Date: Tue, 20 Dec 2016 14:50:27 +1300
From: arthur carkeek <artcart65@gmail.com>
Subject: Drummer Boy Chapter 1 Book 2

DRUMMER BOY
BOOK 2
A ROAD NORTH
CHAPTER 1
BY ARTHUR


CONTACT AUTHOR:
artcart65@gmail.com

SPECIAL AUTHORS NOTE:

Please note that due to possible copy-write problems with certain
characters in this story there have been a few name changes as an assistant
of another published author has advised not to continue with two of his
characters. To this end I have changed the surname of both Carmelo Sharpe
and the character known previously as Sergeant O'Malley. They will now be
known as "Carmelo Grey" and "Sergeant O'Rourke".

I hope this does not cause confusion from the first volume as that also is
undergoing the changes required to meet the offended Authors request.
"Imitation is the height of respect and admiration; but only for some."


Lieutenant Oliver Perrin led his men at a fast pace away from the growing
battle behind him. Deep inside he felt as though he was betraying the young
men left behind but Captain Marking's orders had been succinct and to the
point. Lieutenant Perrin was to be responsible for getting his men and the
Engineers back to the Marshal's lines and warning him of the approaching
French; he was not to turn back to help with the fighting under any
circumstances.

The guilt Oliver felt as he heard the loud crashing of the many guns and
the volleys of musket fire behind him only went to spur him onward. Oliver
not only had his own men to get back to the lines but the Engineers
also. It was to be more than two hours later when they stopped for rest
that he discovered that young Lieutenant Carterton was not with them but it
was far too late to return to look for him.

The distant sounds of battle receded the further they moved towards where
Marshal Beresford had hopefully set his lines. Lieutenant Perrin knew that
at best they would only have little more than a day to ready for the
oncoming French army; that the French numbered well over the estimated
sixteen thousand that the Marshal was expecting could set back the
Marshal's plans.

Oliver Perrin pushed his men forward and well into the night as he tried to
save as much time as he could. With only a few hours sleep Oliver Perrin
got his men up and pushed on into the dawning light, the sight of picket
fires in the distance led him to push harder.

The breakfast fires were sending smoke into the air as he brought his tired
men to the edge of the picket line; once the challenge had been met and
they were allowed through, Lieutenant Perrin went in search of the Marshal
to report; his men were sent to find a place to rest. Oliver Perrin noticed
a number of strange looks as he and his men entered the camp; it took him a
moment to realise they were still wearing the odd assortment of jackets and
not the bright red ones of the army. It was one more thing he would have to
correct later in the day after he had reported.

Lieutenant Perrin finally found himself outside the Marshal's tent. He felt
tired and dirty as the dust that had accumulated during the fast run was
now making him look like a ghost. Oliver Perrin was met by the Marshal's
second in command; the Major took one look at the young Lieutenant and
frowned.

"Yes! Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Perrin reporting as ordered Sir."

"Ordered? Ordered by whom Lieutenant and you are out of uniform Mister
Perrin."

"Ordered by Captain Marking Sir and I apologise for the lack of uniform, it
was necessary for our journey back to the lines."

"Since when did Captain Marking have the right to give orders Mister
Perrin? Your orders were directly from the Marshal and his were to be
obeyed above and beyond any others."

"Sir Captain Marking sent me back to report the enemy's movements to the
Marshal so he would have his lines set in time for their arrival."

"Well then you better come in and make your report but this will not go
unnoticed nor will it be forgotten Mister Perrin."

It was only a few seconds before Oliver found himself standing at attention
before Marshal Beresford; the Marshal did not seem amused at Oliver's
presence.

"You are?"

"1st Lieutenant Perrin of the 29th Regiment of Foot Sir. I have been sent
back to make report of the French advance Sir."

"Ah yes, Perrin. Were my orders not clear enough Lieutenant?"

"Yes Sir they were but Captain Marking changed them in the interest of
advising you of the situation to your front Sir."

"Well Lieutenant, apart from you being out of uniform of which we have
taken notice; Captain Marking does not have the authority to change my
orders regardless of the situation. This, Lieutenant could mean a Courts
Martial for all of you once I have taken care of the French and that should
be in short order Lieutenant. Now then have you anything else to report?"

"Yes Sir. The French number somewhat more than the estimate given to you
and they shall be here as early as the morrow. We have estimated their
number to be over 24,000 plus their baggage and supply train. They also
have some 48 heavy guns at their disposal as well as some 19,000 Infantry
and approximately 4,000 Cavalry. Captain Marking thought you should be made
aware of the increase in numbers so you can reset your lines."

"And just where did the Captain get these numbers Lieutenant?"

"Captain Marking sent out mounted scouts and had been shadowing the French
column for some days before he made his stand on the plains at Olivenca."

"So the Captain did stand and fight then?"

"Yes Sir. When I led the Engineers and escort from the field, Captain
Marking had started his attack on the French lines of advance Sir."

"Attack! What do you mean the Captain attacked? His orders were to hold and
defend the redoubt and nothing more. You will please give me a full account
of the Captain's actions so I may set up an inquiry when he returns; if he
returns. Proceed Lieutenant and do not forget your reputation as well as
your future depends on your words so think carefully Lieutenant."

"Yes Sir. Well Sir, Captain Marking looked at the plans for the redoubt and
considered them to be insufficient to hold the French back for more than a
few minutes at best. After talking it over with the Engineers he changed
the plans so that the line of advance was better covered."

"He changed the plans of the redoubt? Please explain his actions
Lieutenant?"

"Sir the original plans would have put the redoubt well to one side of the
roadway. Captain Marking supposed the French could very easily bypass his
redoubt without slowing their advance. If this had occurred Sir the French
would already be at your lines. To this end he revised the plans for the
redoubt so they encompassed a width of one hundred yards either side of the
roadway. The French would have no option but to spend the time to attack
and clear the redoubt before they could advance further."

"I see, and did this work Lieutenant? And I still do not see where the
Captain would have forced an attack?"

"Yes Sir the new design worked a treat. Captain Marking had every uniform
stand at the redoubt until every musket had fired its last ball in the
defence of the redoubt; it was not until the French Cavalry had made a
large charge that the redoubt fell Sir. Not a single uniform survived the
charge Sir."

"I see, well at least they all fell with some little honour. So Lieutenant,
if the redoubt was overrun, how then did the Captain mount his own attack?"

"The Captain's attack was separate from the defence of the redoubt Sir."

"Separate! How so Lieutenant? Also, if the redoubt had fallen, how did you
manage to escape Mister Perrin?"

"It was all in the Captain's planning Sir. Captain Marking had set his guns
above the valley leading to the redoubt; he also had his men behind stone
walls that they constructed on both sides of the same valley. When the
French began to set their guns to fire upon the redoubt, the Captain's
gunners fired down upon them and the French pulled them back so they could
be saved for their attack upon your lines. With the lack of guns the French
had no option but to charge the redoubt with Infantry and Cavalry. As the
Cavalry rode down on the redoubt I had been ordered to withdraw and escort
the Engineers back to your lines; our withdrawal was covered by the
Captains own Cavalry while he and his men held the heights on both sides of
the valley behind the French."

"Wait, wait. The Captain had Cavalry and guns? I was informed that he had
no heavy guns, in fact Lieutenant he stood on that very spot and told me he
did not have any heavies at all. Cavalry, where in the blue blazes did he
get Cavalry? I distinctly remember him saying he had only a few men; can
you explain this anomaly for me Lieutenant?"

"Yes Sir. Captain Marking did indeed only have a few men when he arrived
here at your camp but his main force was at Elvas. The Captain's forces are
made up of Drummers, English and Spanish Axillaries and Spanish and
Portuguese Irregulars. His guns are; I am assured by his Artillery Officer,
only light French guns he took during other campaigns. The Captains Cavalry
is made up of a mixture of his forces and are used as mounted
musketry. They are commanded by a young Spanish Colonel and I must say Sir,
they are very effective and wreck havoc among the French forces."

"Mounted musketry! That's preposterous Lieutenant, muskets cannot be fired
from horse back; are you trying to fudge the disastrous attempt of the
Captain to avoid a fight with the French with untruths Sir?"

"No Sir, you asked for the truth Sir and I can only relate what I saw with
my own eyes."

"Well Lieutenant I am having my own doubts as to your veracity but
continue, although I must warn you to keep to the truth Lieutenant and no
more speculation about the impossible."

"Sir every word I have spoken is the truth and the rest of my report is
incomplete as we were ordered from the battle by the Captain once the
redoubt had fallen. Captain Marking took position on the upper slopes of
the valley and attacked from there. To the best of my knowledge he was
holding out against at least one third of the French Cavalry when I lost
sight although we could still hear the guns in the distance some two hours
later. My estimation Sir is that the Captain managed to hold the French for
at least four hours which means they will be at your lines on the
morrow. What happened to the Captain and his men is not known by me Sir."

"What their fate is, is neither here nor there Lieutenant; we can only hope
they held their lines to the last man and delayed the French long enough
for my purposes. I never really thought they could do much anyways
Lieutenant. Why the Viscount sent me damn Drummers and misfits is really
beyond my understanding. Very well Lieutenant, you have made your report,
you may leave and see to your uniform and those men who retreated with
you. I hope for your sake Lieutenant that you and your men do not have
ideas of running away again when the French arrive on the morrow; I expect
to see you and your men on the front line at best Lieutenant. You are
dismissed."

Oliver could feel the heat of anger rising in his belly as he saluted the
Marshal and smartly turned about and left the tent with his rage building
by the second; the Marshal had blatantly accused he and his men of
cowardness in the face of the enemy; it did not sit well with Oliver and a
new plan began to develop in his mind as he went in search of his men. If
any of them survived the upcoming battle then he would put his developing
plan into action and the devil can have his day with the Marshal.

Oliver first went in search of his friend Conrad Wainright. The two young
Officers had shared Conrad's tent ever since they had landed on the
Peninsular even though they were both in different Brigades. Each had
become familiar and good friends and saw no reason to change old habits
just because of a change in units.

Once he had found Conrad's tent, he entered and talked with his young
friend; it was Conrad who supplied Oliver with one of his spare uniform
jackets to wear the next day. Neither of them were really looking forward
to the battle now that they had been noted by those who ranked above them;
there was an uneasy feeling between the two as the time of fighting drew
closer.

Once in his borrowed jacket, Oliver went in search of his men whom he found
among the lines of the 29th Foot. Oliver noted that all his men were now
wearing new red jackets which they had been issued from the Quartermasters;
Oliver knew that the cost of the new jackets would be deducted from the
men's pay each month until paid for. The army did not appreciate the loss
of a soldier's equipment for any reason.

Oliver walked into the large group that made up his B Company area and what
he saw made him look around for his Sergeant Major. The men were all
huddled over upturned crates in groups of five. On the crates they had what
appeared to be waxed paper sheets as well as powder horns and wooden dishes
full of musket balls

When the Sergeant Major joined him, Oliver asked what the men were doing.

"Well Sir, it's like this. Them boys we was with had some right good
ideas. The men noticed what they was up to and for the time we was with
them they joined in the training the boys was doing. It was them boys what
showed the men how they could load their muskets faster and send out a
better rate of fire Sir; right smart them drummer boys was Sir."

"I see Sergeant Major, and how does it improve your rate of fire?"

"Well Sir, I was talking to some of them youngsters at night time and they
was right forthcoming. If I may suggest Sir, if we was to form three ranks
instead of the usual two, then the men would be able to keep up a steady
rate by firing volleys in rank. Those youngsters told me they could keep up
a continual fire rate with three ranks that they could not do with just
two."

"So what is it the men are doing then?"

"Making cartridges from paper Sir. They put the ball in one end and twist
it closed, next they put in a measure of powder and twist close the other
end. When it comes to firing, they just bight off the top and hold the ball
in their mouths; pour in the powder and spit the ball in then hit the butt
of their musket hard on the ground to settle the load. It remains only for
them to charge their frisson and they are ready to fire in less time. We
watched the youngun's doing it; they was so fast it was like eight rounds a
minute Sir."

"That sounds like what we may need on the morrow Sergeant Major, tell the
men I approve and we will form three ranks when we see the French."

"Well Sir, it may cause trouble with other Officers Sir."

"Don't worry Sergeant Major I'm sure that what tomorrow brings will give us
more cause than to worry about others. Tell the men to carry on as they are
and be ready to set ranks of three when we go to lines."

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir; we will do our best."

"Thank you Sergeant Major, I'm sure the men will more than do their duty."

Oliver returned the Sergeant Major's salute and returned back to Conrad's
tent for the rest of the evening; he did not even feel like going to the
mess for dinner, he would have Conrad's batman find him something to eat
later.

The morning of the 16th of May dawned clear and dry; the rising heat of the
new summer sun was already making the men's uniforms uncomfortable as they
began to form the lines in readiness for their French enemy whom they could
see on the distant side of the plain. Oliver went in search of his
Commanding Officer to find out where he and his men would stand in the
line.

Oliver found Lieutenant General Houghton standing among the other Senior
Officers of the Second Division; after snapping to attention and saluting
the Senior Officers, Oliver asked.

"Sir, 1st Lieutenant Perrin reporting for line assignment. Where do you
wish my men to stand Sir?"

Lieutenant General Houghton looked Oliver up and down with a frown on his
face before answering.

"Perrin, yes I have word of you Lieutenant, the Marshal has ordered that
you will stand at the centre of the line with the men of the Second
Brigade. The Marshal's orders are that you and your men will stand to the
last and, if in the unlikely case of a retreat you and your men will hold
the line until all others are safe. Is that clearly understood Lieutenant?"

"Yes Sir, my men and I will do our duty as ordered Sir."

"I should damn well think so Mister Perrin and I hope your efforts are
better than those you showed at Olivenca. You are dismissed Lieutenant, go
and see to your men."

Oliver was not happy at all but there was little he could do at this stage;
he and his men were being put in a position of sacrifice so that those
senior to him can sleep better at night. Oliver returned to his men and led
them towards the lines waiting for the French. He had now settled in his
mind that, should he survive the day his plan would be put into action on
the completion of the battle.

Oliver set his ranks in three as he had said he would, he was not surprised
at the looks of the other Junior Officers further along the lines when they
saw the unusual formation but before a word could be said against him, the
distant sound of cannon were heard from the French lines. The battle had
begun.

There was little that could be done by the Infantry as the cannons of both
sides sent their barrages of shot into the large formations. To the left
flank of the three main brigades the French could be seen wheeling around
until they eventually faced the red coats waiting for them.

Lieutenant General Houghton's Brigade was at the centre of the three that
lined up along the slight rise; it was the position that was to be hit the
hardest by the advancing French. After the battle it was discovered that
the French had mounted the largest ever Infantry attack of the war on the
hapless English. Lieutenant General Houghton, due to an errant cannon ball,
was not to live to see the end of the battle but many thought it was
perhaps better that he did not when the dead were counted.

Oliver's Company was positioned at the centre of the Brigade which always
was the hardest hit on any attack; as he stood waiting for the inevitable,
his Sergeant Major came up beside him with a small implement in his hand.

"Sir, I thought you may like to keep this close; there is blood to be lost
today and this may give you a fighting chance once the French are amongst
us."

Oliver looked at the thing in the Sergeant Major's hand; it was a peculiar
type of mace. The handle was of wood with a leather thong through the top
of the handle. The iron head was something that could do real damage if
used correctly. On one side it was shaped much like a hammer but a little
larger; the other side was a deadly looking spike and the whole weighed
about three pounds. Oliver hefted it in his hands before giving the
Sergeant Major a thin smile and tucked the strange weapon in his waist
sash.

As the French drew closer to the main lines; Oliver gulped and tried to
moisten his dry throat; he had only seconds before he began to give fire
orders to his triple ranks. It did not take long before the noise and smell
of battle filled the air around him and his men; for the long hours that
the battle ensued it was a simple case of kill or be killed.

For Oliver it seemed that the battle raged around him for days and finally,
when the French began to retreat under the ever stiffening defence of the
red coats; Oliver had time to look around him. Oliver could not believe he
had survived when all around him were the broken and bloodied bodies of men
he had known.

As the din of the battle receded and the full impact of the slaughter began
to take its effect, Oliver could only marvel that he was still standing
albeit in a bloody and dishevelled state. Oliver gave thanks for the
thoughtfulness of his Sergeant Major and would have to look for the man to
thank him. The mace had saved his life many times as he used it with deadly
effect at close range; especially when the enemy was too close for his
sword.

Oliver Perrin could only gasp for breath as he saw the ranks of blue coated
French retreat from the field. All around him were the men he had marched
and trained with; most were now lying still amongst the blood and dirt of
the place they had held so valiantly. Oliver was to find that his Company
of one hundred and thirty five men now numbered only twenty seven and four
of those were seriously wounded and may not live through the rest of the
day.

Oliver's Company was now no more; how he had survived through it all was to
be a mystery to him for the rest of his life. Oliver's only regret was that
he was never able to thank the Sergeant Major for the gift of the strange
weapon that had been the saviour of his life more times than he could
count.

With the devastation of his Company and the few friends he had made in it;
Oliver finally made his decision on the plan that had been forming before
the battle. There was now only one thing left to do when the remnants of
the army went into bivouac for the night. On finding that his friend Conrad
had also fallen only went to cement his decision.

Oliver knew he would not be given another Company while he was under the
orders of Marshal Beresford and yet he did not want to leave the peninsular
while the French were still there. There was only one thing he could think
to do; he would resign his commission and go looking for his brother's
army. With luck he would never again have to see the waste of human life as
had been done this day.





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16th May 1811: Somewhere in Seville.

`Pain...grey mist...pain...floating...pain...blackness.'

`Can't breathe...pain...floating...ghostly voices...pain...blackness.'

`Can't move...young boy screaming far away...pain...blackness.'

`Foggy light...pain...faceless heads...bloody fingers...pain...blackness.'

22nd May 1811: Near Cordova.

`Can't see...numbness...floating...too hot...hands holding tight...hot, too
hot...blackness.'

`Far away voices...cold...oh so cold...murmuring voices...blackness.'

`Smell...bad smell...pain...hurts...red fingers...pain...blackness.'

25th May 1811: Hacienda Juan Rodrigo Hermosa, Andalucia.

`Light; I can see the light...dimming, the light is dimming...no, no wait
for me...must get up...yelling voices...blackness.'

`Hot...so hot...water...thirsty...must get up; French attack...blackness.'

2nd July 1811; Hacienda Juan Rodrigo Hermosa, Andalucia.

`Voices, whispering voices. I think I know those voices...who are
they...must wake up the French are coming...too many...too many must
run...get up...get up must run...blackness.'

`Voice, young voice...I know that voice but!'

"Go and call Mister Grey I think the worst is over and he's coming around."

"Yes Sir."

"Thomas...Thomas...can you hear me; come on old man time to wake up, you've
been resting long enough. Open your eyes Thomas; time to stop playing
dead."

Thomas's eyes fluttered as he tried to open them; it seemed like such an
effort. The voice, he knew that voice it was...it was...Jervis, yes Jervis;
he was still alive and Jervis had fixed him but why could he not move?

Thomas groaned as his eyes opened to slits; his right leg was stiff and he
felt as though he was tied down. The bright light that shone into his eyes
made him squint as it reflected off what appeared to be very white
walls. He had no idea how he got to be in a place with white walls; the
last time he saw anything it was the dirt and stones of the battle field.

Thomas let another groan come from his dry lips as he tried to turn his
head for a better look; the mistiness that had distorted Mister Jervis's
face was clearing and he could see the worry lines on the young Surgeons
face.

Thomas opened his dry mouth and could not believe the croaking voice that
came out.

"Where am I? What happened?"

"Well it's nice to see you're not playing dead anymore; you caused us quite
a stir. Are you ready to rejoin the world now?" The acerbic sound of
Jervis's voice was almost comforting to Thomas's ears.

"Water, thirsty."

"I suppose you would be; wait a minute and I'll get some brought to you; we
weren't expecting you to be awakening just yet."

Thomas sighed as he settled back on the clean white pillow under his head;
in his mind he was almost smiling. The bloody French had not got him yet
but he could not understand why he was so tired and felt so weak; it was
something he would have to wait to find out when he had had a good long
drink; his throat felt not only dry but also raw.

Thomas tried to lift himself up from the pillow but could only hold his
head up for a brief moment before collapsing once again and breathing
heavily; he could not understand how much effort that simple action had
taken.

"What's wrong with me; why can't I sit up?"

"Well Thomas, that's a result of many things; if you can wait until you
have had a little water then I will go through it all for you."

Thomas watched as Jervis turned his head as Fairley entered with a large
glass of water; at last he could drink. Fairley was very careful as he held
Thomas's head up for him to take a small sip of the cool fresh
water. Thomas was not allowed to gulp but only take a few small sips at a
time and Fairley was careful to keep watch as Thomas cooled his parched
throat.

When he felt he had had enough, Thomas slumped back onto the pillow in
exhaustion; he could not believe it had taken so much effort to sip a glass
of water. Once he was laying back and feeling better, Thomas looked up at
Jervis with a questioning look in his eyes.

Thomas's voice was still a little croaky as he asked the most pressing
questions.

"How is the battle going? Are the men safe? Where are the French? Can we
escape now? Where the hell am I?"

"Well Mister Marking, I see it didn't take you long to get feisty; perhaps
it was a mistake to stop your Laudanum. So many questions and you haven't
even eaten yet. Private Fairley will you go to the kitchen and tell them
the Captain is awake and hungry; if they would make a bowl of soup for him
I would be grateful."

Fairley left hurriedly as Jervis turned back to Thomas; he wondered if the
Captain would ever know how close he came to death but this was not the
time to bring it up.

"Well first off Captain, you are now at the Hacienda Juan Rodrigo Hermosa,
or as it is known in these parts; The Hacienda Don Thomasino de Toro. This
is the land that the Cortes awarded you and is now your home in Spain. It
is in the south of Andalucia and you have the lands of Don Estaban Colosio
five miles to the east and the lands of The Prince of Anglona to the south
and west and some two days march away. Here you are safe from even the most
adventurous Frenchman. Next, you have been in a state of delirium for
nearly six weeks and your weight has suffered hence your weakness. The
battle is well and truly done and most of the men escaped but we did have
bad losses and many wounded as well as losing all your guns. You will be
confined to this bed for the next week at least before I will let you up
for a short time each day until you regain your strength. Ah here comes
young Fairley with your soup; I'll tell you more after you have eaten."

Fairley arrived with a steaming bowl that smelt like heaven to Thomas's
hungry belly. Fairley rearranged his pillows and added an extra one so he
could be propped up for him to eat. Next Fairley placed the tray carefully
on Thomas's knees and gave him a spoon with a warning to sip slowly as it
was not only hot but his stomach was not used to food and he would get sick
if he ate to fast.

"Right Private Fairley, when Mister Marking has finished you can inform his
Officers that they can see him but only for a brief minute; I will attend
to the rest of what we have spoken of before." Jervis then left the room
after issuing his orders as Fairley sat and watched over Thomas with a
sharp eye and one of Thomas's Manton's in each hand.

After the first two or three spoons of soup which he took slowly and
carefully; Thomas was feeling a little better. As he sipped another spoon
of soup, Thomas tried to look around the large room the big bed was
in. Along one wall there were huge tall glass doors that led to the outside
and let in the bright light of the midday sun. Fairley sat in a straight
backed chair close to his bed, the pistols seemingly at the ready as the
young man's eyes kept their vigil of the outside.

Thomas looked down to see why his left arm was not working and saw that a
white bandage not only encircled his chest but also tied his upper left arm
to his side and a loose sling kept his wrist in place across his bare
stomach. Below the white sheet his right leg throbbed and felt stiff as he
tried to wriggle his toes; the fact he had been freshly bathed completely
missed him.

Thomas had only taken about ten spoons of the thick vegetable soup before
he felt bloated; it was a disconcerting feeling to know he could not eat
like before, after such a long time without food he should have been able
to eat a horse. It was just another mystery he would have to get answers
to.

Thomas dropped the spoon into the half empty dish and settled back against
the pillows as Fairley laid his two pistols on a side table and took the
tray away. When Fairley had disappeared through the large Oak doors, Thomas
tried to look around the room for more details. It was a short time before
he saw the strange long wall painting at the end of his large bed and on
the opposite wall. At first he thought it was some type of painting but the
subject was like no other painting he had ever seen before.

At the centre of the painting there was a large ornate bed which had small
bedside tables on each side. There was a single wooden chair on the left of
the bed and a pair of long benches off to one side. In the bed was what
appeared to be a gaunt figure that was all bones and seemingly made a very
small impression to the white bed cloths covering it.

The figure was of a young teen although he looked as though he was right at
deaths door. His hair was cropped short; the face was nothing more than
sallow skin spread over the bones of the skull. The dark eyes were sunken
deeply into the sockets and had thick black rings around them. Across the
bony bare chest was a thick white bandage and the figures ribs stuck out as
though the figure had been staved almost to death.

Thomas gazed in awe at the details of the fine painting; his next actions
though would bring a cry of alarm. As Thomas looked at the fine painting,
he lifted his good right arm up to scratch an itch on his nose; that was
when he gave a shout of alarm. The figure in the painting moved in just the
same fashion. It took a few seconds before Thomas could reconcile that the
deathly figure was in fact himself being shown in a tall wall mirror.

At the strangled sound of Thomas's yell, Fairley came running into the room
and went straight for the pistols at the bedside just as the glass doors
were thrown open and six heavily armed men rushed in with pistols and
cutlasses drawn. Jervis was just rushing in the door when he saw the armed
men in the room and instantly began to look for the threat as he made his
way to Thomas's bedside.

After a quick check to see that Thomas was alright and had just been
shocked by his image in the mirror; Jervis turned to the six armed men.

"It's alright Perkins, Mister Marking just got a shock when he saw himself
in the mirror. If you would take the men back outside I can explain it to
the Captain."

The man Perkins, gave one more look around the room to make sure all was
well before nodding and ordering his men back outside. Jervis sighed as he
turned back to the still staring Thomas as Fairley sat back on his wooden
chair with the brace of pistols again at the ready.

"I'm sorry Thomas, it's all my fault. I was going to have that mirror
covered before you woke but forgot in the excitement of having you back
with us. Come on old man, lay back you need the rest."

Jervis lifted Thomas's head and removed one of the pillows so his Captain
could lay back down and rest; the look of horror was still on Thomas's face
and Jervis knew the time had come for explanations; it was sooner than he
wanted but now it would not wait. With Thomas settled back and looking a
little better, Jervis sighed as he began to tell Thomas why he looked so
bad and how he had got to the Hacienda.

"Well Thomas, I wanted to put this off until you were stronger but now that
you have seen yourself I think you need to know." Jervis paused as he tried
to gather his thoughts; there was so much to tell and he was not really
sure that Thomas was ready for the news, both good and bad. With another
deep breath he began his explanation.

"Maketja was blowing the French withdrawal on his bugle when one of the
Cavalry fired his pistol at you, when you went down the ten men who were
your guard surrounded you. While one of them lifted you the others formed a
circle around you to protect you both. Four of them lost their lives
protecting you but the others got you out of the line. Carmelo took over
command as the French withdrew while you were carried back to me; we really
thought we would lose you. The sword cut was deep but had not hit anything
vital but that's only half of the story. The ball in your chest was in
itself a miracle. The Cavalry rider must have either short charged his
pistol or he was at maximum range. The ball entered your chest right where
your heart is but was deflected by one of your ribs and ended up higher in
your shoulder. Had the shot been closer or of full power it would have
struck your heart."

Jervis paused once again as he watched Thomas's reaction closely before
continuing.

"We got you back to my wagon where I started work on you. The leg wound did
not look too bad so I sewed it up smartly and then started on the wound in
your chest. The ball had cracked the rib but I had the devil of a time
trying to get it out without doing anymore damage. After taking out the
ball and unfortunately adding to your scar by having to cut deeper than I
wanted to; I made sure it was clean of any cloth pushed in by the force of
the ball and then sewed you up and got you ready to take to safety. I used
the laudanum to keep you unconscious as I didn't want you to move around
and tear open the work I had done. On the way to safety, Carmelo suggested
we come into Andalucia instead of trying to go through the French lines to
Vimeiro."

Jervis paused again and took a sip of water as he thought out what he would
say next.

"On the way here you went into a delirium and we had to stop until it was
over; the fever was bad and the only way we could keep you in good health
was to feed and water you through a tube; that's why your throat is a
little hoarse but it will get better as you heal. We made it back here to
the Hacienda and His Highness the Prince met us here and organised with the
Cortes for it to become your home in Spain. Not long after we got you
settled in bed another fever hit you and it was then I saw that the wound
in your leg had become infected and I had to operate again. The infection
was really bad and I had to use a large number of maggots to clean out the
dead flesh. Once clean I used the last of my sulphurous powder and sewed it
up again, since then I have kept you under the influence of the
laudanum. Fairley has been taking care of you for everything and would not
leave your bedside for a moment. You can thank him for keeping you clean
and fed."

Thomas listened to his trials and tribulations while under the influence of
the laudanum but his eyes could not leave the ghost like figure in the
mirror; he instinctively knew he would never be the same again. Jervis
continued with his recitation.

"I had to tie your left arm down so you would not open the chest wound when
you were thrashing around in the fever but if you promise not to jump
around I can cut the bandage and let you use your left arm. The wound is
mostly healed but you may find your left arm is a little stiff from now on
and any cold weather and you are going to feel it a little. Your leg wound
is better now and I have taken out the stitches but you have to take it
easy until you have rebuilt your strength. Any questions?"

"What of the men? Did we lose many?"

"Yes we lost seventy six and another one hundred and thirty five wounded;
five of them seriously and I have had to do amputations on them, they will
live but not be able to fight anymore. Estaban has taken all the wounded
and a large number of others back to Vimeiro, they will wait for you
there. Estaban lost his right hand and young Maketja lost two fingers when
a Frenchman shot his bugle out of his hand and his other arm was hit but it
has only made him madder, if that's possible."

"Who did we lose?"

"Of your Officers there was Lieutenant Croxley but Lieutenant Morgan has
taken over the gunners but he has no guns anymore, Mister Croxley had to
spike them when the French got too close. Lieutenant Allen fell defending
your Colours but somehow the young Lieutenant from the Engineers showed up
and took command of the Colour Guard just in time to hold back the French."

"Where are the others?"

"Jones, Lorenco and Carmelo have stayed here to watch over you as have the
six remaining guards, the others are back at Vimeiro, most should be well
healed by now, I sent all three of my assistant with them. I'm just about
out of the medicines we had so we will have to do something to get more in
time. Now I think that's enough for one day; let me take that bandage off
but no getting out of the bed. Carmelo and the others can come in for a
brief minute to see you but then I want you to rest."

Thomas could only nod his head as even now he was feeling tired and it was
an effort to keep his head up; the ghostly figure in the mirror had him
worried and he lowered his head so he would not see it until he slept.

Jervis saw the direction of Thomas's eyes and, once his captain was asleep
they would cover up the damned mirror before it scared his patient into a
state where he would not heal.

As promised, Jervis let his young Officers in for a quick greeting and not
much more before he chased them out to let Thomas sleep; it was going to be
a long slow time for him to heal and the less worries he had to contend
with the better he would get.



TBC.