Company Of Spears

‘Hah! The Royal Africans – a greater gathering of rascals as ever you’d find. The scum of the earth – your Duke of Wellington’s words – or rather, the scum of the scum of the earth, amenable to no discipline other than by the lash, and with no courage other than by drink. And yet, Colonel Hervey, and yet, every man of that infamous corps would have considered himself to be my superior on account of his fair, if pock-marked skin.’ He shook his head. ‘No, Colonel, the doubts about me in the Royal African Corps were not as elevated as to concerns about my loyalty. They were rather, I imagine, of my humanity.’

Hervey shifted awkwardly in his chair. These were depths with which he was unhappy, certainly on so recent an acquaintance. But his instinct was to sympathy nevertheless, even if sceptical. ‘The officers – your fellow officers, I mean – they were not of an entirely prejudiced disposition?’

‘My fellow officers, Colonel Hervey? Did you meet any officers of the Royal African Corps? Unread men. Not, I imagine, the sort that would grace the table of the Sixth Light Dragoons. That is your regiment, is it not?’

‘It is. How did you know?’

Fairbrother tilted his head. ‘I keep myself informed. I see the London Gazette’ He paused. ‘I now know exactly who you are.’

Hervey decided it was time to bring affairs to a resolution, moving to the edge of his chair as if to rise. ‘Then you are at an advantage, sir, for I know next to nothing of you. And I do not think I care to unless you are prepared to accompany me to the frontier. It would otherwise be mere idle gossip.’

For the first time Fairbrother looked discomfited, as if realizing he had momentarily lost the initiative. ‘Very well, Colonel Hervey, if you would have it so immediately—’

Hervey drove home ruthlessly his sudden advantage. ‘I would indeed. I have more than sufficient business to be about.’

Fairbrother quite flinched at the sudden display (and reminder) of martial briskness. ‘Very well, Colonel Hervey, you shall have my answer at once. I will accompany you. But in the situation of gentleman, not of any military rank.’

Hervey sat back in his chair. He smiled cautiously. ‘Of course. And you may begin at once by omitting my rank too.’

‘I’m obliged – very much obliged.’

Hervey, smiling more confidently, crossed his legs. ‘Would you tell me of your people now?’

The lieutenant-governor’s sitting room, as familiarly furnished as had been that same room in Bedford Square, was made all the more comfortable by a good fire and the warmth of Hervey’s report. The lieutenant-governor drained his glass, rose from his writing table and nodded as if contemplating his assent.

‘Truly, Somervile, he is a most intriguing man, and most engaging too – at least after the initial haughtiness is put aside. And, I believe, he may be a most discerning guide. He declined all rank.’

Somervile poured himself another glass of sherry, seeing Hervey’s was full still. ‘A mulatto having the King’s commission – I never heard of it. The Duke of York was evidently of purer fire than I imagined.’

Hervey at last sipped a good measure of his sherry, content now that Somervile was of a mind with him. He would therefore tell him rather more of what he knew of Master Fairbrother. ‘His story is really quite winning. His father – his natural father – owned extensive estates in Jamaica, and formed an attachment – I mean an attachment, not merely in the usual way – with one of his slaves, who does sound to me to have been a most agreeable woman. Be that as it may, the young Edward Fairbrother – a most unfortunate name, of course – played happily with the real Fairbrother heir, was raised with him indeed, schooled with him, and then the young master died of a fever when he was ten years old, the same age as our Fairbrother. At which the father formally adopted his natural son and sent him to school in Kingston – where I must say he appears to have had rather a fine schooling – and then bought him an ensigncy in the Jamaica Fencibles, and thence the Royal Africans.’

Somervile looked puzzled. ‘I wonder, with his adopted father’s money, why he was not able therefore to advance in rank.’

Hervey inclined his head and raised his eyebrows, as if to signal that it was ‘the old story’ again. ‘He told me his father lost the greater part of his fortune in imprudent investments. He now lives on a modest annuity and his half pay – and such business as he can transact importing rum; though he says that now Cape brandy is improved, the commissaries are buying it for the ration rather than rum from the West Indies. He is of some independent means, however, and most certainly of independent mind; I believe we shall get on tolerably well.’