Preparing to Leave Lisbon

Stephen's face was the picture of concern. "I did not - I am amazed, and grieved. Was there a reason?"

"A Sergeant and an officer didn't like me." That was what it boiled down to. after all. "But I know what it's like to be in the ranks with officers like that arrogant bastard." He saw Stephen's concern. "It were ten years ago, in India."

"Still, I am sorry." Stephen fell silent, his head bowed. He was out of place in this army. He was used to that, wherever he went, but without Jack's support he was only bringing trouble down on himself and anyone kind enough to offer him any assistance. He was becoming unhappy, deeply unhappy, and the only thing that had alleviated his melancholy at all was this rifleman's ready offer of friendship. And look how he had repayed it.

"I'm sorry, too." Sharpe offered the apology simply and non-judgmentally. "I keep forgettin' you ain't used to the army and how we do stuff."

"What have you to apologise for, Richard?" He shook his head. "It is brutal. I knew it was brutal, I knew it; I saw it from the outside and I hated it and I swore I would never- But here I am. And it is still brutal. The monstrous wicked cruelty of it, that a man can be flogged for not standing aside fast enough for a junior officer. What a world we live in, that this is the lesser evil."

"Life's unfair, Stephen. You could live till you're a hundred and it'd never be fair. You just have to make the best of it, and try to make it as...as least unfair as you can. Like... it's unfair for folk to fall ill, or hurt themselves, or get wounded, and you make it less unfair by helpin' them get better." He shrugged; it wasn't something he was used to thinking about. "The thing is, if you keep thinkin' how bad it all is, you'd never be able to make it even a little bit better, because there'd still be more bad than you can make better."

And that made no sense at all, did it?

"Sorry. I ain't good at complicated things. I'm just a plain straightforward soldier."

Stephen's smile was watery. "I am beginning to doubt that very much, Richard." That was something. He was giving everything in an attempt to make the world a little less unfair, in so many ways. That was - he remembered their earlier conversation - something he could be proud of.

"You're a doctor. You see how unfair life is every time you have to treat a patient." He paused as a thought struck him.

"You're a surgeon in the navy, right? So you see floggings and things fairly regu'ly, right? Just think for a moment. If a man pinches summat, isn't it more fair for him to be flogged than for him to hang? 'Cause that's what would happen in London, or York or wherever."

"I do. I am biased against the army, I find, for I remember its barbarity in Ireland. I have been luckier than many in that I can choose my ship and my captain, and the captain I have sailed with hates harsh discipline. What just occurred would never have happened - and if it did, the Lieutenant would be put ashore at the next port. And thieving, thieving is of course a crime - but for a man to be flogged because forgot to salute, to be forever scarred because he did not immediately pander to the whims of a tyrannical echelon and grovel before their disdain - that I will object to until I lack breath."

"Not everyone in the army agrees with flogging, Doctor. I reckon you would prefer the Rifles regiments, because we try to find other ways of creatin' discipline than floggin'. And I would never willingly have a man of mine flogged."

"Good." He walked on, foundering in thought for a moment. "What are your alternate methods of discipline? Are the common to all Rifle companies, or are they developed individually?"

"Things like extra drill, extra duties, extra parades, stoppage of rum. The 95th has its own way of doing things which is the same whatever company or battalion you're in, an' I know the 60th is pretty similar. We have Company Courts Martial, where a soldier can be tried by his peers and sentenced to things like cobbing or having his coat turned. There's more pride in the regiment, so there's more shame in summat like that."

He wondered how Captain Vickery dealt with miscreants, and how his men would fare, similar ideas or no. "That's not to say we don't flog in the Rifles, but it ain't so common, and is more of a punishment 'cause of that."

"Captain Aubrey is far more in your way of thinking - most similar." He stopped. "Here are Captain Padstowe's lodgings."

"So they are. D'you want me to wait for you?"

Stephen smiled. "No - I must insist that you go back to your own billet, or whatever it was you were planning to do with your night before I disturbed you. You have already gone to far too much trouble for me."

"I weren't plannin' on doin' much, really." He wasn't even sure what he had been thinking of doing. "I don't mind waitin', really."

Stephen looked doubtful. "It would be better for you to get home though - it must be past one o'clock by now. I will just ask Senhora Santana if the captain is in."

"If he is in, he's likely to be in bed, y'know," Sharpe said, feeling he should have pointed this out earlier.

"I would hope so. But I must check - there are things that must be done." He knocked on the door and smiled as Padstowe's landlady opened it. He had spent an amiable if slightly anxious hour with her earlier in the evening - he know knew her whole family, her worries over the health of her daughter's eldest - such a long cough - one son moving from job to job - the other entranced with the army - the pain in her hip during cold nights - the increasing price of bread because of all the damn English in the city, and he still felt sodden with tea. "Senhora Santana, is the Captain in yet?"

She shook her head, almost frantically. "No, Doctor, he has not come home yet."

"No? Well, I ain't lettin' you go wanderin' all over Lisbon tryin' to find him. He'll show in th'mornin', safe and sound, and you can see him then. Right now, you look fair done in."

Stephen shook his head; he was reluctant. "What if there is a reason? I mean, we were to..." He nodded. "Thank you, Senhora. When he comes in, would you mind telling him I called on him?"

She nodded - "Of course, of course." - and wishing them goodnight she closed the door.

He looked at Sharpe. "Do you think I should check Headquarters again?"

"No. I think you should go to your own billet and get some sleep. Or you won't be gettin' up in the mornin'. And then where will you be?"

Stephen nodded wearily - his eyes and legs ached with tiredness. "You are right. He will be fine - he probably- I shall check again in the morning..." He held out his hand. "Thank you for everything you have done for me tonight, Richard."

Sharpe took Stephen's hand, shaking it firmly. "That's alright. I've enjoyed talkin' wi' you. And are you sure you'll be all right gettin' back to your own billet?"

"I am. I am sorry for having brought you this far out of your way, and involving you in..."