Jack Windrush Collection

Chapter 28

General Reading looked up as Jack limped across the room to his desk. "I heard that there was a disturbance near the harbour last night. I hope nobody caught you."

"No, sir." Jack placed the pile of documents on Reading"s desk. "I took everything I could find, sir. These are the papers I thought looked most interesting."

Reading shuffled through them quickly and rang his brass bell. The same young lieutenant appeared, looked down his aristocratic nose at Windrush and sprang to immediate attention. "Sir?"

"Fetch Mr. Bulloch."

A moment later Bulloch appeared. "Morning General, morning Windrush." He lifted the documents. "You were successful I see." He flicked through them. "Did anybody see you?"

"Yes, sir; as we left," Jack said, "but I don"t believe that they saw our faces. Private Riley did most of the work, sir."

"Did he indeed?" Bulloch lifted an eyebrow. "And where did he acquire the skill to break into a house?"

"I believe he was a burglar, sir," Jack said.

"Not by that name, I wager." Bulloch frowned as he looked at one of the sheets of paper. "And I wonder about Stevensen"s real name as well. None of these papers is in Swedish. They are in English, Maltese, Russian and French, yes, but not Swedish." He placed them in the leather case he carried. "Did you notice anything unusual about the house, Windrush?"

"Only that three men were patrolling, and they spoke English as well, sir."

"English has been used as the lingua-franca in Malta ever since we occupied the island," Bulloch said, "so speaking English is not unusual."

"They did not speak it like Maltese, sir," Jack said. "They spoke it like native speakers, I think."

"Like Englishmen?" Reading asked.

"No," Jack thought for a moment. "Not quite. I didn"t recognise the accent, sir. It may have been from one of the colonies; Canada perhaps or Van Diemen"s Land."

"A Demonian?" Bulloch sounded suddenly interested. "It could be a ticket of leave man – or an escaped convict." He took a deep breath. "What was he like?"

"There were three that I saw. Two were mundane, men who you wouldn"t notice in a crowd; the other was tall with an eyepatch. He spoke more."

"He was tall with an eyepatch and a colonial accent." Bulloch altered his voice and said, "Did he speak with a drawl like this, unhurried and soft?"

"Yes, that"s it," Jack agreed.

"I will watch for them," Bulloch said. "You, of course, won"t be here." He looked at Reading. "Now that Lieutenant Windrush has more than done what you ordered, general, I am sure you will soon keep your side of the agreement."

Windrush almost felt the tension in the room as Reading stiffened in his chair. "The 113th are bound east, and Lieutenant Windrush will be with them. I trust his regiment will not let us down if they are ever fortunate enough to see action. I am not sure that a regiment that includes murderers, blackguards and, it seems, a professional burglar, should be allowed to represent the British Army."

"In that case," Bulloch said, "the French and Turks would have to fight alone." His grin did nothing to take the sting from his words.

"Your beloved 113th will be part of the Army of the East, Windrush," General Reading said, "and God help the general who has you under his command."

Jack controlled his rising anger. "My boys proved themselves in Burma, sir."

Reading fixed him with a cold glare. "You have far too much to say for yourself, Windrush. You will find that chasing dacoits through the jungle and facing regular European soldiers, even Russians, are two different things. Dismissed."

Jack felt Reading"s eyes poisonous on his back as he left the room.

They stood in the lee of the wall at the Grand Harbour, watching the regiments embark and listened to the singing of the men.

Cheer Boys cheer,

Cheer Boys cheer,For country mother country

For country mother countryCheer boys cheer

Cheer boys cheerFor a willing strong right hand

For a willing strong right handCheer boys cheer

Cheer boys cheerThere"s hope for honest labour

There"s hope for honest labourCheer boys cheer

Cheer boys cheerFor a new and happy land.

For a new and happy land.Coleman spat on the ground. "New and happy land, my arse. They"re going out East; don"t they realise what the East is? A s**t hole of flies and filth, with women riddled with disease and men who smile to your face and plan to cut your throat behind your back."

"They"re off to scuttle the Ruskies in Scutari," Thorpe said as the red-coated men filed on board the steamship to the sound of the band. They marched past the paddle-boxes, boots clumping on the wooden deck, officers looking debonair and military, the men singing, cheering, happy to be sailing to war.

"When"s it our turn, sir?" O"Neill asked for the tenth time. "It"s been weeks now since General Reading promised us we"re heading out and the boys started going east."

"I wish I knew, O"Neill."

As time passed, the 113th grew restless, watching other regiments arrive on the island and leave days later, while they remained static in their scattered quarters. Petty offences increased, with the sergeants busy keeping the men under control and Colonel Murphy ordering men to double duties and various forms of field punishment. "Any more trouble and it will be the cat!" Major Snodgrass threatened as they paraded before him in the baking heat. "I haven"t forgotten your behaviour in India, by God."

"They treat us worse than cattle," Coleman grumbled.

"Their time will come," Thorpe"s murmur was bitter with resentment.

"Silence in the ranks!" Major Snodgrass ordered. "Take these men"s names!"

The resulting silence was ugly. Jack ran his gaze across the men – although their faces were devoid of expression, their eyes were vicious. Any British regiment contained an element of the underclass. In the 113th the percentage was far higher. Their combined poisonous gaze followed Snodgrass as he blasted them. In the background, Colonel Murphy stood stiffly with the empty sleeve a reminder of the arm he had lost at the battle of Chillianwala.

"If we don"t move soon, Captain Haverdale said quietly, "there will be a mutiny. This r****e is getting restless."

The harsh blare of a bugle roused them in the dark of a late July morning, with the air pressing languid upon them and the dust of the previous day still grating between their teeth.

"Ready, boys! We"re shipping out!"

It was the call they had long been waiting for, yet the men were so used to disappointment that they responded with lethargy rather than enthusiasm.

"It"s another mistake," Coleman said. "They"ll get us ready and march us back down to Valetta and Mdina, or somewhere else thousands of miles from the Russians; then they"ll march us back again."

"The grand old Duke of York is alive, well and residing in Malta." Riley"s tones was distinct amidst the uneducated and illiterate murmurs of his fellows.

"Who the hell"s the Duke of York and how come he"s so grand?" The accent was uncompromisingly Scottish west coast; the speaker below average height with a gaunt, lined face. Jack marked him out as potential trouble and resolved to learn his name.

He called his men together and ushered them across country to where the regiment rallied at Kalkara, overlooking the Grand Harbour. They formed in rigid scarlet ranks, sweating, trembling with the effort of standing to attention under the mid-morning sun.

"Our ship is in, gentlemen," Colonel Murphy announced, "today we sail for the East."

Jack had not expected the sudden outbreak of enthusiasm from the men. They cheered, threw their hats in the air, shook hands as if celebrating something significant or waved their Brown Bess muskets like madmen.

"For a regiment that is not supposed to be keen to fight," Jack said, "they seem very eager to go to war."

Major Snodgrass grunted. "Give them one week on campaign, and they"ll be cheering just as loudly to run home."

"My men won"t run," Jack said.

"I thought that before Chillianwala," Snodgrass sounded bitter. "And they ran like frightened rabbits."

"My men behaved well in Burma." Jack did not add "most of the time" as he remembered the beginning of that campaign and the men he had left behind.

Snodgrass grunted. "One cannot compare the Burmese with the Sikhs. Or with the Russians." He stiffened as Colonel Murphy slid down from his horse and approached them.

"I trust your men are all ready to go, gentlemen?" Murphy faced them, slight and weathered, with his voice hoarse and his eyes deep-sunk in his face.

"All ready sir. Which ship are we on?" Snodgrass asked.

"Poseidon," Murphy said, "the name augers well. Poseidon was the Greek god of the sea."

PoseidonPoseidon"Where is she?" Jack examined the ships in harbour. As well as three Royal Navy warships there were two steam paddle ships and a battered brig that limped under topsails only. He guessed the answer even before Murphy focussed his telescope.

"That sailing ship," Murphy said, "But only the devil knows how we are to fit the entire regiment in her."

"It does not matter," Snodgrass said. "We"re only the 113th; nobody cares a damn about us."

"There will be no wives accompanying the regiment," Murphy said. "There is no space. They will follow by a later transport. I will make no exceptions: that rule includes officers as well as men."

Jack raised his eyebrows. It was a rule that made perfect sense when the ship was so crowded, but it would be hard for the men. In his opinion a soldier"s life was not right for a married man; it was too unstable, too precarious and added unnecessary worry to a soldier"s lot. Soldiers should be married to their regiment and profession. If they wanted to use a woman, there were plenty of prostitutes drawn to every garrison town like bluebottles to a pile of dung. All the same, men such as Riley would feel the loss.

"We are the British Army," Murphy coughed and turned aside, not quite quickly enough to hide the bright dribble of blood at the side of his mouth. "We will cope."

"Of course, we will, sir." Snodgrass gave an impressive salute.

"It"s like the b****y Ark," Coleman said, "filing on board two by two like b****y animals."

"Except the animals had more space than we do." Thorpe looked at their accommodation. "If we all lie down at once we will be piled three deep on top of each other."

"Stop grumbling you lot," O"Neill shouted, "it"s only a short voyage across the Med, a week at most. Think yourselves lucky you"re not sailing from England to New South Wales in this old tub. Now get settled!"

"Parade on deck in twenty minutes," Snodgrass shouted. "I intend to maintain military discipline on this ship so when the 113th arrives out East we will be fit to fight." He lowered his voice. "Or as fit as you blackguards can ever be."

With all six hundred and forty officers and men of the 113th on parade, the deck of Poseidon was packed. Every square inch was occupied by a red-coated soldier, with the crew watching from aloft and openly cursing the loss of freedom on their vessel.

Poseidon"Men!" Snodgrass stood on the slightly raised quarterdeck with the captains and lieutenants gathered around him. "Colonel Murphy is indisposed at present so I, as senior major, am taking command."

Jack felt, rather than saw, the shiver that ran through the ranks. He looked sideways, seeing the bitter lines on the face of Snodgrass and the tell-tale red-veins on his nose.

"Many of your men have come to us from other regiments," Snodgrass said. "You were not wanted there. You are the drunkards, the troublemakers, the insubordinate, and the slow." He stopped then. Jack could see the expressions of the men; they were sullen, unresponsive. He waited for Snodgrass to say something to inspire them.

"We in the 113th have given you a second chance," Snodgrass said. "I will make sure you are up to scratch. However poor you may be, I intend to make soldiers out of you. Those that don"t come up to the mark… Remember Private Scattergood."

Jack was not the only one who winced. The reminder of their executed colleague passed like a black shadow across the men. Some faces fell into more profound gloom; some gave a momentary scowl or gave a deep intake of breath. Riley threw Snodgrass a look that should have curdled the blood in his veins. The little Scotsman at Riley"s side gave no hint of any emotion except a slight twitch of his thin lips.

"That was hardly diplomatic." Lieutenant Elliot had purchased into the 113th from the 50th Foot only a few days previously. Jack recognised the pride with which he touched the insignia that revealed his exalted rank. One week ago, he had been a lowly ensign; now he felt himself a leader of men.

"We"ll see how the men react," Jack murmured. He was aware of a seagull circling overhead, the bird"s eyes bright as it surveyed the men below. If we are the Lords of Creation, why is that creature free while we are under orders to sail to a slaughterhouse over which we have no control?

If we are the Lords of Creation, why is that creature free while we are under orders to sail to a slaughterhouse over which we have no control?"There are too many of you for everyone to parade together." Despite the constant creaking of the old wooden ship, Snodgrass"s voice carried to all parts of the deck. "So we will do this navy fashion and divide you into three watches. That way there will be more space below."

"And no rest period for the sergeants or crew," Elliot said quietly.

"The strictest discipline will be maintained," Snodgrass said. "I depend on my officers and non-commissioned officers to keep you in order."

Bored of watching the humans, the seagull winged away. Lacking the freedom of the bird, the men who filled the packed scarlet ranks on the deck below waited for orders. The 113th sailed to war.

With the men working eight hours out of every twenty-four, day and night, Poseidon was never quiet. Snodgrass had the men marching up, and down the limited space the deck allowed, had them aiming their Brown Bess muskets from kneeling and standing positions and had them wheeling around the main mast in a circular motion.

Poseidon"Captain Neilson." Snodgrass faced a saturnine officer with a face yellowed by years in the tropics. "Take over here. Keep the men busy!" He paused and pointed to a prostrate figure beside the rail. "Why is that man lying down?"

"He"s seasick, sir," a sergeant said.

"Get him up! That is only weakness!" Snodgrass"s face darkened. "Stand up sir! Get to your feet!"

The man tried to respond, lurched groggily and promptly vomited over the deck.

"You disgusting fellow! That"s gross impertinence!"

Riley stepped out of the ranks. "He couldn"t help it, sir! He"s sick!"

"Damn your impertinence! Put that man in irons, sergeant! We"ll have him flogged tomorrow and see if he"s so clever after that."

Jack stepped forward. "Sir, if I may, he meant nothing by it. He was speaking up for his colleague." Jack saw Snodgrass stiffen and a beefy sergeant pushed back the small Scotsman and a soft-faced soldier who had shifted forward as if to intervene.

"Fifty for that man, sergeant. And you, Windrush, will be on duty for the next twenty-four hours. If I see you below decks before midnight tomorrow…" He let the implied threat hang in the air.

Jack met Riley"s eye and gave a slight nod. He couldn"t help; he could only let his erstwhile housebreaking companion know that he sympathised if nothing else. The thought of the quiet-spoken, intelligent Riley stripped and flogged was not something Jack wished to contemplate.

Jack had heard that the Mediterranean was a quiet sea, but the storm that blasted them the next day would not have disgraced any North Sea squall. Lumpy seas smashed into the creaking brig, straining her sideways, so her port yard arms nearly dipped into the waves, and her reluctant passengers yelled as they tumbled around the deck. The seasickness increased tenfold, and the ship"s surgeon was overworked with minor bumps and cuts as well as a few more serious breaks. It was a full twelve hours before the weather moderated to a gale and then Snodgrass ordered the regiment assembled.

"This is a reprieve, not an ending." Captain Evans, the commander of Poseidon, was short, dark and Welsh. He gestured to the angry clouds that swirled around. "We"ve worse to come so don"t fool around with your soldier games for long."

Poseidon"I assure you, Captain, that this is no game," Snodgrass said grimly.

Jack took a deep breath as the Provost Sergeant brought Riley out from the black depths of the ship. Stripped to the waist, Riley held himself erect as his gaze fixed on a face in the ranks of the 113th and gave a brief nod, as if of reassurance.

Jack scanned his men; Riley had nodded to either that small-made Scotsman or the soft-faced man – boy even – who stood at his side. Perhaps both, although from the expression of mixed fury and anguish on the boy"s face, Jack suspected it was him. He frowned; there was something wrong here, something on which he could not put his finger.

Riley walked firmly to the gratings that had been lashed upright beside the ladder that led from the main deck to the quarterdeck. Except for that single nod toward the men, he had looked only in front.

"That man"s in the wrong regiment," Elliot said. "With his bearing, he should be in the guards, not the 113th."

"His bearing will alter after fifty of the cat." Jack swallowed hard, fighting his nausea.

"Have you seen a flogging before?" Elliot sounded nervous.

"Only at school," Jack tried to sound nonchalant.

"Me too," Elliot said. "It was not quite the same though."

"Not quite," Jack agreed. He tore his horrified gaze from Riley to the watching men. The boy looked sick; his eyes were anguished and his hands curled around the fabric of his tunic as he stood at attention. Jack saw him lift a hand to his eyes as if to wipe away a tear, and hurriedly put it down as a sergeant barked at him.

There was quiet for a few moments as two corporals tied Riley to the gratings. Spread-eagled, the n***d skin of his back looked very pale against the dark wood of the grating. Jack could nearly taste the tension as the assembled 113th watched, eyes narrow, hard, frustrated and contemptuous. He felt their rising hatred for Snodgrass in particular and officers in general; including him, no doubt. Thunder rumbled a mile away while lightning flickered a bright threat through ugly dark clouds, nature acting as a symbol of the tension on board Poseidon.

For a moment Jack remembered a past experience, knocking at the door of his headmaster before an appointment with the cane. He remembered the dread churning of his stomach and the sick fear; did Riley feel like that? He didn"t look apprehensive; he looked relaxed.

A sudden gust of wind ruffled the surface of the sea, kicking the tops off the waves; was it the dying flick of the storm"s tail or a portent of worse to come? Some of the men staggered; Jack saw the vicious-faced Scotsman steadying the boy. The ranks swayed, righted themselves and faced their front.

"Sergeants! Keep these men standing to attention, or there will be more feeling the cat!" Snodgrass removed his hat. "Surgeon – pronounce that man fit to receive punishment."

With a seaman supporting him Dr. Goss staggered to Riley, glanced at him and nodded to Snodgrass.

"Proceed," Snodgrass leaned forward slightly as if to get a better view and the Provost Sergeant nodded to the burlier of the two corporals, who ran his fingers through the tails of the lash, stepped back for balance on the heaving deck and laid on with a grunt of effort.

Jack saw a shiver run through the ranks as the first stroke of the cat landed on Riley"s back. Others followed in a merciless procession of pain. Soon a red streak extended from Riley"s right shoulder to the left side of his back, deepening in colour as the flogging continued. After twenty strokes Riley writhed a little but made no sound. After twenty-five, the Provost Sergeant ordered the second corporal to take over. Jack took his gaze from the suffering Riley to examine the men. The veterans, those who had transferred, voluntarily or otherwise, from other regiments looked on without visible expression: they had probably seen worse before. What they were thinking, however, he could not tell; their thoughts and their souls were the only things in their regulated lives over which they had control. The recruits looked shocked, angry or sick; they had not yet learned to control their outward emotions. Three of the youngest fainted; Jack stopped himself from moving forward; the Johnny Raws would have to learn to accept unpleasant sights if they wanted to wear the uniform of Queen Victoria. He focussed on the boy who stood in the second rank from the rear, sandwiched between the Scotsman and Thorpe. He looked very young, very pale and very upset. Jack narrowed his eyes, trying to place him; there was something familiar about that man, and something not right. He was leaning against the Scotsman – was he holding his hand?

Dear God, he was! Jack felt a twist of disgust. He had heard of such behaviour among some of the boys at school although he had never personally encountered it. Jack took a step forward, hesitated and stopped.

The realisation came to him in a mixture of relief, shock and concern. Yes, the Scotsman was holding the boy"s hand, but there was nothing improper, or at least nothing immoral about it. That boy was no boy; he was a woman in a man"s uniform. That was Charlotte Riley. Dear God! No wonder she had looked upset, watching the ship"s corporals flog her husband.

"Punishment complete, sir," the Provost Sergeant reported.

"Very good; carry on Provost Sergeant. Captain Fleming, take over here. The usual drill."

Snodgrass replaced his hat, turned on his heel and stomped across the deck, leaving a smell of stale brandy. Charlotte Riley straightened up, her eyes unreadable; only the hatred was evident. Jack wondered how she"d gotten on board and decided not to investigate. One flogging was one too many.

The Provost Sergeant ordered Riley cut down, threw a great coat over his back and escorted him below deck, with the surgeon taking a surreptitious sip from a silver flask. Charlotte Riley watched; behind the moisture, her eyes were like acid. The day"s routine continued, with two-thirds of the men filing below decks and Fleming having the others practise musket drill on deck. Until the storm returned.

Jack had crossed the Mediterranean on his long journey to Burma and thought he understood the sea, but the ferocity of the storm took him by surprise. One moment the men were drilling on deck, the next the wind was screaming through the rigging. The brig heeled to port, nearly on her beam ends as waves smashed against the hull and sent hundreds of gallons of lukewarm seawater cascading among the staggering soldiers.

"Get these b****y lobsters out of the way!" Captain Evans pushed Fleming aside as he took his position on the quarterdeck and roared a string of orders that saw bare-footed seamen dodging reeling soldiers and leaping up the ratlines to haul in the straining sails.

"My orders were to drill the men," Fleming looked even older when he was at sea; he was grey of hair and grey of skin, a man who had given up any hope of career advancement many years before and who followed orders and nothing else.

"You"ll be drilling them in Davy Jones" locker then!"Evans shouted. "If they get in the way of my lads I"ll have then thrown overboard!"

Jack saw the confusion cross Fleming"s face as he realised he would have to make a decision that ran counter to Major Snodgrass"s orders.

"Shall I start getting the men in sir? Before we lose half of them over the side?" Jack thought it an idea to encourage Fleming"s thought-making process.

"What?" Fleming stared at Jack, and then glanced at the hatch down which Snodgrass had disappeared.

"Colonel Murphy wouldn"t like his men to be washed overboard," Jack deliberately used rank as a lever.

"The colonel is incapacitated," Fleming reminded. "He"s bad with consumption."

"He will recover," Jack said, "he"s tough." He staggered as the wind strengthened and altered angle so Poseidon bucked madly and the men aloft had to hold grimly on as the masts spun and the yard-arms dipped toward the surging maelstrom of the sea. He saw an entire file of soldiers fall on their side and roll toward the rail. One man slipped over the side and hung on desperately, screaming for help as his feet and legs dangled in the lunging waves.

Poseidon"Wilkinson!" A soldier stepped forward and then fell as the deck heeled to an impossible angle.

"Hold on!" Jack slid down the ladders and slithered across the heeling deck, grabbing hold of anything he could for support. Captain Evans roared orders that saw the seamen furl every scrap of canvas aloft and the helmsman struggle with the wheel, trying to turn the ship, so her bows faced into the wind.

By that time Jack had reached the man hanging from the rail. "Hold on!"

"I"m going to fall!" Wilkinson screamed; his eyes were wide with terror, his mouth hanging open, showing rotten teeth.

Reaching forward, Jack grabbed hold of his arm, just as Wilkinson lost his grip and fell overboard.

"Get a rope!" Jack saw Wilkinson"s face, mouth wide, saw one hand emerge from the sea in despair, and heard his long wail of anguish. A seaman joined Jack at the rail and tossed a line; he shouted something, his words whipped away by the wind.

"Hold the end of the line!" Jack yelled to the seaman. He poised on top of the rail, saw Wilkinson"s head appear and disappear under the sea, and jumped. He landed with an untidy splash, felt momentary panic as he sunk beneath the surface and struck out in what he hoped was the right direction.

From down here the sea was even wilder, the waves higher, curling at the tips as if reaching to haul him down to his death. Jack saw Wilkinson"s head bob on the surface of a rising wave, saw his arm lift in either hope or despair and then another wave rose between them, blocking his view. He had a momentary glimpse of the rope dancing on top of the sea, grabbed it and thrust into the sea. He opened his mouth to shout to the soldier, swallowed half a pint of salt water, gagged, tried to swear and coughed instead.

Dear God: am I to drown with nothing achieved?

Dear God: am I to drown with nothing achieved?He rose on the crest of a wave and looked around. Poseidon seemed a long way off, her masts spiralling to a ragged sky, her rail lined with white faces and scarlet uniforms. There was no sign of Wilkinson; nothing except the sea, with the wind whipping the surface into a haze of spindrift.

PoseidonThe wave sunk again and Jack shouted, hoping for a reply from the missing man. He heard nothing except the roar and hiss of the sea.

"He"s gone, Windrush!" A speaking trumpet distorted Captain Evans" words into a metallic blare. "Hold onto the rope and…" The wind stole the end of the sentence. Jack held the rope and felt somebody hauling him back to Poseidon. He gasped as he submerged, closed his mouth too late to avoid swallowing seawater and cursed as he slammed against the rough hull with a flesh-ripping thump.

PoseidonThere was a single soldier among the seamen hauling on the rope. The others watched, stone-eyed as he crawled over the rail and collapsed on the deck in a gasping heap. When he looked up the soldier"s lips were moving, and then he stepped back and became merely another anonymous face in the amorphous mass of redcoats. Jack recognised him as the private he"d seen reading a book.

"You"re a b****y fool, Windrush!" Snodgrass had started his day"s drinking. "You could have drowned out there and for what?"

"To save a man"s life, sir," Jack said.

Snodgrass snorted. "An officer"s life is worth a hundred of a private soldier, especially the scoundrels in this infamous regiment. And you won"t get any thanks from them; gratitude is an unknown quantity among the lower orders."

They stood on the quarterdeck with the dying kick of the storm howling through the rigging and the seamen working aloft.

"They"re our men, sir, our responsibility."

"Did you save him?" Snodgrass asked suddenly.

"No, sir," Jack said.

"In that case, Windrush, you put your life in danger and nearly cost the regiment an officer shortly before we go on campaign. That is a gross dereliction of duty. I would send you to the colonel if he were not indisposed. As I am acting for him, I will decide your fate; you are orderly officer until we reach Bulgaria or wherever it is we are bound."

"Yes, sir." Jack could say nothing else. Instead, he retched and vomited more sea water.

When he scrambled below deck, Jack didn"t have to ask who the silent soldier was who stood beside Riley.

"It"s all right, Mrs. Riley," he said softly, "I know who you are."

Charlotte emerged from the shadows as Coleman, and the small Scotsman eased aside. "I"m not doing any harm," she thrust her chin out stubbornly.

"You are breaking regulations," Jack said. "How is your husband?"

"I"m all right sir." Riley lay on his face on a wooden cot.

Jack looked at his back. The cat had created a livid purple bruise that ran diagonally across his back, with the skin broken in half a dozen places. "What did the doctor say?"

"I"ll be back on duty in two days," Riley said.

"Only if you"re fit," Jack said. "I am sorry that happened." He added, and damn the regulations. Nodding to Charlotte, he rose to leave.

and damn the regulations"I"ll kill Snodgrass for that." The words were low, uttered in a hiss far more menacing than any shout.

"We"ve seen one hanging in this regiment, Mrs. Riley," Jack said, "I don"t want to see any more." He held her eyes until she looked away.

That storm had sent Poseidon back a hundred miles, ripped the topsails to shreds and damaged the rigging. Jack swore in frustration as Captain Evans seemed to take as long as possible to make the necessary repairs and Poseidon wallowed in a greasy swell. When they did sail again, Evans realised that that salt water had contaminated the fresh water, so called at Piraeus, the port of Athens for more. There were days of negotiating the price, haggling between Evans and Snodgrass over who was liable to pay for the thousands of gallons and when they sailed again, they hit more bad weather.

PoseidonPoseidon"We"re cursed," Elliot said as Poseidon threaded her way through the Aegean, dodging squalls and islands. "By the time we get to the war all the fighting will be over." He nearly overbalanced as the vessel lurched to port, but the bulkhead of the cabin saved him.

Poseidon"That"s something to be grateful for," Snodgrass said. He nodded forward. "These men will run, again."

Elliot straightened up, winced as one of the hanging lanterns swung against his head and sat back down again. "Anything"s better than this blasted ship! We must be weeks behind all the other regiments!"

Jack nodded. He shared Elliot"s frustration. With no money behind him, he couldn"t purchase promotion so only some desperate act in battle could help him advance. Ever since he was commissioned into the 113th Jack knew he had three options; gain promotion to a much higher rank; transfer from the regiment into a more distinguished unit – or try to raise the reputation of the most ill-regarded regiment in the British army. The first was virtually impossible; nearly every officer promotion in the British Army was by purchase, and he was dirt-poor. The alternative was to perform some ludicrous act of heroism in full view of higher ranked officers, which meant virtual suicide as British officers were expected to be recklessly brave. The other options were equally improbable; no other regiment would welcome an officer from the infamous 113th while raising the reputation of a regiment meant its participation with distinction in a series of hard-fought actions. Higher command did not trust this regiment to stand and fight so would not even allow it into battle.

With the storm abated and Poseidon battering through seas that were only choppy, Jack again slipped below.

Poseidon"How is Riley?"

"He"ll be fine," O"Neill sounded guarded.

"I"ll speak to him." Jack rose and pushed his way through the crowd, coughing in the foul air. He saw Charlotte"s face, and then she vanished behind a screen of soldiers. The small Scotsman stood in front of her, pugnacious, almost challenging him to interfere.

Riley greeted him with a wry smile. "I"m all right, sir. I had worse at school."

"At school? What sort of school did you attend?" Jack saw a veil replace the smile.

"Nothing special," Riley"s accent deliberately roughened as he spoke.

In Jack"s experience, only two types of school would treat a boy in such a manner; the schooling ordered by a judge or the public schooling of Eton, Winchester or the like. Riley"s accent and education argued for the latter. Gentlemen-rankers were not unknown in the Army, typically men fleeing from gambling debts or s****l scandals. Riley did not seem like a man foolish enough to gamble.

"You can tell me sometime," he said. "Look after Mrs. Riley, will you? Not many women would travel in a troopship."

He didn"t ask about matters of decency or privacy. That was not his concern. He only hoped they would reach Bulgaria or wherever they would fight the Russians. However, Jack"s frustration grew further when Poseidon eventually did reach Varna. It was the fifth of September, and the army had already left. The roadstead was empty; the army had already gone.

Poseidon"What the devil do we do now?" Jack asked.