Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [512]
His father did not tell him the object of his visit, but he realised it must have to do with his career and accordingly he was on his best behaviour.
The interview he was granted was brief.
While Jonathan explained his son’s desire to fight in India, he felt the baronet’s cold eyes resting upon him. But looking into Forest’s long, thin face, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
After a few questions, he was curtly dismissed, while his father remained with Forest for some time. When Jonathan reappeared, Adam thought that his father was looking tired.
“It’s arranged,” he said. “Forest has given me an introduction to a regiment, so I daresay we shall get you in.”
“He is kind,” Adam cried delightedly. And was so pleased that he hardly noticed that his father had pursed his lips.
In the early autumn of 1753, Jonathan Shockley and his son took a stage coach at the Black Horse Inn, the famous ‘flying machine’ that raced them up the turnpike roads to London in a single day. The adventure had begun.
Mr Adam Shockley, Ensign of the 39th Regiment of Foot. At last.
The uniform was the most handsome thing he had ever seen: a long scarlet coat, faced with green, ornamented with white lace; scarlet waistcoat and breeches, white gaiters, white cravat, buff belt.
He never forgot that first moment of joy, that pure thrill of excitement, when he saw himself in the glass of the London tailor where his father had proudly taken him.
He was a man. A dozen gold buttons gleamed down his chest. His hair was ‘clubbed’ – plaited, turned up and tied with ribbon.
His father watched him and then, unnoticed, turned away; he had just remembered that he would probably never see the boy again.
The days had fled by: from a tearful parting with his mother, to the journey up the broad new turnpike roads, the wondrous entry into the collection of scattered villages and elegant parks that made up all but the very centre of London, the finding of an inn and the series of meetings between his father and numerous gentlemen in crowded coffee houses. Joining a regiment, it seemed, involved long whispered conversations, negotiations he did not understand, as well as the delivery of the letters of introduction from Sir George Forest. It also required money.
For one did not become an officer without paying for the privilege: naturally.
To be an ensign in one of His Majesty’s Foot regiments cost £400. This was the humblest officer rank. To purchase a lieutenant’s commission cost £550; a full captain £1,500. For £3,500 a gentleman of means could buy a lieutenant colonelcy; and a young man of great family and fortune who was known to the king, might find himself a general in his twenties.
“Everything is paid for, in this world,” Jonathan said ruefully.
The £400 was paid to the Commander-in-Chief at the Horse Guards.
For two days he and his father walked about London. He saw the noble old Abbey of Westminster, the hall where Parliament met, the royal palace of St James, and the bustling maze of city streets around the splendid dome of Wren’s St Paul’s.
But his mind was already far from the great city on the river Thames. The 39th was due to sail from its camp in Ireland to faraway Madras within weeks, and he was going to join them.
There was only one thing that his father had not told him.
1758
Adam Shockley sat in the little hut. Outside, on the square of the cantonment, the sun was no longer beating down so relentlessly.
Very soon he had an engagement that he was looking forward to. He was dining with Fiennes Wilson – and that