SHARPE’S REGIMENT

‘You’ll never be hungry again! You’ll never be without a woman! You’ll never be poor again! You can walk with your head up and never fear again, because you will be a soldier!’

The drum-roll again, and still the gold coins went up and down beside Sergeant Havercamp’s smiling, confiding, friendly face.

‘You’ve heard of us, lads! You know of us! We’re the South Essex. We’re the lads who tweaked Bonaparte’s nose! That monkey loses sleep because of us. The South Essex! We’ve put fear into the heart of an Emperor, and you can belong to us! Yes! We’ll even pay you!’

The drum-roll once more. The coins stopped in Havercamp’s raised right hand. He took off his shako, revealing red hair, and, holding the inverted shako in his left hand, as the drummer boys struck one sharp blow on their skins, he tossed one of the golden guineas into the hat. A second drumbeat marked the second guinea joining the first and, still without saying a word, Sergeant Havercamp produced more guineas from his pouch and tossed them, one by one, into the shako.

‘Three!’ A small, weasel-faced man who had wriggled his way close to Sharpe and Harper shouted, ‘Four! Five!’ Another man took up the count and, as the guineas mounted, the crowd called the numbers aloud to drown the thin hymn singing of the Methodists.

‘Fifteen! Sixteen! Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty! Twenty-one! Twenty-two!’

The count stopped. Sergeant Havercamp grinned at them. He put his hand into his pouch and brought out a half-guinea, held it up to the crowd, then tossed it into the hat. The drummers beat their skins. The Sergeant followed the half-guinea with a quick shower of shillings and pence, raised the hat, then shook it to let the crowd hear the heavy sound of the money inside.

‘Twenty-three pounds, seventeen shillings, and sixpence! That’s what we’ll pay you! Twenty-three pounds, seventeen shillings, and sixpence! Just to join the army! We’ll pay you!’ He shook the hat again. ‘Now, lads, I was young once!’ He held up a hand to check the good-natured jeers. ‘True! Even I, Sergeant Horatio Havercamp was young once, and let me tell you something!’ He paused dramatically, looking from face to face in the crowd. ‘I never did meet, not ever will, a pretty girl who could resist the sound of money! Now, lads! If they’ll kiss you for a shilling, what will they do for a guinea, eh?’ He raised one finger, licked it, and laughed. ‘Twenty-three pounds, seventeen shillings, and sixpence!’

‘I’ll marry you for that!’ a woman called out, provoking laughter, but the young men in the crowd were remembering the golden stream of coins that added up to more than six months’ wages for most of them. Six months’ wages! All at once, and just for signing up!

Sergeant Havercamp shook his head sadly. ‘I know what you’re thinking, lads! I know! You’ve heard stories! You’ve heard the lies they put about!’ He shook his head again in silent sadness at the sinfulness of a world that could tell lies about the army. ‘They say the army’s a harsh place! They say there’s disease and worse but, oh, my lads! Oh, my lads! My own mother begged me. She did! She said “Horatio! Don’t you go for a soldier, don’t you go!” She threatened never to talk to me again. But I did! Ah, I’ll admit I was young and I was headstrong and I was too tempted by the girls and the glory and the money; and my old mother, God bless her grey hairs, she said I’d broken her heart! Broken her very heart!’ He let the enormity of this sink into them, then slowly smiled. ‘But, my friends, my dear mother today lives in her own cottage and with every breath she takes, my friends, she blesses the name of Horatio Havercamp! And why? Why?’ He paused dramatically. ‘Because, my friends, it was I who bought her the cottage and I who planted her wallflowers and I who have given her the rest she so richly deserves.’

He smiled modestly. ‘Only the other day the General passes by her garden gate. “Mother Havercamp,” he said, “I sees your son Horatio has done you bravely!” “He has,” she says, “and all because he went for a soldier.”‘

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