Sharpe's Verdict - The Tale of Jack O'Malley
August, 1795
John Hughes, Captain of the Light Company, dismissed the new recruits and turned them over to Sergeant Bill Hanson to see them billeted and settled in. As the Captain walked away Hanson smiled and said, "All right lads you can draw breath now. Relax a bit. You're putting the rest of us to shame." There was muffled laughter and the recruits, resplendent in their bright new red jackets, suddenly looked less like toy soldiers and more like the men they really were.
Tom Garrad looked them over. Nothing like the last lot we got just before we left for Flanders, he thought to himself. Those recruits, which had included Dick Sharpe in their number, had been mostly young lads. These men were older, tougher and Tom guessed there were more than a few among them who enlisted seeking refuge from the law.
"They look like a rough bunch Dick. We'll stick to our plan. You bunk with Josh and I'll share with one of the new lads if we have to. At least I can look after myself." He turned to his friend, but Sharpe wasn't listening. His eyes were staring at the new recruits.
"Jack O'Malley! Bloody Hell! What are yer doing here!" Sharpe shouted the greeting before crossing the parade ground to embrace a tall sandy haired man. Who the hell is that; wondered Tom as he followed his friend. It was obvious the two men were well acquainted. O'Malley was holding Sharpe at arms length looking him up and down, grinning in a way that Tom didn't like.
"Christ Dick! Look at yer now. You've grown up. I always said that the army would be the making of yer!" said O'Malley in a loud voice and Sharpe grinned back at him.
"Yer never did Jack! Yer told me I'd never make a decent living on my feet!" Both men laughed loudly and O'Malley slid his arm around Sharpe, a movement that spoke of long familiarity. He bent his head and whispered in Sharpe's ear in a voice just loud enough for Tom to overhear "Yer feel different too Dick. Yer learnt anything new?" Sharpe blushed like a girl and laughed playfully hitting at O'Malley's chest.
"Who's your friend Dick?" asked Tom trying to keep anger and jealousy out of his voice.
"This is Jack O'Malley, Tom. He used to look after me. I guess you could say he's the closest thing to family that I've got," said Sharpe softly as he looked at O'Malley with something akin to hero worship in his eyes. "Jack, this is my mate Tom Garrard."
Tom held out his hand and shook O'Malley's. "Well any friend of Dick's is a friend of mine" said O'Malley as he pumped Tom's hand vigorously. A strong man, Tom thought as they eyed each other like two stallions. O'Malley was about the same age as himself, Tom judged, but taller and more powerfully built. Not a man to pick a fight with, he decided. But there was something about him that Tom didn't like. Something that went far deeper than Tom's jealousy over the easy familiarity that O'Malley showed with Sharpe.
"So Jack, are you as Irish as yer name sounds?" asked Tom. O'Malley had no accent so it was unlikely.
"Wouldn't know!" said the big man with a laugh. "My mother always said my Pa was Irish but then she was a whore so she couldn't be too sure." He laughed again and Dick joined in. Tom just stood there.
"And yer've known Dick a long time?" Tom continued, almost dreading the answer. O'Malley looked down at Dick Sharpe who was still standing in the circle of his arm "Oh aye! A very long time, hey Dick. We've been through a lot together."
Bill Hanson walked over and his eyes quickly darted around the three men assessing the situation. "I'll take you over to the barracks and we can work out bunks O'Malley" Hanson began.
"I've heard it's two to a berth." O'Malley waited for Hanson to nod "Well I'll sleep with Dick, Sarge, if it's all right. We did it for years, didn't we Dick. It'll be like old times."
But before Tom could voice his objections Sharpe spoke up. "Yeah alright Jack. You don't mind do you Tom? You can sleep with Josh. It might be better that way."
Tom stared at Sharpe for a moment, trying to read what lay behind his eyes, but the younger man looked away and Tom was left wondering.
Hanson led O'Malley and the rest of the new recruits to the barracks and Tom and Dick went back to the mess to wash the pots from the morning.
"So tell me how yer met Jack O'Malley?" asked Tom, not sure how to broach the subject of O'Malley.
"Maggie introduced me to him. She said I would be better off working the streets if I had someone to look after me. That's what he did. He'd find me the customers, work out the price and wait to see that I was all right afterwards."
Tom was aghast. "You mean he was yer pimp! He sold yer and took the money!" There was silence between the two men as they looked at each other. The gulf between them had never seemed so wide as it did at that moment. Tom watched Sharpe turn away.
"No he gave me the money, well most of it. He gave me a place to live and he fed me and looked after me and yes, he slept with me too. Is that what yer wanted to know Tom?"
The silence stretched out between them. Sharpe began washing the dishes and pots again and Tom dried them, his thoughts teaming. Tom had told himself time and again that he didn't own Sharpe. That he had no claim on him other than as a mate. There was no point in acting like a jilted lover.
"Look Dick, it's none of my business. You just took me by surprise that's all. I'm glad that you had someone to look after you and that you've found Jack again. I know how homesick I get sometimes for a familiar face." Tom waited, unsure of whether Sharpe would accept this peace offering. But Sharpe turned and smiled, "Yer'll like him Tom, he's a good man. He treated me real well. I'd have never lasted if he hadn't looked after me."
Sharpe's smile suddenly turned mischievous and he leaned closer to Tom rubbing against him like a cat. "Are yer jealous Tom? Jealous that I'll be sleeping with him?" Sharpe purred close to his ear.
"No! I'm not jealous," said Tom trying to sound outraged but unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as Sharpe slipped his hand up under Garrard's jacket and tickled him lightly
"There's no reason to be jealous Tom. Jack doesn't mean anything to me now. He's just a mate. I didn't think that YOU'D want to sleep with him, but we can swap if yer want to Tom."
Tom pulled Sharpe's hand away, suddenly feeling too hot and slightly confused. "No Dick, I don't want to sleep with O'Malley, that's not what I meant," he looked into Sharpe's laughing eyes and saw that he was being teased.
"It's better this way Tom. It'll will give us a chance to catch up on old times, tell stories. I don't have to worry about him and I know you can watch out for Josh. But I'll make sure Jack stays in the mess late some nights so that you and I can have some time alone. Would yer like that Tom?" There was heat in Sharpe's eyes as he said those words and Tom found himself wishing they were alone together right now. "I'd like that, Dick," he replied, his voice trembling slightly.
Tom was glad that today was his last day for mess duty. He sat picking at his food that evening, barely able to eat the lamb stew after being surrounded by pots of it all day long. God, how did women do this every day, he wondered.
Captain Hughes came in and addressed the mess, welcoming the newcomers again and giving permission for an extra ration of rum. As he left, he signalled to Sharpe who followed him out.
Jack O'Malley slid over next to Tom and spoke quietly into his ear "So is Hughes the one Sharpe's doing now?" Tom didn't look up but went on drinking his rum. "You'd best ask Dick," was all he said.
"I thought you'd know. Hughes pays you, doesn't he or have I got it wrong? Is Dick working for himself these days?" Tom spun around quickly to stare into the pale blue eyes so close to his own. "Dick's not a whore any more O'Malley! He's a soldier and you'd better remember it." O'Malley let a slow smile spread across his face "If you say so Tom," he said and he moved away from Garrard to sit with Peters and Rawlings and Josh Smith.
Soon O'Malley's voice could be heard regaling them with tales of his early life spent picking pockets and of his recent run in with the law when he thought he'd try his hand a bit of highway robbery. The younger men were clearly impressed with his daring and cunning but Tom wondered what they would think if Tom asked O'Malley to tell the tale about how he had been Sharpe's pimp.
Tom left the mess early that evening making sure he took Josh Smith with him. O'Malley gave them a sly look as they walked past but Tom ignored him.
Let O'Malley think what he liked. Tom just wanted to make sure that he was asleep before Sharpe and O'Malley decide to go to bed. Although Dick had said that O'Malley meant nothing to him, Tom was certain that this would not prevent Sharpe from sharing his body with O'Malley like he had in the past. Some habits were hard to break and Tom was willing to bet that O'Malley wouldn't object to the idea.
"Top or bottom Tom?" asked Josh as he stripped off his uniform. Tom stared at him for a moment before he realised that the younger man was referring to the berths.
"Bottom," he said thinking that it would be harder for Sharpe and O'Malley to get up to much balanced on the top berth. He slid into the cold bed and turned away from Smith "No nonsense tonight Josh, all right." Smith moved away a little "Yes Tom," his small voice replied.
Tom was indeed asleep when Sharpe and O'Malley returned but was soon woken by the harsh whisper of their voices.
"It's not like that any more Jack. I do it with Hughes because I want to." Sharpe's voice sounded strained in the darkness.
"Yer mean he doesn't pay yer! Huh, and him a Captain! Yer could be making yer fortune here Dick. I suppose yer just give it away to Garrard as well." The bed creaked and Tom could hear the bodies above him moving.
"No Jack, I don't want to tonight. I've been with Hughes." Sharpe said quietly and O'Malley snorted "Never stopped yer before. Didn't matter how many yer'd been with, yer were always ready for me when we got home." The bed creaked again. "What's the matter Dick, are yer too good for me now?" O'Malley's voice was softer now. It sounds almost seductive, Tom thought. "Have yer moved up in the world and forgotten me, forgotten all the times I saved yer neck and yer arse." The sound of kisses and heavy breathing filled the darkness bringing vivid images to Tom's mind.
"I haven't forgotten Jack. If yer really want to then," Sharpe's words were cut off by a gasp. "Too fast," he hissed, his voice tight with pain.
"Yer've gotten soft Dick. Yer been petted for too long" came O'Malley's breathy reply.
Tom sat up ready to put a stop to what was taking place but Sharpe spoke again, his voice more relaxed.
"You haven't Jack. Yer still as hard as ever, and as rough," The bunks started creaking rhythmically and Tom heard Sharpe moan, a sound he knew well. He hovered on the edge of the bed unsure of what to do. If it had been anyone else but O'Malley, he would have stepped in, but Sharpe had said O'Malley was his friend and so Tom hesitated.
"Yer used to like it rough Dick, don't yer remember?" O'Malley groaned loudly "The harder the better yer told me once. Christ yer were a hot little thing."
"Just keep the noise down a bit. Yer'll wake the other lads." said Sharpe softly, panting.
"It used to be me saying that to you Dick. Many a night I had to cover yer mouth to stop yer screams."
Tom swung his legs out of bed. He had heard enough. The whole barracks would be awake soon! From further down the long room a voice called out "Keep it quiet down there! Some of us are trying to sleep."
O'Malley's laughter sounded and the bed kept creaking "Nearly finished" he shouted out loudly before grunting and groaning some more. The bunks stopped moving and silence descended, broken only by the fast breathing of the two men above.
"Are you all right Dick?" Tom asked softly, hoping Sharpe wouldn't get angry. There was silence a moment and Tom thought Sharpe wasn't going to answer. But then he spoke, his voice sounded tired but not distressed. "Yeah Tom, I'm fine. I'm sorry we woke yer."
Tom pulled his legs back into the bed and lay down again.
"Have they finished?" asked Josh Smith and Tom turned around quickly to see the young man staring at him in the darkness. "Yes, go back to sleep Josh."
But Josh was wide awake and he moved closer to Tom. "Were they..do you think they were..doing...you know..THAT?" he asked. Tom didn't answer, unsure of what to say.
"Will you show me that Tom? Will you show me how to do it?" Josh asked solemnly.
"What?" Tom said a little to loudly, shocked by Smith's request. "Christ No Josh! Yer don't want me to show yer that!" Smith moved a little closer and laid his warm hand on Tom's arm.
"I thought if I knew how to do it, then I could do it with Bill. He might want me again then, if I had something to give him like his wife gives him." Smith's voice sounded so sad in the darkness that Tom's anger slipped away. For one brief moment Tom considered Smith's requested, wondering how Sharpe would feel listening to Tom making love. But Tom felt guilty when he thought about using Smith like that.
"Listen Joshy, it's not something yer just go around doing with anyone. I know Dick...well, I know he's told yer stories about what he did before, but he didn't know any better. You do!" Tom paused weighing up how much more to say. "And it hurts, trust me I know. It's not something that you'd WANT to do with just anyone. It's very......It makes you very 'close' to the person yer doing it with. You want to save that feeling for someone special." Someone should have told that to Dick Sharpe years ago, Tom thought angrily as he listened for any more noise from above, but all was quiet. He wondered if Sharpe could overhear his words and whether they would mean anything to him.
"Now as for Bill, well he cares for you and I'm sure he does want you. But we're not in Flanders now. Things are different here. Bill has a wife and family and they have to come first." Tom paused again and Smith snuffled quietly. "Come here and I'll hold you while you go to sleep, but nothing more. All right." Smith settled into his arms, a small warm comfort, and Tom remembered how he had once said similar words to Dick Sharpe far away in Flanders.
God help us all, Tom prayed as he dozed off to sleep.
The following morning Tom was surprised by how little reaction there was to the late night disturbance. He had been expecting O'Malley to receive more than a few cold stares and was surprised when the only reaction was more akin to good-natured teasing than censure.
Sharpe climbed down from the top berth with a slight wince and dressed quickly before leaving for the mess. Serves him right, thought Tom, but quickly dismissed that thought as uncharitable and decided to ask Sharpe again if he was all right.
O'Malley took his time getting dressed, glancing repeatedly at Tom as if daring him to say something. Tom refused to be baited. He took his own good time getting ready and waited for Smith before leaving.
It was not until after Morning Parade that Tom found a moment to speak to Dick alone. When Tom walked up to Sharpe, the younger man wouldn't look at him. "Dick are you sure that you're all right. Did O'Malley hurt you?" he put his hand under Sharpe's chin and tipped his face up so that he could look into those green eyes that he knew so well.
Sharpe smiled, but there was a nervousness about him. "No Tom. I know what it sounded like but that's just the way Jack is. He likes to get loud. He'd never hurt me." Tom frowned "I think we might have different ideas on what it means to get hurt Dick," he said seriously.
"I'm sorry Tom, I didn't mean to hurt you." Sharpe said gently, remorse in his eyes and Tom saw that Sharpe had completely misunderstood his words. "It's all right Dick" he answered smiling.
By the end of the week Jack O'Malley had fitted into the Regiment as if he had always been one of the lads. In fact Tom was surprised at just how popular he had become. Admittedly he was quick with a joke or a funny story. He was full of tales of his own daring deeds, mostly conducted on the far side of the law and could often be found among a group of the younger lads, their faces eager, hanging on his every word.
Tom doubted that many of the stories were true. O'Malley could not possibly have done so much in his short 23 years. But one thing was true, Tom decided. Jack O'Malley had a way with words and could probably charm the birds right down from the trees.
It was therefore strange, Tom thought, that after the first night O'Malley was content to simply lay beside Sharpe at night and made no attempt to talk him into anything more. At first Tom suspected that the two men were waiting until he was asleep and keeping very quiet. He started staying in the mess until Sharpe and O'Malley left then laying awake listening to them. But all they seemed to do was talk and even that was about the most innocent subjects. Next he wondered if they had found somewhere else to meet but despite following them several time he never caught them behaving in a manner other than what you would expect of friends.
At the same time Sharpe had not suggested that he spend the night in Tom's berth either and Tom began to feel Sharpe's absence keenly. He missed the feel of him in his arms at night, but more than that he missed his companionship during the day. Sharpe was often in O'Malley's company, not all of the time, but enough to make Tom wonder what was happening to his own friendship with Sharpe.
Eventually Tom decided that he would just come straight out and ask Sharpe about his relationship with O'Malley. He waited until they were standing guard duty together in the front of the Officers rooms. It was the middle of summer and the the strong sun beat down making Tom feel hot in his woollen uniform. The chill of Flanders and all that he had found there with Sharpe seemed far away now.
"Dick," he began slowly "What's happening between you and Jack?" Tom tried to keep his voice neutral. "Are you still sleeping with him?"
Sharpe looked at him quizzically. "Yes" he said, sounding puzzled.
"No I mean are yer still, yer know,..." Tom struggled to find the words to use. Certainly not 'making love' as he doubted that applied. He knew the word he would have liked to use, but didn't think Dick would appreciate it. "Oh, no, I told him no more and he didn't seem to mind." Sharpe smiled at Tom, a glint of something in his green eyes. "Why Tom, do yer want to?"
Tom looked away, feeling angry. Surely Sharpe didn't think that his offer would make up for the way he had treated Garrard.
"Look Tom," Sharpe began again when Tom didn't answer "I know I've haven't been spending as much time with yer lately but I've just been catching up with Jack. I'm sorry. I know you were jealous of me sleeping with him so I told him no, but I didn't think yer'd mind me being with him in the day.
Tom Garrard stare at Dick Sharpe and wondered how the younger man could have it so wrong.
"Dick it's not about bloody fucking!" he shouted. "We're supposed to be mates! Cant you see that's its yer company, yer friendship that I miss and not yer arse."
Tom ran his hand over his face, and took a deep breath trying to get his temper under control. The silence between them was deafening. Finally in a small voice Sharpe said,
"I'm sorry Tom. I know what's important to you. I know yer care about me. It's just that.." Sharpe paused his face white and uncertain. "It's hard to break old ways. Jack's like a..a..a big brother, he always told me what to do and I did it. I guess being with Jack again made me forget some things and remember others. I'm sorry."
It would be easy to forgive Sharpe, Tom thought. It was always easy to forgive someone you loved. But Tom wasn't about to admit that those feelings to Sharpe.
"I don't want you to sleep with me because you feel you have to Dick, because you feel you owe me something. You don't owe me anything! There are no strings on our friendship, no payment to go with it. You do something because you want to, that's all."
Sharpe hung his head "I understand Tom," he said quietly, but Garrard wasn't sure that he did.
It was later that evening just before mess when O'Malley sought out Tom. The Irishman waited until Tom was alone before confronting him in the shadows outside of the washroom. "You don't like me do yer Tom? You don't approve of my friendship with Dick?" he asked without preamble.
"I don't like that fact that you were Dick's pimp! I don't call that friendship!" Tom spat at the bigger man. If he wanted a fight then Tom would give him one.
But O'Malley just looked at him, his face little more than a shadow in the twilight. "You don't know anything about it. If you did you wouldn't be so quick to judge. I didn't seek him out or pick him up. I took him on as a favour to Maggie and God knows I owed her plenty. Dick wouldn't have lasted a year on the streets without someone to look out for him. He was too soft and too pretty."
O'Malley paused and stepped back a little. "And I know what I'm talking about Tom," he said in a quieter voice, a voice that almost sounded vulnerable. "I saw my mother die in a knife fight when I was 12 and I'd been on the streets since then. Only thing was I didn't have anyone to watch out for me. No one much cares what happens to street boys. You might think that it is all about a quick fuck in a back alley but that's the easy part." O'Malley pulled his stock off and undid his jacket. There was a wide silver scar part of the way across his neck. "For some that's just the beginning."
Tom stared. "Don't look so shocked Tom, that's not the half of it" said O'Malley bitterly. He opened the rest of his jacket and pulled up his shirt. Another scar ran halfway down his breast bone, puckered and ugly. Tom could see the smaller scars where someone had stitched the wound together.
"Twice I nearly died because I had no one to look out for me. To this day I don't know how I survived. Maggie doctored me the second time but she wasn't much of a seamstress." O'Malley laughed bitterly. "I met Dick not long after he ran away from that home. He was about 13 I think. I wasn't much older than he is now, but I'd seen more of life's ugliness that you'll ever see Tom. So don't be so quick to judge what you don't understand. Dick wouldn't be standing here today if it wasn't for me."
The Irishman finished talking and stood there waiting. For what, Tom wondered. An apology? Acceptance? O'Malley began to speak again.
"Dick spoke to me today. He's upset about what you think of him. He wants me to...step back a little, not spend so much time around him. I'll admit I didn't understand what it was between you and him at first. I thought it was you and little Josh but I guess I was wrong." O'Malley held his hand out to Tom in the old gesture of friendship. "What I'm trying to say Tom is that I know Dick is your mate now and I don't want to come between yer." He stood there with his hand held out, waiting.
Tom took O'Malley's hand and shook it, too surprised to do anything more. O'Malley smiled happily but Tom just stared, still trying to accept all that he had heard.
"Come on, we'll be late for mess." said O'Malley and clapped Tom on the back. "I hate it when the stew is cold."
The mess was mostly full when the two men arrived and Tom looked around to find his circle of friends. What caught his eyes was something else entirely. Wardell and his cronies had Josh Smith bailed up and would not let him pass. Tom watched as Wardell placed his arm around the young man and pulled him down into his lap.
"Bastards" muttered Tom as he began to make his way over. But O'Malley was quicker. "You! Wardell! Let him up!" he shouted at the top of his voice. The room grew quiet and the infantrymen made a path for the glowering figure who strode through the mess like a conquering army. Tom could merely follow in his wake.
Wardell stood up dislodging Smith but holding onto him by one arm. O'Malley stared at Wardell then let his gaze travel past each of the men who sat with him.
"There is nothing lower on this earth, nothing so filthy, so depraved as a man who would force another," he said clearly in a voice that carried to the corners of the room. No one moved. No one spoke.
"Now let the lad go, he doesn't want to be here." Wardell dropped his hand and Smith hurried to stand beside O'Malley.
O'Malley locked eyes with Wardell and in a quiet voice, so low that no one outside the immediate circle could hear, he said "I'll remember you!" before turning and striding away.
Tom followed once more, shepherding Josh along until they came to the table where Sharpe and Peters and Whyte waited. The mess hall was abuzz with talk once more. Most of it centred on what had just taken place.
Bill Hanson walked over, his face concerned. "What was going on, I didn't see what happened?" he said.
"No need to worry now, Sarge, it's all taken care of, hey Josh" O'Malley replied winking at the younger man and ruffling his hair. "Yer can't be expected to see everything that goes on," he said as he continued smiling at Hanson. "After all yer got that pretty wife to look at and those little ones of yours must keep yer busy with all their toddling about." Tom waited to see how his Sereant would react, but Hanson simply looked to Smith and asked if he was all right. The younger man nodded and with a final glance at O'Malley, Bill Hanson returned to his family.
The rest of the evening progressed like any other. Captain Hughes didn't come by and Tom eventually found a quiet moment to speak to Dick alone while the others talked around them.
"I had a talk with Jack before and I think I was wrong about him. I had no right to judge what I didn't understand. I'm sorry Dick." Sharpe's face lit up and he move closer to Tom until they were touching. "Are we still friends then Tom, still mates?"
Tom couldn't help smiling. There was something so innocent about Sharpe at times. "Course we are. We always will be." Sharpe let his fingers trail up Tom's thigh, shattering all images of innocence. "I'll ask Jack if he'll swap bunks with yer tonight and yer can come up and keep me warm if yer like."
I should say no, thought Tom, but he saw the want in Sharpe eyes and knew it was mirrored in his own and he nodded.
"Josh will be all right with Jack. He'll see that nothing happens to him." Sharpe said quietly as he let his hand ride higher on Tom's thigh.
Tom thought O'Malley and Smith would never go to sleep as he lay in the top berth and listened to the older man telling more tales of derry-doing. Tom lay still with Sharpe, a hard warmth at his side. For once Sharpe kept his hands to himself and Tom knew that he too was waiting until everyone was asleep. Finally the voices ceased and quiet descended on the barracks. Tom rolled onto his side, suddenly fearful that he might misjudge the edge of the bunk and fall off, but Sharpe's arms came around him and Tom felt safe.
He lost himself in the passion of Sharpe's kisses, burned with the fervour of Sharpe's caresses and finally gave himself up to the heat of Sharpe's body. Tom's own pulse pounded in his ears as he clamped his mouth over Sharpe's in an attempt to keep them both quiet. He was oblivious to everything but Sharpe beneath him, rising to meet each of his thrusts, clinging to him desperately as their passion threatened to drown them.
Afterwards, Tom listened carefully, but the barracks was still quiet and he dozed of to sleep, happy once more holding Sharpe in his arms.
Tom awoke before the bugle call next morning feeling that all was right with the world once again. He nudged Sharpe but the younger man grunted and pulled the blanket over his head. Tom smiled and slipped out of the bunk onto the ground and commenced dressing. He looked at the bottom berth wondering what sort of reception O'Malley would have for him but the Irishman must have woken early and had already left. It was Josh Smith's big brown eyes that stared up at him, full of fear. Josh Smith's pale face with bruises clearing showing around his mouth.
"Joshy?" Tom asked and he moved closer to the younger man who suddenly pulled away whimpering. "Oh Christ Josh, are you all right?" Tom asked holding out his hand but too afraid to touch him. "Dick! Dick wake up and get down here," Tom said loudly and Sharpe shimmed over the edge of the bunk to land on the floor as softly as a cat.
Sharpe took one look at Smith and pulled the covers back, ignoring the Josh's whimpered protests.
"Get Bill, said Sharpe quickly "He's been hurt." Over Sharpe's shoulder Tom could see blood, bright and red, staining the sheets.
"Bill! Bill Hanson! Quickly." Tom knew that this voice boarded on hysteria but he suddenly centred on one thought. Who had done this?
Sharpe was kneeling beside the bed whispering softly to Smith "It's all right now Josh, no one's going to hurt you. How bad is the pain? Can yer tell where it is?"
Tom looked back as Hanson hurried up. The Sergeant took one look at Josh laying on the bunk and grabbed Tom by the throat. "You bastard!" he screamed, his hands squeezing Tom's windpipe.
"It wasn't Me!" Tom gasped, grabbing at Hanson's fingers "I was up with Dick last night. It was O'Malley! We swapped bunks." Hanson shook him. "So you just lay there and let it happen? You must have heard something!"
Sharpe's voice brought them both back to their senses.
"Josh needs a doctor. Someone will have to carry him." Tom could see the concern in Dick's eyes and cursed himself. This WAS his fault. He should never have left Josh alone with O'Malley.
"I'll take him," said Hanson quickly and he pushed passed Tom to wrap Smith in the blanket and carry him to the infirmary. Sharpe and Garrard followed.
"It couldn't have been Jack," said Sharpe in a small voice when they stood outside the infirmary again. The surgeon was treating Smith and the three men had been told to leave.
"I'll cut his bloody throat when I get my hands on him" said Hanson, murder clear in his voice.
"That's not the way Bill. He should be made to answer for this." Tom's initial shock had died away and his mind suddenly seemed crystal clear, almost detached from the terrible pain that he felt in his heart. "You go and report this to Captain Hughes and I'll go to the mess hall. That's where he'll be. I'll keep him there and the Captain can send the guards to arrest him."
O'Malley was sitting calmly eating his porridge in the mess hall when Garrard walked up to him. "Sleep late did yer Tom?" he said with a wink.
"You Bastard!" Tom said and he hauled him up by his jacket.
"What's the bloody matter Tom?" O'Malley asked as he struggled to shake off Tom's hold.
"Josh Smith is what the bloody matter is!" Tom shouted. "Josh Smith bleeding to death in the infirmary!"
The colour drained from O'Malleys face. "What?" he said in disbelief. He looked from Garrard to Sharpe and back again. "He was fine when I left him this morning."
Sharpe looked at Tom "See I told you it wasn't Jack" he said quickly, relief showing in his eyes.
But Tom saw a different meaning in O'Malley's words.
"So yer saying yer did do Josh last night?" Tom asked, his voice steady now, wanting to find the truth in all of this.
"Of course I did him! He was damned eager for it, wouldn't keep his hands off me. But he wasn't bleeding. He never said anything to me. Besides a bit of blood's nothing. Hey Dick?" O'Malley's voice had taken on an edge. Gone was the surety, replaced by uncertainty.
"It was more that a bit Jack. It looked bad." Sharpe said quietly.
"Well tell 'em Dick, tell 'em how it can happen sometimes. Remember Kip Reedy? That wasn't Simon's fault, it just happened. Simon was heartbroken, nearly cut his own throat."
Sharpe looked at Tom, his eyes sad. "It's true. It can happen if you're not careful. Josh had never done it before." Sharpe looked back to O'Malley "Did he tell yer that, Jack." O'Malley shook his head and Tom thought he saw a flicker of remorse.
"What about the bruises on his mouth? You can see the marks of your fingers quiet clearly where you tried to keep him quiet." Tom asked again, aware that the guards would arrive soon and that he wanted to hear all of what O'Malley had to say before he was taken away.
"Of course I tried to keep him quiet. I didn't want to wake the whole bloody barracks. It was bad enough last time." O'Malley shouted. "Christ, he was moaning like a regular little whore. I had to put my hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. How do you usually keep quiet Tom?" O'Malley asked "Bite onto something?" Tom dropped his eyes and looked away.
The guards arrived then and placed O'Malley under arrest. As he was taken away he continued to shout "Tell them Dick, tell them that I wouldn't do it. You know me. Tell them."
The trial was set for the two days time although it was doubtful that Josh Smith would be able to testify. The surgeon announced that Smith's injuries were not life threatening but that he should be confined to bed rest for at least a week. Captain Hughes visited Smith briefly and wrote down all he had to say.
In a short space of time O'Malley fell from his position of popular rogue to become a man despised. Forgotten were the jokes and stories that he had told or the time he had stood up for Josh against Wardell and his friends. In the ranks O'Malley had already been tried and found guilty.
Bill Hanson was like a caged bear. He growled at everyone and everything but mainly he growled at Tom Garrard. "If you weren't so bloody desperate to fuck Dick Sharpe this never would have happened. You were supposed to be looking after Josh, not handing him over to a pimping Highwayman."
Tom kept quiet. He didn't want to upset Hanson any further. There was no point in mentioning the fact that Josh had made advances towards him on occasions and that he may have made them to O'Malley as well. Surely this would come out at the trial, Tom thought, and anyway did it really matter. If Josh said it was rape then it must be rape. It was as simple as that.
Both Garrard and Sharpe were called to give evidence at the trial. Major Shee resided, his bushy eyebrows drawn together as he listened to one testimony after another. Ensign Hicks had been appointed to act for O'Malley and Captain Hughes conducted the prosecution.
Tom was asked why they had swapped bunks that night and he answered that they had all simply felt like a change. It was true enough in Tom's eyes. There was no reason to say any more. He was asked about what had happened in the mess hall earlier and Tom told how O'Malley had stood up for Josh and repeated the Irishman's words. Finally he related what he had found the following morning. The last question took him by surprise. "Did you hear anything that night Private Garrard?" Hughes asked and Tom had to admit that he had heard nothing.
Sharpe was asked more questions. Most of them were to do with O'Malley's past. Tom could see the strain in Hughes eyes as he probed into to Sharpe's history but he also noted how carefully the Captain went with his questions, trying to avoid mention of Sharpes own sordid past, never pressing unnecessarily.
Others were called including Bill Hanson and the Regimental surgeon. Finally Josh Smith's own testimony was read out to the hushed courtroom.
Hughes voice held no emotion as he read the words, but Tom could imagine Smith's quiet little voice speaking.
"I, Joshua Smith of the 33rd Regiment solemnly declare that on the night of the 24th of August 1795, Jack O'Malley, also of the 33rd Regiment, being my bunk mate at the time, took advantage of me and raped me. At no time did I consent to his advances." Hughes held up the document to show Smith's signature on the bottom.
"It's a lie!" shouted O'Malley desperately. "He's a bloody little liar. It was him that came onto me. Begged me he did, pleaded with me to do it." The guards restrained him as Major Shee's voice boomed out through the courtroom. "You'll have your chance to answer the charges when you are called to speak Private. Now, if you can't behave in an orderly fashion you will be shackled and taken away and this hearing will proceed without you."
Ensign Hicks had not asked a single question of the witnesses but now he stood. "I must protest Sir, how can this case proceed if the guilty party isn't present."
The Major raised his eyebrows and Captain Hughes stood up. "Sir, I think we should appoint someone else to act for Private O'Malley. He deserves someone impartial at least."
Shee shrugged "Just bring him up now and I'll ask the questions. I'm dining with the Colonel at noon and this trial has gone on for long enough."
O'Malley was brought to stand at the front of the room and Major Shee began his questioning. He was short and to the point and gave O'Malley little chance to do more than answer directly.
Yes, he had committed sodomy with Josh Smith. No, he had not raped him. Yes, he had put his hand over Smith's mouth to muffle his utterances. No, he was unaware that Smith was bleeding.
Major Shee took a deep breath, and stared at O'Malley who still stood in front of everyone, waiting. "It seems very simple to me. An offence has been committed here whichever way you look at it. If it is rape then the punishment is hanging. If it is sodomy then the punishment is flogging." He paused and waited for his words to impact on all present. Tom heard Dick gasp slightly.
"Do you still maintain you innocent Private O'Malley?" Shee asked again.
O'Malley stood up tall and proud. "Yes Sir, I never raped him."
"Very well them I find you guilty of an act of sodomy and sentence you to 2500 lashes." Gasps of shock were clearly heard throughout the small room. Regulations stated that the maximum number of lashes to be given was 1200, however this was often overlooked. Sharpe groaned and placed his head in his hands. But Shee hadn't finished.
"When Private Smith is recovered he will be sentenced to the same." Shee paused again and looked at O'Malley who stood stricken, his face white, his hands shaking.
"I know you can not relish the thought of 2500 lashes, and hanging is a far quicker way to die. So, I'll ask you again Private. Do you still maintain your innocence?" Shee looked smug. He pulled out his pocket watch and studied it.
There was silence in the courtroom and Tom was aware he was holding his breath.
O'Malley looked up and gazed around the courtroom. He seemed to be looking for someone but then he swung his gaze back to Major Shee and said "I did it sir, I raped him."
Suddenly everyone was talking at once, a cacophony of voices that Captain Hughes had to shout over to make himself heard. "Sir, this is most irregular. We must have another trial." Shee was not swayed.
"No! Nonsense, he's admitted his guilt. I find him guilty of rape and he will be hanged at dawn. This court is concluded. I'm late for dinner." The Major rose and left.
O'Malley was led away, clearly shaken by what had taken place. His face was white and his shoulders hung. There was a vacant look in his once laughing eyes.
Sharpe grabbed Tom's arm to gain his attention. "I've got to talk to him Tom. I've got to see him," he said desperately.
"We'll talk to Captain Hughes. I'm sure he'll let you see him for a few minutes to say your goodbyes." Tom patted Sharpe's hand but Sharpe pulled it away.
"You think he did it, don't you." Sharpe said angrily and Tom shook his head.
"I don't know what to think really, but it does look that way. He did admit it." Tom stood and walked with Sharpe out of the now deserted room into the fresh air. He looked up. The sky was the deepest blue, the sun so brilliant that it hurt his eyes. How at odd it all seemed after the darkness that had been revealed in the trial.
"The bastards had him either way. Jack only said it to save Josh. He didn't want to see him hurt." There was a pleading in Sharpe's voice now as if asking for Tom's support.
Tom shrugged "Either that or to get a quick painless death. I suppose we'll never know."
A white-coated orderly stopped in front of Garrard and Sharpe "Tom Garrad? Josh Smith is asking for you. You're allowed a short visit.
"Me? He's asking for me?" Tom asked, puzzled. Surely Josh would ask for Bill Hanson first.
"He's been asking to talk to you since yesterday, but the Surgeon wouldn't let him have any visitors. He finally agreed just to keep him quiet."
They arrived at the infirmary and Tom followed the orderly to a small room. Sharpe tagged along behind, saying nothing, but acting as if he had every right to be there as well. The orderly looked at him and finally nodded. He left them and closed the door.
Josh Smith looked small in the bed. Small and pale, Tom thought, with dark rings under his eyes. The bruises around his mouth had already begun fading to yellow.
"How are yer Josh." Tom asked quietly. Smith sat up, his hands clutching the sheets.
"Tom, you mustn't tell him what I did. He'd never understand. Please don't say anything at the trial." Josh's small voice was shrill in the quiet room.
Tom crossed to the bed and sat down, relieved to see that Smith didn't shrink away from him. He glanced back at Sharpe, but the younger man just leant against the wall silently. Turning back he took a good look at Josh Smith. Josh's eyes looked glassy and his manner boarded on hysteria. His hands were constantly worrying at the edge of the sheet.
"Who Josh? Who don't you want me to tell? And what don't you want me to say?" Tom asked gently.
"Bill! Bill mustn't know. Please don't tell him what I did those nights Tom, what I tried to get you to do with me. Don't tell anyone."
Tom's stomach turned over as a frightening suspicion crept up his spine. Tom reached out and took Smith's hand. It was cold and clammy.
"Josh, I promise I won't tell anyone what you did, but you have to tell me the truth. Did you try that with Jack O'Malley?" Tom held his breath. Part of him didn't want to hear what Josh had to say, afraid that it would only add to the confusion.
Smith eyes filled with tears as he began to speak "Yes. I trusted him Tom. I didn't think he would hurt me. He didn't mind holding me, kissing me when I asked him to. It felt nice in his arms. He said he wouldn't hurt me, that I'd like it." Smith paused, the tears freely flowing down his cheeks now and Tom brushed them away. "But it did hurt! That was when I changed my mind. I tried to tell him to stop but he had his hand over my mouth. I tried to stop him but he was so much bigger than me." Josh's breath was coming in heavy gasps now and he closed his eyes and sobbed before wiping at his eyes.
Tom took a deep breath. This certainly shed a different light on what had happened that night. Yes, Josh had wanted O'Malley to stop eventually, but he had initially given his consent. What if O'Malley hadn't heard Josh? Should he still be considered guilty?
Tom leant closer "Josh why didn't you tell this to Captain Hughes?" he asked gently. Smith opened his eyes again and Tom could see the hurt and confusion and fear that lurked there.
"I didn't want Bill to know. He'd think I was a whore." Smith whispered softly "Besides Jack wouldn't stop when I wanted him to, he wouldn't stop and he hurt me." Smith lay down again crying and Tom looked away, thinking over what he had been told. He caught Dick's eye as he still stood against the wall. Oh God, what should he do?
"You promised Tom. You promised you wouldn't say anything." Josh begged as if he could read Tom's confusion.
"It's all right Joshy, I won't tell," Tom said all the while thinking a man was going to hang tomorrow. He wiped Smiths tears again and settled him back into the bed. "Get some rest now and I'll come see you again."
Sharpe and Garrard walked out in silence, each with their own thoughts.
"We'll go see Captain Hughes, he'll have to do something," said Garrard, as they crossed the parade ground, but he couldn't imagine what the Captain would be able to do.
"Yer can't tell him Tom. Yer promised." Sharpe said quietly. His face looked pale and his eyes hard.
"I know I did, but you didn't. You could tell him. O'Malley didn't get a fair trial. There are too many doubts Dick."
They waited half an hour to see Captain Hughes and finally they were lead into his office by Ensign Hicks.
"Tom, Dick, you wanted to see me?" Hughes leaned against the front of his desk. He looked troubled.
"Sir, I think Jack O'Malley deserves another trial. There's more to what happened that night than what's been told. It might not make a difference to the outcome, but it should be made known." It was all Tom could say without breaking his word to Smith. He hoped it was enough.
Hughes regarded the two men critically. "I've no doubt there is far more to what happened that night than any of us know, but I don't think it would make a difference now. The simple fact is that someone is going to die for what took place."
Hughes walked to the window and looked out at the parade ground. "No matter how you look at it, sodomy is a flogging offence. The fact that half the army has probably practiced it at one time or another doesn't alter that fact." He turned back to the two infantrymen and ran his hand through his black hair.
"Who's to say how we should judge a case like this. Both men have different stories. No one else saw or heard anything that night. I think it all comes down to a man's character. Is O'Malley capable of such a thing? None of us here really know him that well," Hughes paused and smiled at Dick "except you perhaps Dick. I'm sorry but there is really nothing more I can do lads."
"There is one more thing Sir?" Sharpe spoke up suddenly "Could I see Jack for a while? Just to say goodbye. Like you said I'm the only one who really knows him. I guess I'm almost like family." Hughes eyed him slowly "Can I trust you Dick?" he asked and Sharpe smiled back at him, a smile Tom had seen many times. "You know me sir, of course yer can." Tom was aware that something unspoken had passed between Hughes and Sharpe, but he did not know what.
Hughes turned to Garrard and surprised him by saying "You go with him Tom, keep and eye on him."
"Yes Sir," said Tom and Hughes wrote out a pass for them to give to the guards.
The gaol block was a small stone building set apart from the main barracks block. There was only one great door to the outside and it was here that Garrard and Sharpe showed the two guards the pass from Hughes.
After reading it the one of the men swung open the door and pointed inside "He's down the end, yer can't miss him. And don't worry, those bars are locked tight and there is no way that you can get him out." Tom frowned at the man and walked inside.
It was gloomy inside, dark and cold. The two men walked past five tiny cells before they came to the one that housed O'Malley. The big man was sitting on the floor but stood when he saw Sharpe and Garrard.
"Dick, I knew yer'd come. Yer've got to do something Dick. It wasn't my fault." Sharpe crossed to the bars, his hands reaching out to hold the cold steel. Tom Garrard stood back content to let the two men have this time alone. He watched as O'Malley reached out and touched Sharpe's hand where it held the bars.
"There's nothing I can do Jack. We've just come from Captain Hughes. It was all I could do to get him to let me see you." Sharpe's voice sounded thin and empty and Tom suspected that the younger man felt as if he had failed his friend.
O'Malley slumped down beside the bars and Sharpe knelt down next to him.
"Why did yer say yer did it Jack?" Sharpe asked softly "Was it to save Josh from the flogging."
O'Malley snorted. ""No! I'd be happy to take a flogging if I could watch Smith get his first, but there's no chance of that is there. They'd wait till he was better before they flogged him to death. No, if I gotta die then I'd rather it be quick." O'Malley paused and shifted a little where he sat.
"Bloody Josh Smith! He's too pretty for his own good. He's a little whore if ever there was one. Coming on to me like that, so hot and eager. He reminded me of you, he did. Yeah he was just like you were when we first met. Do yer remember that Dick?" Sharpe nodded his head and Tom watched O'Malley reach out his hand and brush Sharpe's cheek.
"So pretty yer were. Yer'd curl up next to me at night cause yer hated the dark and I'd hold yer." O'Malley smiled and leaned against the bars where Sharpe sat. "Yer liked that, didn't yer Dick! Yer liked what I used to do." Tom stared at the two men and he heard Sharpe whisper "yes" in a voice that faltered.
O'Malley stood and started pacing the cell like a caged lion. "Here Dick, yer could get me out of here, yer know. You were always good with a picklock, always had one or yer. You could open this gate and let me out. There's a little manhole up there in the roof that I could reach and get away over the wall. I'd could be miles away from here before they realised I was even missing." Sharpe had risen also and watched O'Malley intently for a moment before turning back and fixing his green gaze on Tom Garrard.
Tom met Sharpe's eyes before deliberately turning his back on the two men. This was Sharpe's decision and his alone. Tom understood now the looks that had passed between Hughes and Sharpe in the Captain's Office. Hughes hadn't forgotten that Sharpe had a picklock and he had left the final judgement of Jack O'Malley to the one man who knew him best, Dick Sharpe.
Sharpe's voice was steady "I'm sorry Jack. I don't have a picklock any more. Soldiers don't need them and I sold it when I returned from Flanders." Tom spun back. Sharpe was standing still and tall looking at O'Malley who gripped the bars again, defeat plainly showing in his face.
The big man laughed but there was no mirth in the sound "Well I suppose we all have to go some time. I'm amazed I made it to 23, there were days when I thought I wouldn't see 15. If I've got to die I'd rather go quickly Dick. Hah, do yer remember we used to have a bet about which one of us would be the first to get hanged? Looks like you won."
Sharpe said goodbye then and walked to the door. "Don't forget me Dick," called O'Malley as the door closed.
Sharpe was silent as they crossed the parade ground. The gallows was being errected, a grim wooden skeleton in the afternoon light.
Tom stopped Sharpe with a hand on his shoulder. He turned the younger man toward him and asked "Where's yer picklock Dick? What happened to it."
Sharpe patted the edge of his jacket absently. "Here," he said softly.
Tom stared at him and quickly looked back to the gaol still thinking about O'Malley.
"Why didn't you let him go then? Surely there are enough questions unanswered to leave some doubt as to what really happened. He'll be hanged tomorrow regardless of whether he is guilty or innocent."
"There is one thing I do know, Tom," Sharpe said slowly, his green eyes fixed on Garrard and Tom thought he saw in those eyes the ghost of the thirteen year old boy that Sharpe had once been. The boy who had been frightened, bullied and intimidated by young man named Jack O'Malley who had seen far too much horror in his own short life to know any better.
"Jack O'Malley was right, Tom." Sharpe whispered. "I DO know him!"
THE END.
Sept.1998