Hervey 11 - On His Majesty's Service by Allan Mallinson

at Gibraltar – as Lord Hill said – but he is a man of fortifications and suchlike. He spent the whole of the war on Jersey. I am not a man of fortifications. What do you suppose I should do to distinguish myself there? In which case, what would be the difference if I were to stay at Hounslow?’
    ‘That, I grant you.’
    ‘And besides, would I persuade you to serve at Gibraltar?’
    Fairbrother smiled. ‘Its climate, I fancy, might suit me better than here; I should not wish to grow pale!’
    Hervey scowled. ‘But does the thought engage you sufficiently? You agreed to come with me to the Levant, and then to stay awhile at Hounslow.’
    Fairbrother’s brow furrowed; he was much bemused. ‘Hervey, I am excessively diverted by the notion that I should have any determination in the matter. But are you quite sure? I would not wish you to calculate for any preference on my part.’
    Hervey did his best to make light of it (how he envied his friend’s easy way with matters): ‘I should value your … company … advice … and so on.’
    Fairbrother reached for the burgundy again. ‘And what of the distaff side? Would Gibraltar be agreeable?’
    Hervey checked the movement of any muscle that might convey an unhappy inability to speak for his wife. ‘I very much hope so.’
    Kat had once followed him to Lisbon; his own wife might reasonably be expected to travel the few miles further. It did not occur to him that his friend’s answer might be consequent on it.
    ‘In principle I have no objection to service – however unofficial – in Gibraltar, nor in proximity to men in red,’ his friend replied, smiling wryly. ‘Indeed, I have no principled objection to anything after service with the Royal Africans!’
    Hervey reflected the smile. ‘Quite. Just imagine had Lord Hill appointed me to a penal battalion!’ He took another good measure of burgundy, and signalled a change of course. ‘This pudding is uncommonly good, is it not?’
    Fairbrother understood at once. He invariably did. He did not always heed the signal, but he recognized it, and on this occasion he was happy to oblige. ‘What did you make of Youell?’
    And Hervey smiled the more for his friend’s understanding.
    They left the warm upholstered comfort of Rule’s just after four o’clock, and set a hopeful, if indirect, course for the gunsmiths. It was darkling, but the streets were well lit, the gaslight made brighter by the snow, and the builders were still at work in Covent Garden, where the plan of the new market was now manifest – a great classical temple on a scale Hervey had seen only in Paris.
    Fairbrother remarked again on the ubiquity of London masons.
    ‘The King is a great builder, I believe,’ said Hervey, slowing to admire the work on a section of Corinthian pillar about to be hoist. ‘Or so he was when regent.’
    ‘ Urbem lateritiam invenit, marmoream reliquit ,’ 1 declaimed Fairbrother magisterially, if a shade slurred.
    Hervey looked at him with an approving smile. ‘My old cornet-friend Laming was fond of quoting Suetonius – and any number of others whose words seemed apt to our predicament. You would have liked him – a very excellent fellow. But then so are you; Gibraltar would be the duller place without you – brick instead of marble!’
    His friend merely inclined his head.
    ‘I lay emphasis on the conditional, mind. I might add that so would Hounslow be – the duller place, that is.’
    Indeed he was certain of it. He did not doubt there were agreeable officers in Gibraltar, and he supposed there would be too at Hounslow – though he fancied that no officer of spirit would stay in a depot squadron, which is what it would amount to if the regiment were placed en cadre . But with Fairbrother he knew he might speak his mind, and in turn receive unvarnished opinion. He had never felt the want of that resource before, but he had lately, at the Cape, felt its beneficial qualities keenly, and he did not wish to be