Meeting with the Captain

Vickery was pleased that his Company had a new recruit, and was a little more pleased that the man was already a competent Rifleman. Or at least, the reports he had heard about the man suggested that he was a competent Rifleman, which wasn't quite the same thing.

He was properly dressed now, with his sword-belt buckled on over his sash, and he felt a lot more alert. His headache had dissipated somewhat and he thought his vision was much clearer than it had been, which was a relief.

"Rifleman Burke," he said as their new Rifleman approached. "I hope you are well, after the setback of yesterday?"

"Sir," Burke said, standing to attention and saluting his new officer. "Right as the rain, thank ye."

Well, mostly. His arm twinged and burned something terrible, but he would be damned if he'd admit that. He'd be fine soon enough. So it was almost true.

Besides, Vickery himself did not look well. The officer was certainly well-dressed and put-together, but he was pale and looked a wee bit battered. Word had it that he had very nearly been killed and Burke would well believe it. Said a lot for the man that he was on his feet and back to duty.

Vickery returned the salute. "Stand easy, Rifleman," he said. He didn't want the man falling over if he could help it.

"There's nothing to worry about; I just like to talk with people who are joining my Company," he added. "You have been a Rifleman for... two years, is that correct?"

"Aye, sir," Burke said with a nod, relaxing slightly. "95th, unner Lieutenant Sharpe. An' was 27th afore that for three years."

He paused, not sure if that was more information than Vickery had wanted. Then, hastily added: "Sir."

"I won't eat you," Vickery pointed out. Five years' service overall, the same as Cotton had. He nodded, satisfied.

"How good a shot would you say you are?" he asked. "I want an honest answer, not want you think I'd like to hear, please."

A grin briefly lit Burke's face. His shooting was not something he felt the need to exaggerate about. Good enough to be wearing green, wasn't he?

"I'm a very good shot, sir," he said.

Vickery nodded, pleased. The man didn't seem inclined to expand on his statements. He wasn't sure if that was because Burke was nervous of him, or whether it was just the Rifleman's character.

"I have been considering who to pair you with," he said, thoughtfully. They had had several men captured the previous day, including Pye. It had been Vickery's first instinct to pair Burke and Pye together, but with one of them a prisoner of the French, that couldn't happen.

"Would you object to being paired with one of our German Riflemen?" he asked, after a brief pause during which he had considered the available options.

"No, sir," Burke replied. He hesitated for a moment, then offered a rueful grin.

"Iff'n it's alright that I don't speak German," he said. Well, he could probably manage a few words. None of them would much endear him to his new skirmishing partner, though. Or, likely, the Captain.

"Oh, that's all right. I am sure I can pair you up with someone who speaks English." He considered for a moment. "Were you wounded in the skirmish, at all?"

What he really needed to do was have his whole Company together, get those men who had lost partners to reorganise themselves and see where that left him. And see how he could fit Burke in.

If Pye was still with them, it would be easy; all he would need to do then would be to take Pye out of the threesome he'd put him in, pair him with Burke and put them into place in the skirmish line.

That question was certainly one he had been hoping to avoid. The last thing Burke wanted the Captain to think was that he was not fit for duty. He very much doubted that most of them were in the best of condition following the previous day, but he had fared far better than plenty of others.

"Grazed in the arm, sir," Burke said. "Surgeon patched me up last night."

"Did the surgeon say how long it would be before your arm is fully healed?" Vickery asked.

He himself was on light duties for a week - somehow, he didn't think that interviewing a new recruit to his Company would count as 'light duties'.

That gave Burke pause. He honestly couldn't remember the surgeon mentioning anything about it at all. Admittedly, a lot of the previous evening was a bit of a blur, but he remembered enough. The surgeon had been plenty harried - tending to him and then moving swiftly on to the next man.

Well, at least it meant that he had no orders to stay put!

"Didn't rightly say, sir," he said. "Imagine that means he didn't think it'd be worth worryin' over."

"I see." He was not going to press Burke; like Vickery himself, and every other Rifleman Vickery had met, he wanted to do his duty.

"Anther thing, Rifleman. May I see your rifle?" He didn't expect to see any problems with the weapon; Riflemen took pride in keeping their weapons to a very high standard, knowing that a well-kept rifle could mean the difference between life and death in a skirmish.

"Aye, sir," Burke said again, holding the rifle out to the Captain.

The weapon was his pride and joy. For the past two years it had been his constant companion, and the thing he trusted with his life. It had certainly obliged him so far.

Burke had always found that the best way to calm his nerves after a battle was to go through the motions of setting the rifle to rights. On hearing that he would be likely to meet his officer, he had taken extra care to be sure that it gleamed like new, every fitting tight and clean. Handing it over now, he felt more confident than he had for most of the interview.

Vickery took the weapon, pleased at the confident expression on Burke's face as he handed it over.

The wood of the stock was rubbed smooth and oiled to keep it from drying out or getting damaged by water. The lock was clean and the cock and frizzen both moved with just the right amount of pressure. The ramrod was clean, too, with no trace of rust anywhere. Vickery checked that it was unloaded - he hadn't expected it to be loaded, but common sense dictated that he check anyway - and cocked the weapon. It sparked the first time, and he nodded, before handing it back.

"That's a good effort, Rifleman," he said. "Now, I've been asking all the questions so far. Is there anything you would like to ask me?"

Pleased with Vickery's approval of his rifle, the officer's question took Burke off guard.

"Sir?" he asked, confused. What on earth would he be asking his officer?

Vickery smiled and relaxed, clasping his hands behind his back, and sought to put the new Rifleman at his ease.

"Relax, Burke. It isn't some sort of trick question. You are new to my Company, although you are an experienced Rifleman. And not only are you new to my Company, you are new to the 60th. We are very similar to the 95th in many ways, but we have our differences. If there is anything you want to know, you are very welcome to ask. I am not a redcoat officer who only deals with my men through the intermediation of a Sergeant."

"Thank ye, sir," Burke said, with a wry grin, "Can't think o' any right the now."

He honestly could not - but the offer and the explanation raised the Captain even further in his esteem. Vickery seemed like the sort of man Burke would enjoy following.

"Well, in that case, I shall not press you to think of anything." He had probably completely flustered the man with his offer, driving any questions that he might have had completely out of his head.

"If you do find that there is something you want to know, I don't want you to feel that you cannot ask." He thought of a question of his own as he spoke. "Do you know yet with whom you will be messing?"

"No, sir," Burke replied. That was certainly something he should have asked.

"T' be 'onest, sir," he said, offering a wry grin, "I ain't been told much o' anythin'. Just t' report here t' ye."

"Ah." Vickery hadn't expected to be told any different. He thought for a moment. "I have several men during the skirmish as prisoners to the French. I think if you go into Roper's mess for now - that mess is composed of Englishmen, so you shouldn't feel too out of place there."

Roper was the soldier he had been speaking to earlier, Burke thought. He certainly seemed to be an agreeable sort. And definitely spoke English - an added plus.

"Aye, sir, thank ye," Burke said, nodding.

"You're welcome. Was there anything else you wanted to know?" he asked. The man's soft Irish accent made a change from the more strident English accents of the other English-speaking Riflemen, and the German accents of the other soldiers in the company.

"No, sir," Burke replied. At this point, he figured he could ask his messmates as questions came up. Being in a position of trying to think of things to ask the Captain was ensuring that his mind stayed stubbornly blank.

"Well, if you do find you have questions you need to have answered, I am sure that Roper, or anyone else in your mess, will be pleased to answer them." He smiled. "I hope that you will not be too put out should I choose to take tea at your fire one of these days."