Baird leafed through the front pages, finally discovering the entry for Sharpe’s court martial. ‘Two thousand strokes!’ the Scotsman said in horror. ‘It must have been a grave offence?’
‘Struck a sergeant, sir!’ Hakeswill announced.
‘You, perhaps?’ Baird asked drily, noting the Sergeant’s swollen and bruised nose.
‘Without any provocation, sir,’ Hakeswill said earnestly. ‘As God is my judge, sir, I never treated young Dick Sharpe with anything but kindness. Like one of my own children he was, sir, if I had any children, which I don’t, at least not so as I knows of. He was a very lucky man, sir, to be let off at two hundred lashes, and you see how he rewards us?’ Hakeswill sniffed indignantly.
Baird did not respond, but just turned to the last page of the book where he found the name Richard Sharpe filled in at the top of the printed form, and beneath it Sharpe’s age which was given as twenty-two years and six months, though Captain Morris, if indeed it had been Morris who had filled in the form, had placed a question mark beside the age. Sharpe’s height was reported at six feet, only four inches less than Baird himself who was one of the tallest men in the army. ‘Make or Form’ was the next question, to which Morris had answered ‘well built’, and there followed a list of headings: Head, Face, Eyes, Eyebrows, Nose, Mouth, Neck, Hair,
Shoulders, Arms, Hands, Thighs, Legs, and Feet. Morris had filled them all in, thus offering a comprehensive description of the missing man. ‘Where Born?’ was answered simply by ‘London’, while besides ‘Former Trade or Occupation’ was written ‘Thief. The form then gave the date and place of desertion and offered a description of the clothes the deserter had been wearing when last seen. The final item on the form was ‘General Remarks’, beside which Morris had written ‘Back scarred from flogging. A dangerous man.’ Baird shook his head. ‘A formidable description, Captain,’ the General said.
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘It’s been distributed?’
‘Tomorrow, sir.’ Morris blushed. The form should have been copied out four times. One copy went to the General commanding the army, who would have it copied again and distributed to every unit under his command. A second copy would go to Madras in case Sharpe ran there. A third copy went to the War Office in London to be copied again and given to all recruiting officers in case the man succeeded in reaching Britain and tried to rejoin the army, while the last copy was supposedly sent to the man’s home parish to alert his neighbours to his treachery and the local constables to his crime. In Sharpe’s case, there was no home parish, but once Morris caught up with his paperwork and the company clerk had made the necessary copies, Sharpe’s description would be broadcast throughout the army. If Sharpe was then found in Seringapatam, which Baird suspected he would be, he was supposed to be arrested, but it was far more likely that he would be killed. Most soldiers resented deserters, not because of their crime, but because they had dared to do what so many others never had the courage to try, and no officer would punish a man for killing a deserter.
Baird put the open book onto Morris’s table. ‘I want you
to add a note under “General Remarks”,’ Baird told the Captain.
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Just say that it is vital that Private Sharpe be taken alive. And that if he is captured he must be brought either to me or to General Harris.’
Morris gaped at Baird. ‘You, sir?’
‘Baird, B-A-I-R-D. Major General.’
‘Yes, sir, but.. .’ Morris had been about to ask what possible business a major general had with a deserter, then realized that such a question would never fetch a civil answer, so he just dipped a quill in ink and hurriedly added the words Baird had requested. ‘You think we might see Sharpe again, sir?’ he asked.
‘I do hope so, Captain.’ Baird stood. ‘I even pray as much. Now may I thank you for your hospitality?’
‘Yes, sir, of course, sir.’ Morris half stood as the General left, then dropped back onto his chair and stared at the words he had just written. ‘What in God’s name is all that about?’ he asked when Baird was safely out of earshot.