Date: Wed, 5 Oct 2016 21:43:44 +1300
From: arthur carkeek <artcart65@gmail.com>
Subject: drummer boy chapter 25

DRUMMER BOY
CHAPTER 25
BY ARTHUR

CONTACT AUTHOR:
artcart65@gmail.com


Percy left Thomas to himself and made his way slowly through the camp
towards where he had left his coach.  Even with his mind working on the
twists and turns of what he did, Percy still had the time to look around
the camp and notice the difference in the feeling of those in it. Whether
it was the younger ones or the older hands, the general feeling in the camp
was one of almost contentment unlike so many of the other camps in the
army.

Gone were the subtle whispers of discontent to be replaced with laughter
and a certain amount of boyish rough housing. Percy still got the feeling
that this small band of misfits knew the dangers of what they were doing
day in and day out but there was a sense of rightness to it all. Percy only
hoped it was true as the time that they had all feared and hoped would
never arrive, was now almost upon them. Percy prayed the boy was ready for
what lay ahead.

Percy saw his coach waiting where he had left it; his driver Benson, sat on
the driver's seat patiently waiting for the short rotund man he called his
boss. The two men could not have been less alike and yet for those who knew
them, they were almost inseparable. Percy was short, rotund and always
seemed to be smiling. Benson was large, tall and taciturn; his huge frame
towered over the smaller man when the two stood side by side. Percy was
always seen wandering along seemingly aimlessly, his short legs moving with
a casual ease of one who knows where he is going.

Benson moved like a sailor on a rolling ship's deck, his long strides
looked ungainly on solid land and yet he seemed to make not the slightest
noise when walking; they were indeed a strange pair and over the years
there had been much speculation about them, some of which was even agreed
upon when people saw a younger version of Benson was also working for the
little man.

Benson watched his boss walk to the side of the coach and then look up at
him.

"Is Kevin ready Benson?"

"Aye Mister Percy. Is it that time Sir?"

"Aye Benson, it's that time. When we get back to the tavern I want you to
give Kevin his signet then come to my rooms, I will have the eleven letters
of Marque ready for you. It would appear we have little time left; those
damn fools at high command have forced our hand."

"Mores' the pity Mister Percy; will the lad be alright do you think?"

"We can but pray Benson, now then get me back to the tavern, we have much
to do and not much time."

Benson flicked his hand up to his brow as though touching a nonexistent
forelock, waited for Percy to be well seated inside the coach them slapped
the reins to get the coach moving forward. From somewhere deep inside
Benson came a roiling feeling as the first pangs of anger began to fill his
thoughts; there was going to be hell to play and no mistake.

Percy sat at his desk and, even though there was no sound from outside his
door; he knew that Benson was almost ready to knock and so called out.

"Come on in Benson I have everything ready."

Benson walked into the room not even fazed in the slightest that he had
been heard by Percy even though others would not have been aware of his
presence. Benson and Percy had known each other for more years than they
cared to remember. Benson entered the room and stood close beside the desk
as Percy sealed the last envelope. Percy had checked each and every letter
to make sure all was right and there could be no mistakes or
interpretations by those who read them.

The message was simple and direct. Drawn on the centre of the paper was a
black skull with two red eyes; below was written a simple short sentence.

Oporto April 16th

And thirteen shall be seated at the table.

Percy sealed the last letter and looked up at the towering figure beside
him.

"Is Kevin ready?"

"Aye Mister Percy; squealed he did but a good clip shut him up."

"Good. Here are the letters of Marque; deliver these three first as they
may be able to help you find the others in good time. I think this time you
had better take an extra brace of pistols and this purse should contain
enough coin for the journey. There is a fast packet leaving on tonight's
tide so you should have time to make it. Is there anything else you need?"

"Just need to get my extra pistols and I'll be away. Mayhap see you afore
the time has come; if not then it will be at the meeting place all going
well Mister Percy."

"Thank you Benson and God speed; I only hope the boy will stay safe until
then."

"Don't you worry none Mister Percy; you know the devil looks after his
own."

"Aye and Davy Jones watches over the rest."

Percy watched as Benson left his rooms; after a moment's thought Percy
called for Benson's son Kevin. Within seconds the younger man of about 22
years arrived silently at Percy's door and stood patiently waiting for his
orders. Percy looked up at the young man who would now be his driver until
the boy's father returned from his important mission.

Kevin was almost the spitting image of Benson although younger; he had the
same tall figure with broad shoulders that boded copious strength and he
moved almost as silently as the older man. The main difference between the
two was that as yet Kevin did not have the broken nose or scarred knuckles
of his father but his intimidating size would make most men want to back
away from a fight.

"Do you have it all in hand Kevin?"

"Aye Mister Percy; Da told me my duties."

"Good lad, how is the ear?"

"Bit tender like Mister Percy but not as bad as when me Da stuck that hot
needle through it."

Percy looked at Kevin's left ear lobe where a brand new gold ring had been
inserted; it had two small gold links at the end of which hung a good sized
black pearl; Percy smiled at Kevin before continuing.

"As long as you live up to the trust he has in you young Kevin, then we
will all be pleased. Now then I want you to hitch my second pair to the
coach; I'm going to the mess for dinner. I need to change out of this
uniform and into something comfortable so you have ten minutes to get
ready."

"Yes Mister Percy, your coach will be ready at your command."

Percy nodded and then turned back into his room to change from his uniform;
for some reason, even though he was well known by most older Officers, the
fact he dressed often in civilian clothes seemed to disarm most others. It
was a tactic he often used to his own advantage.

When Percy arrived at the Officer's mess it appeared quite a number had
spent the best part of the afternoon imbibing as the loud laughter and
raucous jokes could be heard from the doorway. Percy shook his head as he
told Kevin to bring the coach back in three hours, until then the lad could
have the time to himself.

Percy grasped the black cane in his usual manner and wandered seemingly
aimlessly into the main bar of the mess; it seemed that almost every
Officer from this afternoon's event was present and most were well into
their cups. Percy wandered through the large noisy crowd until he reached
the bar where he called for a large brandy and then looked around; it was
not long before he found himself a little amusement.

A large group of Officers newly arrived with the reinforcements were
standing not far away and well within arm's reach of the bar; their right
hands holding a full glass of whiskey. The loudest voice belonged to an
Artillery Major and he was holding court with his peers which included a
few other Major's and Captains; Percy moved a fraction closer; his normal
pleasant visage showing little sign that he was listening intently to the
Major with the very prominent nose that was now red from the drink he had
consumed.

"I'm telling you gentlemen; it was a travesty to let those boys pretend to
be soldiers. Utter nonsense all of it. I don't know for the life of me why
the Viscount would allow such disrespect to the real soldiers of His
Majesty's forces. If I had my way the lot of them would be put to the lash
and no mistake. Why most of them looked foreign and certainly had no right
to be doing such things; as for that young boy the Viscount called Captain,
why the boy should still be attached to his mother's titty don't you
think?"

The Major let out a loud braying laugh at his own joke as those cronies
around him nodded their heads sagely in agreement; the Major was correct,
to have young drummer's pretending to fight like real men was beyond the
pale and even disrespectful to the real men who had fallen along the way.

Percy had heard enough; it was time to have a little fun even if it was
just to straighten out the newly arrived Officers. Percy took a few steps
closer to the group and smiled up at the Major who was a good bit taller
than him.

"Good evening Gentlemen, my apologies but I could not help overhearing your
comments about this afternoons Tattoo. Do you really feel that those boys
did wrong?"

The Major turned and looked down his nose at the tubby figure of the man
who had spoken; he was obviously a civilian and even worse, most probably
one of those damn correspondents the newspapers were sending out to war
nowadays; he answered the smaller man with total distain in his voice.

"And who are you Sir, another of those damn newspaper people?"

"No Major, but I am interested in your opinions of this afternoon; it would
seem you may have the right of it. Tell me Major are you about to go to the
lines; I'm sure the Viscount would appreciate your knowledge and experience
against the French?"

"Well Sir it is truly none of your business; this mess is for Officers not
civilians; if you have nothing further I would ask you to leave
immediately."

"Oh I don't think I am ready to leave just yet Major; they do serve a fine
table here you know, it would be a shame to miss it. Now then Major I am
still interested in your opinions on those boys today."

"Sir I am an Officer in His Majesty's forces; it is not my place to discuss
military matters with civilians. Now Sir if you have nothing else then I
suggest you leave us."

"Oh I don't think so Major; Oh and I seem to have forgotten my manners. The
name is Cruikshank...Colonel Cruikshank."

Percy hid his smile at the sudden reddening of the other Officer's faces as
they tried to jump to attention without spilling their drinks; it was now
time for Percy to turn the screws a little tighter.

"So Major tell me about your ideas for those boys today?"

"Well...ahm...Sir...err...well it was a bit over the top, what! I mean
really Sir, boys trying to fight like real soldiers and most of them being
foreigners to boot. Not good Sir, not good atall."

"In what way Major did you think it was not a good look for the army?"

Percy suspected that, had the Major been fully sober and not so far into
his cups he may have taken heed of Percy's tone of voice.

"Well Sir, that business with the boy holding the flag against those French
scum and even winning, really Colonel it does go a little beyond belief
and; as to those names of the fallen, well Colonel we always lose a few
drummers in battle; it's nothing new Sir."

"I see Major, and that is truly your belief?"

"Well of course Sir, all utter nonsense if you ask me; no drummer boy could
hold out against well trained soldiers."

"Do you read the newspapers Major?"

"Of course Colonel; one must keep abreast of the war news and the markets;
wouldn't do to lapse when it comes to the Pater's money now would it?"

"Certainly not Major. Well then you would have seen the article about the
boy who saved not only the colours at Rolica but a lot of senior
reputations to boot?"

"Well Yes Colonel but really I think it was all a put up job to gain
volunteers for the campaign; couldn't really happen as they wrote it
Colonel; besides we all know how those correspondents work."

"I see Major; tell me Major, did you happen to notice the young Captain
dressed all in black and wearing a blue sash in the pavilion?"

"Well yes indeed Colonel, twas quite a concern for those of us of more
senior rank to see a lowly Captain up there while we had our place below in
the stands. There was also the point that he was foreign. Not a good show
at all Colonel."

"Then you will be pleased to know he was the very drummer boy that saved
the colours; of course there is also the fact that he was born in Limehouse
and is not foreign at all. Captain Marking also holds high rank in the
Spanish forces should he wish to accept them; General I am told. Of course
that pales when you consider his titles but then, as you say Major; it
could not have happened and a boy, especially one so lowly raised; could
not have the honour needed to save the King's Colours or the reputations of
the most Senior Officers of the King's forces; could he Major?"

Percy smiled warmly as he turned his back to the sound of splutters; it had
been a fun time after all and he could now look forward to a good dinner at
the Viscount's table; Percy knew it annoyed the Viscount when Percy decided
to sit at his table but, like many other senior men in the forces; none
dared refute Percy's privilege to sit where he wished or in any mess he
wished.



............................................................................................................................



Thomas shook the last of the sleep from his eyes; today was the last day of
the Tattoo and he still had no idea of what was too come. Fairley had his
good uniform ready and his hot cafe was on the small table by his cot;
having to return to living in a tent had not really bothered Thomas nor the
other boys; they had slept in or on far worse in their time on the
peninsula.

When Thomas was dressed he called for Fairly before leaving to get his
breakfast, when the boy arrived Thomas asked him.

"Fairley could you please find Mister Smithson and ask him to come and see
me after breakfast?"

"Yes Sir."

Fairley disappeared and Thomas left the tent for the temporary mess they
had set up; the normal heavy breakfast was hot and ready when he found a
seat among the men and boys of Perrin's Company. It had become the norm now
for Thomas to sit with a different group each day and they now knew they
could say whatever was on their mind even with him present.

Thomas would often join in with the conversation and it was a good way for
him to find out if anything was wrong or if his men had any problems he
could look into; there were very few.

With breakfast over and Thomas was back in his tent; Smithson arrived and
saluted before asking what Thomas required.

"I have a job for you Mister Smithson; it will entail you leaving the
Battalion and going out on your own; well not exactly on your own, I'll be
sending a couple of the others with you. I was told you are very capable at
navigation and are also able to draw a chart Mister Smithson?"

"Well yes Sir, it really was my passion but my father said that the work of
an artist would never be profitable and so sent me to the navy but my first
passion is drawing and painting Sir."

"Good then you are just the man I am looking for. Tell me Mister Smithson,
could you make some detailed maps for me if it were needed?"

"I could Sir but I have no instruments for measuring correctly and it would
take time if the maps were to be in detail and to scale."

"How much time?"

Well Sir that would depend on how large the area is to be mapped?"

"Let's say a tract of land about twenty miles long by five miles wide."

"Oh that's a lot of work Sir, perhaps two months or even a little more if
you wanted fine details."

"If I gave you three months could you do it?"

"Well yes Sir but I would need instruments for accuracy."

"Good then it is set. Go and find Carlito and Sergio; you know my two
servants; they should not be too hard to find. When you have them come back
here and I will tell you my plan."

Smithson saluted and left the tent only to return a few minutes later with
Sergio and Carlito in tow.

"They was sitting not far away Sir, now what is it you would like us to
do?"

Thomas changed to Spanish so his two boys would be a part of the
conversation.

"In about four months time we will be asked to stand against a large force
of the French in a place called Albuera; I would like you to go with these
two and make as detailed maps of the area to the south and north as you
can. Before you go there I want you to return to Vimeiro and in the back
room of my house you will find all of Mister Scully's instruments; use them
for your maps. Is there anything else you will need?"

It was Carlito who spoke first.

"Patron, we will need more than two to watch over Mister Smithson; I would
ask Maketja and perhaps Juan to come with us; Albuera is in Seville and
there will be many French to watch for."

"Yes Carlito you may well be correct; oh and while you are looking for
them, ask Don Estaban if he can give you five of his best horses, you will
also need panniers to carry your supplies and Mister Smithson's equipment."

Carlito gave Thomas a little bow and left in a hurry as Thomas turned back
to Smithson.

"Now Mister Smithson, what else do you need?"

"Well Sir, I will have to find parchment suitable for maps and a small
ledger for the measurements and calculations."

"Right them. Sergio would you take Mister Smithson into Lisbon town and
find him a shop to fill what he needs?" Thomas reached under his cot and
opened a small chest; from it he took a small leather purse and gave it to
Smithson.

"There should be enough in there for anything you need; keep what is left
for your journey; you will be away for a while and will need it for food
and supplies. If you think of anything else before you leave then come and
tell me. When you have completed your maps then meet us at Elvas before the
end of April; if I am not there then wait for our arrival but do not be
anywhere near Albuera from late April onward."

Smithson saluted and said "Yes Sir." Then left with Sergio by his side;
Thomas only hoped he was doing the right thing and not sending the five
boys to their deaths at the hands of the French who would soon be massing
in the very area he had sent the boys to.

When it was time to leave for the last day of the Tattoo, Thomas saw that
all his Officer's as well as every man or boy of the Battalion was lined up
ready to move; all that is except for fifteen of the guns. Croxley had
selected only one gun crew although it was made up of sixteen men and a
single powder monkey.

The last day was set aside for the show of arms and abilities of the men of
His Majesty's forces and would be in the form of competition; there was
also the fact that now a little coin could be made by those who wanted it.

After arriving en-mass at the grounds; Thomas was once again called to the
pavilion by the Viscount along with those Officers not involved on the
field itself. Again Thomas saw that his visit to the pavilion was not well
received by those Junior Officers that had to wait below but he was well
past caring about other's feelings after what Mister Percy had told him.

Thomas was almost surprised to see the Spanish Prince with a few Officers
standing with the Viscount. On his arrival Thomas was soon joined by
General Cuesta and General Livorno both of whom totally ignored any other
Officers in the pavilion as they set about chatting with Thomas and his
other young Officers. It was not long before the Prince himself joined them
with a warm smile and a little laughter.

The first competition was one of musketry. Those who wished to take part
could do so in Company formation and would consist of moving forward while
taking firing positions and trying to hit a number of large targets at the
far end of the field; it would also incorporate a competition to see who
could fire the most volleys in a given time from when the first volley was
fired until they were ten paces from the target. If there was a case when
two or more Companies had the same number of volleys then it would come
down to the number of hits on the large targets.

Lieutenant Perrin had been given the honour of taking part for the
Battalion and as could be expected, they were told that they would be last
to fire which meant they would have to stand and wait until all the others
had had their time; the heat of the sun was meant to sap their strength or
so the organising Officer thought; he could not take the chance that the
young upstarts might just be as good as real soldiers.

The next competition was to be one of accuracy where the troops would fire
at much smaller targets until they could no longer make the shot and the
targets were too far out of range for accuracy; Lieutenant Lorenco and his
Sharpshooters had been given this task; there was one complication in this
competition. Colonel Sharpe had his men there also and there were a few
ribald remarks amongst them and Thomas's boys as they waited on the side
lines for the other soldiers to shoot first. Each Company could field six
shooters and; as one missed he would be illiminated until only one was
left.

The third competition was of riding skills by the cavalry; for this Estaban
was given the honour with his fine Andalucian mounts and very capable
riders. What Estaban had planned for this no one knew; all the training had
been done well away from camp and only his riders knew their place and what
was expected from them.

The final competition of the day was what was to become known as "Running
the Guns" No one knew the origins of this competition and it was some
months later when Thomas found out it was the idea of Mister Percy in his
attempt to prove a few points to some rather uppity Artillery Officers he
had met in the mess the previous evening although he must have had the idea
for some time when the course was set out for all to see.

The first call for musketry was soon underway and the first Company was one
from the Guards regiment. The Guards arrived in two ranks with their
muskets held at the shoulder with both hands as they would when advancing
in battle formation. Stopping forty paces from the targets and in two
ranks; the accompanying Officer called the orders.

"Company; halt. Front rank present arms. Aim. Fire."

There was a thunderous noise and a great cloud of powder smoke as the first
rank fired and then stood as the second rank moved forward.

"Second rank present arms. Aim. Fire."

Again the muskets echoed in the still morning air and the young Officer's
voice could be heard afterwards.

"Reload." There was a long pause as the ranks reloaded and then received
their next orders.

"Company will advance three paces."

When the ranks had taken the three steps the same fire order rang out
again. The rules had stated that no shots were to be fired once the Company
had come within ten paces of the targets. By the time the Guards had got to
ten paces they had fired off ten volleys for each rank and then they came
to a halt as many of the spectators cheered their efforts.

While all the cheering had been going on, a number of soldiers appeared and
began to count the shots on target and note them on a sheet of paper; once
done they then pasted a new paper cover over the target and went back to
their place well away from the shooting area.

Next came a Company of Highlanders; it turned out to be almost a repetition
of the Guards and they also had ten volleys for each rank at the ten paces
mark. Company after Company followed and it looked as though it was going
to be a massive tie with most of them shooting ten volleys before halting;
it was evident that the English had been well trained in their form of
warfare.

When it finally came time for the last Company; that of Thomas's Company,
Thomas heard the voice of the Viscount calling him from a group of older
Officers that had been on the peninsular since the beginning, many of them
recognising Thomas and sending small smiles or nods his way.

"Captain Marking."

"Yes My Lord?"

"How will your boys go this day?"

"As well as they can My Lord but they are up against fine competition."

Thomas's voice was almost flat and without feeling as he replied; the words
of Mister Percy still clear in his head.

"Then would you suggest I place a wager on them Captain?"

"If it be your Lordships pleasure but I fear there may be those who would
take advantage of your generosity My Lord."

"Well we shall see Captain; I have yet to underestimate you or your men and
I have a feeling now is not the time to think otherwise."

Thomas did not reply but instead turned to the more Junior Officers below
in the open stand as he heard a voice call up to him.

"Would you not wager on your own men Captain?"

"I would Major but who would have one hundred guineas to cover my wager?"

There was sudden silence from the stands below Thomas, he had set the price
and it was now up to those who thought they could win. It was a goodly sum
although not even a small fraction of what he could call on. Thomas was no
fool and knew there were enough newly arrived Officers that many would not
know his men's reputation. Thomas waited silently; he had put out the
figure he would consider a good wager and it was now up to the Officers to
find the means to meet it.

It was not long before Thomas was getting offers of taking part of his
wager and he was soon over his first amount as he could not find any way to
stop accepting them. Unknown to Thomas there were a large number of the
older Officers at the rear of the pavilion also placing wagers on Thomas's
boys; they had seen this before and knew that the young Captain always had
something up his sleeve when it came to a competition.

It did not go unnoticed to Thomas that many of his boys were also spread
out among the other spectators that stood around the field to watch. His
men were well spread out among the rank and file and doing a furious trade
in coins as they waited for the last Company to take their positions on the
field. Thomas looked at the other Officers with him and covered the smile
on his face with his free hand while they just lifted their eyes to the
heavens; all of them knew that their Patron was no longer averse to a
little larceny.

A halt came to the wagering when Perrin led his men onto the
field. Lieutenant Perrin formed his men up in three ranks just below the
pavilion and a full two hundred yards from the targets; the fact he used
three ranks and not the usual two was soon picked up by those watching.

Perrin's voice echoed out over the now silent field as the watchers waited
to see what was coming from this most unlikely group of youngsters.

"B Company, 1st Battalion will advance at Battle pace on my
command. March."

There was silence as the spectators watched the young men move forward; at
thirty paces they changed to double march and then again back to normal
pace as they came up on the seventy paces mark when Perrin's voice was
heard once again.

"Company will prepare to fire on the advance. 1st rank kneel, 1st rank by
volley. FIRE."

At the sound of Perrin's orders there was a gasp around the field that
could be heard audibly; everyone knew it was pointless to fire outside
forty paces but the thunderous sound of the muskets soon drowned out any
doubts as those watching saw splinters flying off the far off targets; they
were to get an even bigger surprise when the same muskets fired again
before the front rank stood up and let the other two move through them with
the second rank taking a knee as the first rank began their speed loading.

For those watching it was as though the ranks rolled one on top of the
other as a continuous firing filled the air; there was hardly a pause as
one rank moved forward through the next and the sound of the muskets began
to echo like thunder as there was no pause or let up in the torrent of shot
smashing the far off targets. When Perrin's Company finally made it to the
ten paces mark and ceased fire there was little doubt as to whom had won.

The Viscount's voice could be plainly heard in the sudden silence that now
surrounded the field.

"Well done Captain, I lost my count at twenty volleys. Gentlemen pay your
wagers if you please."

Thomas could hear a number of grumbles as the Officers below him moved
forward to pay their lost wagers to the young Captain in the hope that they
could recoup their losses as the day moved on.

For the competition of accuracy the number of shooters was limited to
six. Each group would take their place and fire at the targets that were no
larger than a man's head and the starting place was thirty paces. After
each round the shooters would step back five paces and fire again; as each
man missed they would leave the mark and only those left could then move
back to the next mark.

When the shooters finally got to the forty five paces there were only two
groups left, Lorenco's men and Colonel Sharpes and it was close from then
on as both used double loads and had the experience to meet the needs of
such long range shooting.

When it finally got to the eighty paces there were only Lorenco with Jones
and Cooper of Sharpe's command standing on the mark. For those watching it
was an unusual sight as Cooper leant over to Lorenco and said something to
the younger man. Without firing another shot, all three shouldered their
muskets and marched off the mark; they had agreed to call it a draw rather
than make one of them lose face from a miss. It was not what the spectators
were hoping for but, for the shooters it was a matter of respect.

The last competition before there would be a break for a late lunch and
preparations could be made for the final event of the day were the cavalry
events. They started off with a troop of Light Hussars which entered the
field with sabres drawn and began to show off their skills at various
paces. They rode in pairs and then smoothly formed into fours and even
sixes as they moved back and forth around the field. When they had finished
with their skills display they smoothly formed into three ranks of advance
and galloped towards the end of the field where stakes held what appeared
to be melons of some type. With sabres flashing in the sunlight, the
Hussars sliced the melons as though they were French heads. Turning after
their charge the Hussars rode back in triumph to the loud cheers of the
watching crowd.

Next were the Heavy Cavalry, these men did a similar performance but also
used horse pistols as well as their much heavier sabres and finished in
much the same style and too the same loud cheers as the Hussars had
received. The last group once again was Estaban's men. When they entered
the field there were no fancy skills, instead Estaban led in with his three
cousins in line behind him.

There was no sight of the rest of the company as Estaban and the three
brothers came to a halt just below the pavilion and sat their pure white
horses facing down the field where the staked targets were placed. There
was silence from the large crowd as the four Spanish boys sat their horses
until Estaban lifted one hand high in the air and his young voice could be
plainly heard as he called orders in Spanish which few spectators
understood.

"1st Battalion will advance."

From both sides of the pavilion came the riders which, as they passed by
the end of the pavilion formed into three ranks that spread across the
width of the field and lined up just in front the four main riders.
Estaban looked along the lines and then called out.

"Front rank will advance."

Diego left his place behind Estaban, drew his sabre and took a place at the
head of the front rank as they began to walk their horse towards the far
off targets; he then took over from Estaban and called the next order in
his youthful voice just as he kicked his horse into a trot.

"Present muskets."

The straight rank of trotting riders took their muskets from their
shoulders with an unusual flourish and; at the same time released their
hold on their reins as Diego called out above the sound of the hooves.

"Front rank...CHARGE."

With a yell from all the riders that echoed over the open field; they rose
in their saddles until they were standing tall. The horses seemed to know
what to do as none of the riders were holding the reins as they broke into
the gallop towards the far off small targets.

As they rode at a very fast gallop towards the fast nearing targets the
riders lifted their muskets to their shoulder and sighted at the targets
over the heads of their horses. Once inside what they thought was their
range, the front rank fired the first barrel which was quickly followed by
the second.

Diego Then lifted his sabre high in the air and circled it above his head
just as the fast moving horse neared the end of the field. As though all
the riders were attached by a single rope; they suddenly began to split
apart at the centre and turned, half to the left and the other half to the
right and galloped down each side of the field while reloading their
muskets.

Once again, as they closed on where the others sat waiting; the riders sat
back in their saddles and rested their reloaded muskets on their right knee
and rode out of the field with Diego rejoining Estaban. Estaban then called
out the next order as the riders of the first rank disappeared.

"Second rank will advance."

The middle brother Thomasino called the orders just as his younger brother
had done and the second rank began their trot then gallop at what was left
of the far off targets. Once the charge was over there was little left of
the targets but it did not stop Estaban calling for the last rank under the
orders of Pablo to make their charge as well.

None of the thousands watching had ever seen such an effective cavalry
charge; of the targets there was little left apart from a few torn
stakes. With the last rank riding from the field, Estaban was rejoined by
the three brothers who took up their place just behind him once again.

For those watching it had left them in stunned silence; it was not to last
long as a number of hidden drums began the Della Guerra from behind the
pavilion. At the first sound of the drums; Estaban and the three brothers
began to ride in a fashion never before seen; it was to be a display that
eventually brought every soldier, whether Officer of ranker to their feet
and the applause was so loud there was no chance to hear a man speak.

The four riders turned their horses towards the pavilion and, with a
gesture from nothing more than their right knee that only the riders knew;
the horses extended their right foreleg and bent their left to end up in
what could only be described as a bow.

The horse's chests were almost on the ground as they stayed in
position. Estaban then led his three friends in drawing their sabres and
stepping off their horses to stand at attention and present themselves
before the Officers with a salute before remounting.

Once remounted, the four riders sat their horses as the mounts regained
their four legs. For those watching they were about to see one of the
finest shows of horsemanship ever seen.

With the hidden drums playing and the four riders now sitting stiffly in
their saddles and without touching the reins, the horses began to step in
time to the beat of the drums as though dancing. The four riders were now
sitting erect, their left hand placed on the sword sheaths at their left
hip and the sabre held in their right with their elbow tucked tightly into
their waist and the sabre tip resting on their shoulder.

The horses suddenly reared up and spun on their back legs to face down the
field; as they regained their four legs they began to move in ever more
difficult formations all keeping in time and side by side.

Firstly they moved forward as though on parade and then began to high-step
their way across the field on the diagonal which then turned into line one
behind the other as they kept in perfect step and time with the riders
seemingly just sitting immobile on their backs. It would have taken a very
sharp-eyed person to see the fine subtle gestures of the rider's legs as
they guided the horses through the complex patterns of the demonstration.

It was fully twenty minutes before the four riders finally ended up once
again at the front of the pavilion just as the far off drums finished. The
four boys gave a final salute before sheathing their sabres, taking up
their reins once more and leaving the field side by side. For the full
duration of the demonstration there had hardly been a sound from the
thousands watching but, when the riders rode out of the field there was a
sudden eruption of cheers and shouts; it was a performance every few of
those present ever forgot.

With the field cleared, the Viscount called out amid the loud applause.

"Gentlemen, after such a telling performance I think we should break for a
late lunch while the engineers prepare the field for the last event of the
Tattoo. If you will follow me we can retire to the mess until everything is
ready for the running of the guns, Shall we say, Two hours?"

The assembled Officers were not about to refute any requests from the
Viscount so all agreed, Thomas was ignored by the others and turned to his
friends to signal they should find their own for lunch and return when the
final event was ready to start. It was the intervention of the Prince that
changed Thomas's mind.

"Don Thomasino; perhaps you and your Officers would care to join me for
lunch? I find it rather tiresome to have to eat with the English Officers
and would much prefer your company."

"Thank you Your Highness, we would be pleased to join you. Shall we go to
the Officers mess Sire?"

"Certainly not Don Thomasino; you and your friends shall join me at my
Hacienda; it's much more enjoyable if we don't have to think about those
buffoons."

Thomas could only smile and agree; he never did feel comfortable in the
Officers mess and the Princes idea was much more to his liking. It was not
long before there were extra carriages ordered to take them all to the
private quarters of the Prince of Anglona; it would be much better and a
more relaxing lunch than what would have been on offer at the mess.

When the large group walked into the dining room of the hacienda; Thomas
saw it was already set for company and a number of servants were standing
around the walls waiting for the guests to be seated before producing the
food. The table was long enough to seat at least twenty people and Thomas
marvelled at the opulence of the room.

The Prince gestured to the top end of the table and said.

"Don Thomasino, perhaps you will join me at the head of the table along
with Don Carmelo and Don Estaban."

The Prince led them to the top end of the table and all waited until the
prince was seated before following themselves. As they got comfortable, the
Prince looked at Estaban and smiled as he spoke to the young officer.

"Don Estaban, a very good showing; were you and the other boys trained
professionally?"

"No Sire, my cousins and I were taught by our uncle; he was the Horse
Master at the Escuela de Equitacion Espanol."

"Was he indeed? And his Name Don Estaban?"

"Horse Master Francisco Caliente, Your Highness."

"Ah yes I seem to remember the name; it is a pity the French threatened the
school but at least the best of our horses were saved, even though they are
now out of the country. Well Don Estaban, if you see your uncle again tell
him I said you did well and he should be proud of both you and his sons."

"Thank you Your Highness; were he still alive I would pass it on but
unfortunately it is just one more thing the French have to pay for."

"I see, well my sincere condolences Don Estaban and I can only pray you
will make them pay dearly for what they have done."

"Of that you can be assured Your Highness."

The rest of the lunch went smoothly and the conversation was relaxed and
little was mentioned about the war or any other things that may have been
political. By the time they were due to leave for the field once more for
the final event, the group were relaxed and feeling much better; for Thomas
it was one of the small marvels he would never get used to but still
enjoyed none the less.

When the group arrived back at the scene of the Tattoo, Thomas noticed a
number of Officers looking their way, the absence of the Prince at lunch
had been noted but to see his Highness arrive with the young rankers just
did not sit well although no one would ever speak of it out in the open for
others to hear.

Thomas looked down at the field and saw the changes. The Engineers had, in
two hours; transformed the field into a difficult course that included a
large deep chasm halfway down by the means of building two mounds about ten
feet apart. On both sides lying on the ground were a set of what Thomas now
recognised as sheer legs; they were joined at the top by a long thick rope
attached to a metal fitting where the two legs met; there was another rope
lying on the ground on the legs closest to the pavilion end.

The other set of legs were lying on the opposite side and looked to have a
number of ropes attached and tied off to stakes driven into the ground
behind them. At the far end of the field stood three troops of gunners
mounted on their horses with a gun and caisson attached at the rear.

Using his small spy glass, Thomas looked at the far off setting and it did
not take him long to see that the two Artillery troops were sporting
smaller guns than the one used by his men. The Artillery troops were
recognisable as one being from the 1st Brigade RFA and the other from the
1st Troop of the RHA.

There was another difference that Thomas did not quite understand as he
looked at the three troops waiting for the start of what was evidently a
race. The two Artillery troops were in splendid uniforms and each gun had
six horses with a rider on each of the right side mounts; the rest of the
troop were sitting on the small caissons and others were standing in ranks
to the left and right.

Croxley's men were all bare to the waist and wore only their black boots,
black pants and their red and gold sashes; it did not go unnoticed by the
other Officers present and comments of rough necks were common in the
pavilion. There was another difference and that was that Croxley's men had
not only eight horses but everyone was mounted by a rider and only six men
were afoot; two carried what appeared to be thick ropes over their
shoulders as did a number of the mounted men and the other four had a
mixture of large mallets and long metal pins.

The difference in the guns was also easily seen. The two Artillery troops
towed small six pound guns while Croxley had his larger French gun which
they; being mostly naval ratings; referred to as twenty pounders although
they were in fact French 125 millimetre guns or about equivalent to a
twelve pounder in English guns.

It did not go unnoticed by the Officers watching that the bare chested crew
had the far heavier gun to handle and the sudden surge in wagers grew
quickly; for Thomas and his friends it was one of those moments they hoped
they had not made a mistake; even the Prince wanted to take part in the
wagers with so much coin being freely thrown around; most of it on the
Artillery gunners.

"Well Don Thomasino, should we back you men once again?" Asked the prince.

"I have to your Highness; it would be unseemly for me to wager against
them."

"In that case Don Thomasino I can do no less."

There then came a flurry of wagers accepted by the foreigners as the
English Officers saw a chance to get even for earlier losses. The rules of
the competition had been laid down and it would be the first troop to get
their gun across the chasm and fire two shots first; it was expected that
the Artillery would be successful as they had the smaller and lighter guns;
needless to say, Croxley was written off with his much heavier gun.

The competition was for the guns to race to below the pavilion, unlimber
their guns and caissons and one of the riders would take the horses off the
field. Once the guns were free the men would attach ropes and pull the guns
to the start of the chasm; erect the sheer legs and swing the guns across
to the other side and, when all the men were also over, they would fire the
guns twice to prove they had all the parts there and could be effective if
needed.

At the far end of the field, a young Officer stepped up and raised his
pistol in the air; as the shot echoed in the stillness there was a sudden
cheer from all sides as the horses began the race to the pavilion. Croxley
took the right side and, with his heavier gun forced the other two to take
the left; his eight large horse's made light work of the racing gun as they
galloped past the end of the artificial chasm and raced for all they were
worth towards the pavilion.

The gun of the 1st RFA arrived first with Croxley very close behind; the
gun of the RHA troop had been pushed back and came in seconds later but the
others were already unlimbering and had gained seconds on them in what
could be a close race. While the guns were begin run to the other end of
the field; those men afoot had run around the chasm and were starting to
set up the sheer legs on this side; it was not hard for Thomas to see that
Croxley's men were far better prepared at this task than the others.

Once the guns were unlimbered they had to run them to where the sheer legs
were waiting; again Croxley was far ahead in that his men had thick ropes
ready with a heavy hook on one end; with practised ease, the rest of the
men with Croxley giving them a good hurry up; Attached the two thick ropes,
lined up along them and began to literally run the gun to the where the
sheer legs would be erected. For the other two teams it quickly became a
problem as they had not thought of how they would move their lighter guns
once unlimbered.

 At the place of the sheer legs the men with the mallets and long metal
pins set to work with a will while the Artillery troops stood trying to
work out what to do. It seemed no time at all and Croxley's men were ready
to erect the long sheer legs as their competitors still tried to work out
the basics of getting their guns into place.

Croxley's men had attached two of the ropes to the top of where the legs
were joined together by a metal cap to stop the legs from dividing; there
was a thick metal ring on the top that had the long rope leading to the
other side attached by means of a spliced eye. With their own ropes
attached; Croxley's gunners began to haul on the single long rope leading
to the other side which would also pull up the far side leg as the front
one rose.

It was now evident that Croxley's gunners had done this sort of thing
before as the two sets of legs rose until they were fully upright. As the
bulk of the gunners held the rope tight, those with the mallets had driven
their own spikes deep into the ground and were now pulling two of their
ropes to a ring so they stretched from the top of the legs to the spikes.

On each spike was set a tackle block and the ropes were quickly threaded
through and tightened until they took the weight from the others that had
held the legs upright. Thomas glanced at the other two troops and saw that
they were trying to follow his gunners but had not thought out what would
be needed. Thomas had the sudden urge to hide his smile as he watched the
ineffective events of the other two troops.

The ropes were pulled tighter and tighter until the single heavy rope
across the artificial chasm looked almost ready to break. With the legs
secure and the ropes tied off tightly, Croxley called all his men to the
gun; what happened next was a revelation to every soldier watching; never
again would they think less of naval ratings.

The four heavily muscled men that had raised the sheer legs now went to the
gun and were quickly joined by a number of others. The young powder monkey
produced from the canvas bag slung over his shoulder a small blacksmiths
hammer and a thick metal pin. It was almost awe inspiring to watch the
gunners perform their tasks under the ever watchful eyes of Croxley.

The powder monkey quickly knocked out the pins holding the gun to the
carriage and the four largest men hooked a rope under the front of the
barrel and then another through the hole at the rear that was normally used
to anchor the gun; with a mighty heave the men lifted the barrel from the
carriage and set it on the ground to the side. Next the men went back to
the carriage and; with the help of two more of the older and stronger men,
got ready to lift the carriage bodily from the ground.

The powder monkey once again took out his hammer and pin and knocked clear
the two axel pins and placed them in his canvas bag with the others. There
was a sudden loud yell from Croxley and the six men around the carriage
lifted it high enough for two more well built gunners to pull off the two
wheels. Once the wheels were clear, the two men got their shoulders under
them and lifted them just high enough to be able to take them under the
sheer legs and hold them in place.

Two other gunners appeared with what was known as a split block; with long
practice they set the block on the main rope across the chasm, placed a
strange piece of iron to it and stepped back. The iron fitting was a length
of pole with a cross bar at the end; the two wheelmen placed a foot on each
side of the bar with the wheel still on their shoulders while the men on
the ground gave them a push from behind and then kept track of the smaller
thin rope being played out as the two wheels flew across the chasm.

Once the men stepped off the other side and placed the wheels on the ground
to roll them clear for the next part, the two men with the thinner rope
quickly pulled back the rolling block and got set for the next part. Thomas
let his eyes move to the other two troops; while the RHA troop had their
sheer legs set, it was apparent that the rope across the chasm was nowhere
near as tight as the one used by his own gunners. The third troops looked
as though they had given up as they mostly now just stood and watched the
expertise of Croxley's gunners.

The strange pole was removed and replaced with a thick and heavy hook; the
gun carriage was now being fitted with two more ropes that went from corner
to corner and the hooks were set on ring bolts at each corner. The carriage
was bodily carried beneath the sheer legs and lifted high enough for the
rope to be placed in the hook. Four men jumped onto the bare carriage and
were pushed smartly so they crossed the chasm very quickly. Once on the
other side the carriage was met by the two men already over there and all
six men unhooked the carriage so the block could once again be pulled back
ready for the next part.

The heavy barrel was next; with four men on the ropes it took little time
to have it attached to the hook and ready to be swung across; much to
Thomas's surprise and to many others watching, the powder monkey jumped up
onto the barrel with his canvas bag over his shoulder and carrying the guns
ramrod in one hand, the other being used to hold onto one of the
ropes. With a good push the barrel and powder monkey were sent at speed
across the chasm and into the waiting hands of the six men on the other
side.

The barrel was quickly removed after the young powder monkey had jumped
clear and the block was once again pulled back and made ready for the
caisson. The caisson was not stripped down but, being lighter it was far
easier to handle. With the caisson attached the rest of the men jumped on
and gave a push with their legs to set it flying across the wide gap.

Once on the other side it was then only a matter of a few minutes and the
gun was reassembled and ready to fire. For the other competitors it was a
lost cause. The troops of the RHA had tried to send their gun across
without stripping; its heavy weight had made the looser rope sag and the
gun hit the ground in the middle of the chasm; they could only watch in
utter frustration as Croxley ordered his gunners to fire. It was a complete
and utter victory to the men who everyone thought of as no better than
street thugs. For the troops of the RFA it was a disaster which was close
to ignominy, they would find it hard to ever recoup their reputation in the
face of their defeat.

There was little cheering as Croxley called for his horses and removed his
gun in triumph; he was proud of his men and the absence of any accolades
for such a comprehensive performance did not detract from the pride he felt
as they took their gun off the field; that his men had outperformed the
best in the English army was enough of a victory for him.

Thomas could only stand and smile as Croxley took his men from the field,
once again the men and boys of the streets had proved beyond doubt that
they deserved their reputation and toughness. Thomas was surprised by a
hard slap on his shoulder and turned to see the Prince smiling widely as
one of his aides went to collect his winnings

"Masterful Don Thomasino, a well thought out event and it is even more
obvious I and the Cortes made the right decision to ask you to join us when
the time was right, I am only glad that we are not on the receiving end of
your gunners."

"Thank you Your Highness but it was all Mister Croxley's work."

"No doubt Don Thomasino but I can see why the French want you so badly; if
I had men facing the sort of troops you now have, I too would be
worried. Well Don Thomasino, I must leave you; perhaps we will meet again
when this damnable war is over and we can sit and laugh together."

"Thank you Your Highness, I too look forward to such a time."

The Prince left Thomas and went to say his farewells to the Viscount;
Thomas was only too glad to leave the pavilion silently along with his
other Officers; there was much to do and he did not want to get tied down
in a place he knew he was not really wanted.

Thomas had rejoined his men back at camp only minutes before a rider
arrived with a message from the Viscount; it was time for the final meeting
before he took his men to harass Massena in Spain.



TBC.