‘Aye, Mick, but at least you know that if Mr Morgan’s on duty the job will be done right.’ McGucken was hard to please; Sergeant Whaley had never heard him being so generous with his praise. ‘He did well at the Alma and the lads trust him. Wish I could say the same for Mr Carmichael.’
Sergeant Whaley wasn’t used to being taken into the Colour-Sergeant’s confidence like this. He probed no further, ticking off in his mind the thousand jobs that he had to do before he could get his boots off and climb into his blankets.
As Morgan watched them go, one man hung back just a few paces and, hoping he hadn’t been seen, drained the last few drops from the rum jar. Even in that light Morgan recognized his short, round form.
***
‘Can you hear that, sir?’ As with most of the rest of the Number Thre
