A Regimental Affair Read Online Free Page B

satisfaction in it.’
    Howard shook his head.
    ‘Let’s away, then,’ said Hervey, putting a hand to Howard’s shoulder.
    The press was too great for any quick escape, however, so they decided to work their way along past Beckwith’s shop, its windows stoutly boarded, and out towards the wider Essex Road beyond. But this they found not easy either, for many of the onlookers were resentful of what they presumed was an attempt to get closer to the gibbet. After a full half-hour they had advanced scarcely fifty yards.
    Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd behind them as the carriages carrying the sheriffs rounded the corner, and then the cart bearing Cashman himself. Hervey climbed onto a window ledge to see what was the cause. ‘I think it’s our man,’ he said, unable to balance there for more than a few seconds. ‘And he’s dressed in his sailor’s best.’
    Cashman was, indeed, a sight offensive to every right instinct. He stood proud and erect, with not a sign of fear. He had on his blue jacket and white trousers, and a black silk handkerchief tied smartly about his neck, bareheaded as if mustered on deck fordivine service. He was calling to the crowd, now muted by the appearance of their hero. ‘This is not for cowardice,’ Hervey heard him call defiantly. ‘I have done nothing against my king and country, but fought for them!’
    The crowd roared its approval, putting to flight the roosting pigeons on St Botolph’s spire two streets away.
    ‘I always fought for my king and country, and this is my end.’
    The noise grew louder, and the constables had the greatest trouble keeping a way clear for the procession.
    ‘Huzza, my boys, I’ll die like a man!’ shouted Cashman as he reached Beckwith’s shop. ‘If I was at my quarters I would not be killed in the smoke; I’d be in the fire!’
    The crowd was now as angry as ever Hervey had seen men away from the battlefield. The constables had to make free with their staves to get the sheriffs and clergy to the scaffold.
    ‘Hurrah, my hearties in the cause!’
    Hervey wondered for a moment in
which
cause, though he hardly expected that a man in Cashman’s position could be expected to say anything of sound mind.
    ‘Success! Cheer up!’ The gallant tar scaled the scaffold ladder as surely as if he had been climbing to the yards, waving aside the minister who was attempting words of comfort and inviting him to repent. ‘Don’t bother me. It’s no use. I want no mercy but from God.’
    Hervey and Howard were now but twenty yards from the scaffold and could see everything perfectly.
    ‘This fellow’s a cool customer,’ Howard whispered. ‘Is it gin or rum speaking, do you think?’
    ‘He treads the boards. But he does it bravely, for sure,’ replied Hervey, shaking his head in doubt.
    The hangman put the rope around Cashman’s neck. The crowd gasped and then groaned. Then he tried to put a nightcap over Cashman’s head – but the sailor would have none of it. ‘No thank you, Mr Ketch. I’ll see till the last!’
    Here was courage indeed, thought Hervey. He had seen bravado turn to nothing when the moment came.
    But Cashman’s resentment seemed to get the better of him, and he began a tirade against Beckwith himself, whom he supposed was cowering behind the boarded windows of his shop. ‘I’ll bewith you there!’ he shouted. ‘My unquiet spirit’ll walk your floors!’
    ‘Oh God,’ sighed Howard. The hangman had come down the steps and was standing by the lever which would trip the hatch beneath Cashman’s feet. ‘I cannot see this, deserving or no.’
    Hervey was about to turn away too when Cashman called out again. ‘I am the last of seven of them that fought for my king and country. My father was killed too in the service. I could not get my own, and that has brought me here!’
    ‘This is too much,’ Howard muttered. ‘And I who have never heard a shot fired in anger am stood gawking.’
    ‘Come then,’ said Hervey,