April 1795

Two years after he enlisted, Richard Sharpe returned to England as a corporal, having had his baptism of fire the previous September in the battle of Boxtel. The battle had been a defeat, where his regiment had lost 430 men. Only six casualties had been killed by the French, with the rest being because of the harsh weather conditions and starvation. Corporal Sharpe had been lucky to escape with mild case of frostbite and a few pounds lost; others he'd known had not been so fortunate.

The young soldier had also had his first taste of looting from the enemy dead and wounded, which had turned out to be rather lucrative, just as Obadiah Hakeswill had told him when he'd enlisted. He'd acquired a small nest egg, which he guarded closely, lest he was robbed by the men in his own company. Sharpe had avoided starvation mainly by stealing from the local population, something the officers had turned a blind eye to from both indifference and knowing it was necessary for the men to survive.

Two years earlier, the tedium of garrison life had nearly driven Sharpe to desert, but now, he was gratefully looking forward to it as a time of rest and recuperation.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Not long before the 33rd had embarked on the homeward journey, Obadiah Hakeswill had been transferred back to garrison duty, along with the rest of his recruiting party. His group was being rotated out with another recruiting party that had been relegated to garrison duty for the last year. The rotation orders had been unexpected, and the rawboned sergeant hadn't been at all pleased with his new assignment. In his opinion, the only duty worth having while serving on English soil was in recruitment, as it was the only easy way to make any money without it all being eaten up by regular army deductions.

He'd been in a foul humour ever since being told of his new assignment, which he took out on the men under his command. Sgt. Hakeswill had always had a reputation for being a bastard, so this was nothing surprising to the men when he lived up to this reputation and then some.

Nevertheless, Obadiah had always known how to make the best of any situation he found himself in and to work things to his advantage. Soon after arriving in camp, he managed to talk his way into being appointed quartermaster sergeant. It hadn't been difficult; old Sgt Hunter had recently died and though there were sergeants senior to Obadiah, he'd once helped a certain captain to steal camp funds, thus had been given this position to ensure his continued silence. This was the only worthwhile job to have in camp, as it would give him access to army supplies and would allow him to pilfer and sell such stolen supplies on the black market. No matter what, Obadiah Hakeswill invariably found a way to make money - when given lemons, he always found a way to make lemonade.

But he had another reason to improve his disposition a notch when he'd returned to camp to take up his new duties. To his gratification, he found a new group of camp wives in residence. Comely lasses they were, too. And, better still, a few were married to the private soldiers under his command, thus Obadiah could gain access to them by intimidating their husbands. Over the years, the canny sergeant had found that wives would do just about anything to keep their men from being flogged. It was a happy thought for him to know that he could get his itches scratched on a regular basis and not have to pay for it, either.

The morning after he arrived in camp, Hakeswill went to the camp warehouse to report to the officer in charge and to begin his new duties. As he entered the dilapidated warehouse building, he found a bored, half-asleep corporal sitting at a desk in a back of the facility.

Raising an eyebrow at the sluggish soldier, Obadiah said, twitching briefly, "I sees you don't have enough work to keep you busy, you lazy sod. That ain't going to happen no more, mark my words, now that I'm here."

Corporal George Potter was new to the 33rd, so he didn't know who the rawboned sergeant was standing in front of him. In the short time Potter had been with the regiment, he'd seen Hakeswill from a distance a few times when the sergeant had brought new recruits to camp but, beyond that, knew nothing of the man's reputation.

Disregarding the dismayed expression on the corporal's face, Hakeswill continued, "I'm Sgt. Hakeswill, here to take Sgt. Hunter's place. I'm supposed to report to a Lt. Morris - where is he?"

Potter just barely suppressed the urge to laugh, as Morris rarely managed to show up before noon each day. Coughing to cover up his chuckle, he told the sergeant, "Lt. Morris rarely gets here before noon most days." He helpfully pantomimed the action of one drinking a bottle of liquor, so that Hakeswill would get his meaning without him having to say it.

"I sees what you mean," the sergeant acknowledged, cackling gleefully. "I'll just have me a look at the place while I'm waitin' for him, then. Come and get me if he turns up any earlier."

Not waiting for Potter's response, Hakeswill walked off, cackling again to himself, pleased with the information the corporal had given him. With Morris being a drunk, that would make it easier for him to steal in peace, unhindered by an overzealous, by-the-book officer. Obadiah was certain he could run roughshod over this officer while making it all look like Morris' idea in the first place.

The sergeant spent a couple of hours going over the inventory, deciding which items would bring the most on the black market, estimating how much he could steal at any given time without undue suspicion being aroused. After he'd done that and Lt. Morris had still not shown, he went through the records and requisition lists, checking the number, types, and locations of suppliers. Hakeswill soon suspected that the previous sergeant had been stealing, as there were certain telltale discrepancies in the records. He recognized them easily enough, having engaged in similar creative bookkeeping in the past, himself.

By the time noon arrived, Lt Morris still had not made an appearance. Hakeswill went off to the mess hall for his lunch, not willing to miss a meal for anyone.

"He's here now," Corporal Potter told him when he returned to the warehouse after lunch, pointing off to his right to indicate where Morris' office was.

"'Bout time he got his lazy carcass here," Obadiah muttered under his breath as he stepped in the direction Potter had indicated.

A moment later, Hakeswill knocked briefly, then entered the small cubicle that served as an office for the junior officer.

Lt. Charles Morris was a bleary-eyed man about ten years Obadiah's senior, already running to fat. As the sergeant entered, the officer looked up from his desk, where he'd been pouring himself a generous drink from a bottle of gin.

"Come in, Sergeant," Morris said, indicating a chair, as he set the bottle down and took a tentative sip. "You must be Sergeant Hunter's replacement."

"Thank you, sir," Hakeswill said, twitching, as he took a seat. "Obadiah Hakeswill, sir, at your service, reporting for duty."

"At ease, Sergeant," Morris said, relaxing as the gin entered his bloodstream. "You have big shoes to fill, as Sgt. Hunter was my most trusted right-hand man." Pausing to take another sip, he confided, "But you come most highly recommended by Captain Abercrombie. He assured me that you are more than up to the task and will suit my needs most admirably."

"Thank you, sir," Hakeswill replied, twitching briefly. "I aims to please."

Looking closely at the rawboned sergeant for the first time, Morris was somewhat disconcerted by the man's nervous twitch and wondered briefly what had happened to this man to cause it. Pushing aside his curiosity, he continued, "Before I begin to outline your duties, I need to make a few things clear so that we have an understanding."

Hakeswill raised an eyebrow, but did not otherwise comment, waiting for the officer to elaborate.

"First of all, I don't care if you steal and sell supplies on the black market," Morris said. "In fact, I expect it; it's just the nature of the job."

"Mighty forward thinking, you are, sir," Hakeswill said, cackling contentedly.

"My only stipulations are that you don't steal so much that it brings unwanted attention this office," Morris continued. "And, of course, I must have a percentage of the take."

"'Course, sir! Wouldn't have it no other way!" Hakeswill assured him, twitching slightly.

"Good, then we understand one another," the other man said. "I have every confidence in your ability along these lines to make this a profitable venture for the both of us." Pausing to take another sip, he added "I will leave the details of day to day operations up to you. The less I know of routine business, the better. It also goes without saying that if you are caught, I will deny all knowledge of your activities."

"You just leave it all to me, sir," Obadiah assured him. "I'll make us some money and no one will be any the wiser." Grinning widely, he thought of how naïve this Morris was. If Obadiah went down, he'd be taking this drunken sot of an officer down with him, make no bones about that. The sergeant would gather the damning evidence to make sure of it. It would come in handy one day, if he ever needed to blackmail Morris for one reason or another.

"Excellent," Morris said. "Now that we have that out of the way, let's get down to business." Picking up a few papers on his desk, he continued, "What's left of the 33rd on the continent will be returning here within a week or so. They've been mauled pretty badly, so we need to have a fully stocked warehouse upon their return, so they can be re-outfitted." Giving Hakeswill a conspiratorial smirk, "At least have it stocked enough to look legitimate."

"I understand, sir," Hakeswill said, cackling again, thinking of all the money he was going to make. He'd been unhappy about losing his place on the recruitment team, but this duty looked like it might end up being as lucrative or even more so than recruiting had been.

"Here's a list of what's needed, plus a list of suppliers," Morris said, handing him the papers. "Go around today and tomorrow, meet the suppliers, and place your orders."

"I'll get started on it right away, sir," Hakeswill promised.

Once he'd left Lt Morris to continue his drinking unhindered, Obadiah checked the lists he'd been given. All the vendors were conveniently located in the town adjoining to the camp, which suited the sergeant; it would give him the opportunity to leave camp often with no questions being asked.

After quickly, perusing the list, Hakeswill decided to visit the cobbler first. Through previous experience, he knew that new shoes and boots would be one of the most pressing needs for the returning soldiers.

As he left the camp, now in a better mood than when the day had begun, he decided to stop at a pub once he'd concluded his business with the cobbler. If Morris could spend his days drinking himself into a stupor, then Obadiah certainly had a right to a few pints before returning to camp.