Hervey 07 - An Act Of Courage (33 page)

COURT MARTIAL

A General Court Martial shall convene at Badajoz on the 10th day of September, 1809, in pursuance of a warrant from Lieut.-General Sir A. Wellesley, commanding his Majesty’s Forces in Spain, to hear charges against Cornets M. P. Hervey and F. K. Daly, both of his Majesty’s 6th Light Dragoons (Princess Caroline’s Own).

PRESIDENT,
Colonel Sir JOHN PATTINSON, Bart.

MEMBERS,

Lieut.-Col. J. A. CHATTERTON, C.B. 3rd Drag. Guards.

Brevet-Major C. TOWER, R. Artillery.

Major P. MITCHELL, 4th Reg.

Capt. A. J. APLIN, 88th Reg.

Capt. F. HAWKINS, 88th Reg.

Capt. WARBURTON GREY, R. Engineers.

Capt. J. S. SECCOMBE, R. Artillery.

Capt. the Honbl. F. PURDON, 7th Reg.

Lieut. R. J. INCE, 60th (Royal Americans).

Lieut. W. PODMORE, R. Artillery.

Lieut. C. ZWICKY, 97th Reg.

Lieut. A. J. NEWTON, 48th Reg.

JUDGE MARTIAL

DAVID JENKYNS, Esq.
Deputy Judge Advocate General.

As the regulations required, Hervey and Daly had been placed in close arrest the evening before the court assembled, though each separately. They were not incarcerated, rather were they confined to quarters in agreeable houses near the Las Palmas gate, close to the convent that would serve as the court. But it did not go well with either man to have his liberty suspended: Hervey felt the deepest humiliation at having Cornet Laming sit the evening with him as escort, while Daly fulminated against ‘the ungentlemanlike refusal to accept his parole’.

In the morning they dressed in best regimentals, but without sword, belt or headdress, which were carried instead by the escorts. At the convent, Hervey met his defending officer, Lieutenant Martyn, and walked with him to an ante-chamber to wait for the court to assemble. Cornet Daly was already there. He made no sign of greeting, looking straight ahead, so that when they were asked to form up ready to march into court, Hervey found himself taking position in front of him, as his marginal seniority demanded, with added discomfort.

One pace behind Hervey was Laming, however, a reassuring thought if not an altogether happy one. ‘Prisoner, attenshun.’

Laming said it so softly that Hervey barely heard. ‘Be a good fellow and speak up,’ he said, turning his head to the side.

In doing so he saw Serjeant Treve, who had been orderly quartermaster the night of the incident, waiting to be called in evidence. John Knight was standing nearby, too, and Private Brayshaw, his assistant, and the orderly corporal of that night, and the inlying picket-commander, and several dragoons who had been on guard – all waiting to give evidence. Inside the court, he knew, there would be spectators, from the regiment and from the army. He felt sick with shame.

‘Prisoner, quick-march.’

Hervey,
prisoner
: it was scarcely to be borne. He had done his duty, and it was come to this. When would they hear of it in Wiltshire, or at his school? The ignominy stretched before him like the open sea.

‘Halt.’

Again, Laming could hardly bring himself to breathe the word of command. Hervey halted by some instinct rather than obedience.

Behind them, Cornet Wyllie from C Troop, Daly’s escort, gave the commands very decidedly.

Hervey looked directly at the president. He did not know Colonel Pattinson, as was only right, but he had heard of him. He had been with Sir John Moore at Shorncliffe and had a reputation for discipline, if not quite of the ferocity of General Craufurd. He wore his bicorn low on his brow, betokening, thought Hervey, an angry disposition towards the proceedings. He could have no objection to the colonel’s being president, however, though that was his right, as it was Daly’s too.

He looked at the other officers in turn, twelve of them, making thirteen in all, the minimum required for a general court martial. The junior member was Newton, lieutenant of the 48th (Northamptonshire), the regiment that had done more than any to save the day at Talavera. What would he make of a quarrel between cornets of light dragoons – an affair of peacocks? Next was Zwicky, from the 97th (Queen’s Germans); what might his notions of high honour make of the conduct of two British officers? The other two lieutenants, Podmore in the blue of the Royal Artillery, and Ince in the green of the Sixtieth’s rifle battalion, he imagined would think much the same. The captains, three in red, two in blue, looked as if they would share the opinion, but more vehemently. Hawkins, second of the two Connaught captains, had a raw powder-burn across his nose and left cheek, vivid evidence of a fighting disposition. What would he care for a brawl in the horse lines, safe behind the infantry’s pickets? Would he know that the Sixth had had their share of fighting too, had gone hard at the French time and again, first with Moore and now with Wellesley? It was the old trouble – the work of cavalry, light cavalry especially, went unseen for the most part. It was too easy to think of them trotting here and there looking as if they were off to escort the Prince of Wales at Brighton. No one had seen them on the march to Corunna, though they had held the French cavalry at bay and bought the infantry precious time. But they had not been there when Sir John Moore had finally given battle, for he had sent his cavalry rear. There was nothing to earn the contempt of a soldier more than to be absent from a battle.

Captain the Honourable F. Purdon, 7th Foot, the Royal Fuzileers, a peer’s son from (it was said) Sir Arthur Wellesley’s favourite regiment: what would
he
make of a drunken squireen and a parson’s son who resorted to his fists? The Sixth’s reputation would be tarnished, whatever the outcome. And the tarnishing would be under the gaze of their new commanding officer: Lord George Irvine was taking his seat behind the prosecuting officer’s table.

Hervey now glanced at the two majors. They looked every bit as severe as Joseph Edmonds. Finally, he turned his eyes to the lieutenant-colonel, the only cavalryman, from the quartermastergeneral’s department of Sir Arthur Wellesley’s staff. He presumed the exclusion of any other was deliberate, perhaps because it was difficult to find anyone who did not know something of the affair; perhaps because another officer of light dragoons might be prejudiced in his opinion.

The president broke the silence. He read out the warrants for the convening of the court martial, then turned his gaze directly on the accused. ‘Do either of the prisoners have objection to me or to any other member of the officers here assembled for the purpose of trying the cases before the court?’ He addressed the question directly to the two defending officers.

Lieutenant Martyn, standing to Hervey’s right, turned to him for an answer.

Hervey shook his head.

‘Mr Hervey has no objection, sir.’

Lieutenant Beale-Browne asked the same of Cornet Daly.

There was an exchange,
sotto voce
, but evident enough.

‘Mr Daly objects to Captain Aplin on the grounds that his family and Mr Daly’s are in dispute over certain matters.’

The president looked at Aplin.

‘I am not aware of these matters, sir,’ replied the Connaught captain. ‘Neither that my family has any business with Mr Daly’s. I myself do not know him, but I am ready to stand down, of course, if Mr Daly believes I might be prejudiced.’

The accent was not dissimilar to Daly’s own, thought Hervey, but neither was it exactly the same.

The president turned back to Lieutenant Beale-Browne. ‘I myself would not consider there to be sufficient evidence of the likelihood of prejudice on the part of Captain Aplin, but the prerogative is the prisoner’s.’

There was another whispered consultation. Hervey thought Beale-Browne sounded agitated.

‘Mr Daly is still of the opinion that Captain Aplin be not a member, sir.’

The president stifled a sigh. ‘Very well. Captain Aplin, you are released. Court orderly, be so good as to summon the waiting member.’

Hervey imagined that Daly had not served himself well by insisting on Aplin’s replacement, and could not help being pleased by it; except that officers sitting in judgement were sometimes contrary and might take it as evidence that Daly was of a very ‘independent’ mind – which to any thinking officer could be no bad thing.

The waiting member was a lieutenant of the 29th (Worcestershire). He entered by a side door, stood at attention and saluted.

‘State your name, if you please, sir,’ said the president.

‘Hyacinth Hames, sir.’

Cornet Daly smirked noisily.

The president rounded on him. ‘Mr Daly! This is a court of law and you are in contempt of it.’

Hervey started. Character appeared to be outing: he almost felt sorry for Daly.

‘Well, sir? Have you nothing to say?’

‘I meant no offence to the court, sir,’ replied Daly boldly.

The president looked even blacker. ‘Do you have objection to this officer?’

‘No, sir.’

The president looked at Hervey.

‘None, sir.’

‘Very well then. Court orderly, be so good as to inform the judge martial that the court is assembled.’

‘Sir!’

The court orderly, a lantern-jawed serjeant of the 1st Guards, spun round and marched out. The members placed their swords on the long table before them, removed their hats and took their seats. The president nodded to the escorts, who in turn propelled their charges to chairs, one in front of the other, facing forward on the right-hand side of the court.

‘His honour, the judge martial!’ barked the court orderly.

The court rose as the bewigged representative of the judiciary entered. He and the president exchanged bows, and then both sat down, the judge martial to the president’s right.

Then the judge martial rose again, followed by all the members except the president. He bowed once more, and looked at each member in turn. ‘You shall well and truly try and determine according to your evidence in the matter now before you, between our Sovereign Lord the King’s Majesty, and the prisoner to be tried. So help you, God.’ He next gave a bible to the president, together with an ivory board the size of a cartridge case, on which was printed the oath. ‘I require, on His Majesty’s behalf, that each now swear upon the holy evangelists to this effect.’

The president, Granby-bald, and in consequence looking twice as severe as before, rose and growled his way through the solemn declaration: ‘I, Sir John Pattinson, do swear that I will duly administer justice, according to the Rules and Articles for the better Government of His Majesty’s Forces, and according to an Act of Parliament now in force for the punishment of Mutiny and Desertion, and other Crimes therein mentioned, without Partiality, Favour, or Affection; and if any doubt shall arise, which is not explained by the said Articles or Act of Parliament, according to my Conscience, the best of my Understanding, and the Custom of War in the like Cases. And I further swear, that I will not divulge the Sentence of the Court until it shall be approved by His Majesty, the General, or Commander-in-Chief; neither will I, upon any Account, at any time whatsoever, disclose or discover the Vote or Opinion of any particular Member of the Court martial, unless required to give Evidence thereof, as a Witness, by a Court of Justice in due course of Law. So help me, God.’

The president sat down, and the judge martial proceeded to swear the remainder. To Hervey it was interminable. He tried to assess, from the tone and stance of each member, what might be his attitude to the proceedings, but evidently the gravity of the law was amply conveyed by the process, for every officer spoke as if he were facing the Awful Day of Judgement. That was reassuring in one respect, but he found it disconcerting nevertheless.

At the conclusion, the president rose again and likewise swore the judge martial.

‘I, David Jenkyns, do swear that I will not, upon any Account, at any time whatsoever, disclose or discover the Vote or Opinion of any particular Member of the Court martial, unless required to give Evidence thereof, as a Witness, by a Court of Justice in due course of Law. So help me, God.’

They both sat, and the president turned at last to the prosecuting officer, nodding his assent to proceed.

Lieutenant & Adjutant Ezra Barrow rose to his feet solemnly. He was something of a veteran of courts martial, but this was his first time in a position of authority. ‘Mr President and gentlemen, there are before the court three charges. First, for that he, Cornet Frederick Keevil Daly, of His Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons, Princess Caroline’s Own, on the 24th July, 1809, in the field at Talavera de la Reina, did occasion injury by wilful neglect or commission resulting in death to a horse in His Majesty’s service. Second, that he did abuse a subordinate, namely Serjeant Treve, regimental orderly quartermaster that day, and attempt an assault upon him.’ The adjutant laid down the sheet and took up a second. ‘The third charge relates to the other prisoner: for conduct unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman in that he, Cornet Matthew Paulinus Hervey, also of the Sixth Light Dragoons, on the same day and in the same place did strike without cause Cornet Frederick Keevil Daly.’ The adjutant laid the second sheet on the table before him, bowed, and sat down.

The president turned to the table opposite the adjutant’s. ‘How do the prisoners plead in respect of each of these charges?’

The two defending officers rose. Lieutenant Beale-Browne spoke first. ‘In respect of Cornet Daly, sir, on both charges, not guilty.’

The president waited for the judge martial to make the formal entry in his ledger, then looked at Lieutenant Martyn.

‘In respect of Cornet Hervey, sir, not guilty.’

‘Very well, be seated, gentlemen. Mr Barrow, continue, if you please.’

The adjutant rose and took up a third sheet, this time of manuscript. ‘Mr President and gentlemen, it is with feelings of deep regret that I am compelled to appear before you this day as the prosecutor of two officers under the orders of the lieutenant-colonel commanding His Majesty’s Sixth Light Dragoons. But however unwilling he be, under all the circumstances of the case about to be submitted to your investigation, the lieutenant-colonel considers that he would not be conscientiously discharging the duties of command entrusted to him, or furthering the good of the service, were he, from considerations of protecting the good reputation of the regiment, to hesitate in coming forward and laying the whole of the conduct of two of his officers before you. And he trusts that calm and dispassionate consideration, which it is sure to meet with before a court composed of officers, will conclude in a right judgment in this extraordinary matter.’