A Regimental Affair Read Online Free PDF Page B

Panic for a second or so silenced the missile-throwers and allowed Collins to re-dress the front rank so they could press forward knee to knee. ‘Keep them swords
sloped
!’ he shouted the while.
    ‘Well done, well done, Corporal Collins!’ said Hervey. One of the crowd eyed him suspiciously. He had better be careful. This was not the place to be taken for an agent.
    The solid line of horses pushed the crowd steadily back until the missile-throwers on what remained of the scaffold suddenly realized they were within range of being captured, and started toscramble down the far side. Collins called to the corporal of the second rank to show a front to the Newgate end to discourage reinforcements. In another ten minutes they had reached the Essex Road, and Skinner Street was clear. Serjeant Noakes now reasserted command (he could scarcely pretend any longer that the confusion prevented his getting to the front) and posted videttes to which the City constables could rally.
    Cursing to himself, Hervey pushed through the looser knot of onlookers to the picket line of dragoons at the ingress to Sekforde Street, where the unconscious cornet and injured dragoons had been taken. He had a mind to take the command himself, but seeing order restored among the ranks, pressed on down the street instead.
    Several of the men recognized him and called out with the enthusiasm that always came with the end of a bloody affair. ‘Good day, Mr Hervey, sir! We thought you was gone for good.’
    Hervey raised his hat and smiled as best he could, but did not stay to exchange banter. Round the corner in Sekforde Street a constable pointed to the Crown and Mitre. ‘They’ve taken the injuries in there, sir.’
    Hervey entered the low, gloomy taproom of the city alehouse, scarcely able to make out who was where.
    ‘It’s Mr Wymondham, sir,’ said an NCO, indicating the motionless figure on a long table. ‘I’ve sent a dragoon to fetch that doctor from the ’anging.’
    Hervey did not know Cornet Wymondham. He supposed he must have joined in the past eighteen months. He nodded, approving, to the NCO, and put an ear to the cornet’s mouth.
    ‘Can I go and find another doctor, sir?’ asked Wymondham’s coverman, whom Hervey recognized as a handy dragoon from F Troop.
    ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘though I very much fear it will be of no avail. His breathing is so shallow as to be unnoticeable.’
    He said it with sadness rather than certainty – and without thinking. A young cornet, green, probably his first time out – what an impious waste. Hervey was as angry with whoever it was that had sent him here as with the crowd which had done the mischief. ‘Find a doctor as fast as you can. It’s his only hope!’ he urged suddenly, cursing himself for conceding defeat in the dragoon’s hearing, and hoping his agitation might make up for it.
    Hervey put his ear to the cornet’s mouth again, for there was no rise or fall in the chest. He was reluctant to believe this fine-looking youth could succumb to a stone hurled by a street rough. Something told him he ought to turn him on his side. He called to the NCO for help.
    They turned him ever so carefully, but Hervey felt the blood and the pieces of splintered bone at the back of the skull, and it made him so qualmish he almost let go.
    ‘Good day, Captain Hervey, sir,’ came a voice from the doorway. ‘We none of us knew you were back. I’m sorry you had such a poor show of us, sir. How is his lordship? Pride a bit bruised, sir?’
    ‘Not good, Corporal Collins. Not good at all.’
    Collins looked abashed. ‘Sir, I am truly very sorry. I thought he’d just be thrown and winded.’
    ‘I don’t think he’ll live, frankly.’
    ‘Oh, Jesus Mary! If I had ridden next to him—’
    ‘You looked to me exactly where the right marker
should
have been, Corporal Collins. There’s no call to be chastising yourself.’
    ‘He’s only been with us a couple of months,’ said Collins, shaking his