good horse, pistols at his belt and bandits in sight. Somervile handed him John Durham’s catalogue, with its indications of what he had bought for the campaign in Cape Colony (not, to Hervey’s knowledge, that there
was
any campaign in prospect).

He began reading the preamble. His own camp furniture in the Peninsula had been modest, for portage was ever a problem (he lost far more than eventually he returned to England with), and in India, where portage had been legion, his furniture had been substantial. Mr Durham’s exhortation to potential customers was of another world, however:

In encampments, persons of the highest distinction are obliged to accommodate themselves in such temporary circumstances, which encampments are ever subject to. Hence every article of an absolutely necessary kind must be made very portable, both for package and that such utensils should not retard rapid movement, either after or from the enemy. The articles of cabinet work used in such services are, therefore, each of them required to be folded in the most compact manner that can be devised; yet this is to be done in such a way as that when they are opened out they will answer their intended purpose. There are therefore camp or field bedsteads, camp chairs, desks, stools and tables…

‘My dear Somervile, don’t you imagine that the position of lieutenant-governor shall require you to be resident in Cape-town, and that if you travel it shall be to where there are His Majesty’s subjects, and therefore the usual comforts?’

Somervile looked dismayed. ‘I do not so imagine! You don’t suppose that Cape Colony is pegged out like a gymkhana. I shall need to beat its bounds! Indeed, I have every expectation of being instructed to
extend
those bounds!’

Hervey knew that at two bottles Somervile could become positively venturesome, though he had observed the same spirit at nothing more than a cup of arabica. The authorities would know his ardour well, as much as they did his scholarship in native affairs, and so he began wondering if his friend’s appointment to an otherwise undistinguished station did indeed presage more active business.

‘See first this bed, Hervey.’

Somervile had evidently been engaged in earlier practice, since he was able to unfasten and refasten the retaining hooks, pull the several levers and engage the various locking joints with facility, until there stood in the middle of the room a serviceable-looking single (occasional double) camp bed. When he threw the drapes over the canopy the effect was more of permanence than of the field. Hervey felt sure it would have been appropriate for the governor-general of Bengal, let alone beating about the dusty bounds of the Cape of Good Hope. ‘You do expect to take the odd bearer with you?’

Somervile failed to recognize the tease. ‘Yes, yes, of course. But I want to be certain of my equipage.’

Hervey nodded, smiling. ‘That is very proper. What is in those large chests?’

‘Ah, yes: my dining room.’ Somervile lifted a lid to reveal four knocked-down, upholstered chairs. ‘There are twelve in all. And a table in yonder flat box.’

There were also a brass-mounted secretaire, a travelling bookcase with inset-brass grille doors, a caned mahogany sofa-bed, two folding armchairs, a mahogany washbasin, and a travelling bidet which Somervile unfolded from a leather carrying case no bigger than a lady’s portmanteau. The whole effect was, indeed, of serviceability, of practicality and economy of labour (if not of materials), so that, as the blandishments of Mr Durham’s trade card had it, when ‘persons of the highest distinction are obliged to accommodate themselves in such temporary circumstances which encampments are ever subject to’, they might do so in the greatest possible comfort. Hervey smiled even broader. He could picture Sir Eyre Somervile K.H. entertaining nobly both Dutch and English settlers in a style they almost certainly did not enjoy at their own farms – and perhaps even a native prince or two, who would surely be overawed by a demonstration of English cabinet-making skill. Or was the colony rather more civilized than he supposed? It had been Dutch-settled for two centuries and more. ‘Somervile I am all admiration. This will have come at no small a price. Your devotion to duty is ever entire. I might wish, indeed, that I were coming with you!’

His old friend, who had been giving every impression of an eccentric among his collection of curiosities, spun round and fixed him with the same intense look that Hervey had seen in India when the wind of necessity changed suddenly. ‘I wish you were. Indeed, I hope you will. I have need of you.’

Hervey quickened. ‘My dear Somervile, I think you forget all that has recently passed. I have learned a little humility from the Portuguese affair – and a desire for a little ease!’

Somervile began fiddling with the handle to a secret compartment in a dispatch box. ‘If by that you mean you are intent on toadying your way to advancement then I caution you against it very decidedly.’

Hervey frowned. ‘It implies no toadying at all, merely the recognition that to move a mound of clay is better done with leverage rather than taking a kick at it.’

‘And a good deal of money.’

Hervey did not hesitate. Indeed, he almost spat the words: ‘I’ve nothing but contempt for it.’ It was the first time he had admitted it since the prospect of the lieutenant-colonelcy had arisen – even to himself.

Somervile sprang the secret compartment, as in some show of revelation. ‘There! I think you had better come with us to Gloucestershire, and we will discuss the terms of the undertaking.’

Hervey stood bewildered. ‘
What
undertaking? What on earth do you talk about?’

Somervile narrowed his eyes. ‘The Cape Corps, the colony’s militia and yeomanry.
More
than just militia and yeomanry indeed, for some are regulars. The Corps’s to be reorganized, and radically. There’s to be a new regiment raised, of mounted rifles. I want that you should have them. It would mean a lieutenant-colonel’s brevet, substantive when parliament approves the plans. And then I should have a man whose judgement I could trust. There are native tribes on the eastern frontier threatening war again. Come and be enlivened by the touch of the spear!’

‘The touch of the spear? Somervile, you’re speaking riddles.’

‘Oh, my dear fellow, I expected better of you. Do you not know the legends of your knightly caste? They were questing for more than the Grail, you recall.’

Hervey raised his hands, conceding. ‘“I was wounded by the spear and it alone can heal me”?’

Somervile thumped the despatch box. ‘Just so! Hervey, it’s a very fair prospect indeed in Africa! What paths of glory, what opportunity for distinction, shall there be in Hounslow?’

VII

THE SECRET THINGS

Next day

Hervey had decided to return early to Hounslow instead of first going to the Horse Guards. He felt certain that postponing his call would not prejudice his purchase, as long as he did not leave it more than a day or so more, and he was sure that the business of the farcy, or whatever was to be Sam Kirwan’s ultimate diagnosis, required discretion. Soon after first parade was ended, he went to his office resolved to give orders to have the three sick troop horses destroyed. He was resolved, too, on getting to the bottom of what it was that the thief-takers at Bow Street wanted of Johnson. But waiting for him at regimental headquarters – and with every expression of exigency – was a field officer in the uniform of the 3rd Foot Guards, and a slightly older man in a plain coat, with the appearance of a member of one of the professions, a lawyer perhaps.

The adjutant ushered them in to Hervey’s office. ‘Major Dalrymple and Mr Nasmyth, sir.’

Major Dalrymple saluted; Nasmyth, carrying his hat, bowed.

Hervey, who had removed his forage cap, bowed by return. ‘Gentlemen.’

Major Dalrymple advanced to Hervey’s desk and held out a sealed folio. ‘Will you be good enough to read this.’

He said it quietly, with due politeness, and in a manner that suggested it was by way of preliminaries. Hervey did not reply, instead taking the folio, noting the seal – the London District – then breaking it and reading the memorandum inside:

To the Offr Comdg
Sixth Lt Dgns.

The bearer of these presents acts on the authority of the General Officer Commanding the London District, and his instructions are to be followed accordingly.

Signed
The Honbl. Anstruther Home,
Lieut-col.
Brigade-major.
18th March 1827.

Hervey looked at the young major of Foot Guards who acted on this singular authority, and then at his plain-coated companion. ‘Very well, won’t you take a seat?’

They all sat.

‘May I offer you some refreshment?’

‘There is coffee being brought, sir,’ said the adjutant.

Hervey nodded and gave him the letter of authority before turning back to his visitors. ‘Capital. Now, Major Dalrymple, what will you have us do?’

‘Major Hervey, you will know of the gunpowder mills at Waltham Abbey.’

It was not couched as a question, but the major paused as if for acknowledgement.

‘Very slightly.’

‘Information has been laid of an attempt this night by armed men to make off with a large quantity of powder. The mills and magazines shall be reinforced, three companies of the Sixtieth Rifles will be posted there after dark, and the conspirators are to be intercepted. You are required to furnish a troop for this purpose.’

Hervey nodded slowly. The experience of furnishing aid to the civil power was not unknown to him, and its attendant perils. ‘Under whose orders shall the troop come?’

‘Colonel Denroche, the district quartermaster-general, shall command all troops. He will follow the instructions of Mr Nasmyth, who acts on the authority of the Home Office.’

Hervey knew who was Colonel Denroche well enough. He looked at Nasmyth, wondering why a man with the authority to give orders to the district QMG should be at Hounslow now. ‘May I ask who are these conspirators?’

Major Dalrymple turned.

Nasmyth replied, scarcely moving a muscle. ‘I am not at liberty to divulge that information, except that I may say they are Irish.’

Hervey frowned. ‘
Irish?
Why should they want powder?’

‘I cannot think the purpose too elusive, Major Hervey.’

‘Well, it eludes me!’

‘Major Hervey,’ said Dalrymple, wanting to be emollient, ‘I myself am not cognizant of the facts, simply that the orders are properly and legally given. An attempt to make off with powder from the royal mills would seem an unequivocal mischief. I do not think we need trouble ourselves further in these details.’

Nasmyth now leaned forward, better to lower his already
sotto
voice. ‘I am by no means unsympathetic, Major Hervey. There has been enough these late years to make any officer wary in the circumstances.’

Never a truer word, thought Hervey. It was not the Sixth’s doing, but ‘Peterloo’ and a dozen other affairs paltry by comparison had tarnished the happy Waterloo-hero image. He nodded appreciatively.

‘I understand you to have been in India these five years and more, Major Hervey, but you will surely know that two years ago a bill for the so-called emancipation of Catholics was brought before parliament.’

Hervey knew of it full well. The bill was approved in the House of Commons but rejected by the Peers, and in the elections in Ireland a year ago the Catholic Association had campaigned hard on behalf of pro-emancipation candidates. ‘But I understood that O’Connell was avowedly against violence?’

‘Oh indeed, a most pacifical man is Mr O’Connell. He proclaims it often. But his cause is advanced by violence in the hedgerows, and he cannot be wholly averse to it therefore. Since the bill’s defeat there has been steady word of Whiteboy insolence. You know of the Whiteboy terror, I suppose, Major Hervey?’

‘I have served in Ireland.’

‘Then I shall say no more, except that there are Irish navvies enough hereabouts to raise an army corps.’

Hervey said nothing for the moment. He told himself that he ought not to be surprised by this intelligence: the Whiteboy outrages, though long finished by the time he had gone to Ireland, had been savage. But all had been quiet these late years – especially since Peel had set up the Irish constabulary, the ‘Peace Preservation Force’. There again, Catholic emancipation was a running sore: it had all but broken Pitt a quarter-century gone, and by all that he read and heard it would soon be doing the same to lesser men. ‘One more thing, Mr Nasmyth: your … interest in this?’