Date: Fri, 6 May 2016 21:39:08 +1200
From: arthur carkeek <artcart65@gmail.com>
Subject: drummer boy chapter 3

DRUMMER BOY
CHAPTER 3
BY
ARTHUR

CONTACT AUTHOR:
artcart65@gmail.com


It was the 23rd of August as Cromwell Marking sat at his table waiting for
his wife to finish cooking their meagre dinner. Today was the one day of
the week that they could afford a little meat in their otherwise sparse
diet.

As Cromwell sat thinking of what might have been had he not gone up that
hill in India; there came a soft knock on the only door in the small run
down flat.

Groaning as he got to his feet he reached for his crutch; Cromwell made his
way slowly to the door. On opening the door; Cromwell saw the small figure
of the tavern owner's son; in the boy's hand was another newspaper.

"Scuse me Mister Marking; me Da said I should bring this to ye."

The boy held out the newspaper then turned and ran off before Cromwell
could say a word. Looking at the front page; Cromwell saw a large sketch
fully covering a third of the page; below was a commentary on the above
sketch; again the correspondent was the man Haversham.

Cromwell limped back to the table and laid the newspaper open ready for
reading; he glanced up at his wife as she gave him an enquiring
look. Before Cromwell could say a word; another and much louder knock
resounded in the small cold room.

Once again Cromwell had to get slowly to his feet to answer the door; what
he saw gave him pause; his mind flashed back to the date of the newspaper;
it had been 18th August; five days previous. Cromwell also knew the army
had been in another battle at a place called Vimeiro; were the three men at
his door bringing him bad news?

Of the three men; the one in a fancy black suit and carrying a red box case
worried Cromwell the most; the fact that the other two were in uniform and
wore the stripes of Sergeants, also increased Cromwell's worries.

"Gentlemen?"

The well dressed gentleman looked at Cromwell and was the only one to
speak.

"Mister Cromwell Marking?"

"Yes Sir."

"May we come in; I have something of importance to speak to you about; it
is perhaps better not discussed on your doorstep."

"Is it me boy? Has something happened to him?"

"No Mister Marking, to my knowledge your boy is in good health; this is an
entirely different matter."

"Well you are welcome; but it is not much to look at. An old soldier's
pension is not a lot to live on."

The two soldiers and the gentleman entered the small one room flat without
looking around. While the two soldiers took a station on either side of the
single door; Cromwell ushered the gentleman to one of the two wooden chairs
set at the table.

"Mister Marking. My name is Caruthers; I am here on behalf of the
Department for War. It has come to their attention that there may have been
a considerable error as to your true standing in their records."

Cromwell stayed silent as the man paused to consider his words.

"The department has received correspondence from Lieutenant General Sir
Arthur Wellesley and some other Officers, that your present situation was a
mistake that has been overlooked by their records people. I am here to
correct the oversight."

The man placed the red case on the table and opened it with the contents
facing himself.

"Mister Marking; I have here some papers that we would require your
signature on but; before we get to that I would like to offer my
congratulations for raising such a valorous young boy; he has become the
talk of London town and even up to the members of the House of Lords. Now
that said, this is about yourself and your situation. After consultation
with my superiors; they have come to the decision to repair the damage done
to you and your family because of the error in the records."

Cromwell was now becoming a little uncertain at what this gentleman was
really getting at; it was now plainly obvious to the man that he had better
get on with the news as well. After taking a sheet of paper from the box;
he slid it across to Cromwell.

"Mister Marking; I am under orders to present an offer to you in the hope
that we can settle some outstanding problems. This is a letter that
confirms your promotion to the rank of Sergeant; effective from the date of
24th September 1803, the day after the battle and your selfless act of
heroism."

Mister Caruthers drew out another paper and slid that across the small
table.

"This is an accounting of what we feel is owed to you in back wages and
pension as a Sergeant of His Majesties Army. It details what is now owed to
you and I have been authorised to make recompense to that effect; there is
also the normal reward for special acts of valour. To this end I have here
the service ribbons detailing the campaigns in which you served as well as
the Cross of Valour which was at first awarded posthumously but can now be
placed in your hand."

Caruthers took a small red velvet box from the case and slid that across to
Cromwell who was now sitting speechless as the man continued. Taking a
leather wallet from the box; he added that to the rest of the things
sitting on the table.

"As a Sergeant of His Majesties army; you were entitled to a pension of
fifteen pounds a year. Being that you have only been receiving a Privates
pension of five pounds a year; the Department has assessed that you are due
a further payment of fifty pounds as back payments for the five year
period. Now then; the department has also decided to offer you a further
fifteen pounds as a settlement for their oversight of your true status. If
these arrangements are suitable to you, we would ask that you sign this
document absolving the department from any further claims that may arise in
the future.

Caruthers slid the last paper towards Cromwell and took a small ink bottle
and quill from his case.

"If this meets with your understanding; I would ask that you place your
signature to this document to certify that you are in full agreement with
the offer made to you."

"Does this mean I will be getting fifteen pounds a year from now on?"

"That is correct Sergeant Marking; does this meet with your satisfaction?'

"Yes...yes it's even more than I would have thought had I known better."

"Then you have your very brave son to thank; had he not been as valiant as
he is; the error may have gone unnoticed."

Cromwell reached for the quill; dipped it in the bottle of ink and signed
the paper; he had to smile as he did so; it was not often a government
department admitted an error so openly and even then went to the trouble to
correct that error. Cromwell signed the document readily and slid it back
to Caruthers.

Caruthers placed the signed document in the case and stood up; after
offering his hand, he said.

"Thank you Sergeant Marking; I sincerely hope this will give you a chance
to live out your life in better circumstances. Now then I must leave you
and return to the department; good luck Sergeant."

Caruthers stood and exited along with the two soldiers; both of which gave
Cromwell a nod and smile as they left. Cromwell turned to his silently
waiting wife.

"Well that's a bit of a start; what do you think Matty; should we finally
look for a small cottage out in the country. Lord, sixty five pounds all in
one place; never dreamed a day like this would come."

"Yes Cromwell; I think we should look to the country; we should be able to
get a nice little cottage somewhere for that; what with all the young men
going to war, there must be something we can find."

For the first time in five years; Cromwell reached for his long suffering
wife and drew her into the first real hug in years. At the same time,
Cromwell knew that it was all because of their son and silently sent up a
prayer for the boy's safety.

Cromwell then noticed the newspaper still sitting open on the
table. Cromwell began to look more closely at the finely drawn sketch. It
was a scene of a very large parade ground. All the sides were filled with
standing troops and the mounted divisions were arraigned at the far end.

In front of a large rostrum were the flags and colours of the army and,
standing plainly for all to see was a very good drawing and likeness of
young Thomas. Cromwell looked closely at the sketch and had difficulty in
reconciling the sketched uniform with the ones he had seen in India during
his own service.

Cromwell looked to the caption below the sketch.

HERO OF ROLICA RECIEVES THE RIBBON OF VALOUR AND BAR.

Matty Marking suddenly drew in a breath as she looked over Cromwell's
shoulder at the sketch. Like many in those times; Matty could not read.

"Bless my soul; what are they doing to that poor wee boy? Why have they got
him standing there all alone in the middle of all those soldier?"

Before Cromwell could tell her the reason for the sketch; Matty drew in a
breath which sounded more like a gasp and said.

"My, my; that boy looks much like our Thomas. What is this Cromwell?"

"It's our boy Matty; they give him a ribbon for something he did."

It was then that Cromwell realised he had not said a word to Matty about
the other report he had read at the tavern; it was time to tell all.

"What in the good lords creation would he do to get an award, Cromwell?"

Cromwell knew it was time to come clean; he had not wanted to worry Matty
until this arrived; she had enough to contend with as it was.

"He stood and defended the colours against some Frenchies at a place called
Rolica out in the Portuguese lands."

"My sainted aunt; you mean he was fighting in a battle; but Cromwell, you
told me he was just going to be a drummer boy. Drummer boys don't fight
battles; he could have been killed, Oh bless me; that poor boy."

"Hush now Matty. He had to do his duty and he did; he was very brave and is
right fine; nothing really bad happened to him and I'm sure they will not
let him do that again."

"I should hope not; he's just a little boy; he shouldn't be fighting like
grown men; it's not his job."

"No Matty, it's not his job but; he does have to do his duty to the
colours; you well know that."

"Yes...yes I do...but...oh my...Thomas."

Matty turned back to her stew to hide the few tears that threatened to fall
and to prepare to serve up Cromwell's dinner before it spoiled; it would
not do to spoil their one day of meat.



Rolica; Iberian Peninsula Portugal. 18th August 1808.

Thomas and Carmelo had made it back to the tent; there was still no sign of
the new drummers so Thomas showed Carmelo inside the tent where his new
friend could put down the large leather roll he had carried over his
shoulder. It turned out to be his bedding and a few small personal items
when he opened it for Thomas to see.

Carmelo looked around the tent and then pointed to the place at the end of
Thomas cot.

"There I will sleep so I can be guard for you Patron."

"Oh... your English is very good."

"Oh Si...my Padre is fine English Officer; the Papa O'Malley told him I was
coming to work with you."

"Wait, your Papa is O'Malley?"

"Si, he is my Papa but not my Padre."

"Wait...wait, you're not making sense. How can O'Malley be your Papa and
not your Padre...uhm father?"

"Ah I see you are confused. I have two fathers; one is my true father; a
very brave officer. He is like El Toro...how you say?"

Carmelo raised his hands and placed his two forefingers on his head like
horns.

"Oh a bull?'

"Si, he is brave like the bull; he has killed many French puta's. The
O'Malley he is...ahm...how you say, a father who is not a father?"

"Ah yes I understand now; he is your god father."

"Si, god father; it is good, no?"

"Yes it is very good. What about your mother; she must be very worried
about you coming to the war?"

Thomas saw for the first time, what could be a sad look on his new friends
face.

"The French, they took her away."

"I'm really sorry Carmelo; that's really a bad thing; perhaps she will be
alright and can be found again?"

"No, never again. Those French ...."

Thomas did not understand the Spanish words but he understood the venom
with which they were said; he remembered that O'Malley had said that
Carmelo would turn to his own language when he cursed so he had to use his
own imagination.

When Carmelo had finished his torrent of Spanish; he changed back to
English.

"I am sorry Patron, I should not have said those words to you, it is the
French I have anger for; I will save it for them when I cut their bellies
open for the crows."

Uhm...Carmelo, can I ask what happened to your mother; if it is too painful
then I don't need to know."

"You are now my Patron; I will tell you of the evil of the French. It was
the last year; I had gone to the fields to look for birds eggs. A long time
later I returned to my home; it was in flames and my mother was lying in
the dirt of the yard. Those French..."

Again Carmelo went into a stream of Spanish before he recovered and
continued.

"The French had done terrible things to my mother before they used their
knives to end her pain; for this alone I will kill many. It was the
O'Malley that came along near dark; he saw what had happened; ah Patron; to
see the O'Malley in anger is a terrible thing. He brought me here to
Portugal where my Padre was. Since then I have been back and forth but; now
I have my own Patron; you and I, we will do great things to those French
pigs."

Thomas could not resist wiping the tears from his eyes as Carmelo finished
his story. As Carmelo unrolled his bedding and set his few belongings in
one of the small draws in the little cabinet; Thomas removed his jacket and
helmet; it was time to take a rest while they waited for the new drummers.

Thomas looked at his trusty weapons; they still had to be cleaned. Thomas
asked Carmelo to bring the little folding stool outside where they could
have a pipe and get some fresh air while Thomas cleaned his kit.

As they got outside; Clement and Perrin joined them for a pipe; the three
boys sat in their white trews and waist coats; it was a balmy night and the
sounds of the camp settling down was almost peaceful.

Thomas had finished cleaning his two pocket pistol and pushed them into his
waist band behind his back to keep them out of the way while he worked on
the small dirk. He had nearly got the dirk clean when he heard lots of
tired voices calling for the drummer's lines.

It was Clements who called for the group approaching them to come to them;
Thomas sat and finished his cleaning as twelve drummer boys walked up to
the small group. The boy whom looked to be the oldest, glanced at the four
boys and then puffed his chest out and glared at them, especially the
youngest, Thomas.

"Right, where's our tents then?"

Thomas looked at the boy and placed the dirk back in the scabbard in his
spats.

"Who is you lot?"

The older boy took over once again.

"None O your business shrimp; but you better get our tents set; we bin
marchin all day and is tired; sides, where's the corporal at; they's said
he would be here to sort it all out?"

Thomas looked up at the boy; he also noticed some movement in the shadows
on the other side of the tent line; the burley figure of Corporal Creasy
was easy to define.

"What's your name, drummer?"

"Go suck your mother's tit shrimp; you got no say about me."

Thomas had decided enough was enough; with a speed that astounded everyone
watching; including the dim figure of Corporal Creasy; Thomas jumped to his
feet and drew both pistols; the fact they were not loaded had completely
missed Thomas attention.

Thomas quickly had both pistols jammed up tight under the larger boy's
chin; he could feel the close presence of Clement and Perrin on one side
and a very alert Carmelo on the other. Before more could be said; one of
the other boys watching from the twelve, gasped and cried out.

"Prattly don't; it's im; the one that got the colours."

The newly named Prattly now had a very scared look on his face as he tried
to turn to the other boy.

"How you know that Simpkin?"

"The pistols you bloody fool; the story said he has a brace of 'Peter
Pistols' take a look you daft bastard; you want your head all over the
ground?"

Prattly very quickly deflated as he tried to look down at the pair of
pistols; his voice was now shaking just like his knees as he began to
realise what he had just done. Taking a deep gulp of fresh air; Prattly
stepped back and bowed his head while he muttered very quietly; the fact
the pistols were still aimed right at his head also had a lot to do with
it.

"I'm sorry Drum Corporal; I's unnerstan you have to report me."

With honour satisfied; Thomas lowered the empty pistols; it was time to set
some rules before anything like it happened again; it was also a good
chance to cement a few friends among the new boys.

In his best small boy voice; Thomas began to give orders.

"Drummers, attention; form ranks for inspection."

Thomas watched as the obedience of the army training took over and the
twelve new boys formed up in two ranks.

"Drummers, I am Drum Corporal Marking; you are now part of the best
Regiment in the Kings Forces. This is Lead drummer Clement and Lead drummer
Perrin; until further notice they will lead a rank each. The unfortunate
event this evening, DID NOT take place BUT; if it happens again, I will
personally pull the bloody triggers. AGREED?"

The loud response to the affirmative was enough for Thomas.

"Right, front rank will follow Lead Drummer Clement; second rank will
follow Lead Drummer Perrin; get some rest; we are moving to battle in the
morning; good night Drummers."

All the drummer boys straightened up even more as they all called back.

"Good night Drum Corporal."

Thomas sat back on the stool as Clement and Perrin led the new boys away to
their tents; from the dark on the other side of the tent line; Thomas heard
the voice of Corporal Creasy.

"Well corporal; not the way I would have handled it but just as effective."

"How would you have done it Corporal?"

"Why corporal; pulled the bloody trigger oh course."

"Couldn't do that, Mister Creasy."

"Still a bit queasy are you lad?"

"No Mister Creasy; my pistols are not loaded."

The loud burst of laughter filled the night air as Corporal Creasy thumped
his knees and gasped for breath.

"Well I suppose that would make it difficult to shoot the little toe-rag;
you do like taking chances lad."

"Not really Mister Creasy; I just forgot they was empty before I shoved
them in his face."

Another bout of laughter filled the night air as Creasy walked away into
the darkness.

Finally the long day was over and Thomas was only too ready for his new
bed. Carmelo was still outside doing something but Thomas was far too tired
to care anymore; with a heavy sigh he finished undressing and got into his
bed; his eyes were closed in seconds.

There was only the faintest shimmer of dawn light when Thomas was awoken by
a number of young Spanish voices outside his tent. Shaking the sleep from
his eyes; he quietly called out for Carmelo.

Within seconds the fully alert Carmelo walked into the tent with a ceramic
mug in his hands; it had a wisp of steam rising from it; Carmelo placed it
on the small chest of drawers by his bedside.

"So Patron; you are awake before the crows eat your eyes."

"What is in that mug, Carmelo; it smells good?"

"It is a special drink from way south and over the sea; it is called cafe;
very strong; good for waking up. Wait I will make it even better."

Carmelo took out a small cotton bag and dropped four white cubes into the
hot drink; it was soon followed by a tawny coloured liquid from a small
flask he had in his back pocket. Once he was finished, Carmelo stirred it
and handed it to Thomas.

"This, Patron; is for fighting men such as yourself."

Thomas took a sip of the hot liquid and nearly choked as the extra spirits
Carmelo had put in caught in his throat but; apart from that, Thomas liked
the drink; he was already feeling ready for the day.

"So who are those boys outside Carmelo?"

"Oh, Si Patron; they are...how you say? Helpers; boys who have lost all to
the French....." Thomas almost laughed as Carmelo spat out the curse words
in Spanish.

"What are they doing here, Carmelo?'

"They have come to work for you; a great Toreador such as yourself must
have good servants to take care of the small things in life."

"But Carmelo, I am not rich; I don't have a lot of money to pay them."

"You not worry Patron; we will feed them and perhaps the French will pay
them for their work. All of them have nothing; parents, homes all gone to
the French."

Thomas finished his cafe; Carmelo was right; he felt ready to work or
fight. Dressing without his jacket or helmet; he went with Carmelo to meet
the boys.

Outside, Thomas was surprised at the condition of the three boys. They all
looked thin and underfed; they were dressed in rags and wore only open
leather sandals. As he came around the tent, the three boys looked at him
and then Carmelo; with nothing said the three boys bowed low to Thomas, and
said in unison.

"Bueno Dias Patron."

Thomas looked at Carmelo for help.

"They say greetings Patron."

"Huh, well hello boys." Thomas felt silly calling them boys as he was one
himself even though lately he was feeling older than his nearly twelve
years.

Carmelo took over talking to the boys in rapid fire Spanish before turning
back to Thomas.

"Patron, this one is called Carlito; he is ...uhm, how you say...gypsy;
many talents, you will see."

Thomas looked at the thin boy as he bowed to Thomas in respect; his eyes
were flashing and bright; Thomas thought the boy was smarter than most
would think.

"Now this one Patron; he is from Seville and is called by the name of
Marcelo; he has very quick; how you say...?"

Carmelo wriggled his fingers and Thomas told him what they were called.

"Ah yes, fingers; he is very fast fingers. Now this one is the sleeping
boy, always he is sleeping but; when the meat is not to find; he is the
best. His name is Sergio from Catalan; he is great hunter, you will see."

"Uhm, how will we find a sleeping place for them?"

"Oh they will be happy to sleep in the cart; they can watch over the
burro."

"Burro? What is a burro?"

"For pulling cart; like small horse."

"Do you mean a donkey; you know...hee haw, hee haw?"

"Si Patron; eet is burro."

"I don't have money for a...ah...burro."

"Money, no, no; there is no money for burro; it is here waiting to pull
your cart."

"Where did it come from?"

"Sergio said he found it when the French were not watching them; he thought
his Patron deserved such a fine beast more than the Putana French."

"So he stole it from the French?"

"Si Patron, do not worry; they have plenty more, they will not miss one
alone burro."

Thomas could not hold his laughter any longer; giggling wildly at the
thought of taking something from the French just struck him as right. He
walked up to Sergio and patted the smaller boy on the shoulder and smiled
at the grinning boy.

"Very good Sergio."

Carmelo spoke rapidly to the boys and they all began to work around the
fire. When Thomas turned around to go and get dressed; he saw Perrin
standing outside his tent.

"Do you need anything Corporal?"

"No thank you Perrin; it appears I have my own little army; you spend the
time getting your kit ready to move out; you can put it on the cart with
mine. Tell Clement he can do the same but the new boys have to put theirs
with the baggage train."

Perrin nodded and went back inside the tent he shared with Clement. When he
was finally dressed; Thomas went outside just as Carmelo walked into the
tent. Taking the folding table and stool, Carmelo took them outside and set
them up under the flap of the tent.

Thomas could only stop and watch as a tin plate, spoon and small knife were
set on the table, next a large platter was set on the table with steaming
hot meat and nearly a dozen small bird's eggs. A round loaf of bread was
still steaming from the fire and a quarter of a cheese round was sitting
next to it with a bunch of small red tomatoes; a glass bottle held a thick
golden coloured olive oil. Thomas had never seen such a feast and it was
only breakfast.

"Where did all this come from Carmelo?"

"Oh from many donations here and there. The eggs were collected by Carlito
and the rest was Sergio and Marcelo. This English army has many fine things
and the French are so forgetful about their stores."

Thomas could not believe his eyes; this was so far away from the tea and
hard tack biscuits they usually had for their breakfast. Unknown to Thomas,
his dinner was going to be even better.

Even Carmelo would not join him to eat; as he explained; it was for the
Patron; if there was a little left over then the boys would eat. Thomas
shook his head in wonder and ate what he could although it was strange to
be served a tin goblet of wine for breakfast but he drank it anyway.

As Thomas finished what he could eat; he stood up and reached for his
helmet; placing it firmly on his head and making sure the strap was secure;
he smiled as he thought about not having to wear the damned choker anymore.

Thomas looked along the line of tents that housed the drummer boys; as he
stepped out into the middle of the lane between the massed tents of the
33rd; he saw Carmelo and the boys finishing off the breakfast hurriedly. It
was not long before all the food had disappeared into the hungry stomachs
of the boys and they were already starting to break the camp down and place
it on the cart. Carlito had been given the job of washing the plates and
clearing the remains of the food.

When he was in the middle of the road; Thomas took a deep breath and
shouted as loud as his small lungs would allow.

"Drummers; on parade."

There was a scurrying and grumbling in the tent line as the new boys; who
had slept later than they should have; tried to get dressed and get on
parade. They all knew there was a penalty to pay for being late.

Thomas waited longer than he should have; Clement and Perrin were standing
at attention beside him as the new boys stumbled out and formed up in two
ranks.

Around the drummer troop; others were forming up as the baggage train
workers began to take down the tents and prepare to move forward to their
new camp site.

Thomas looked over the new boys with a critical eye; it was not his problem
that some were not ready; if he did not perform his duties properly; he
would be the one getting punished; it was the way of the army.

Thomas went along the two ranks and inspected everything; from buttons to
buckles, dirt spots and badly worn kits; two of the boys had lined up
without their drums. Thomas stopped in front of the boys and tried to give
them a serious glare.

"Names?"

"Carter" one said. "Smith" said the other.

"Carter and Smith; what are our duties in His Majesties Army?"

"We is Drummers Corporal."

"How can you be drummers without drums, Carter?"

"Well we was tired from marching yesterday Corporal; we forgot."

"Carter, Smith; when we get to our new camp tonight; you will both present
yourself outside my tent for extra duties. You will be in full kit, with
your drums and you will appear before dinner. Is that clear Drummer Carter;
Drummer Smith?"

"Yes Corporal."

"Right you all have ten minutes to eat; if the parade is called before you
finish then it's your own fault."

Thomas was not being as hard as some would have been and he knew that the
parade would not be called for another hour; the boys would have plenty of
time to eat and prepare for the long march that day.

Thomas watched as the boys rushed away to eat; when he turned around he saw
his tent had disappeared and in its place stood a small donkey attached to
the hand cart and four smiling faces waiting for his orders.

Carmelo walked over to him and looked him up and down. Much to Thomas
surprise; Carmelo began to tut-tut as he looked Thomas up and down, front
and back.

"Patron, tonight we will fix your weapons; they are no good to you as you
have them."

Thomas could only nod his head as he didn't really know what Carmelo was
talking about; his dirk was in the same place in his spats and he had his
two pocket pistols in the two inside pockets of his jacket; as far as he
could tell, no one could see any of them. His new weapons from the officers
were stored in the cart somewhere by Carmelo.

"Patron; where do you camp tonight?"

"I'm not sure Carmelo but it would be about half way to Vimeiro; the
General wants us to be there by tomorrow afternoon so he will probably push
us hard today."

"That is good Patron; the boys will go ahead with the cart and find a good
place for your tent and will meet us there; I will walk with you."

"Uhm, Carmelo, they might not let you march with the army."

"And who would stop a lone boy from walking along the same road as the
army?"

The smile on Carmelo's face told Thomas he would not win this one; the boy
had a way about him.

"Ok, but keep watch; some of the men are not good people; even on a
marching day."

"You worry too much about Carmelo Patron; never fear I will be like a
shadow."

At that moment, Thomas heard the call to fall in; it was time for his boys
to get to work. Thomas called his boys out and got them into the two ranks;
once that was done; he detailed who would lead which company. With that
done; Thomas set the beat with his new drum as he led the boys to the front
of the assembled regiment.

The Sergeant Major was waiting for them as they lined up in front of him.

"Drum Corporal; have you detailed your drummers to their positions in the
line of march?"

"Yes Sergeant Major."

"Right Corporal, send them off, you will take the lead of 1st company and
the Regimental Colours."

"Yes Sergeant Major"

"Carry on Drum Corporal."

Thomas turned back to face the drummer boys.

"Drummers to their places. Drums will follow my cadence. Move."

The boys broke up and ran for their places in the line of march. A minute
later and Thomas was standing at attention at the front of the Regiment. At
a loud bellow from the Sergeant Major; Thomas began the cadence for the
march; it was always a stirring time for any soldier as the drums filled
the air with the cadence.

After an hour the Drummers had set the cadence and everyone was moving as
expected; at this time the drummers settled into the routine of one player
at a time taking the cadence while the other two rested their aching
fingers; they would change over each hour to take turns.

For Thomas there was no such break; as Drum Corporal he was expected to
keep the cadence for the entire march so the others could follow him.

At Midday they stopped for a cold meal of hard tack and water; surprisingly
for Thomas; Carmelo popped up out of nowhere and produced a large water
melon from out of empty air for Thomas; he was smiling widely as he sliced
it into huge pieces; there were a lot of envious looks from the troops
around them.

Thomas being the boy he was; took only one slice, he then said to Carmelo.

"Cut the slices thinner and hand them out to the drummer boys; you and I
cannot eat all this and we should not waste it."

Carmelo made a big performance of bowing low and saying louder than was
needed.

"Si, Patron; it will be done."

Thomas tried not to smile at the twinkle in Carmelo's eyes as the boy
sliced the water melon thinner and began to give them out to the other
boys. At the end he still had a few slices left; looking at Thomas with a
cocked eyebrow he gestured minutely towards the NCO's sitting close
by. Thomas nodded and got up from where he was sitting and went to the
NCO's.

"Sergeant Major; my servant has a little water melon left over; could you
be interested; it would be such a shame to waste it now?"

The Sergeant Major looked up at Thomas with a twinkle in his eye.

"Thank you Drum Corporal; we will look after it as long as there is one for
me; the rest of these miscreants can fight for what's left."

Thomas tried not to laugh as he turned back to Carmelo and nodded; he then
returned to his drummer boys and sat with Clement and Perrin. The talk was
light even though their feet were hot and sore; there was still a way to go
before they could rest for the day and tomorrow was going to be just as
hard.

Thomas was surprised when each of the drummer boys made the effort to come
up to him and thank him for the surprise; they all knew it was sorely
needed.

As he ate, Thomas had watched the last of the men come in; it appeared that
the fourth company always had stragglers whenever there was a long
march. Some said it was because the fourth was where the lazy or bad
soldiers were placed but Thomas thought there may be another reason; he
would have to find out; it would give him something to think on.

The afternoon march was hard as the sun rose higher and the air around the
long column of marching men got more dusty and hotter. When the army
finally got in sight of the night stop; there was almost an audible sigh as
the first of the 30,000 troops began to hunt for their respective lines.

For Thomas and the drummer boys; it was far easier; on a small rise to one
side of the main lines stood Thomas tent; it was already set up and an old
stick with Carmelo's red and gold waist sash was flying above it. Around
Thomas's erected tent were the bundles of the other drummer's tents. Like
all troops; their tents were only carried by the baggage handlers but not
erected. Thomas could now really start to appreciate his little crew of
misfits.

What was more surprising for Thomas was the small fire going and a large
pan already cooking; the smell was something unlike he had never smelt
before. His four boys were standing around the small fire grinning with
pride.

It was a tired and dusty troop of drummer boys that settled into their
area; while the other boys set about getting their tents up; Thomas was
sitting back on his stool with his pipe in hand and the tin goblet filled
with very cold water; how the boys had done it; he had no idea; the water
was so cold it tasted like it had come from a block of ice.

Thomas was never to find out how the boys had 'accidentally' found the
officer's box filled with ice. If asked Marcelo would not have told; there
were advantages to not speaking English.

Thomas sat and sipped his cold water; as he did so he saw that many of the
soldiers were still getting into camp; even though it was nearly full dark
and there were many more still on the road. When Thomas saw the last
members of the 33rd finally make it to the camp lines.

As the man walked close by the drum line; Thomas stood up and called to the
soldier.

"Excuse me Sir."

The tired and thirsty soldier spun on his tired feet and was about to
bellow at the boy in front of him; when he saw the stripes on Thomas arm;
he took a deep breath and stood wavering slightly from the exhaustion of
the forced march.

"Yes Corporal." The soldier well knew whom he was talking to; the fame of
the boy hero was not new in any part of the army.

"May I ask you a question Sir?"

"Sorry Corporal, but really I need to get a drink and get my bivie set up."

"I can fix that for you Mister?"

"Samson Corporal."

"Yes thank you Mister Samson. If you would like to join me for a little I
will get Carmelo to get some cold water for you; if you need it I can ask
one of my lads to help you with your tent later."

"Yes, thank you Corporal; I can spend the time for you."

Thomas led Private Samson to his tent and called for Carmelo to find
another cold mug of water for the man. When Carmelo had the very cold water
in the man's hand; Thomas began to ask him questions. As the answers came;
Thomas saw some possibilities to what he had been thinking about.

Thomas was amused by the look on the Samson's face when he took a large
gulp of the water; he looked at Thomas and said.

"Corporal; I won't even ask how you got this water so cold; some things are
best not known."

Thomas smiled as he asked his first question.

"Mister Samson; do you know why so many men come in late on a long march?"

"I never really thought about it Corporal but; now you ask, I think it's
the drums."

"The drums?"

Thomas asked with surprise; everyone knew that it was the drums that kept
everyone in step and at the same pace; by the right of things; everyone
should arrive at the same time.

"Well it's like this Corporal." Samson paused for another drink. "See us
lot at the rear of the last company can't hear the drum cadence; we sort of
get out of pace with the others and; the harder we tries to catch up, the
more tired we get until we slip behind."

"So you think if you could hear the drum cadence you would keep up with the
other men and then arrive all together?"

"That's the right of it I'm guessing. Corporal; any chance of another of
those there waters?"

Thomas nodded and smiled before calling for Carmelo to bring another drink
for the soldier. Once Samson had it Thomas thought about what had been
said; slowly an idea came into his head.

As Samson said his thanks and left for his tent line; a familiar Irish
brogue broke the silence around Thomas tent.

"Well lad; so how was it to be the big man for your first day?"

"Mister O'Malley; would you like some water?"

"Water lad? You do know I'm Irish, right?"

At that moment Carmelo came up to O'Malley and hugged him as he said.

"Ah Papa; you have found me a good Patron; he even took in my strays."

"Carmelo; did you bring those bloody scoundrels with you?"

"Oh Papa, they needed a new Patron as well; how can I refuse them?"

"You're as bad as they are. Now get your scrawny Spanish ass over there and
find me something to drink. If you bring me any of that poison water, I'll
tan your hide.'

"Yes papa."

The smiling Carmelo took just enough time to poke his tongue at O'Malley
before disappearing into Thomas tent; he returned quickly with a new bottle
of red wine and a tin cup.

"Now Corporal; that's how to treat any good honest Irishman; see these
Spanish heathen can be trained to do even the easiest of task if you've a
mind."

Thomas laughed as Carmelo poked his tongue out again and ran back into the
tent only to return with the goblet for Thomas. O'Malley looked at the
goblet and frowned.

"You watch this rapscallion Corporal; he will turn you into a drunk before
your time and then rob you blind he will. Carmelo! Does Mister Sharpe know
you stole his goblet?"

"Oh Papa; I would not steal from the Mister Sharpe; I found this one lying
on the side of the road, now I thought about the French taking it for
themselves so I thought it best to save it for my Patron. You well know
Papa I would never steal from the soldiers of the great country of
England."

"Cow dung. Really Corporal; and you think that the Irish talk the blarney;
you mark my words, this one will get your neck stretched before you're much
older."

"Would you like to stay for dinner Mister O'Malley?"

"That's right kindly of you Corporal; what has you got in your pot?"

"I don't have a clue Mister O'Malley."

"Aye that would be right; those three little thugs will end up poisoning
you one day."

The smell coming from Thomas fire told a different story.

"What brings you this way Mister O'Malley?"

"Ah, our Mister Sharpe had to go and see the powers that be; thought I
might check up on those Spanish thieves before they took everything not
nailed down. So how was your first day as a Corporal; any trouble?"

"Not really Mister O'Malley; once I threatened to fill one of the boys head
with lead; they all thought it was a good idea to play nice."

"You surprise me lad; would you have been able to pull the trigger if needs
be?"

"No Mister O'Malley; wouldn't a helped a bit."

"Why is that lad; you get inta a situation like that you got to be ready to
go through with it."

"Couldn't do that Mister O'Malley; I forgot to load my pistols after
cleaning them."

"Bloody hell boy; you trying to get yourself killed."

"Well the boy didn't know they was empty either."

O'Malley laughed as he looked at Thomas with a new respect.

"You are a right cool one lad but; next time make sure you are loaded;
someone just might try to force your hand next time. Now where's that boy,
I'm getting hungry and a hungry Irishman is as bad as a drunk one. CARMELO,
WHERE'S ME BLOODY DINNER?"

"Coming Papa."

"I should bloody well think so and find another bottle of wine; might as
well drink like toffs as eat like them."

Just as Carmelo was setting up the small folding table; there were two sets
of boots coming together at attention. Thomas looked up and saw the two
boys he had told to report to him; the older of the two said.

"Smith and Carter reporting as ordered Drum Corporal."

"Right drummers; so you don't forget your drums again, you will go to the
cook's tent and get your dinner; when you have your plates you will go to
the tent of Lead drummer Perrin and Lead drummer Clement; there you will
hand them your plates and wait until they have finished eating them. Once
done you will return your plates to the cook's tent and double time back
here. If I am still at dinner you will wait at attention until I decide
what you will do next. Do you understand drummer Smith, drummer Carter?"

"Yes Drum Corporal."

"Then get a move on; Perrin and Clement need their extra food."

O'Malley looked at Thomas and smiled.

"Well Corporal, I do hope I don't get on your bad side; having to go
without eating after a long march is not much fun."

"Oh they will get fed; I'll ask Carmelo to keep some of ours aside for them
later."

"Now now lad, I was starting to like you and then you go all soft on me."

"Not really Mister O'Malley; I have another reason for my actions; it will
all pay off in the long run."

"I just bet it does. Now where is that blasted boy with our dinner."

"Coming Papa."

Carmelo had the table set up and very shortly afterwards there was a very
large round pan in the middle. On another plate was what looked like
roasted rabbit; or more correctly; five roasted rabbits. The usual bread
and cheese were set on the table with a new bottle of wine.

Thomas and his guest tucked in with a gusto; when they had finally finished
they both sat back and loudly burped in satisfaction. Thomas saw that there
was still plenty of food left; his boys would not go hungry.

Thomas asked Carmelo to make up two plates and keep them safe before he lit
his pipe and sat back in companionable silence with O'Malley; there was no
need for talk; each of them were happy with the way they were for now.

The silence gave Thomas more time to think over what had been on his mind
all day; finally thinking he had worked things out, Thomas looked at
O'Malley and then asked the older man.

"Mister O'Malley?"

"Listen lad; the way we getting close you can just call me O'Malley; you
can cut the Mister right here and now, Now then what is it in that devious
mind of yours?"

"If I had what I think is a good idea; how would I go about getting the
Officers to listen to me with a good chance of being successful."

"Well lad, without knowing what you was up to; I would suggest you find an
Officer that you think will listen to your idea; if he thinks it's a goodun
then he might take it to the nobs up top. You got someone like that?"

"Well I think Captain Lewis might listen."

"You shooting your musket pretty high there lad; you really think he will
listen to your idea?"

"I really don't know O'Malley but I have to try."

"Well ifin you're sure then go for what you believe in; never let any man
tell you you're wrong if you know better."

"Thank you O'Malley; I'll try my best."

"I'm sure you will lad, now then time for me to go find Mister Sharpe;
he'll probably have some shit work for us poor old Irishmen to do. Good
night to you lad, keep your powder dry and your pistols loaded.'

O'Malley stood and left Thomas to his thoughts as his laughter faded into
the darkness. It was not long after when the two drummers returned and
looked very hungry; even better to Thomas eyes; they looked totally
chastised.

"Carmelo; bring me those two plates, please."

When Carmelo arrived with the two plates, Thomas indicated the two drummers
and then said.

"I would not ask any man to march all day on an empty stomach; when you
finish those plates you get them good and clean and return them to
Carmelo. If you break another standing orders again I will make sure you do
go hungry until you are skin and bones. Do you understand Drummers?"

They both looked relieved at being told they would eat after all and both
said in unison.

"Yes Drum Corporal."

"Right get out of here and go eat; be on time for parade; with your drums,
in the morning."

The two boys ran off with their plates; it was far better fare than the
army would have fed them; they were learning to keep on the good side of
the very young Drum Corporal.

When Thomas went into his tent, he found Carmelo waiting for him with a
length of string in his hands; Carmelo indicated he should stand straight
and put his arms out wide. For the next few minutes; Carmelo measured him
with the string and wrote things down on a small piece of parchment.

When Carmelo had finished he asked Thomas.

"Patron; this person must ask for one each of your pistols and the little
knife; I will have them returned to you in the morning."

"What are you up to Carmelo?"

"It is a special surprise for my Patron; a...what you call...gifting."

"Well Ok you can have them then."

Thomas handed over one each of his pistols and his dirk; it was time for
bed it had been another long day.

Early the next morning, Thomas took the bull by the horns while most were
still in their beds; Carmelo had the new cafe drink ready for him. Once he
had finished his cafe; Thomas got fully dressed in his uniform; checked
that all the brass and silver was properly polished and; for a change,
slung the new rifle over his right shoulder and placed his new sword over
his left hip; he was ready to meet Captain Lewis.

Thomas made his way through the camp; it was still dark when he came close
to the large Officer's tent of which three of them still showed light
inside.

From the darkness close to the largest tent; came a deep voice.

"Who goes there."

"Drum Corporal Marking; requesting a meeting with Captain Lewis."

"Advance and be recognised; Drum Corporal."

Thomas stepped into the dim light of the large tent.

"If you would wait here a minute Drum Corporal; I'll go see if the Captain
will see you."

Thomas stood patiently and waited; it turned out to be a short wait. Only
minutes later and the familiar figure of Captain Lewis walked out of the
tent.

"Drum Corporal; it's a bit early for you to come calling. How may I help
you?"

"Captain Lewis, I don't know if it's proper but I think I have a way to
stop the soldiers lagging behind the column."

"Really; and what made you think of that?"

"Well I was watching a lot of the men coming in late; I talked to one of
them and I thought I might have a way to keep them altogether. You see Sir,
when they's late they don't get enough rest before they's got to march
again. What one told me was they couldn't hear the cadence of the drums and
slipped behind."

"And what solution did you come up with Drum Corporal and why are you
telling me this?"

"Well Sir, I think I've come up with a way to keep them altogether
and... well Sir, I thought mayhap you could have a word with the Officers
about it. I think Sir that the men would be better rested and so would
fight better after a long march, Sir."

"Hmm...you may have something there; wait here a minute and I will see what
I can do for you."

Thomas saluted the Captain and stepped back to wait. Ten minutes went by
before he saw the Captain coming out again; the first hint of dawn was just
starting to show; soon the camp would be beginning to stir for the day's
march to Vimeiro.

"It seems Drum Corporal that the General is interested in your idea; would
you come this way please."

Thomas was led into the interior of the tent; standing in the tent were a
number of very Senior Officers and the General himself. Lt General
Wellesley looked at Thomas with his sharp stern eyes as Thomas came to
attention and saluted all the Officer's.

"So Drum Corporal; Captain Lewis tells me you may be able to solve one of
our most irksome problems of late arrivals on the march?"

"Well Sir; it's only an idea, I haven't had time to try it but I think it
may work to keep the men together when on the march Sir."

"Well Drum Corporal; spit it out; we do still have a war to fight."

"Well Sir, if I may have some paper and a quill; perhaps it may be easier
to describe what I'm thinking."

"Captain Lewis; get our Drum Corporal some sheets of paper and a quill."

For the next ten minutes Thomas nervously drew his idea on the paper;
finally, when he was done; all the Officers looked at the rough drawings;
some were nodding and others seemed to either not grasp Thomas idea or just
ignored it altogether.

Lt General Wellesley looked it over once more and then turned to Thomas.

"Personally Drum Corporal; I think it may be a good idea but; the war
office won't clear the idea for use without physical proof; do you think
you could provide that for me?"

"If it be your pleasure Sir."

"Right then; Captain Lewis; get an order written up for our Drum Corporal;
detailing to his commanding officer that the Drum Corporal is cleared by us
to try his experiment with the drummers as he has detailed in this plan of
his. Drum Corporal; I will expect a full report in your hand writing at the
end of travel today on what was done and your results. You will be
experimenting only on the 33rd; if it proves your idea right then we will
look at it again. Would that satisfy you Drum Corporal?"

"Thank you Sir; I will return to my lines and get it started immediately."

Thomas saluted the Officers and; just as he was about to turn and march out
of the tent; the General called to him.

"Damn good work Drum Corporal; I sincerely hope your idea works. For all
our sakes."

"Thank you Sir."

Thomas turned about and left the tent to wait outside for the orders from
Captain Lewis. When finally he had the written orders in his hand, he
almost ran back to his lines; once there he looked for the Sergeant Major;
he would be the best one to get the orders to his commanding officer.

Thomas found the Sergeant Major just walking out of his large tent;
Sergeants got a six man tent all to themselves. When Thomas called the
Sergeant Major stopped and looked at the young boy.

"Drum Corporal; you are up early this morning; what have you been up
to;. Hunting for more water melons; if so don't forget us old soldiers."

Thomas giggled and then told the man why he was there. After handing over
the orders; the Sergeant Major looked them over with raised eyebrows.

"Well you have been busy Corporal; I'll see that these get to command and
you can go and sort out your drummers; the idea sounds good to me if we can
get our men to camp all in one piece would make it best for all of us. I
hope your experiment works out for all of us."

"Thank you Sergeant Major; I'll go get started."

Thomas left the Sergeant Major and arrived back at his tent just in time to
see his breakfast being put on the small table; Carmelo was all smiles as
he sat doing some sewing with leather straps.

Thomas sat and ate what he could; the rest he knew would be eaten by the
four boys. When he was finished; Thomas got ready for another long day; he
would have to get his drummers up early to tell them about the changes and
what he expected to do.

An hour later and Thomas had all the drummer boy's ready for the new
formation; when the drummers were called for the march; Thomas settled all
twelve of them in the middle between the 2nd and 3rd companies.

When it was time to start too march it was noticed by all the soldiers how
much louder the drums were being grouped in the centre, in good order and
fashion they strode out to the sound of their drums.

By the end of the day; the only Regiment to have a full complement of its
soldiers was the 33rd; they had all marched in together and not a single
straggler. The old soldiers among them laughed and joked at the late comers
of all the other Regiments; they had been in camp for far longer than any
others and would have far more rest.

For Thomas the day ended well and he was excited by the success of his
idea; writing out a report for the General was something else and it took
him far longer than he expected. It was just full dark when he finished and
set off for the Officer's tent; he would be glad to have this day over. It
was now the 20th of August; tomorrow they would meet the French on the
slopes of Vimeiro; it was to be a battle few would ever forget.



TBC.