Discalimer: No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended. Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains strong m/m sexual scenes, violence, coarse language and adult themes. Feedback: [email protected] Continuing the Between Wars saga once again. This time the story, Consequences, takes us up the ill-fated voyage to the West Indies. For those of you who don't already know, the 33rd Reg was supposed to go to the West Indies, but fierce storms forced them back to Britain. Anyway, I hope you enjoy Consequences. As always comments are most welcome. Disclaimer and Warnings: as per previous [I get tired of typing it out all the time <G>] Rating: MA M/M sex, violence, blasphemy, bad language, all that stuff! Consequences Part 1 "Why did she do it Tom?" Dick Sharpe asked, his face sad. Tom blinked and rubbed the new bandage on his head. He had just emerged from the infirmary where the Regimental Surgeon, Mr Micklewhite, had unceremoniously torn out O'Neill's stitches and replaced them with his own. Tom felt sick. "Do what Dick? Who did what?" Tom asked as they commenced walking towards the barracks. "Jean Hanson! Why did she get rid of the baby? Do you think she knew about Bill and Josh? Was it someone else's?" There was real concern in Sharpe's voice and Tom could see that the young man couldn't understand what had happened. Tom sighed. Of course Sharpe would think that Jean had done this herself! The only time he had probably heard the word miscarriage was in connection with the abortions that the whores he had known had performed on each other. "She didn't do it Dick," Tom began gently. "It sometimes just happens. Something goes wrong, something's not right. That's nature's way. It happens with animals too." Sharpe looked at Tom with eyes that wanted to believe but found it hard. "Are you sure Tom?" Tom nodded and winced as his head ached. "How's yer head now?" Sharpe asked when Tom once again raised his hand to his head. "Bloody painful." Tom muttered "I just want to lie down." "Well yer don't want to be going into the barracks. Jean's still there with the midwife and half of the bloody women. There's still something wrong. Tom looked up quickly. "Where's Bill? How's he taking this?" Sharpe shrugged. "He's in there too, but none of the lads are game to go in." Not surprising, Tom thought. This was often the way when babes were born or lost. The women usually had to make do with their bunk in the barracks. The infirmary was seen only as a last resort in a desperate situation. Tom remembered back to a time when they were stationed in Cork. Flora Chester had gone into labour early one evening and by the following sunrise her screams had awoken most of the barracks. They had continued on for most of the day and by that evening the Regimental Surgeon had finally given permission for her to be taken to the infirmary, more to let the men get a decent nights sleep than to offer any assistance to the poor woman herself. By then it was common knowledge around the barracks that something was wrong, the babe was stuck and the midwife was worried. Tom heard later that the babe had been still born, feet first after the midwife had finally turned it and broken it's collarbones to get it out. Flora Chester had died two days later. "Well do you know what the problem is?" Tom asked starting to worry. Childbirth and all it's associated complaints was a dangerous business, Tom knew. Sharpe shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "What about the children? Who's looking after them?" Tom asked thinking of Polly and George. At least there were plenty of women to lend a hand at times like this. Sharpe nodded his head towards the parade ground and there Tom could see Josh Smith playing with Bill Hanson's two small children. The barracks was strangely silent that night. Hannah Avery took Polly and George to her bunk, having no children of her own. Tom was hoping to see Bill Hanson, but was reluctant to venture down to where he sat with his wife behind the thin curtain that shielded their bunk. "Will Jean be all right Tom?" Josh Smith whispered before he climbed up to the top berth just before the lamps were dimmed. "I don't know Joshy. But I'm going to say a prayer that she will." Tom replied solemnly. It was early in the morning when the sound of crying woke the barracks. Women crying first, softly and sadly. But then another sound began, a long slow sobbing, unique in it's anguish. It was a sound that was rarely heard, the sound of a man crying. Tom moved closer to Sharpe, seeking the comfort of his warmth and life. It was strange, he thought, that death could come so silently. He had seen men die on a battlefield, screaming in agony, accompanied by the sound of muskets and artillery. Tom had been told that men usually died moaning or crying out in the hospitals. Even Flora Chester had not died quietly. It didn't seem right that life should slip away without any protest. From the bunk above Tom could hear Josh crying and wondered briefly if he should go up to comfort him, but Sharpe whispered in his ear then, words that reminded Tom that Bill Hanson's troubles were only beginning. "What will happen to the children now Tom?" The Barracks Chapel was rarely seen by the enlisted men, it's main use being private services for the Officers, but today it was filled with the men of the 33rd's Light Company and their wives as they said their farewells to Jean Hanson. Sharpe stood and fidgeted beside Tom in much the same way that young Polly Hanson was fidgeting in Hannah Avery's arms. He's probably never been in a church before, Tom suddenly thought as he elbowed Sharpe gently to tell him to keep still. The Regimental Parson was speaking in a very dull voice about mothers being next to saints in the scheme of things and Tom tried hard to listen, thinking of his own mother. Sharpe sighed again and fidgeted from one foot to the next. Next to the Chapel was a small graveyard and it was here that Jean Hanson was laid to rest, in a hastily constructed coffin. "It's awfully empty Tom." Sharpe whispered as they stood around the freshly dug grave in the wane morning sun. It was a cold day, with a promise that winter was fast approaching. Tom looked around the graveyard. Sharpe was right, it was almost empty of graves, not like the barracks graveyard in Cork. But the Southampton Barracks was much newer than the old barracks in Cork. The graveyard here had been hardly used. What a lonely place to be buried, Tom thought until he glanced at the graves nearby and noted that they all belonged to young children. Perhaps Jean wouldn't be lonely after all. Tom suddenly wondered where he would be buried. When he was younger he had often walked through the graveyard in Ripon thinking that one day he would join the familiar names that lay at rest there. But that was unlikely now. He could die and be buried anywhere. Tom cast a quick glance at Dick and suddenly felt sad. Perhaps they would go together, be buried side by side. Tom knew he would rest easy no matter where he was buried if Dick Sharpe was beside him. "What about your family Bill? Have you got a sister who might take them in?" Abraham Avery asked that evening as they all sat in the barracks quietly drinking rum. Captain Hughes had ordered a double ration be served and Tom thought it was a good idea. Bill Hanson looked like he needed it. Hanson shook his head. "My sister's dead and my brother has eight children of his own. My mother's in her sixties, too old to be chasing after babes." He took another swallow of the rum. "Jean's family comes from Ireland. There'd not be time to get word to them. I doubt they'd take the children anyway. They weren't too pleased when we married." "Well Hannah and I would take them in if we could Bill, but Hannah's expecting a baby herself." "She is?" Harry Whyte interrupted and Avery gave a shy smile and nodded. "We didn't think we would be blessed with children. We've been married for four years now and it has never happened. It surprised us both I must say." Avery turned back to Hanson. "Besides there's no guarantee that Hannah will get a place in the ballot and she would have to go home to her own family then. They might not want her taking someone else's children too. I'm sorry Bill." Avery sounded regretful. "I can help you look after them, Bill!" Josh Smith said enthusiastically, but his suggestion was met with a chorus of laughter. Smith paled but continued. "I like Polly and George and they like me. I can look after them and feed them and dress them and play with them." Bill Hanson looked up with tears in his eyes. "That's a kind offer Josh and I know you would look after them just fine. But what would happen when we are both on duty or when we are sent to the West Indies and have to fight." He gave Smith a soft, sad smile. "I don't think the Major will LET them stay if I don't have a wife." Hanson closed his eyes and slumped back against the wall. "Christ, I can't let them go to an orphanage, I just can't! If only I wasn't confined to the barracks! I could go into town and find another wife." Sharpe and Garrard sat quietly side by side listening. It struck Tom as almost callous the way Hanson was discussing the future when Jean was hardly cold in her grave but he could see the sense in Hanson's thinking. After loosing his wife, Hanson would do anything to keep his children. Tom glanced at Sharpe and could see the concern on his face as if he was remembering his own days in the foundling home. "If I could get to St Michael's I could talk to the minister there. I'm sure he'd know a decent widow or spinster that he could recommend." Hanson took another large swallow of his rum and put his head in his hands. "You'd have to be careful Bill." Tom said hesitantly, feeling he was somewhat out of his depth in this conversation. "If she wasn't chosen in the ballot then she would be left here with your children. She could do anything with them." Bill looked up tiredly. "She could go live with my mother. I've money for the fares home. That's what Jean was planning if she wasn't chosen." Hanson sighed and finished his mug. "Anyone would do as long as she was decent. It's only for the children's sake, after all." Silence descended around the table as each man tried hard to think of a way to help Bill Hanson. "I suppose one of the girls from The Scarlet Rose wouldn't be any good," said Percy Peters wistfully and Hanson shook his head. "I know someone," said Josh Smith quietly. It was Sharpe and Smith who went to town the next morning to find Bill Hanson a wife. Tom Garrard sat with his friend as they waited nervously thinking over all of the possible problems that would spoil their plans. Hanson had spoken to Captain Hughes that morning, requesting permission to marry and for his new wife to take the place of Jean Hanson on the Company's compliment of wives. Hughes had been sympathetic rather than shocked. Hanson couldn't afford to wait. His children needed a mother and there were other men eager to bring their wives into the barracks if there was a place available. But Sharpe and Smith took longer than expected. They finally arrived just after noon and walked into the mess hall with Rose, the girl from the Chisolm's bakery in tow. She was wearing the same plain grey dress and carried a small bundle tied in a black shawl. "Bill this is Rose..?" Smith hesitated and Tom realised that none of them even knew her last name. "Pugh, Sir." Rose whispered quietly and the infantrymen at the table couldn't help smiling slightly. Bill Hanson held out his hand and shook Rose's. "Pleased to meet you Rose. I'm Bill Hanson. Do you know much about children?" Rose smiled and her plain face became almost pretty. "Yes, Sir, when I was at the orphanage I worked in the nursery with the babes and little ones. I like children." Hanson bit his lip. "And you're willing to marry me and look after my children?" Rose nodded nervously "Yes sir," she replied. Captain Hughes entered the mess hall then, having heard that Hanson's bride to be had arrived. He looked the girl up and down before looking at Sharpe and the rest of the men. "How old are you Rose?" he asked gently. Tom held his breath, how old WAS Rose? "I'm seventeen Sir," she replied falteringly. Hughes frowned. "She is Sir," Josh said quietly. "It says so here in her papers." Smith pulled some folded documents out of his jacket and handed them to Hughes to read. The frown on his brow increased "Well yes, your age is correct, but these are your indenture papers. You still have a year to serve. The Chisolms were very generous to let you go." Hughes voice sounded doubtful. Rose shuffled slightly and looked at Smith. Smith bit his lip and went pale. It was Sharpe who finally answered. "We had to buy her Sir," he declared. Hughes blinked. Tom held his breath. Bill Hanson looked horrified. Josh Smith quickly directed Hughes gaze to a small amendment at the very end of the papers. Hughes looked up in amazement. "A guinea! You paid Chisolm a guinea for her?" Sharpe nodded "That's what she was worth to them for the time left on her indenture," he explained. Hughes stared at Sharpe. "And just where did you get that kind of money?" Tom wondered the same thing as he looked from Sharpe to Smith, suddenly feeling very uneasy. What had the two young men been up to? "We passed the hat around the barracks Sir, didn't we lads?" Sharpe lied, looking to the others for back-up. Whyte, Avery, Dodds, Peters, Rawlings and everyone else present all nodded vigorously and Hughes pursed his lips. "Well I suppose it's all in order. I'll organise for the Regimental Parson to marry you this afternoon. We can't have Miss Pugh staying in the barracks unless you are properly wed." Hughes left and Hannah Avery and several of the other wives came to take Rose away and show her around. Tom grabbed Sharpe's arm and led him outside. Josh Smith followed. "Where did you get a guinea?" Tom demanded of the two young men. "We robbed the poor box at Saint Michaels." Sharpe said pulling out his picklock and waving it in Tom's horrified face. "Didn't do anything wrong really. After all the money's for the poor and Rose was bloody poor if yer ask me." Sharpe declared with a grin. "But a guinea!" Tom asked incredulously? "Surely there wasn't that much in the poor box!" Smith paled and looked away but Sharpe just winked. "Not quite Tom, so while Josh distracted the Minister, I robbed the presbytery!" Tom's mouth fell open. "Don't worry Tom. It was easy. Josh really is quite good at acting yer know! Why he had that minister in the palm of his hand with whatever story he told him. The roof could have fallen in and I doubt he would have noticed." Sharpe clapped Smith on the shoulder "What DID you tell the Minister Josh?" Smith turned hurt eyes to Sharpe, his face pale. "I told him about O'Malley," he said quietly. Consequences Part 2 Bill Hanson stood nervously at the front of the parade ground, Tom Garrard beside him. I'm glad it's out here, Tom thought, rather than in the chapel where they had farewelled Jean Hanson just the day before. Tom had been surprised when Hanson had asked him to stand up as his witness. He would have expected Hanson to ask Josh Smith. Perhaps not, Tom thought as he looked at Smith who stood close by with Hanson's two children, holding their hands. Dick Sharpe had volunteered to give the bride away. It was a nice gesture on Sharpe's part. Tom wondered if Sharpe had told Rose that he too came from a foundling home. Bill Hanson looked around nervously as Hannah Avery appeared and smiled before taking her place beside her husband. "Bloody Hell." Hanson muttered as he looked at Rose who was slowing walking towards him on Sharpe's arm. Her brown hair had been brushed out so that it hung long to her waist. Someone had leant her a white shawl that was carefully draped over her head and in here hands she carried a small bunch of wildflowers probably picked from the very same graveyard where Jean Hanson now lay. "Jean would understand, Tom. She'd be glad I was doing this for the children's sake." Hanson said quickly. His eyes were wet and his hands trembled slightly as he brushed at his uniform. Tom wondered just who Hanson was trying to convince. Tom smiled sadly at him. "Yes, Bill, she was a good woman who loved her children. She'd understand." He whispered. In much the same voice as he had used the previous day the Parson expounded the blessings of marriage, the trials and the troubles, the joys, the temptations. Tom closed his eyes, wondering if the Parson really knew anything about what he was saying. At the conclusion of the ceremony Bill Hanson gave Rose Pugh, now Rose Hanson, a small kiss and the Regiment erupted in applause and shouts of well wishes. There would be no reception, just the usual dinner in the mess hall, but Captain Hughes stood up and announced that he had ordered a keg of ale for the evening. "There's one more thing Private Hanson," Hughes said, his voice suddenly serious. "You are still confined to barracks for the rest of your punishment but for tonight I will allow you to go into town to the White Fox. Do you know where that is?" Hanson frowned, "Yes Sir," he answered, puzzled. "I have paid for a room there for you and Mrs Hanson for tonight. Enjoy yourselves." Hanson went pale and Rose blushed as the rest of the infantrymen shouted good-natured suggestions at the newlyweds. "Thankyou Sir," Hanson replied hesitantly. It was a thoughtful gesture, Tom decided much later as he sat beside Dick Sharpe in the mess hall drinking with the other lads. It would have been hard enough to take Rose to the barracks tonight with all the others gathered around. Tom had seen barracks weddings before! But for Bill Hanson to have to sleep with his new bride in the very bed that his wife had died in two nights before would have been unthinkable. "He's a lucky bastard really. She's not that plain when she smiles. Beggars can't be choosers I suppose." Harry Whyte leaned against the wall with his feet up on the table. They were all a little drunk from the combination of the ale and the rum. The conversation was becoming rough, Tom decided, and glanced at Sharpe wondering if it was time for them to leave. Sharpe had been quiet for most of the evening, content for once to listen to the conversation that centred on wives and marriage. "Well let's hope that Bill gives her plenty to smile about tonight!" Dodds said with a laugh and some of the others joined in. "Wouldn't make any difference if she was dead ugly, all cats are grey in the dark anyway!" Whyte shouted and there was more laughter. "What does he mean Tom?" Josh Smith's worried face turned towards Tom. "Don't worry about it Josh, he's drunk that's all." Tom replied quietly. But Harry Whyte had heard and leaned across the table towards Josh. "Christ Josh don't you know anything about women! You ever have one, hey Josh? Never seen you at the brothel! What's wrong with yer? Don't you like women?" Smith blushed a little. "I've had a woman," he said nervously looking at Tom. "That night in the fishing village, Tom and I found two girls, didn't we Tom?" Smith's eyes pleaded with Tom to support his story. "Yeah that's right Harry. The women in that town were very obliging," "Christ, and we all thought you'd had each other that night!" Whyte leaned across the table towards Smith "Well if yer had a woman yer should know! It means that yer don't really care what they look like once the lights are out and yer fucking them!" Smith frowned shaking his head. "But Bill isn't going to do that! He only married Rose because he needs someone to look after the children." "Yer need to bloody grow up Josh! Of course he's going to fuck her, she's his wife! Do you think he's keeping himself pure for you?" White taunted. Josh stood up unsteadily, his face flushed red and Tom suddenly realised just how drunk Smith was. "No! He doesn't even know her. He wouldn't do that!" Josh was shouting now. "Oh he'll know her by tomorrow, all right." Whyte said standing up also "What's the matter Josh? Wanted her for yerself did yer? Thought Bill might let you share her? All take turns with each other or something?" Josh Smith lunged at Whyte, but Sharpe caught him and held him tightly. "Drunk and disorderly Smith?" Whyte taunted "I could have you locked up for that yer know. Locked up and flogged." Tom stood and took Smith's other arm "No need for that Harry, we'll take him off to bed." Tom said quietly appealing to the man who had once been his friend. "Oh yeah, you'll like that won't you Tom. Have a bit of fun with him, eh? You and Sharpe both!" There was laughter from some of the men, but others remained silent realising that this last comment was not said as a jest. Tom quickly dropped his eyes and stepped away from the table pulling Smith with him. "Come on Dick," he murmured, hoping Sharpe had the good sense to keep quiet. Dick Sharpe did, but Josh Smith began struggling. "I'm NOT a child! You can't treat me like one and send me off to bed!" Tom heard the laughter behind them and turned slightly just as Smith pulled his arm free. It caught Tom in his head again sending a blinding pain through his temple and blood running down his face. "Oh shit Tom, I'm sorry!" Smith sobbed out as Tom clutched his head to stop the bleeding. "Well that does it! Drunk and brawling! The three of you can spend the night locked up!" Whyte said triumphantly and called for the sentries. Tom squinted at Whyte through the blood that flowed down his face again. If anyone was drunk it was Sergeant Harry Whyte. Keep quiet, Tom told himself. It was no good arguing with him. "Tom's done nothing! This isn't his fault." Sharpe shouted out "He needs to see the surgeon. His head has opened up again." But Harry Whyte ignored him and gave directions for the sentries to lock the three men up in separate cells. "But it's not fair!" Smith shouted and for a moment Tom thought he was going to resist the sentries. "Shh Joshy, it's all right." Tom murmured and he grabbed Smith again. The three men were taken to the dark, cold, guardhouse. Each was locked in a separate cell without a blanket, the only comfort being the dim light of the small oil-lamp beside the door. Tom's head was smarting, blood still flowing sluggishly down his face. "What about my head? It's still bleeding?" he asked desperately when he realised that the bleeding hadn't stopped. "Yer head will have to wait until morning!" the sentry announced and he slammed the door shut. Tom franticly searched his pockets for something to use as a bandage to stop the bleeding, but they were empty. "Take off yer shirt Tom, and wrap it around yer head." called Sharpe from the cell beside him. Tom couldn't see Sharpe because of the thick stone wall between them but he could hear his friend fumbling with the lock on his cell door. Reluctantly Tom took off first his jacket and then his shirt. Carefully he wrapped the white shirt tightly around his head. With any luck he would be able to get most of the blood out with washing. He looked up suddenly when he heard the door to his own cell shake. Sharpe was there, his picklock in the lock, busily working away. "Dick you'll get into even more trouble! Get back in your cell!" Tom finished wrapping his head just as Sharpe opened the door. "I just want to make sure that yer head's all right." Sharpe said quietly. "Do you feel all right?" Tom nodded sending a wave of pain through his head. "It will be all right. I'll tell Captain Hughes what happened. He'll believe me. The other lads will back us up. We didn't do anything wrong. Sit down Tom, we may as well make ourselves comfortable." They sat down beside the door and looked across at the cell opposite where Josh Smith was sitting, moaning to himself and crying. "It's my fault, all my fault. Nothing ever works out!" Drunk, Tom decided, very drunk, but he moved into the passageway to the door of Smiths cell and called out. "Joshy, I'm all right." Smith looked towards Tom and shook his head. "NO! It's not just you Tom! It's Rose! I told her Bill wouldn't hurt her. That he was a kind man. That he wouldn't... that he wouldn't...I didn't think he'd do that Tom. Why? Why would he do that when he doesn't even know her? You said you were supposed to care about someone to do it! Why would Bill do it?" Smith lay on his back on the stone floor and closed his eyes. "I thought that Bill and I could be together now. That he could love me now. But it can't happen can it? I just wish I was dead!" Tom looked at Sharpe who simply shrugged, unable to offer any suggestions. "Listen Joshy, we don't know what Bill and Rose are doing tonight. Maybe they aren't..you know.. but maybe they are. It's up to them Josh. They are 'married' now. That means something! Besides I don't think its binding if they don't ...er,..do it. That's part of it you see. I'm sure the minister mentioned that." Tom knew he was clutching at straws but his head was pounding and he really didn't know what to say to comfort the younger man. "Bill wouldn't hurt Rose, he'll look after her now. She'll be better off with him." Smith looked up and nodded "Yes, they'll be happy together." Tom smiled "Yes, and Polly and George will have someone to look after them." Tom continued. Smith nodded his head and began pulling off his boots. "Yes, they'll all be happy. So happy! They won't need me will they," Too late Tom saw where Smith's thoughts were going, too late he saw the small knife that Smith pulled from his boot. "No Josh! Come over here to me," Tom called as he heard Sharpe spring up and run to Smith's door and begin on the lock. Smith laughed, his eyes on Tom. "It's all right Tom, you see it's better this way. She was right you know. She was right." Tom glanced at Sharpe who was still working on the door, "Who Josh, who was right? Rose?" Smith shook his head and pulled the knife across his wrist slowly. "Nooooo," he said drawing the word out as the blood slowly welled up from the cut. "My Mother. She said she wished I'd never been born. She didn't think I heard, but I did. I heard her say it to my aunt. They shooed me away when they found me, told me to go back to the nursery and play, but I heard them talking. I heard what she said." The cell door clanged open and Sharpe was beside Smith, taking the knife and holding his wrist. "It's all right Tom, it's not deep, he just cut the surface." Sharpe cradled Smith gently. "You'll be all right Josh," he murmured as he fumbled in his pocket with his other hand. It was the table napkin from the tea-room that was finally used to wrap Smith's forearm. "Bloody useful piece of cloth," Sharpe said to himself and Tom noticed Sharpe's hands were shaking slightly. Tom crouched down beside Sharpe who was holding Smith against his shoulder. Smith was sobbing quietly. "Joshy," Tom whispered looking into the dark eyes that were full of tears. "You silly little bugger. What would Bill and Rose do without you? They don't even know each other. They're going to need you because you're the only thing they have in common at the moment. You're a friend to both of them and you'll have to help them. And as for Polly and George, well, they don't know Rose so you're going to have to help them get to know her. They ALL need you Josh and Bill will never forget that he has you to thank for this." "Do you really think so, Tom?" Smith asked, a spark of hope in his eyes. Tom smiled and nodded "Oh yes, I'm sure." He looked at Dick Sharpe who also nodded. "If Tom says it's so then yer'd better believe him!" Sharpe winked at Tom "He's always right about these things, Josh." Between Wars Consequences Part 3 It was just after dawn the next morning when Captain Hughes entered the guardhouse waking the three sleeping Infantrymen. Smith groaned and Tom suspected that Josh's head felt as bad as his own did. "I've told Sergeant Whyte that there will be no entry in the punishment book in connection with last nights disturbance. I will put it down to over exuberance after the wedding." Hughes frowned. "I was told that you were all in separate cells?" Sharpe shrugged. "We were, but Tom's head was bleeding and then Josh was sick so I thought it best if we were all in together. I locked the doors again afterwards." Sharpe smiled at Hughes, a smile that made Tom blush. The Captain cleared his throat and looked away before ordering the two sentries to unlock the cell. "Private Garrard, get the Regimental Surgeon to have a look at your head," Hughes paused and frowned at Tom. "Again!" The Captain's angry gaze raked over the three men. "This is the last time any of you will be shown leniency. Next time expect a full punishment." Hughes turned on his heels and marched out, "Yes Sir," said Dick Sharpe with a grin. The three men left the guardhouse and stood in the pale light of morning. "Thankyou Dick for not saying anything to Captain Hughes about what I did last night." Smith said in his small voice. "It was a bloody stupid thing to do Josh!" Sharpe said harshly. Gone was the compassion from last night. "How do you think Bill would have felt if he had come back and found that you'd killed yourself! He's just lost Jean! What would he do if he lost you too?" Sharpe stared at Smith and the younger man paled and looked away. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." "Well yer got to start thinking! You go doing things like that and yer won't wind up dead, no, they'll either send yer to Bedlam or yer'll be thrown out of the army! Yer'd have to go home to yer father or yer'd end up on the streets. Would yer like that Josh? How would yer survive then? Yer don't even know where to hide a picklock let alone how to use one. You'd have to turn to whoring and take my word for it Josh, what O'Malley did to yer would seem like nothing after a while!" Josh Smith stared at Sharpe, his dark eyes wide with remorse. "I won't do it again Dick. It was the wrong thing to do but I felt so alone." "Listen, you're not alone Josh. Bill's still yer mate and so is Rose. Maybe you and Bill can't be mates the way you'd like to be, but yer can still be friends!" Sharpe softened his voice a little. "And what about Percy and Sam, their yer mates and me and Tom!" Smith looked up and nodded slightly "Tell yer what Josh, if you get lonely at night and want a bit of it, I won't mind if Tom keeps yer company for a while." Smith smiled shyly at Tom whose mouth had fallen open suddenly. "Thanks Dick," Smith said looking back to Sharpe. "Can I have my knife back now." Sharpe hesitated "No I'll keep it for a while Josh. Just ask if you need it for anything. Now go get yerself cleaned up before parade while I take Tom back to the bloody Infirmary again." Smith walked away and Tom stood silently thinking over the events of last night. "Christ I'm bloody starting to sound like you Tom!" Sharpe declared with his hands on his hips. "What's wrong now?" he asked looking at Tom. "Josh shouldn't be here Dick. He doesn't belong in the army. He's just not cut out for it. "He'll be all right Tom. I know it looks bad at the moment, but I saw lads try to do that on streets all the time. Either that or take to the drink. Sometimes things just get too much, you know?" Sharpe looked at Garrard and saw the questions in his eyes. "Now don't look at me with those sad cow eyes Tom! I never tried to do that, I swear. I told yer before that O'Malley looked after me, and he did. He made sure things never got too bad for me. I know I used to drink a bit too much, but no where near as bad as some of the lads I knew." Tom nodded, saddened by this small insight into Sharpe's past. He turned his thoughts back to Smith. "What's going to happen to Josh when we get sent to the West Indies? God knows how he would have survived in Flanders without Bill to look out for him. He's going to be a danger to himself and the rest of us. We should tell Captain Hughes what he did." Dick Sharpe turned to Tom, clearly angry. "Well listen to you! A year ago half the bloody Regiment probably said the same thing about me and they were probably right too. But you didn't listen, you were willing to give me a chance, to help me make something of myself." Sharpe looked at Tom, his green eyes pleading. "Josh just needs a chance Tom. Why, he's still younger than I was when we met." Tom nodded, "I know that Dick, but I'm worried about him. It might be for his own good." "And what would become of him? What else does he have? He'd end up on the streets and he wouldn't last a month! Give him a chance Tom, just like you gave me one." Tom felt ashamed. "I'll have to say something to Bill though, he should be told," he said quietly. "Might be a good idea Tom," Sharpe agreed. "That way we can all watch out for him. He'll be all right though. He just needs to get through all of this. He's had a rough time of it." They started walking to the infirmary again. But Tom was still worried. "Dick I know that you were just trying to cheer Joshy up, but I don't think you should have said I'd, well that I'd..." Sharpe grinned, "Oh Tom it will be good for both of you. When I marry Margaret you'll probably feel a bit a lonely yerself." Sharpe paused and looked at Tom, his face serious. "You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking and Bill was right. If yer married yer can't be having a bit on the side with yer mate!" Sharpe looked at Tom's horrified face "Yer do understand Tom, don't yer?" he asked. "Er, yes. It's just that.." Tom stopped. He wanted to ask if Sharpe had considered the possibility of Margaret saying no to his proposal, but wasn't sure if this was the right time. "Are yer thinking of asking Mary to marry yer too?" Sharpe asked with a smile. "I thought yer said yer weren't going to marry her, but it would be good if yer did. The girls would be together then." Tom rubbed his bandaged head and saw Dick frown. "Come on Tom, I'd better get yer to the Surgeon. That head of yours has taken too many knocks these last few days. Thank God it's so thick!" The Regimental Surgeon took one look at Tom's head and sent him on his way. "I'm not fixing up men who are too ignorant to stay out of trouble! Once only is my motto. Go take care of it yourself. But I'll warn you now Private Garrard, too many more knocks to your head and you'll drop dead!" Back in the barracks Tom washed his head carefully and Dick found a bandage in amongst his supply of stolen goods. "It's going to look bloody awful when it does heal, Tom." Sharpe scowled as he wound the bandage around Tom's head. "But it will make yer look a bit tougher, and the girls will like it." "Tougher?" Tom asked. He had never thought there was anything wrong with the way he looked. "Don't I look tough enough now?" "It's those bloody dimples of yours. They make you look too cute Tom." Sharpe answered with a smile. Bill Hanson had returned by the time morning parade had concluded. Tom met him in the mess hall kitchen where the two men were washing pots as part of their extra duties. Hanson blushed a little and smiled when he saw Tom. "She's a nice girl Tom. We're going to get on real well together," he said shyly. "I'm happy for you Bill." The two men looked out of the nearby window and across the parade ground to where Josh Smith was sitting with Rose as they watched Hanson's two small children play close by. "I heard about what happened last night in the mess hall." Hanson began. "It wasn't Josh's fault, Bill. Harry was saying some things and.." Tom said quickly, hoping that Hanson wouldn't get angry with Smith. "I know what was said Tom. Abraham told me because he was worried. He said Harry went too far and Josh got upset." Bill Hanson leaned against the big sink, his hands in the water. "I had a long talk with Rose last night. I wanted to get everything straightened out before we, er, well....before." Hanson bit his lip as he washed another pot. "I wanted her to know exactly what had happened between Josh and me, what I feel for him." Hanson looked up at Tom and smiled "She was all right about it, didn't seem surprised or shocked. She said that she knew Josh thought a lot of me because he was always talking about me when you all went on those picnics." Hanson shook his head a little. "I wouldn't have believed it, Tom, but Rose said she didn't mind what we did together. She said she was happy that I had given her a chance to have a real family and a life of her own. Poor girl." Outside Josh and Rose were still sitting together on the low stone wall that surrounded the parade ground. They were talking quietly until George ran up and climbed into Smith's lap wanting to play. Smith hoisted the child onto his back and galloped around while Rose sat laughing. Tom looked at Bill and saw the older man smiling at the scene outside the window. "So Rose doesn't mind about you and Josh and you and her still...?" Tom knew he was prying but his curiosity was aroused. Hanson smiled again watching his new wife outside. "Yes, we did. I told her that part could wait if she wanted but she said that she was my wife now and that's what wives were supposed to do. She was scared though, didn't know what to expect. But she was all right afterwards." Hanson suddenly dropped his eyes and swirled the water in the huge sink. "It wasn't like it was with Jean though," he said sadly, then lowered his voice. "Or like it was with Josh." Hanson raised his eyes to Tom "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, Tom and I've realised that I don't want to loose Josh. I won't give him up. Rose is all right about it, so he and I can still be mates." Tom nodded, wondering if this was Hanson's way of telling him to step back. Somehow what Hanson was proposing just didn't seem right, but Tom wasn't about to voice his reservations. What would Josh Smith have to say about Hanson's proposed arrangement? Tom wondered if now was the right time to tell Hanson about Smith's suicide attempt, but something held him back. Bill Hanson looked like a man who had made his mind up and nothing Tom told him would make any difference. "I've realised something else too," Hanson continued in a voice that held a touch of anguish. "Frank Hawkins was right when he said you'd never feel the same about women once you'd had a lad, wasn't he Tom." Hanson said sadly. "Yes, he was." Tom replied in a whisper. Dick Sharpe scratched his head and raised an eyebrow. "I can't understand it Tom! Bill was so against it when Jean was alive, why is it different now? I thought the bloody Parson said that marriage was sacred or something." The two men stood together just outside the mess hall. It was late, and Sharpe had waited for Tom to finish his extra duties so that they could talk. Tom looked at his friend, not sure of what to say. "Well it is, but perhaps because Bill told Rose about Josh right from the beginning and she doesn't mind, perhaps that what makes it different. If she had made a fuss then Bill would have to think twice about continuing on with Josh." Sharpe shook his head and frowned. "Well what does Josh think about all of this? It sounds to me like bloody Bill's getting the best part of the deal!" " he said harshly. Tom had to agree. "I suppose if they are all happy with the arrangement then it's none of our business." Tom could tell that Sharpe was thinking this over. "So do yer reckon it would be all right if I told Margaret about you and me beforehand? Do yer think she'd understand?" Sharpe asked, clearly confused by Hanson's change of heart. "Dick, I don't think Margaret's going to understand about you and me at all! And have you thought about what's going to happen when she finds out that you've lied to her about yer past? She might not marry you if she knows yer've lied to her, Dick." Tom was surprised when Sharpe smiled at him. "She won't know Tom. I'll marry her first and then tell her. I've got it all worked out. I'm seeing her next week and I'll bring her back here and ask Captain Hughes' permission. He'll say yes and get the Regimental Parson to do it. Once we are married it won't matter if she finds out I'm a bastard from a foundling home. She'll be my wife." Sharpe concluded as if it was all very straight forward. "Besides, she loves me Tom, so she won't mind. If you love someone then things like that don't matter, do they." "No, they shouldn't matter if someone really loves you Dick." Tom replied quietly, not wanting to suggest that perhaps Margaret's feelings were other than true love. He felt sorry for Sharpe, sorry for his naivety and his strange innocence. "But if you love her too, then you should be truthful with her. It works both ways you know." "Oh Tom, don't look so sad, if you marry Mary, we'll all be happy. Anyway, who knows what will happen when I talk to Margaret and explain about us? She might be all right with it." Sharpe stepped closer to Tom and rubbed his hands together to keep them warm, in the chill night air. "We still have a few days together before then anyhow." Sharpe's green eyes stared into Tom's. "How's yer head now Tom?" he asked with a sultry grin. "Not too bad," Tom began slowly. "Why?" In truth he was tired after working all day and his ribs and back ached miserably. "Well I found something that could be the answer to all our worries Tom," said Sharpe taking a hold of Tom's elbow and leading him towards the quartermaster's storerooms. "No chance of getting caught here." Sharpe slipped into the shadows and cautiously crept around the back of the stone building to a small door which he quickly opened with his picklock. Once inside he closed the door and lit a small lantern that hung beside the door. "Have a look at this Tom," Sharpe said quietly as he wound his way between the shelves and large piles of goods. "In here," Sharpe said and pointed to a small nook. Hidden behind the shelves was a makeshift bed of sacking and blankets, big enough for two. "Did you do this?" Tom asked. "No, I found it yesterday when I was working. Someone's been having a good time here, Tom!" Sharpe said grinning. "Thought we might as well use it too!" Sharpe began unbuttoning Tom's jacket. Tom sighed, he'd never refused Sharpe before and didn't want to now, but this was the last thing he felt like. "Get comfortable Tom," Sharpe said when they were finally undressed "We've even got plenty of musket oil. There's a whole barrel of the stuff around the corner." They rarely bothered with the oil any more, making do with spit most times. The quartermaster knew exactly how much oil was allocated to each man and docked their pay if they ran out and asked for more. Tom lay on first one side then the other trying to get comfortable, but his ribs and back protested. He saw Sharpe frown as he took in the mottled bruising still covering Tom's body. The beating had been less than a week ago. "Christ Tom, yer still black and blue in places. Are you sure yer up to this." Tom nodded "Yeah, it will be all right. I'm just having trouble laying down." Sharpe leaned in and kissed Tom gently. "If you were marrying Mary, would you give up doing this with me?" he asked softly. "Never!" Tom replied and pulled Sharpe down, oblivious to his aching ribs. Consequences Part 4 November 1795 "Now tell me again what you told Mary?" Tom asked as he sat on his bunk squinting into a small mirror at the wound to his head. It was healing, but the scar would be thick in parts where the stitches had not been replaced. "You may as well take the rest of them stitches out Tom. Can't make yer head look any worse." Sharpe peered at Tom's forehead and shook his head. "Do yer want me to get O'Neill to do it for you?" "No, I'll do it myself. Now what did you tell Mary." Tom demanded. Sharpe hesitated for a moment. "I said yer were hurt in an accident with the supply cart." "Yes?" Tom asked, knowing there was more to the story. "Well, I said the horses bolted and the you pushed Josh out of the way but got hit yerself!" Sharpe smiled innocently. "Why did you bring Joshy into it. Bad enough that you had to lie in the first place." Tom scowled as he pulled at one of the stitches. "Well what was I supposed to say about his bruised face? We turn up at the Chisolms, wanting to buy Rose for Bill, with a story about you being in the infirmary and Josh's face is all bruised." Sharpe scowled "Christ Tom, it looked odd enough! I thought if I tied it all together it would sound better." "I suppose you're right Dick. Shit!" Tom swore as another stitch came out. "There's just one other thing Tom? I'm worried about what to do if Margaret's uncle asks me to milk one of his cows tomorrow. She said he would show us around the milking shed after we've had tea, but what if he asks if I want a go? How do yer do it?" Sharpe sat patiently waiting for Tom's reply, a serious look on his face. "Well it's not hard Dick, I could show you I suppose." Tom said absently as he tugged at more thread. "Now! Could you show me now?" Sharpe sounded excited. Tom put the mirror down and looked at Sharpe who looked back eagerly. "Dick, we haven't got a cow! I can't show you without a cow!" Tom explained. Sharpe looked crestfallen. "Well can't you just sort of tell me how to do it? I've seen yer do it before." Tom put the mirror and his small knife away and swung his legs up onto their bunk. It was almost time for the lamps to be turned down. "I guess I could tell you," Tom said absently as he watched Sharpe slip out of his white trousers that seemed to get tighter each day. "You'll have to get a new issue of those soon." Tom said thoughtfully "They're getting too tight!" Sharpe gave him a cheeky look. "Yer would notice that wouldn't yer Tom," he said with a wink. "Now stop trying to change the subject. I don't want to make a mistake tomorrow, Tom. If it's all going well, I'm going to ask Margaret to marry me." Tom felt his heart sink, but then Sharpe slid into the bunk beside him and waited with expectant eyes. "Now show me this milking business?" Tom smiled. "It's quite easy Dick, you just sort of squeeze and pull, but you have to do it gently. Like this." Tom held up his hands and made the motions for Dick to see. "Aha, squeeze and pull. Like this?" Dick did a rough impersonation of what Tom had been showing him. "No! Too fast, and you have to do it gently but firmly." Tom could see Sharpe staring at the movement his hand was making, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "It looks like a bit like...er.." Sharpe said and grinned. "Yes, I guess it is." Tom replied, grinning back. "Lights out lads!" shouted Sergeant Morton and Dick grinned even more. "Just lie there Tom and tell me if this is right?" he said quickly as he slid his hands under the blankets and took hold of Tom's penis. "Oh yes, that's just about right, but you have to get a bit of a rhythm going. Oh!" Tom gasped. "Show me Tom?" Sharpe asked innocently and Tom obliged. "So is this what one of those...what do yer call them Tom?" began Sharpe. "Udders!" gasped Tom. "Udders feels like?" Sharpe asked. "Not quite as hard." Tom panted. "What? More gentle? Oh..." Sharpe was panting too now. "Shhh," Tom suddenly hissed as footsteps sounded beside their bunk. "But we haven't got to the milk bit yet Tom." Sharpe whispered into Garrard's ear. "Just me." Bill Hanson said quietly as he swung himself up to the top bunk. "Shit! He didn't waste any bloody time, did he!" Tom murmured. "It just doesn't seem fair somehow. Someone's going to get hurt." "You just stay out of it Tom." Sharpe said, his fingers and hand moving once again. "You know what Bill's like. If you interfere, the only person to get hurt will be you." >From the bunk above came muffled sounds of pleasure and Tom suddenly wondered what Hanson and Smith were doing. "Come on Tom" Sharpe purred in his ear distracting him. "But what if they get caught? Oh, ah, " Tom murmured as Sharpe's skilful caresses made him forget everything else. "No one's going to get caught Tom!" said Sharpe before leaning in to kiss Tom passionately. "Oh Christ!" Tom shouted as their blanket was pulled away and a lantern pushed towards them. Sharpe and Garrard blinked in the sudden bright light and hurriedly pulled their shirts down to cover themselves. "I might have known!" Harry Whyte said looking smug. "You just couldn't help yourself could you Tom." He held the lantern up to the top bunk then, where Bill Hanson's startled face looked back. "And you too! I'm bloody disgusted with you Bill Hanson! Getting up to this when you have a new young wife waiting for you not 100 feet away!" Whyte stepped back and looked at the four men. "Well this is the end of it. I'm assigning you all new bunk-mates. Just be grateful that I don't report you to the Captain. You get back to your own bed Bill. I'll send someone up here to sleep with that little minx." Hanson slid down and walked away. "You two come with me." Whyte said gesturing to Sharpe and Garrard. "This is for your own good Tom. You'll thank me one day!" Whyte proclaimed. They followed Whyte down the long row of bunks and it suddenly seemed as if every man in the barracks was awake and watching them. "You, O'Neill," Whyte spoke out when they were half way down the room. "Go down and bunk with Josh Smith! I know you'll be able to resist him!" "NO!" Tom said quickly "Joshy will be.." But it was O'Neill who interrupted, his quiet Irish lilt somehow gaining the Sergeant's attention. "Now then Sarge, don't yer think the young lad would be a wee bit afraid if he's got to sleep with me. I'm sure yer haven't forgotten what happened to him. If'n you don't mind me sayin' it, yer'd be better to send young Blakey down." He indicated the young man in the bunk beside him. "He wouldn't seem so threatenin' to be sure." "Bloody Josh Smith isn't half as innocent as he makes out! He's a bloody little whore like Sharpe!" But O'Neill stood his ground. "Whatever you say Sarge, but I wouldn't want him to be getting the wrong idea about me and saying I tried anything!" O'Neill kept his voice low, trying to reason with his Sergeant. Whyte stared at O'Neill for a moment and then nodded. "You might be right O'Neill. Go on then Blake and stay out of trouble." Tom looked at O'Neill in the lamplight and the Irishman winked at him. Tom nodded his thanks. It was obvious that Whyte's plans had been upset and the sergeant stood scratching his head for a moment before turning to Tom. "All right, you and O'Neill won't both fit in the same bed, so you can go bunk with Peters again, Tom, but I'm warning you, no nonsense! Tell Sam Rawlings to come bunk with O'Neill." Whyte finally turned to Sharpe who stared back, face neutral. "And you can go share with Willie Oldfield. He's probably the only lad here that you CAN'T corrupt any further!" Sharpe pulled a face and rolled his eyes upwards. "And who's going to protect me from him, Sarge?" he said with a smile and there was muffled laughter from those nearby. "So how did you sleep?" Sharpe asked Tom the next morning as they stood waiting for Major Shee's inspection. "Fine once I put an end to Percy's curiosity." Tom grinned at his friend. "He kept asking what we'd been doing so I eventually turned to him and asked if he'd like me to show him. He couldn't get far enough away after that." Josh Smith, standing beside them giggled. "Poor Watkin Blake must have been scared of me too, because he just lay on his back for an hour or more saying the Hail Mary. Don't know what he thought I was going to do to him." Smith said innocently. The three men laughed some more. "Well bloody Willie Oldfield asked me for a few tips on..well..some things. But you'd never believe what he told me Morris likes..." Sharpe began but before he could finish Major Shee arrived and the Sergeant's called the men to attention. "I have the pleasure of announcing that the 33rd regiment will be leaving for the West Indies on approximately the 15th November. It is a great honour for our Regiment to be chosen to sail with the force that is being assembled. Your Sergeants will keep you informed as more details come to hand." The parade ground was a cacophony of noise when the men were dismissed. Wives rushed forward wanting to know what it would all mean. Some men went quickly to see their Captains, seeking permission to marry, so that their girl friends could be included in the company ballots to select which of the wives would be allowed to accompany the Regiment. Others had letters they needed to send to their families and sought out those amongst them who could write. "I'll have to ask her today Tom!" Sharpe said desperately. "Do you think we will get some time alone?" Garrard looked at his friend, surprised to see how nervous Sharpe was. "I'm sure you will Dick. We have the whole day, so we can suggest a walk or something. Just tell Margaret that our orders have come through. She'll understand. Now lets get going!" Between Wars Consequences Part 5 "Oh Tom! Your poor head! It must have been a bad accident." Mary Chisolm's soft fingers stroked across the ridged scar that ran along Tom's eyebrow and down to the corner of his eye. "You must tell me all about it." Tom Garrard cast Dick Sharpe a withering look and smiled at the young woman. "I would Mary, but I don't really remember it all that well. I was knocked out, you see, and can't remember the accident." "Oh Tom," Mary sighed again and patted his arm. "You really need someone to look after you!" Tom caught Sharpe's smirk as they climbed into the cart and set off towards the farm. The day was cold and windy and Tom was glad they didn't have to walk. Margaret was waiting and ran to greet them when the cart pulled up. She and Sharpe kissed passionately before Bertha and Matthew Chisolm appeared and hurried them inside. The farmhouse was nothing like Tom had imagined. Compared to his own family's humble cottage, the Chisolm's lived in luxury. But there was a warmth about their home that was welcoming and immediately set both Tom and Dick at ease. Bertha Chisolm was nothing like her sister, Mrs Dowling. She welcomed both young men with open arms and served them tea and cakes which she had baked herself. Matthew Chisolm chattered on happily to Tom about the farm, while Dick regaled the ladies with tales about their seven day march. There was not a shred of truth in any of the stories, but they were amusing, Tom decided. Finally the talk turned to their departure for the West Indies. "So you'll both be leaving in the next few weeks?" Matthew Chisolm said, as Mary and Margaret both sat silent, too stunned to speak. "Yes," Tom replied quietly and an uneasy silence descended until Chisolm suggested they all go and look at the milking sheds. The sheds were bigger than any Tom Garrard had ever seen, far more than one man could handle on his own and it soon became apparent that Matthew Chisolm employed several young men to help him on the farm. He has no children, no sons to hand this all down to, Tom thought as he listened carefully to Chisolm telling of his plans for expansion. Tom looked back at Mary and smiled as he thought about what it would be like to have a place like this. Dick breathed a sigh of relief when they left the sheds and stood once more in the cold sunlight and Tom couldn't resist grinning at him. A farm like this would be big enough for two families and Tom began once more to dream of himself and Dick Sharpe running a farm together. Mary and Margaret had been trailing behind during the tour but now came forward with a new suggestion. "Why don't we all take a drive down to the cove again, Tom," began Mary giving Tom her sweetest smile. "We have plenty of time and we could pack some lunch to take with us?" Margaret's eyes were on Dick and she was holding tight to his arm. Tom wondered what plans the two young women had been hatching. "Sounds like a good idea, eh Tom! Let's go." The girls disappeared into the house to pack a basket and Dick spoke quietly to Tom as they waited. "Don't worry Tom. We'll have plenty of time to get back. Besides, this is the chance I've been waiting for. I've worked out exactly what I'll say. If she says yes I can take Margaret back with me this afternoon and be married by tonight! You should ask Mary too." "Perhaps that's not such a bad idea Dick." Tom began, suddenly warming to the idea. "We could run this farm together, you and I. I could show you how to do the milking." Sharpe's eyes sparkled at his friend. "Yeah and we'd have to spend hours in that barn together too, wouldn't we Tom!" The girls appeared with a well laden basket and goodbyes were said with a promise that Tom and Dick would return for a visit before they sailed. As they turned off the Eastleigh road and headed for the coast, Tom saw the first hint of dark clouds appearing in the West. There would be rain by tonight. "Don't worry Tom, I know this road well. It doesn't take long to get back to town in the cart. I'll know when to leave if it looks like rain, I've lived here all my life." Mary said calmly as she slipped her arm around Tom's waist. "We'll have to make the most of our time together now before you go." She added with a smile that promised much. They were all cold by the time they reached the cove and Tom had begun to wish he'd worn his great coat. Sharpe and Margaret were huddled together under a blanket in the back and Mary had another across her lap. "Yer like an old man sometimes Tom!" Sharpe teased "Can't yer think of better ways to warm up?" Tom glared at Sharpe who smirked back at him. Margaret blushed and giggled and Tom suddenly began to worry. What was going on here? "Come on Tom help me with this basket," said Mary smiling again as she picked up the rug from the back of the cart. They found a sheltered spot on the beach and ate their lunch never mentioning the forthcoming departure. Margaret spoke of a ball she had attended whilst she was at home and how she'd had more offers to dance than she could accept. Finally the food was all finished and Dick Sharpe stood up. "Want to go for a walk Margaret?" he asked before glancing at Tom and winking. Tom began to stand also but Mary held his arm. "Let's stay here Tom," she said softly "I want to talk to you." Tom wanted to say no, he wanted to warn Sharpe to be careful but he remained silent as he watched his friend walk away amongst the boulders that were scattered along the beach. "I'm going to miss you when you're gone Tom," Mary began as she sidled closer. "Will you think of me while you're away?" Tom swallowed, suddenly at a loss for words. "Of course I will Mary." He whispered at the same time wondering what Sharpe was doing. That was it, Tom suddenly realised, anything that he did depended solely on what Sharpe did. If Dick Sharpe married Margaret then Tom knew that he would marry Mary. Tom turned to Mary and looked into her eyes. "Mary, I've been thinking and I wondered if perhaps you'd..." Tom stopped, the words drying up in his throat. He liked Mary, liked her a lot, but was that grounds enough to marry her just so that he and Sharpe might have a chance to be together? Mary leaned in and kissed Tom gently, sliding her arms around him and leaning towards him so that Tom had no other option than to lay back on the blanket. "Oh Tom, of course I will." Mary answered without waiting for the question. She ran her hand over Tom's chest, stoking the buttons on his jacket. "I know you are shy Tom and I think that is one of the reasons I love you so much. You're a Gentleman and you've never tried to take advantage of me. But we don't have much time left Tom." Mary leaned up and gazed down into Tom's puzzled eyes. "Now I know my father would agree to our marriage so that isn't a problem. We need only tell him when we go back and the arrangements can be made. If I can come with you to the West Indies well that would be wonderful. But if not, then at least we will have two weeks together as man and wife and I can wait here with my family until you return." Tom blinked, suddenly aware that Mary and Margaret had also been making plans of their own, and began to feel like a trapped rabbit. "Perhaps we should wait until I come back, Mary. We don't really have much time before we leave." Tom said slowly, surprised by the look in Mary's eyes, a look he'd never seen before. He propped himself up on one elbow, trying to maintain a little space between them. Mary smiled and kissed him again but this time slowly and passionately. "I don't want to wait until you come back Tom. I want to be your wife Tom, now before you go away." She kissed him again and Tom suddenly understood what she was hinting at. He pulled away. "But Mary.." he began. "It won't matter what we do now Tom, because we will be married in a few days." Mary whispered as she let her hand slowly travel to Tom's thigh. "But what about Dick and Margaret," Tom gasped out, worried the other couple would return. "Yes, that's the problem Tom," Mary began, taking Tom's words a different way. "It's Margaret's mother! She would never allow her to marry Dick. She has plans for Margaret that don't include her marrying an Infantryman. So Margaret and I have come up with our own little plan." Mary smiled shyly and blushed a little before dropping her eyes. "Margaret will compromise her virtue with Dick so that her Mother will HAVE to let them marry." So that was what the girls had been whispering about, Tom thought, wondering if it was too late to stop the inevitable. Dick Sharpe was hardly going to say no to an offer like that. Tom looked at Mary waiting expectantly and whispered "I'm not sure that all this is a good idea Mary." "Shh Tom," Mary replied as she moved closer. It was quite some time later that Margaret's screams intruded enough to bring Tom back to his sense. "Oh shit." He muttered as he and Mary jumped up and hurriedly adjusted their clothes. "He lied to me! He lied!" Margaret screamed as she stormed up the beach. Her face was red with anger, her fists clenched. "His mother wasn't a seamstress! He's, he's ...illegitimate!" Behind Margaret, Dick Sharpe tagged along white faced and sombre. He looked at Tom with eyes that seemed hollow before looking away. Mary turned to Tom, outraged. "Did you know about this or did he lie to you too?" Tom felt his heart sink, knowing there was no way out of the situation now. "I knew about it," he answered quietly and walked over to stand beside his friend. "But that's not all!" Margaret continued, "He was raised in a foundling home and his mother...his mother was ..a prostitute!" Mary wrapped her arms around Margaret, comforting her cousin. She turned her eyes towards Tom. Eyes full of anger and hurt. "Why Tom? Why did you lie to us? Why did you lie to ME?" Mary implored. She looked briefly at Sharpe, a look full of contempt "Why did you lie for HIM!" Tom stared back, suddenly angry. "Because he's my mate, because he saved my life in Flanders and because all those things from his past don't really change the person he is now! But maybe you just can't see that." Mary flashed a look so full of hurt and anguish that it made Tom wince and look away. "And I thought you loved me!" she accused "I thought...Come on Margaret, we're going home!" Mary turned away and led the younger girl back to the cart. "Oh and to think that I was going to, going to, going to let him...Ughhh!" Margaret said dramatically as she gave one final glance over her shoulder. Tom watched the cart drive away before turning to Sharpe who still stood silently beside him. His mind was numb from what had just happened. There were so many questions he wanted to ask his friend but Tom could tell by Sharpe's whole demeanour that now was not the time for curiosity. Instead he wrapped his arm around Sharpe's shoulders and gave him a gentle nudge. "Come on, it's a long way back to town. We might as well start walking." Sharpe shrugged off the embrace saying nothing and the two men started back up the track that led away from the cove. Consequences Part 6 They walked for some time in the biting wind before Sharpe spoke. "She didn't really love me, did she Tom?" he said absently, leaving Tom feeling guilty and wondering if Mary was thinking the same thing about him. "Well, perhaps she did. Maybe it's just the shock of finding out, Dick. What happened?" Sharpe looked up and stared into the sky, "We found a quiet spot and I asked her to marry me. She was so happy, at first, but then she said her mother would never allow it. I knew that would be a problem so I told her how we could go back to the barracks and get the Parson to do it today," Sharpe laughed a little. "She said she had a better idea and one that her mother would have to say yes to." Sharpe looked down and kicked at a stone in the road. "She wanted me to fuck her Tom, only she didn't say it like that but I knew what she meant. Christ I should have just done it, but I thought about what you had said about being honest with each other and I wanted things to be like that from the start. So I told her! Hell I didn't even get up to the part where I ran away and became a bloody whore!" Sharpe laughed again but this time it was bitter and full of anger. "What would she have thought of that! I'd like to tell her THAT just to see her bloody face!" Sharpe kicked another stone again, his despair being replaced by anger. "Bloody Hell, the one thing I had no say in, the circumstances of my bloody birth, and she treats me like I'm some sort of leper! I should have just fucked the stupid bitch and be done with it." Tom walked along, head down, wondering how much of this whole sorry situation was his fault. His own guilt at his treatment of Mary weighed heavy on his shoulders. "I'm sorry Dick," he said lamely, not really knowing what else to do. Sharpe bent to pick up a large rock and hurled it away. "It's not your bloody fault Tom! You couldn't see straight either for all their bleeding innocence and soft words." Sharpe savagely kicked at the road again. "I'm sorry she said those things Dick. It must have hurt." Tom replied, wanting to hold Sharpe and comfort him. He wished he could do the same for Mary too, but he doubted he would ever get the chance. "She didn't hurt me, Tom. I wouldn't let a stupid woman hurt me!" Sharpe said but Tom could see now that Sharpe's anger was just a cover for his devastation. "Never trust a bloody woman! That's what Jack told me. I should have remembered those words." Sharpe strode ahead and Tom let him, content to lag behind for a while and deal with his own hurt. He felt ashamed of what he had done, of how he had deceived Mary. He had never meant to hurt her, but both he and Sharpe had woven so many lies, that there was no way they could have ever untangled them. Tom thought about the farm and what he might have had there, then pushed the thoughts away. The farm didn't really matter, but Mary's feelings did. Tom made up his mind to write her a letter of apology telling as best he could the reasons for their deception and asking for her forgiveness. Sharpe looked back over his shoulder at Tom, his anger having settled a little. "Come on Tom, stop dawdling! We've a long way to go yet and there's rain coming." The rain did come, heavy and hard, blown by the wind that lashed at the two infantry men and soaked through their red woollen jackets to their coarse cotton shirts. Tom wiped at the sticky goo that ran down his face as the rain washed the flour from his hair. "Yer hair's quite dark really isn't it Tom." Sharpe muttered and attempted a smile. "Only when it's wet, Dick. It's just brown." The heavy rain clouds obscured the sun as it began setting, shrouding the landscape in an early twilight. "We're not going to make it back to the barracks in time, are we Tom." Dick said solemnly, voicing the concern that had been plaguing Tom for some time. "Let's pick up the pace a little. It will help to keep us warm." They alternated between jogging and running for the remainder of their journey, but even so the gates were closed when they finally arrived at the barracks. "Shit, we're in trouble now!" Tom whispered as they crouched in the shadows and watched the two sentries pacing beside the gates. "Not yet, we won't have been missed yet. If we can sneak in we'll be fine. Come on." Sharpe led Garrard around the high stone wall until they came to a place where a tree grew up along side. "Now just watch me Tom. I'll climb to the top and then jump onto the wall. Then I'll crawl along until I come to the washroom roof." Sharpe pointed "It'll be down that way. Just stay low so that you're not seen." Easy for Dick to say, thought Tom. The tree would be no problem, but Tom had never jumped from walls to rooves, something Sharpe apparently had practiced before. As they couched in the shadows another two sentries walked past, patrolling the outer wall. "Bloody Hell, they've got sentries everywhere," Sharpe muttered. "To stop deserters now that the orders have come through. This won't be good if we get caught Dick." Desertion was a Capital offence and in their present circumstances Sharpe and Garrard fitted the description. When the sentries were out of sight, Tom watched as Sharpe slid quietly up the tree and then leapt onto the wall with all the agility and silence of a cat. He motioned for Tom to follow before slinking away into the shadows. At the top of the tree Tom hesitated. He wasn't afraid of heights, but the jump to the wall was no small feat. He took a deep breath, licked his lips and sprang. "Oh," he gasped as he hit the wall a little too hard, the impact sending a lance of pain along his still tender ribs. Fingers grabbed for a hand-hold and palms skinned down the slippery wet stone before he gained purchase and clung there panting, aware that he had made too much noise, waiting with a sinking dread as he heard the approaching steps of the sentries. "Well what have we here? Don't move lad. Me muskets loaded and we've been told to shoot deserters if we have to. Now what's your name and company." Sentries from inside the barracks were alerted and Tom was watched closely from both sides of the wall as a ladder was brought and he climbed down. He looked around the quiet parade ground then turned his attention to the roof tops of the various buildings but there was no sign of Dick Sharpe. "Lock him up and we'll get his Captain." Said the Officer on duty, a young Ensign from the third company, named Riley. "Here wait up, I'm with him! We were just trying to get back in!" Tom turned in surprise to see Dick Sharpe walking towards them, looking just as wet and bedraggled, his white trousers stained on the knees, his hair coming loose. "What do you mean, you're with him. He was caught on the wall outside the barracks and you're in here!" Ensign Riley asked. "Yeah, because I got in first, yer see. We was trying to get back IN!" Sharpe insisted. The Ensign frowned and shrugged his shoulders. "If you want to join him and share his punishment, then that's fine with me. Lock them both up, separately. Their captain can sort it all out." By the time they were locked in the guard-house Tom was shaking from the cold. Cold or fear, perhaps, he decided, not looking forward to facing Captain Hughes again and the possibility of punishment. "You should have stayed out of it Dick. I could have explained to Hughes. You were inside safe and sound. No point you getting into trouble too." Tom looked at the blank stone wall, knowing Sharpe was on the other side. Secretly he was grateful Sharpe had come back. The thought of being lock in the cells alone was none too comforting. "It'll be all right Tom. This is my fault, so I'll get you out of it. I'll tell Captain Hughes what happened. He'll understand." Sharpe said quietly. Hughes arrived a short time later and sent the sentries outside. He looked at the two men sitting in the adjoining cells, his gaze far from pleasant. "What happened Tom? I want the full story, no lies. The charges are serious this time. Desertion! If I'm going to help you at all then I need to know exactly what happened!" "We got back late, that's all," Sharpe began. "Shut up Dick!" Hughes shouted. "Tom's the one in trouble here. He's the one they caught in the act. He's the one who's been on report for fighting. He's the one they will line up in the morning and shoot!" Hughes walked to the bars of Tom's cell. "Tell me what happened Tom." Garrard looked at his Captain and saw compassion in his faded blue eyes. "Well, we went out to see our girls, Sir." Tom began "Do you mean whores Tom?" Hughes asked. "Oh no, they're nice girls, from Southampton Sir. My girl Mary and Dick's girl Margaret, the one he was going to bring back here to marry." "What!" Hughes said, startled and Tom suddenly realised that Dick hadn't mentioned any on these plans to their Captain, that he had just taken for granted that Hughes would give his permission. "Go on Tom." Hughes said, but Tom could see confusion in the blues eyes now, confusion and sadness. "We went driving to a little cove along the coast a ways out of town. But," Tom hesitated not really sure of what to say. Sharpe took up the story. "But when I told her my mother was a whore and I was a bastard, raised in a foundling home she couldn't get away fast enough. They left us there stranded and we had to walk back! And that's the truth, SIR!" Sharpe said, his voice angry and hurt again. Hughes moved away from Tom's cell to Sharpe's. "So you've been courting this girl for a while now if it has progressed to the question of marriage." Hughes voice was clipped and cold. "Yes Sir, since about August." Sharpe said quietly "And you were going to bring her back here and ask for my permission so you could marry her tonight?" Hughes asked again. "Yes, Sir, that's about it." Sharpe said flatly. Hughes shook his head and looked up again at Sharpe, his face full of anguish. Tom looked away, he shouldn't be seeing this, hearing this, but there was no where else to go. "Christ Dick, didn't you think for one moment that you owed me some sort of warning. Did you even think about how I would feel when I found out?" Hughes said desperately. He ran his slender hand across his mouth and looked away for a moment. Tom wished he could see what Sharpe was doing in the next cell, but he couldn't and it was Sharpe's voice that gave the only clues to his friends countenance. "I didn't think you'd mind." Sharpe replied, his voice still subdued and Tom wondered if Sharpe suddenly realised he had miscalculated. Hughes glanced at Tom then looked back to Sharpe. "Didn't you think for one moment that this would change things between us Dick?" Hughes asked. "Surely you realised it would change things between you and Tom?" "Yes, Tom and I'd talked about that..." Sharpe began quietly. "But you didn't think you owed me the same courtesy? You didn't think that I'd have something to say about the matter?" Hughes kept his voice low and quiet, as he spoke to Sharpe through the bars. "Haven't I treated you well Dick? Haven't you enjoyed what we've shared together?" Hughes asked his voice almost pleading, his small figure leaning towards the cell in expectation. "Aye, I always enjoy it with you, yer know that! Yer good at it!" Sharpe said and Tom winced his friend's clumsiness. "That's all it bloody well is too you isn't it Dick? You expect me to keep sticking my neck out for you each time you get into trouble, in return for..." Hughes broke off his words angrily and gripped the cell bar with one hand and ran the other through his short black hair. "I have tried to tell you how I felt. I tried to tell you about Davey and explain to you why... I had hoped that you understood although I know I made a bloody mess of it all." Hughes stared at Sharpe long and hard before shaking his head. "Christ, I don't know why I have bothered with you for this long!" "No, yer wrong.." Sharpe began but Hughes cut him off. "I should just leave you on your own this time, let you take your punishment. But they shoot men for desertion not stupidity. Tom's the one who'll face a court martial tomorrow, not you! They'll just give you extra duties and confine you to the barracks." Hughes was really angry now and Tom held his breath wondering what would happen. "But I was with him!" Sharpe protested again. Hughes just laughed and shook his head. "It was Tom they caught on the wall, not you. You were inside and walked up later offering an excuse. They'll say you were trying to get your friend off a desertion charge! Bloody Hell, Dick, wake up!" Hughes rubbed his eyes and looked at Tom again. "What is the name of the young woman you've been seeing Tom and do you think she would confirm your story," Tom swallowed, the severity of the situation suddenly hitting him. His knees felt weak and he wanted to sit down. Instead he leaned against the wall, trying to draw strength from the cold stone behind him. "Mary Chisolm Sir, and her father owns the bakers in Market Street. She was pretty angry though Sir, I don't know what she'll say." "Well you had better pray that she's not angry enough to want to see you shot and that she will confirm your story Tom, because there is nothing else I can think of that will help you. You will both have to spend the night here. But I'll see what I can do by tomorrow." Hughes turned back to Sharpe. "Give me your picklock Dick!" he demanded holding out his hand. "I don't have it." Sharpe answered simply. "Give me the bloody picklock now or I will have the sentries come in here and search you," he hesitated to lend emphasis to his next words. "Very thoroughly!" Tom heard the rustling of cloth and a muttered curse. "Bloody jacket's so wet, the bloody seam's swollen." Finally the picklock was placed in Hughes' hand. "At least put us in together so we can keep warm Sir?" Sharpe asked plaintively. But Hughes walked to Tom's cell again and looked in "I'm sorry Tom, I think I may have given you some bad advice in Flanders." Tom stared back and shook his head mutely. Hughes smiled. "Well no one can say you didn't try Tom, but I think with the events of the last few weeks you would have to agree that Dick has just dragged you down into the mire with him." "No!" Tom protested desperately. "This wasn't Dicks fault. He really loved Margaret. He wanted to make something of his life with her. He really thought that she loved him too." Tom could see the anger and hurt run through Hughes eyes again. "Well I'm glad he confided in YOU Tom." Hughes said as he turned and left the guard-house. Tom slid down the wall to sit on the cold stone floor. "Shit" Sharpe muttered and Tom echoed the sentiment. They sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts. "She didn't really love me did she, Tom" Sharpe's voice was all but a whisper in the gloom. "I don't know Dick, who can say. Margaret was only young. She came from another sort of life. Hell even Mary came from a better life than I ever hoped to have." Tom wrapped his arms around himself to try and keep warm. "I'm sorry Tom. It's my fault that you've lost Mary and the farm. It's all my fault." Sharpe sounded so dejected and Tom suddenly remembered Josh Smith's desperation as he sat alone in a prison cell. "Listen Dick, it's as much my fault as yours. I made up the stories too. I should have said something to you a long time ago. I could tell, by the way Margaret treated Rose, that she would never accept your background. I should have said something to you before you got your hopes up, but I didn't want to disappoint you. I'm sorry." Tom waited for Sharpe's answer, trying to picture his friend in the next cell. "I understand Tom, I should have realised. But I loved her. I thought that would make a difference." Sharpe's voice dropped lower. "I wish I was in there with you Tom." "Yeah, me too. Just try and stay warm. My mother always said if you got cold and wet then you'd catch a chill." Tom shivered as he remembered his mother's words and how she would hurry them in front of the fire and out of their wet clothes. "They never gave us any dinner either!" he added indignantly. Dick Sharpe's weary voice drifted through the stone wall. "Yer mother was wrong Tom. I've been wet and cold and hungry lots of times and I've never got sick from it. Go to sleep now. Nothing else we can do tonight. Captain Hughes will look after you Tom. He's just angry with me, but he's a good bloke. I'll fix it with him some how. But he won't let yer down Tom." For Tom the night seemed never ending. It was hard enough to fall asleep on the cold stone floor in his wet clothes, but Tom was woken sometime later by a whimpering coming from Sharpe's cell. Nightmares, Tom thought as he listened to Sharpe's small sobs and rapid breathing. "Don't leave me here.." Sharpe called out plaintively. "Dick, wake up." Tom said softly, not wanting to alert the sentries if he could help it. "Jack?" Sharpe sobbed out "Where are you?" Bloody Jack O'Malley! Tom cursed silently. "No, no please," Sharpe murmured restlessly. "Don't leave me here," Sharpe hadn't had nightmares since that last time in Flanders and Tom had begun to think it was because Sharpe slept secure each night wrapped in Tom's arms, protected from the demons buried deep in his past. "DICK!" Tom hissed "Wake up! It's all right." "Tom?" Sharpe said "Tom are you awake?" and Tom could tell Sharpe was awake now from the sound of his voice. "Yes, Dick, I'm here. It's all right." Tom crouched close to the stone wall that divided him from his friend. "I'm right on the other side of the wall from you. Right next to you. You'll be all right now." "Yes Tom, I know," was Sharpe's sad reply. Between wars Consequences Part 7 "What is the meaning of bringing men dressed like this into my Office Captain Hughes. They are a disgrace, a disgrace I say!" Major Shee stood behind his desk, his fat face red with anger. "Sir, if you'll permit me this small indulgence, the state of the men's dress is crucial to their innocence or guilt." Hughes began carefully, such a small figure as he stood beside Garrard and Sharpe the following morning. Ensign Riley stood stiffly to attention on their other side, clearly uncomfortable in the opulent room. Tom Garrard glanced at his dishevelled state. His hair was unpowdered and straying from his queue. The red jacket he wore was still damp and the dye had run, staining his white breeches, the legs of which were also dirtied from climbing the tree and wall. Sharpe looked much the same. "Well what have you to say Captain. I understood one of these men was a deserter?" Shee said crossly. "It would appear so at first sir but Private Garrard has said he was merely late getting back to barracks and was trying to get IN rather than OUT. The evidence would tend to support his statement Sir." Hughes handed a sheet of paper to Shee who glanced at it. "Go on Captain, I haven't got all day." "You will see clearly from Ensign Riley's report that Private Garrard was found at 6.45pm. His state of dress was as you see now, except his uniform was drenched through. Hardly what a man would wear if he was deserting. The last fall of rain had been almost two hours earlier and yet Garrard was still wearing a wet uniform when he had another in the barracks. Private Sharpe, was also in the same condition, but he had already climbed back inside." Hughes took a small breath and paused waiting for the Major's reaction. "Do you agree with this?" Shee asked the Ensign, who paled "ER, yes Sir?" Riley said, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. Hughes hid a small smile. "If you still have any doubt, Sir I do have a signed statement from a young lady who says she and her cousin left Private Sharpe and Private Garrard at Hooper's Cove about fifteen miles away after...an incident." Shee's grey eyebrows crawled towards his hair and his eyes opened wider. "An incident? What sort of incident?" Hughes coughed and lowered his voice. "It would seem that Private Sharpe made unwelcome advances towards one of the young ladies Sir. They are both from good families, well thought of in Southampton, I have no reason to doubt the authenticity of what they say." The major scowled at both Sharpe and Garrard who stood to attention not daring to even blink. "Well I suppose we should be grateful the young ladies aren't pressing charges of their own! But this is what we have to expect from men like these. They're the scum of the earth Captain Hughes. Hardly more civilised than the beasts in the fields. Rutting here and there as the mood takes them! Decent women aren't safe around them!" Ensign Riley opened his eyes wide and stared at the two men beside him, wondering if what the Major said was true. "I can see there is a question of doubt concerning the desertion charge and Lord knows the Regiment is short men. Can't see the sense in shooting one when we won't have time to replace him before we sail. Can't have the 33rd put on a poor show with too few men, now can we Captain Hughes. It's all a question of numbers really." Shee sat back in his large leather chair and steepled his fingers together giving the appearance of a man deep in thought. "But the fact remains that these two men," Shee sat up and poked his puggy finger in their direction "were out after curfew and must be punished. They're confined to the barracks for the rest of our stay here and shall be put on double duty." Tom released his breath and listened to his pounding heart slowing. But Shee hadn't finished. "Garrard, Garrard, " he murmured thoughtfully as if trying to remember where he had heard the name before. "What happened to your head Garrard?" Tom swallowed and felt the blood drain from his face. "Fighting Sir," he replied. "Aha, just as I thought! The man's a trouble maker. Twenty lashes as well! Dismissed." Tom's mouth dropped open and he cast a hurried glance at Sharpe who's face also held a stricken look. Once more it was John Hughes who came to their rescue. "Major, I agree wholeheartedly with the twenty lashes. He probably deserves forty! But if I may be so bold, I doubt the surgeon will pass Garrard fit for punishment. He took a bad beating in the fight; concussion, cracked ribs, bruising to his kidneys. We'd probably still find bruises on his body if we cared to look. It would be at least another week before Mr Micklewhite would be able to sanction the flogging. His back wouldn't be healed by the time we are due to sail and the Colonel has decreed that only men who are completely fit may board the transports. It really does come down to a question of numbers, doesn't it Sir." >From the corner of his eye, Tom could see Hughes standing calm and confident and wondered if their Captain felt the same on the inside. Shee regarded the two Infantrymen again before letting out a large sigh "I dare say you are right Captain Hughes, although it truly pains me to think that it is men like this who make up your Light Company. I'll let you set a further punishment for both of them. It might deter others if we make an example of these two." Hughes smiled. "Yes, Sir. I have already something in mind for them. They can help me pack, for the West Indies! In fact I think Lieutenant Morris and Ensign Hicks would appreciate some help too." Tom almost choked. Nothing more was said until Tom and Dick stood outside in the pale sunlight. "Thankyou Sir, for saving me from a flogging. Thankyou." Tom said humbly, feeling too ashamed to meet his Captain's eye. "Just stay out of trouble Tom. You're confined to the barracks. Don't try sneaking out to see Miss Chisolm, although I will tell you that she was terribly upset when she realised the trouble you were in. You might like to write her a note of thanks. Can you write Tom?" Tom nodded "Yes, Sir, I'll do that Sir." Hughes turned to Dick Sharpe who was standing sullenly, looking at his feet, shoulders hunched. "Well Dick, do you have anything to say?" Hughes asked, his voice hard. Sharpe looked up, his green eyes wide and almost childlike. "I'm sorry, Sir. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't think about it, that's all." Sharpe's voice was almost innocent as he breathed the next words "Will you give me another chance?" He gave Hughes a brief smile and very slowly reached his hand out to touch Hughes fingers. Tom was amazed as he watched Hughes fingers snake about Sharpe's, before the Captain nodded and stepped away, whispering "Well see." "Right then, I will have Sergeant Whyte draw up an extra duty roster. In the meantime, both of you can get cleaned up, have something to eat and then report to my rooms. There is packing to be done." "Christ who'd have guessed he'd have so much bloody stuff!" Tom sighed in exasperation as he sat back on his heels taking a well-earned rest. They had spent the morning in Hughes' Office, wrapping and packing things into a huge chest and there was still more to do. "It's all these bloody books he has." Said Sharpe as he stood and walked to the sideboard. "Bloody waste of time if you ask me. Why would he want to take the things all the way to the West Indies? Christ can't he get some more there?" Sharpe pulled the stopper from a decanter and sniffed the contents before pouring himself a glass. "Want one Tom? It's brandy?" Tom Garrard jumped up and took the crystal glass from Sharpe's hand before pouring the contents back where it belonged. "Bloody Hell Dick! You'll get us into more strife! Leave things alone." Tom ran his hand along the scar on his brow and wondered how long luncheon lasted in the Officers mess. Since Hughes had left fifteen minutes ago Sharpe had been into everything, opening drawers, peering into cupboards, and even asking Tom what was written on the few papers that were scattered on Hughes desk. "Just hand me those books off the shelf and keep working." Tom muttered, but Sharpe grabbed his arm and pulled him across the room. "No I've got a better idea Tom, have a look in here." They stopped in front of a closed door and Tom suddenly hoped that it was locked, but Sharpe turned the handle and the door opened silently to reveal a bedroom. Tom looked at Sharpe in amazement, but the younger man casually stepped through the doorway before turning to Tom and frowning. "Well come on, don't look so surprised. I been in here lots of times. Didn't yer know his bedroom was next to his office?" Sharpe grinned, "Christ Tom, he even brought me into his office one night and we did it on the desk!" "Bloody Hell Dick!" Tom said trying hard to sound disgusted but his curiosity had been aroused. He walked slowly into the room and looked around. Sombre was the word that came to Tom's mind. Neat, not cluttered, a few personal items neatly arranged on the dresser, but there was none of the busy confusion that characterised their Captain's office. "Come over here," Sharpe said quietly from where he was standing by the large bed. "Feel the bed. I bet you've never felt a bed this soft. And there's real sheets on it too, clean sheets! Come on have a look." Tom hesitated, his curiosity waring with his caution. So this was where Sharpe had spent his nights with Hughes, this was where they had lain together and made love. "Come on Tom" Sharpe whispered as he sat down and patted the bed beside him. "Just come and sit here, there's no harm in that. Real soft it is and bouncy, look!" and with that, Sharpe proceeded to bounce himself up and down, laughing like a child. "Christ Dick, be quiet," Tom said and hurried to the bed. He grabbed Sharpe's hand to pull him up but the younger man leaned all his weight backwards and pulled Tom down on top of himself. The bed was indeed soft, Tom quickly found out as Sharpe rolled him over and pressed him into the mattress. "Let me up Dick," Tom said struggling slightly but trying not to mess up the bed. "Did you say 'Get me up'?" Sharpe asked with a grin before swooping in for a kiss. Tom gathered all his strength and pushed Sharpe away. "No. Now straighten the bed up before we get caught," he said standing up. "Yer no fun Tom," Sharpe said sullenly as he sat on the bed while Tom tugged at the covers "I thought yer might cheer me up a little after all that's happened. Thought yer might want to help me forget about Margaret." Tom looked at Sharpe and his heart went out. "Oh Dick, you know I would but not here. Besides there's more ways to cheer you up than this." He touched Sharpe's shoulder gently causing Sharpe to look up at him with eyes full of want. "What would Hughes do if he found us. He'd never forgive you then would he. You do want him to forgive you don't you?" Tom suddenly asked. Perhaps it would be better if the events of last night signalled the end of the relationship between Sharpe and Hughes, Tom thought. Sharpe didn't need Hughes patronage any more. Hell, it was more of a liability now anyway. There were many among the infantrymen who would never accept Sharpe as long as he was seen to be Hughes favourite. Sharpe shrugged and Tom wondered if Sharpe was thinking the same thing. "I don't think he will forgive me this time." Sharpe said quietly and lay down on the bed again. "I should have said something to him, I know that, but I didn't have a chance, did I. Hell, we've hardly spent more than a few minutes together since I met Margaret except for while we were on the exercise and then he was acting so strange and all. Then you got hurt and..I don't know, I never have any time alone with him any more so it probably doesn't really matter, does it." Sharpe rolled over onto his side and let his fingers caress the velvet quilt on the bed. "Trouble is, I'll sort of miss him, Tom. I can't explain it, but I like being with him, listening to him." A faint smile touched Sharpe's lips "He tells the best stories, Tom, of things so much finer than I have ever known." He looked up at Garrard who stood silently waiting. "He says I can do better for myself Tom, get ahead in the army if I try hard. He believs in me Tom." Sharpe lowered his eyes. "I don't want it to end." "I don't want it to end either, Dick." Both men looked towards the doorway to see the small figure of John Hughes standing there. Their Captain stepped quietly into the room. "Will you excuse us please Tom? Dick and I have some things we need to discuss. There is a plate of food on my desk. Help yourself." "Yes Sir," Tom replied and with one last glance at Sharpe's pale face, he walked into the Office and closed the door. Part 8 There was a strange sort of pain in Tom's heart when he thought about what Sharpe had just told him and yet he was also pleased with the revelation. It meant that the time Dick Sharpe had shared with Hughes had not been a purely meaningless act of physical pleasure, but a time of growing. A time when Sharpe had been learning, albeit unknowingly, about compassion and caring and what having a relationship with someone really meant. Perhaps it was only right that Hughes had heard the words too, words that Tom was sure his friend would never say to the Captain directly. An ironic smile touched Tom's lips as he crossed the floor to the desk. Why was it so much easier for Sharpe to talk to Tom about his feelings for Hughes than to discuss them with Hughes himself? He briefly wondered if Sharpe spoke to Hughes about him, then quickly dismissed that thought. No, Sharpe had tried several times now to talk about his feeling, but Tom hadn't really wanted to believe what he was saying. Well maybe it would all change again now that Dick no longer held hopes of marrying Margaret. They were sailing for the West Indies and perhaps things could go back to normal when they reached that foreign shore. Perhaps he and Dick could be bunk-mates again and no-one would care what two lads did at night under their blanket. The quiet voices of Sharpe and Hughes drifted to Tom through the closed door. Voices speaking in turn, saying God knew what, but saying it tenderly, thoughtfully, that much was unmistakable. Forgiven. Forgiven and perhaps more, Tom decided as he nibbled at the bread and cheese and roast beef that he found on the plate. The voices died away after a while and Tom waited, hoping that the two men would reappear, but the minutes ticked by, marked noisily by the small clock on Hughes' desk. Finally, new sounds began. Faint at first, surreptitious in their softness but becoming more pronounced. It was the song of pleasure shared, two voices joining in a harmony of abandonment as both men gave themselves up to rapture, oblivious to anything else but their ecstasy. Tom walked to the bookshelf and pulled down a large leather bound book, trying to distance himself from what was happening behind the closed door. Sonnets by Shakespeare, Tom read, and opened the cover to find a faded inscription. Live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valley, dales and fields, And all the craggy mountains yield. Davey Tom picked his way over the fancy words, shaking his head, trying hard to decipher their meaning. Had Davey dreamed of living with Hughes on a farm in much the same way that Tom had dreamed of doing with Dick Sharpe? He closed the book and picked up another, but the title alone was a word unfamiliar to Tom. The Illiad, he stuttered out and wondered if he had said it correctly. His fingers slid along the dusty line of books stopping when they came to a well worn cover. Tom pulled the book free and opened it, saw Hughes sprawling writing and realised at once that this book was different. It was Hughes journal, the first entry dated almost two years ago, 1st January 1794. Tom closed the book, suddenly conscious that he was prying into his Captain's personal life, but the muffled sound of voices came to him through the door again, whispering gently in the afterglow of sex, intimate and close and Tom opened the book again almost as an act of defiance. He flicked through quickly looking at the dates until he found the one he wanted. Labouring over Hughes handwriting and script Tom read the entry before moving onto the next. It was here that he found what he was looking for. 'May 25th 1794 Cork Barracks: After hearing several reports of a young trouble maker amongst the new recruits I sought out the lad in question, Richard Sharpe, and could not believe my eyes when I first beheld him. From a distance his likeness to Davey was remarkable, yet when I approached the boy and spoke to him, it became clear that he was but a pale shadow of the one I had loved. However, for reasons I do not want to admit to myself, I have taken him into the Light Company and as I write this journal entry, I await his arrival at my door, having sent for him earlier. In my defence I can only plead that I have been too long alone and the sight of him has wakened memories that I have long thought dead and buried. Should he be adverse to my company I will send him on his way, but I have heard something of his reputation and think I may find him amenable. Perhaps I am indeed damned to Hell as my father once told me, but I can no longer endure this state of half living, denying! myself such small comforts as I may find with this young man.' Intrigued Tom read the next entry. 'May 26th 1794 Cork Barracks: What a strange creature Richard, or Dick as he calls himself, turned out to be. So wanton, so brassy and yet strangely vulnerable when I tried to show him some small measure of kindness. He reminded me of a young colt, skittish and unbroken, ready to run at the slightest movement. Not afraid, but wary. His openness made me blush more than once and indeed he has far more experience than I in matters of the flesh. Yet afterwards he dosed in my arms like a child, looking so innocent that I felt a strange ache in my heart, an awakening of feelings that I should not encourage. It seems strange now that ever I thought he was like my Davey, indeed I smile at the remembrance. When he comes tomorrow evening I will bathe him and wash his hair for although it was obvious he had gone to some effort to make himself presentable for me, he was still far from clean and I doubt he has ever had a proper bath.' Tom gently turned the pages, the dates flicking past like a strange time machine until he stopped at November 1794. 'Flanders: I have been blind to what has been happening and would still be none the wiser if not for a humble Infantryman who has taken the matter into his own hands. I have been remiss in my Stewardship of my men, doubly so because the victim was Dick Sharpe, of whom I have grown so fond, and who should be safe within my patronage. In the future I will be more vigilant, but I will rest easy now, knowing Dick has a True Friend who is watching over him.' Tom smiled at that and turned a few more pages. 'December 16th 1794, Flanders: I know it is wrong for me to enjoy Dick's company so much. No, I must be honest here with myself even if I am with no one else. It is the intimate embraces we share that I value so highly. They make me feel alive and give me hope that we will leave this wretched place and return once more to England. Without his passion, which he shares so freely with me, I would sink into despair as daily I watch my men weaken in the harsh conditions. Food is scarce and were I not to open my own purse, my men would starve. Yet in the midst of this suffering Dick Sharpe brings me joy as openly and honestly as a child. Uncalculated and without reserve, he gives me his vibrancy and his lust for life and he asks for nothing in return. I pray that in some small way I bring him happiness also.' Once more Tom turned the pages, his feelings in turmoil. He became oblivious to the present time as he relived the past, sharing Hughes reminiscence of his thoughts and feeling for Dick Sharpe. 'October 20th 1795, Outside Southampton: At last I have found the place where my dearest Davey lies and have wept upon his grave as I have so many times dreamed of doing. And yet there is a strange hollowness within me now, as if I have lost something that I have long carried and yet never realised was with me. So long I have held to his memory and the vows I made so many years ago, to never love another as I had loved him. But what good has it done me? Have I fortified myself against pain only to keep true happiness at bay also? Dick sat with me last night, saying nothing in the long hours of darkness. He listened to my ramblings and brought me food and made me eat. I do not think he understands most of what I have told him, for truly he is like a child in many ways, oblivious to the ways of the heart, ignorant of true love and devotion. I feel a strange confusion in me now and my thoughts echo the words of a sonnet I read not long ago: If love makes me foresworn, how shall I swear to love? Who would know if I was to break my word to never love another? Who would judge me foresworn, if I shared my heart? I alone know of these vows and yet am I not my own Judge, unswayed by the compassion I would show to others. Harshest with myself from whom I expect perfection? I think I am damned as my father so rightly said for it seems I shall never find peace of heart whilst I tread this earth.' Sounds had ceased from the next room and still Tom kept reading until he came to the last entry, 'November 2nd 1795, Southampton Barracks: My hand falters as I write these words tonight and I would wish I had been struck deaf rather than hear the words that Dick spoke earlier. Long have I hoped that he secretly held some small regard for me. Not love, never that, for that would be too much to hope for. Sad innocent that he is, I doubt he will ever truly be able to embrace the word. How could anyone raised without the love of a family ever really learn to love in return? But I held hope none the less that he would find something in his heart for me. Yet now I learn that for these passed few months he has been courting a young woman from Southampton. A young woman whom he had planned to bring here this very night and marry with no thought of forewarning me, preparing me for this break. Perhaps I have been wrong these past 18 months, wrong to seek comfort in his body, wrong to seek companionship in his presence. I will commit these words to paper. Words that I can not speak ! aloud, words that would damn me so many times over. I love him! But I must ask myself if his callousness is not my punishment for breaking my self imposed vows, my punishment for a love deemed unnatural by so many? Yet were he to ask for my forgiveness, I know he would have it, for he is perhaps as much a victim as I of the past. It is not Dick's fault that he has been starved for so long of love and human caring, that he is still like a wild untamed creature, never quite trusting mankind. Perhaps the one small light is in the way he cares for his Friend. Indeed, it is these small signs of caring that give me hope that one day Dick may come to care for me too. Until that day I live in purgatory.' Tom closed the book and replaced it gently on the shelf, surprised to find that light was fading as evening approached. He quietly lit the oil lamps and listened for Sharpe and Hughes. But the bedroom was silent and Tom guessed that both men were sleeping now, content in each others arm, having long forgotten that he was still waited outside. Should he leave, or should he wait for his Captain to dismiss him properly? Tom hesitated outside the bedroom door. Perhaps he should knock? Quietly he turned the handle and let the door open silently. The room was bathed in shadows, but as the door opened the soft glow of the oil lamps highlighted the large bed and the two figures curled together among the tumbled sheets. Seeing the two men asleep, Tom made to leave but a quiet whisper held him, called him back. "Tom?" Sharpe lay sprawled against Hughes' back, one arm and one leg wrapped around his lover. His green eyes were open, sleepy and sated and he smiled at Tom. "It's getting late Dick. What should I do?" Tom asked as he took in the naked skin and the soft outline of bodies beneath the sheets. "Go, it will be all right. He won't mind. I'll stay here tonight I think." Sharpe whispered softly, and Tom nodded and turned again to leave. "And thankyou Tom, you're a good mate. The best." Sharpe said quietly. Tom closed the door. The mess hall was already full as Tom made his way across the darkened parade ground towards the welcoming light and warmth. He stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him. Men eating and drinking, talking and laughing. The things Tom had read and heard and seen earlier played over again in his mind as he tried to understand what it all meant. Perhaps Hughes' tragedy of self imposed torment was not that far removed from the small dramas that were nightly played out amongst the men gathered here. Tom let his gaze rest on the familiar faces of friends and acquaintances, each with his own problems and fears. There was Percy Peters, sitting with Sam Rawlings and Toby Dodds, telling of his love for Lizzie at the Scarlet Rose and declaring he couldn't leave her behind. Further down the room, Bill Hanson was sitting beside his new wife, talking quietly with her, smiling shyly while Rose listened intently, her young face alight with something like wonder, as she hung on his words. They were watched from afar by Josh Smith, his eyes wistful and sad, wanting what he could never have, alone in his sorrow. Harry Whyte was also lost in his thoughts, looking to where the married men sat with their wives, Hanson and Avery, Merrit and Yarrow. Tom wondered if Whyte was secretly envious of these men and would have liked a wife of his own? Over in the corner sat Wardell and his cronies, heads together, looking up every now and again to glance at this man or that and whisper once more. Sergeant Morton was sitting not far away, one of them, but separate, not openly with them, but close. His eyes were on someone too, young Watkin Blake, who was sitting beside Seamus O'Neill, the quiet Irishman. A figure slipped out the door beside Tom, Willie Oldfield. His thin face and his gap toothed smile, sallow complexion and skinny build. Tom watched as he disappeared into the shadows on his way to meet with someone. Lieutenant Morris perhaps? Tom shook his head and wondered where his own story fitted into this great tapestry of tangled lives that made up the army. Just one more disappointment, one more hopeless dream or shattered belief? This afternoon Tom had a premonition. As he sat in that quiet Office, reading Hughes words and listening to him make love to Sharpe, Tom had realised without a doubt, that Sharpe would never be his. That someone, either Hughes or another like him, would one day woo his friend away with fancy words and the promise of something better. Something far greater than Tom could ever offer, far more exciting than a simple farm and love and hard work. For Sharpe, despite his wretched birth and upbringing looked to the stars and dreamed dreams that were far above him. Tom laughed when he thought of Margaret and how his friend had never considered that she out of his reach. Sharpe would always aim for what he wanted never thinking anything was beyond him and one day he would succeed. But along the way, it would be men like Captain John Hughes, who would teach him and guide him and help him achieve his dreams. How different Dick Sharpe's life would be to his own, his dreams humble, yet out of reach. Tom turned his back on the mess hall and all it's camaraderie and walked to the barracks to be alone. Once inside Tom went instinctively to his old bunk, the one he had shared with Sharpe until recently. He stripped off his uniform and slid beneath the blankets. As the hour ticked by the Infantrymen began to make their way to their bunks. When Josh Smith and Watkin Blake arrived, they both gave Tom a concerned look. "You all right Tom?" Smith asked softly. He sat on the edge of the bunk and touched Tom's leg gently. "Where's Dick?" Earlier that morning Sharpe and Garrard had stolen a few minutes to speak to their friends and let them know they were all right but on extra duties. Most of the Regiment had heard of Tom's arrest the night before and were waiting to see the outcome. "Dick's all right, don't worry Joshy." Tom said with a faint smile that he didn't really feel. "He's with the captain." Smith nodded and proceeded to get undressed. "So do you want me to keep you company tonight Tom?" Josh asked, his eyes eager. "Dick said it was all right, remember?" Tom sighed and sat up. "It might be all right with Dick, Josh, but have you mentioned this to Bill? I think he'd have a different opinion." Smith looked puzzled for a moment. "But why would he mind? He's got Rose, that's where he is tonight." "Look Josh, just talk to him about it first. That's all. I don't feel like having him kick me around again. Anyway, I'm too tired tonight. Just go to sleep Josh." Tom rolled over and put his back to Smith, hoping the younger man would leave him alone. He didn't feel like talking with anyone. The last two days had seen most of Tom's dreams shattered and for the moment all he wanted to do was drown in his own self pity. "What are you doing back in this bunk Tom?" Harry Whyte demanded as he loomed over Tom, frowning. "Trying to bloody-well sleep, Harry!" Tom answered back sharply. "And where's bloody Dick Sharpe?" Whyte asked, peering closer, looking like he half expected Sharpe to spring out from under the small blanket at any moment. "He's not here, is he! He's with the Captain. Do you want to go check?" Whyte stepped back from the bunk when he saw the look in Tom's eyes. "All right Tom, you can stay here tonight, but don't get up to any nonsense." Tom snorted and rolled away. It was in the early hours of the morning that Tom was awoken by something sliding into the bed next to him. "Who's that?" he whispered harshly, grabbing the figure. "Just me Tom, I didn't know you'd be here. Thought you'd be down with Percy." Dick Sharpe whispered close to Tom's ear and Tom released his hold. "I wanted to be alone." Tom murmured by way of explanation as he lay down again. "Do you want me to leave then?" Sharpe asked gently. "I'll go find somewhere else." Tom reached out and drew Sharpe into his arms "No, I didn't mean you. What are you doing back here? I thought you were staying the night with Hughes?" Sharpe rested his head next to Tom's so they could look at each other in the darkness. "It's not long to dawn. I didn't want to risk getting caught there. I'm in enough trouble. At least Hughes has forgiven me." Tom breathed in the heavy scent of sweat and sex that still clung to Sharpe. He felt Sharpes skin, still flushed from Hughes' recent embrace. "So Hughes forgave you did he?" Tom said, unable to hide the hint of bitterness behind his words. "And did he tell you that he loved you?" "Christ Tom! Why would he do that?" Sharpe said with a quiet laugh, but there was an uneasiness behind the mirth. "Because he does." Tom replied simply. "No he doesn't. I think he likes me, but more in the way that he liked that horse he had in Flanders. A bit of company, someone to talk to, good to have around if he wants a ride." Sharpe rolled onto his back putting the darkness between them. "You don't really believe that, do you Dick," Tom said resignedly "You know it's more than that." He reached out to brush a wayward strand of golden hair from Sharpe's face. Sharpe turned his face away from the caressing hand. "No, yer right Tom, I know it's more to him than that. But he uses such bloody big and fancy words. He said he had 'a fondest regard' for me. Christ, what's that supposed to mean." Tom pushed his own hurt away and tried to choose his words carefully. "It means he thinks a lot of you. You must know that Dick?" "Yeah, I know he does, but he treats me like I'm a bloody child sometimes." Sharpe reached up and ran his hand through his hair pushing it back. "He sort of, I don't know, fusses over me, pets me." Sharpe rolled over again to face Tom, his eyes serious. "He doesn't see that I've grown up Tom, that I'm a man too, now. I'm still the same lad I was when he first asked me to his rooms. He doesn't see that I've changed." Sharpe's words and look were a plea to Tom, a plea for understanding and a plea to confirm that Sharpe had indeed changed. "Well that's because you still act that way around him! If you want him to see that you've grown up, you'll have act that way when you're with him. You can't fool him with your smart words and your lying Dick. He sees right through you." "But it will never be equal with him, will it Tom?" Sharpe asked quietly and Tom shook his head. Sharpe moved his body closer to Tom's, his green eyes almost glowing like a cats in the darkness. "It's not like that with us though, is it Tom." Sharpe's voice was low and rough. "No." Tom breathed, realising that he still had much to offer his friend. Suddenly Tom felt as if he had just won back much of what he had lost earlier. It was Hughes' own guilt that would prevent him from developing his relationship with Sharpe. But there were no such constraints between Garrard and Sharpe. Their relationship was equal. They were mates. They respected each other. They didn't keep secrets. Sharpe could grow and change and Tom would still love him. Sharpe leaned over and brushed his lips lightly across Tom's. "I want yer Tom, now." he said huskily, his hands beginning to roam across Tom's body. "Christ Dick, if we get caught we'll get a flogging. Harry's got it in for us. We shouldn't even be in the same bunk!" Sharpe sat up quickly "The storerooms then! I'll go first, give me a couple of minutes and then you follow. I'll wait for you in the shadows." Tom grabbed Sharpe's arm before he moved away. "But how will we get in? Hughes took yer picklock." A sly smile crossed Sharpe's lips. "He gave it back," was all he whispered. Consequences Part Nine There was something thrilling about sneaking out of the barracks and meeting Sharpe in the shadows. Thrilling, but dangerous. Tom knew they would be in trouble if they were caught, but they could always use the excuse they had just stepped out to relieve themselves. Neither man was wearing boots. Tom was only dressed in his shirt and undergarments. Hardly what a man would wear if he was deserting. "The door's not locked." Sharpe whispered as he put his picklock away. He turned the handle and held a finger to his lips indicating that Tom should be quiet. Inside the faint glow of a lantern could be seen emanating from somewhere within the labyrinth of shelves and stores. Tom nodded his head back towards the barracks wanting to leave, but Sharpe gave a wicked smile and silently slipped inside. Tom followed. As they wove their way between the shelves the faint sound of voices could be heard, a man's and a woman's, getting louder as Sharpe led the way the hidden lovenest. "Well, well, well. This is a surprise!" Sharpe said loudly surprising the couple making love on the makeshift bed. Tom peered around Sharpe's shoulder to see who was there. "Harry!" Tom was shocked! But what was even more surprising was Whyte's partner, Hannah Avery. Whyte pulled up the blankets, covering Hannah in a gesture full of care and concern, a gesture that showed this was no casual affair. He tugged on his trousers, grabbed Sharpe by the arm and pulled him around the corner, leaving Hannah Avery quietly crying. "You bloody bastards! What do you think you're doing!" Whyte's face was red with anger and for one moment Tom was worried what the Sergeant would do. "I think the question should be what were you doing Harry?" said Sharpe calmly. "Does Abraham know yer here with his wife?" Tom prepared himself to defend Sharpe from Whyte, but the Sergeant turned away, and dropped his eyes. "Of course he doesn't know," was all he replied. Sharpe looked at Tom and winked. "Well I wonder what would happen if he found out Harry? Hell, I don't think he'd be very pleased." Whyte looked up, anger in his eyes, but Sharpe hadn't finished. "Yer know Harry, for someone who is so determined to put a stop to a bit of harmless fun between mates in their bunks at night, I'm surprised yer'd stoop to this. Fucking yer mate's wife!" Tom looked from one man to the other waiting to see what would happen. "You don't know the first thing about it Dick Sharpe, so don't be acting so high and mighty. I love Hannah and she loves me and it's my baby that's she's carrying." Whyte shouted. He pointed a finger at Sharpe's chest, poking him roughly. "But you wouldn't know the first thing about love like that, would you. It's all just fucking to you!" Sharpe didn't flinch, but Tom could see the hurt in his eyes. "Yeah, that's what someone like you would think about me, isn't Harry. Well yer wrong! Now you either let Tom and me share our old bunk again and stop breathing down our necks at night, or I might just have to tell Abraham what I saw here tonight. What do you say, Harry?" Whyte narrowed his eyes and looked from Sharpe to Garrard and back again. "Yer worse than bloody Satan, Dick Sharpe! You even smell like a bloody whorehouse tonight, you're disgusting! Go on, drag Tom down to hell with you for all I care." Whyte stopped and looked at Tom "But just remember Tom, we were mates once. I was only trying to save you." Tom looked at Whyte and shook his head. "Perhaps you should be worrying about saving yourself and Hannah, Harry," he said before walking away. Outside again, Sharpe and Garrard made the way quietly back to the barracks. "Bastard! All those things he said about me and all the while he's fucking someone else's wife! Bloody Bastard!" Sharpe was angry and Tom wondered if some of Whytes remarks had hit home. "Don't worry Dick, Harry doesn't know anything, he's a..a.." Tom searched for the word he'd heard in church once. "A hypocrit!" Sharpe stopped walking and stared at Tom. "What's that mean Tom?" Tom scratched his head for a moment. "It means he's a bloody bastard!" he replied with a smile. Tom found it hard to wake up when the bugle sounded less than an hour later. He'd only just managed to sink into a deep sleep and groaned when Sharpe shook him. "I'm heading to the wash rooms Tom. Harry was right, I do smell like a whorehouse, but it's Hughes fault. Next time I'm going to tell him I want a bath!" Sharpe grinned at Tom and ruffled his hair. "Come on. Wake up!" he said before running off leaving Tom to stretch and wake up a little more. "Morning Joshy," Tom said smiling as Smith jumped down from the top berth, but Smith shot a hurt look at Tom, before picking up his boots and red jacket and leaving the barracks. "Bloody Hell!" Tom groaned, wondering what other pleasantries the day held in store. After washing the breakfast pots, Tom and Dick were once again set to helping the Officers pack their personal belongings. Captain Hughes again claimed Sharpe's help but this time Tom was assigned to help Lieutenant Morris. Morris's office was much smaller, if fact it held little more than a desk, a small drinks cabinet and a bookshelf. Not that the Lieutenant had many books, it was mostly filled with bottles, some half filled, other empty. It didn't take long to pack what was required in the office and Morris directed Tom into his bedroom. Once again it was vastly different to Hughes'. The room was a mess. Clothes were strewn here and there and the bed wasn't made. Dirty glasses and an half empty bottle cluttered the small bedside table. The room stank of stale cigar smoke. Tom wrinkled his nose in distaste, a gesture not missed by Morris. "Not to your Taste, Garrard?" Morris asked lounging back on the bed and picking up a deck of cards from somewhere amongst the tangled sheets. "No worry, you're not to my taste either. I've never been able to understand what Sharpe sees in you." Morris snorted his disgust. "Shame Hughes didn't send me Dick Sharpe. I would have been only too happy to show him where I wanted things." Tom turned away and began packing items from the small chest of drawers into the travelling chest. "Here, be careful with that pipe! It belonged to my Uncle!" Morris picked up a glass from the bedside table and poured himself a drink. "I've got a proposition for you Garrard. I could make things easy around here for you, maybe even make you a Sergeant. You don't have to do much, just have a word with you're friend Dick Sharpe, that's all." Tom turned his angry eyes back to Morris. "Dick Sharpe won't do anything with you, Sir!" Tom spat out the last word. "Ah, I knew you'd say that Tom," Morris continued, making Tom feel uneasy by the casual use of his Christian name. "No that's not what I had in mind at all. All I want to do is watch! You and Sharpe together. Just take him out behind the washrooms one night and fuck him, he doesn't even have to know I'm there. What about it?" Tom could only stare at Morris, too shocked by what the Lieutenant was proposing to think of a reply. "Close you're mouth Garrard or I'll take it as an invitation. Don't tell me I've shocked you. Well I am surprised." Morris rose from the bed and walked over to Tom, glass in hand. He stopped not a foot away and looked down at the Infantryman. Charles Morris would have been an attractive man if not for the fact that his excessive drinking was already beginning to tell in the broken blood vessels that lined his face. His fair hair was greasy and untidily tied back. "I've never been able to work you out Garrard." Morris tilted his head to the side and regarded Tom with narrowed eyes. "First Sharpe falling at your feet and then stealing little Smith from Hanson. It's certainly not your looks they go for. Perhaps you have other talents? Is that it Garrard? There must be something about you that they both like. Is it your innocence? Perhaps you don't put too many demands on them." Morris looked Tom up and down with a raking gaze. "Whatever it is, I'm curious. So, what do you say to my proposal? You and Sharpe?" "No Sir!" Tom's mouth felt so dry that he could hardly get the words out. He could smell the brandy on Morris' breath. "Scared of me Garrard? Worried I might do something you wouldn't like?" Morris asked, his voice little more than a whisper. "Well don't be. You're far to common for my tastes. You remind me of an old brown cow with big mournful eyes. Do you moo Garrard?" Morris walked away to pour himself more brandy. "I prefer something a little more aesthetic, something with a little fire." "Well you'll never have Dick Sharpe!" Tom said, trying to sound confident. In truth, Tom felt intimidated by Morris' presence, intimidated and afraid. There was recklessness about the Lieutenant, a disregard for decency and it alarmed Tom. Morris turned back to Tom, and took a large swallow of brandy. "It's only a matter of time, Garrard and the longer I wait, the sweeter it will be. I just have to find the right catalyst. In the mean time I have plenty of other's to keep me amused." A cruel smirk crossed Morris' mouth. "I've finally found a way to keep your other friend quiet, little Smith. He doesn't make half so much noise when he has something in his mouth. But perhaps you haven't tried that yet." Tom felt the blood draining from his face. Was Morris telling the truth or was he just trying to unnerve Tom even more. There was a loud knocking at the office door and with a final smile at Tom, Morris left the bedroom. Tom ran his hand over his face and realised he was sweating. He hastily began throwing things into the trunk, wanting to finish as quickly as possible, but he stopped when he drew out a pair of ladies lacey drawers. Tom dropped them quickly when Morris strode back into the room, but the Lieutenant had noticed and picked them up from the chest. "What do you think of these Garrard? Rather pretty?" Morris held them to his nose and sniffed. "They are a trophy from a rather hard won battle. See the initials?" he held the flimsy fabric out to Garrard, but the delicately embroidered letters, EH, meant nothing to him. Morris dropped the underwear into the trunk and waved Tom away. "Go, I've looked at you for long enough. But just remember this, Captain Hughes isn't always going to be around to get you and Sharpe out of trouble. One day I'll be Captain of the Light Company and you might come to wish you had cooperated with me. Dismissed." "Are you all right Tom?" Dick Sharpe asked later that evening when they both sat in the mess hall. It was late, most of the others had already left, but both Tom and Dick had been on serving duty and were only now sitting down to eat. "I'm fine Dick, just tired." Tom said wearily, rubbing at the scar above his eye. "Morris give you any trouble?" Sharpe's voice was hesitant and Tom knew his friend was concerned. "Nothing other than a lot of talk. I just ignored him. He told me to go when he didn't get a bite out of me." Tom gave a little smile to put Sharpe's mind at ease. The things Morris had said had been on Tom's mind all day, but he didn't see the sense in worrying Dick. "What have you been bloody well telling Josh, Tom!" Bill Hanson shouted as he stormed up and leaned across the mess table angrily. Tom looked up, his face confused. "Nothing Bill, what's wrong?" Hanson sat down on the opposite bench and folded his arms on the table. "Josh asked me today if it was alright if he fucked you every now and again. He said you told him to ask me!" Sharpe turned to Tom with one eyebrow raised, the smallest smile around his lips. Tom frowned at him then turned back to Hanson. "That's not quite what I said Bill, you've got it wrong." Tom licked his lips and took a swig of his rum. "I told Josh that if he wanted to, er..do..er..something like that, then he'd should talk to you first." Hanson nodded, "I see," he said quietly "So it was Josh who asked you first." Tom nodded, "Yes, but I think he was just worried about me because Dick was with.." Tom didn't get a chance to finish what he was saying. "The bloody little slut!" Hanson rested his head in his hands. "It wasn't like that Bill." Tom said quietly. "He's lonely and he's confused and..." "What? What excuse have you got for him this time?" Bill asked desperately. "Just leave him be Bill," Sharpe replied. "You don't own Josh, he can do what he likes. It's fine for you to have him and Rose. Well he deserves the same understanding." Hanson got up without another word and walked away. "Bloody Hell!" Tom muttered. "It's my fault Tom, I should never have said it in the first place. I'll talk to Josh." Sharpe sighed. "It's not just that Dick, it's something Morris said, something about Josh. He implied that he had, well, that Josh had.." Tom looked down into his bowl and stirred his stew. "I'm sure he was lying." Tom looked up into Sharpe green eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure he was too." Sharpe agreed, but there was a moment's hesitation. "He'd have no reason to do anything with Morris, would he?" Tom asked. Sharpe stood up, his dinner forgotten. "No, not unless Morris threatened him. Come on, let's go ask him. It's the only way to put yer mind at rest." Smith was already in his bunk with Blake when Tom and Dick found him. "Joshy, get down here a minute, we need to talk." Tom said, trying to make it sound like a request and not a demand. Smith jumped down and stood in the shadows beside the bunks. "What?" was all he said. Sharpe sat down on the bottom berth and patted the space beside him. "Sit down here Josh, we don't want everyone hearing." Smith reluctantly sat on the bed. "What did you want." Tom bit his lip and looked at Sharpe. "Josh, has Morris been fucking yer again?" Well that was straight to the point, Tom thought with a blush. Smith went white. "No." he replied in a small voice. "Why would you think that?" Sharpe smiled and shook his head. "We don't Josh, it's just some things Morris said to Tom today while he was packing his stuff. Don't worry, Morris is a lying bastard and he hates Tom because he stood up for me one time. Go back to bed now." Josh looked once more from Sharpe to Garrard then climbed back up to his bunk. "Did you believe him Dick?" Tom asked a while later when they lay side by side. Sharpe was silent a long time. "I really don't know Tom, but there's nothing we can do if he is mixed up with Morris. We've done all we can to warn him." Tom lay his head on Sharpe's chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart. "He'd have no reason to go with Morris." Tom said wanting it to be true. Once more Sharpe was quiet for some time. "There is one reason," Sharpe whispered quietly. "Captain Hughes told me that Morris will be drawing the ballot!" Between Wars Consequences Part 10 'Dear Mary' Tom Garrard read the words again but still couldn't think of what to say next. He had been sitting in the mess hall for fifteen minutes, trying to compose a letter of apology to Mary Chisolm but still right words eluded him. Captain Hughes had given Tom and hour off to write his letter to Mary. The rest of the Regiment was busy preparing for their march to Portsmouth where they would board the transport ships for the West Indies. There had been a spate of marriages in the last few days since the announcement. The Officers carefully checked each bride's background to ensure that only women of good character would go into the ballot. Percy Peters had made an impassioned plea to Captain Hughes to be granted permission to marry Lizzy Bowles, one of the whores from the Scarlet Rose, but his request had been turned down. Peters was devastated, but Toby Dodds had quietly told Tom and Dick that Lizzie thought it a great joke and laughed about it behind Peter's back. "Tom? Can I help you?" Josh Smith sat down beside Tom and looked at the almost blank page. "Is everything all right between you and Bill?" Tom asked, wondering if Hanson had said anything to Smith after their resent conversation. Smith smiled and nodded "Oh yes, just fine. Bill said I could teach George his letters. It will be something to fill in the time on the sea voyage. Maybe I could teach some of the other children too." Smith pointed to the sheet of paper on the table. "What are you trying to write Tom?" "I'm trying to write a letter to Mary to say I'm sorry for lying and everything, but I don't know what to say. If I could talk to her, look at her, it would be so much easier." Tom wiped his sweaty hands on his breeches and picked up the quill again, but Smith took it from his fingers. "Here, give me that other piece." Smith said with a smile and began to write. His small hand sped across the paper leaving a trail of flowing letters. "There! How's that?" Smith waved the sheet of paper a few times to allow the ink to dry then placed it in front of Tom. "I hereby give permission for Tom Garrard to leave the barracks. Signed Major Shee, 10th November 1795" Tom stared at Smith "Christ Josh, this is a forgery!" Smith smiled and nodded. "Yes, but none of the sentries will know. Most of them can't read and I've copied Major Shee's signature from the one on the bottom of the Regulations posted in the Mess Hall," he said happily. "Oh Joshy, I can't use this. Shee would probably hang me if I was caught." Tom shook his head. "And you'd get into trouble too. God knows what they'd do to you for forging the Major's signature!" Smith shrugged and tore up the sheet of paper. "I was only trying to help Tom. That's all." He looked down at the table and traced the grains in the wood with his fingers. "I know Joshy and thanks, but what I really need is help with this letter. Do you think you could help me with some of the words?" Tom waited for the younger man to look up before smiling at him. "Oh yes Tom, I'll help." Said Josh happily. Almost all of the Light Company was present for the drawing of the Wives Ballot. The barracks room was full as the extra women and children crowded in. Thirty nine men in the Light Company had put forward their wives names and Lieutenant Charles Morris had carefully read each slip of paper before folding it and placing it in a hat. "I need someone to act as a witness and record the results for me, someone who doesn't have a wife in the ballot. Who among you can read and write?" Morris asked with a sneer as if he doubted such a man could be found. Private Edmund Filby, the Company Clerk, would normally perform this duty, but he too had a wife in the ballot. "Josh Smith can! He went to school." Sam Rawlings called out and Morris beckoned Smith forward. "You'll do. Any objections?" There were a few murmurs but no one openly objected to Smith. Sharpe looked at Tom and raised his eyebrows and Tom knew they were both thinking the same thing. The first name pulled out was Rose Hanson. By the end of the ballot, the noise in the barracks was deafening. Women and children were crying, some from sorrow, others from joy. There were plans to be made and farewells to be taken. Captain Hughes had given permission for all wives to stay this one final night in the barracks. A decent gesture as it would hardly be fair to turn them away in the dark. Bunks were in short supply and the order was given for all unmarried men to move to the mess hall until the sleeping arrangements could be worked out. "Christ what a nightmare!" Sharpe exclaimed as he and Tom stood outside in the quiet of evening. "Do you think Joshy and Morris planned that?" Tom asked cautiously, making sure no one could overheard them. "Tom, I really don't know. It might have just happened, but it's a bloody big coincidence. If Josh did arrange it, Bill Hanson ought to be damned grateful!" Sharpe replied. Tom threw a shocked look at Sharpe. "Christ Dick, yer don't think Bill had anything to do with it?" Sharpe stared back, his eyes almost cold "I think if Josh suggested it to him then Bill would be only too happy to go along with it. He'd do anything to keep his family together." Tom wrapped his arms around him to keep out the chill night air. He was deeply disturbed by Sharpe's accusations about Smith and Hansen. Sharpe must have seen his worried look. "Come on Tom, yer've got to know that the ballot's rigged. Hughes told me himself that several of the lads had offered him favours if he made sure their wives were included. Of course Hughes isn't like that. He's honest, but we both know Morris isn't." "Well why did Hughes let Morris draw the ballot then?" Tom asked, disgusted with the whole situation. Sharpe shrugged. "It's just the way it's done. The Lieutenants draw the ballot. It wouldn't do well for Hughes to be seen getting mixed up in it, now would it." Tom could see that Sharpe was right. It amazed him that Hughes confided so readily in Sharpe, but perhaps their Captain had no one else and the pressures of command must surely become heavy at times. Tom decided to change the subject. "Hannah Avery wasn't picked. I wonder how Abraham is feeling?" "I'd rather know how Harry Whyte is feeling." Sharpe said with a scowl. "Serves him right, the bastard!" Tom and Dick were relieved when they were among the men chosen to sleep in the mess hall that night. The barracks was full of children and there would be little chance of quiet. Tom snuggled down beside Dick on the floor. Some men were sleeping on the tables and benches, but Tom was happy on the floor. He slid his hand under the blanket until he found Sharpe's and held it. "We're lucky, you and I." Tom whispered. Sharpe opened his eyes "Oh and why is that Tom?" he asked with a smile. Tom squeezed his hand "We don't have to worry about ballots or being separated. We can always be together." "Shit Tom, yer a bloody romantic bastard." But Sharpe leaned over to kiss him, taking the sting from the words. "And yeah, I'm bloody lucky." "Tom, Dick, where are you? You've got to come quick!" Sam Rawlings was picking his way through the sleeping men. "What is it Sam?" Sharpe asked as he pulled on his boots. "It's Percy, quick." Rawlings led the two men outside before saying any more. "Percy's deserting," Rawlings said over his shoulder as he made his way to the shadows between the washroom and the Barracks wall. "There are two lads on Guard Duty tonight. The word's been put around that they'll turn their backs if you pay them a bribe. Percy's going to sneak off to the Scarlet Rose and run away with Lizzie, only,.." Rawlings paused and his face showed the deep compassion he had for his friend. "Only Percy doesn't know it, but she doesn't really love him. She makes fun of him and the way he says he loves her." "Where is he now?" Sharpe asked. "He's just gone to get his pack. Here he comes." Peters walked up slowly, dressed in dark civilian clothes, his red hair tucked up under a cap. "Yer leaving us hey Percy?" Sharpe asked. Peters nodded "Yes, I'm going to ran away with Lizzie. I've got it all planned, we'll be just fine." "A girl like Lizzie will take a lot of looking after, Percy. She likes fancy things. How are you going to keep her? You haven't got a job." Sharpe asked, his voice friendly "I have some money now. Enough to bribe the guards and a bit left over. I sold my hair." Both Sharpe and Garrard stared at Peters as he took of his cap to reveal short spikes of red hair. "Oh Christ Percy," Tom said, unable to find the words he wanted to say. Peter's red hair had been the butt of many jokes, but it was unique. On a woman it would have turned heads and made others envious. "They gave me a guinea for it, Tom. I'll tell that to the next person who makes a joke about the colour." "Listen Percy, you can't do this. They'll hang you if they catch you." Tom said desperately. "You don't want to run off with Lizzie. You'd have to spend the rest of your life going from place to place, never staying long because they'd post your name and a description of you in every parish from North to South and East to West." "But I love her Tom." Peters pleaded, "You understand, don't you?" "But she doesn't love you Percy!" Sharpe interrupted "None of your other mates will say it to your face, but I will. You see I know whores, I know how they work. She'll just use you to get away from here then take all your money and leave you one night to take up with someone better. That's the way it's done Percy." Sharpe spat the words cruelly, nothing gentle in his manner. "No," Peters shook his head "It's not true. She told me she loved me and asked me to take her away." "She asked me to do the same thing, Percy, right after she said she'd never had a man before who made her feel the way I did. Did she say that to you too?" Peters stared at Sharpe, his eyes filling with tears and nodded. Tom put his arm around Peters' shoulders to comfort him, but suddenly another sound made all four men freeze. "Oh Shit!" Rawlings exclaimed, voicing everyone's thoughts as Harry Whyte walked out of the shadows. For one moment they all looked at one another before Tom realised that Whyte was wasn't wearing his uniform and there was a second smaller figure hiding behind him. "So Harry, taking a walk tonight? You and Hannah?" Sharpe asked. Peters and Rawlings stared when Hannah Avery stepped out from behind Whyte, carrying a bundle tied in her shawl. "That's exactly what we're doing. Taking a walk and not coming back. Are you going to stop us?" Tom looked at Whyte and saw the desperation behind the brave words. He looked at Hannah and saw silent tears falling down her cheeks. Finally he looked at Sharpe and saw his friend shake his head. "No, go on. It's none of my business. Yer can walk all the way to Hell, Harry! I'm going back to bed with Tom!" Sharpe turned away from Whyte and pushed Peters and Rawlings back towards the mess hall. As Tom turned to go he took one final look at Whyte. "Good luck Harry. Don't let them catch you." Tom said softly, remembering that once this man had been his friend. Whyte nodded and gave a small smile. "Thanks Tom," he murmured. "And look after that bloody Dick Sharpe!" The following morning it was revealed that twelve men had deserted during the night. The two Infantrymen who had been on guard duty had also disappeared shortly before the last change of guard. Tom estimated that had taken a tidy sum of money with them. The men of the Light Company were mystified by their Sergeant's desertion, but it didn't take long before Whytes disappearance was linked to that of Hannah Avery. Abraham Avery was shattered and sat at the mess table, head in his hands, groaning. "Harry was my mate, I trusted him." Sharpe, Garrard and the others sat around him, not knowing how to comfort their friend, but hoping that their presence would be enough. Toby Dodds sneaked in a bottle of rum and gave it to Avery who swallowed down half the bottle before Tom pulled it away. "Christ Abraham! That's not the answer! We've got to march at noon. They'll clap you in irons if yer drunk!" Avery looked up with eyes full of bitterness. "Did yer know Tom?" he asked, the words slurred "Someone must have know." Tom felt the blood drain from his face and his heart start pounding. He had known for a few weeks, but had remained silent. It would be easy to lie to Avery, but Tom had learnt his lesson after the incident with Mary and Margaret. He didn't want to lie again. Sharpe however had no such compunction. "Bloody Hell Abraham. You know Tom! Is he the type to hide something like that? Besides Harry's had it in for him and me for ages. We had to bloody bribe him with rum to let us share a bunk again. If Tom had known something like that, he'd have either used it to get Harry off our backs or told you!" Avery nodded and turned back to Tom "Yeah, yer a good mate Tom. Not like that bastard Whyte. Bloody women will let yer down, but true mates never will." Sharpe smiled across the table, but Tom looked away. Part 11 It was quite a procession that set out from the Southampton barracks and marched towards Portsmouth. The Infantrymen of the 33rd Regiment looked resplendent in their bright red jackets. The same could not be said for the rag tag assortment of wives and children that brought up the rear, along with various wagons and carts necessary for carrying the Officer's baggage and other paraphernalia that was considered essential for the West Indies. As they passed through the city, Tom caught sight of Mary Chisolm, her eyes scanning the rows of Infantrymen until they settled on Tom. She gave a brief smile and waved her hand before turning quickly and walking away, leaving Tom with a slight easing of his conscience. Perhaps Mary had forgiven him although she had not answered his letter. The countryside they marched through was already bleak and bare with winter fast approaching. They camped that evening in a large field and soon small campfires were springing to life here and there as new mess groups came together for the first time and sorted out their responsibilities. It was six to a kettle and the infantrymen usually worked the groupings out themselves. Sergeants only stepped in if they were needed. Garrard found that Sharpe had arranged for them to share with Peter's, Rawlings and Smith, leaving Tom feeling somewhat like a mother hen. They were still one short and Tom nearly chocked on his rations when Sharpe suggested they ask Willie Oldfield to join them. "Christ Tom, I think yer becoming a hipocrock!" Sharpe muttered causing Tom to choke again. They arrived at Portsmouth three days later and were ferried out slowly to the waiting transport ships. Sharpe growned as he climbed into waiting barge with the rest of their party. "Don't worry Dick, it will be fine. You might even come to like it after a while." Tom said the words hopefully. It would be sheer agony if he had to put up with Sharpe bemoaning the voyage all the way to the West Indies. "Look, that must be out ship!" Tom shouted as the small boat began to single out one of the large ships anchored in the harbour. As they got closer, Tom began to laugh. "What's so bloody funny!" Sharpe demanded, his fists clenched tight on his seat and his shoulders hunched. "It's the name of the ship." Tom spluttered, "You'll never guess what it's called!" Sharpe simply shook his head and waited. "The Sea Cow." Tom blurted out, laughing again. "Well I suppose we'll just have to keep practicing that milking, won't we Tom." Sharpe replied with the hint of a smile starting to form around his lips. "Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all." The End. February 1999.