Comments, sources, and Edmond Mooney, 55th Regiment

Thanks to those readers who have posted (legible) comments on this blog. For some reason, many of the comments are not readable, apparently because they require character sets that are not supported on my browser. Because there are many such comments, I sometimes miss the legible ones.

One reader asked about sources. Excellent question. I haven't been included citations in these posts just to make them easier to read. But if you would like the specific sources used for any post, please contact me using the email address described in the 'About the Author' information. Most of the information comes from three sources: muster rolls, proceedings of courts martial, and soldiers' discharges. Muster rolls tell us the dates in which men served in specific companies of a regiment, and dates of events such as promotions, transfers, desertions and discharges - so when I give this sort of information, it probably came from the muster rolls in the War Office 12 collection in the National Archives of England.

In the same archive is a collection of trial proceedings from general courts martial. These fascinating documents record the testimony of witnesses and defendants at military trials for major crimes. Most of the postings that tell stories of incidents like thefts and murders are amalgams of the trial testimony; usually the trial will be mentioned in the post.

When a soldier was discharged from the army he was given a document (called a discharge) that recorded much valuable information. Most discharges include some information on the man's background (place of birth, age, trade, etc.), some description of his military service, and a statement about why he was entitled to be discharged. Because soldiering was generally a lifelong career, men were discharged from the army only when they were no longer fit for service (there were exceptions). The document was critical for the man to prove that he was lawfully discharged and not a deserter. Some soldiers were awarded pensions, and when they did the pension office retained a copy of the discharge. These discharges survive in the National Archives, and are the source of most of the information in these blog posts concerning age, trade, nativity and such.

Various other sources are also used, but these three constitute the majority. If you need a specific source, please ask for it.

Here's an example of the information that we can get just from a discharge:

Edmond Mooney was born in county Cork, Ireland in 1749 and learned the trade of a sawyer. He joined the 55th Regiment of Foot at the age of 21 in late 1770. Five years later the 5' 6 1/2" tall Mooney was with the regiment when in landed in Boston.

The first significant action seen by the 55th came in August 1776 when the regiment was part of the army that routed American forces on Long Island. The British army did suffer a number of casualties in their overwhelming victory; one of them was Edmond Mooney who was wounded in the right hip.

Mooney apparently recovered from his wound fairly quickly, for he was with his regiment on 3 January 1777 in the battle of Princeton. Here he was wounded again, this time in the left leg.

He recovered from this wound too, and continued to serve in the 55th Regiment for another 15 years. This included service in the harsh climate of the West Indies in the closing years of the American Revolution. He took his discharge from the army in Dublin in March of 1792 at the age of 43, having served in the 55th Regiment for 21 1/2 years. He received an out pension from Kilmainham Hospital in Dublin. His discharge notes that “He is discharged, being worn out & unfit for further Service, having served in North America & the West Indies, and been Twice wounded, during the late War, Once in his Right Hip in Long Island near New York, and Once in his Left Leg at Princetown, in New Jersey-”. An army surgeon verified Mooney's condition, noting on the discharge that he "has the mark of the wounds described on the other side & is worn out by the Effects of foreign climates & long service.”

It bears noting that Mooney signed his own name on the document, suggesting that he knew how to read and write. While his name is given on the discharge as "Edward", he signed himself as "Edmond."

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Pensioner: Hubert Römer, 22nd Regiment of Foot

Hubert Römer was born in Trier in Germany, around 1749. At the age of 26, this illiterate Catholic laborer became one of some 2,000 European recruits enlisted to bolster the strength of British regiments serving in America. The story of these men is detailed in my article Forty German Recruits.

Thanks to a detailed return made when these recruits embarked, we know each man’s age, religion, and height (Römer was 5’ 8” tall). We also know whether they had prior military service and whether they had wives with them (Römer had neither). Having embarked in May 1776 and landed in New York in late October, we would not expect these recruits to have received regimental clothing until very late in 1776 or early 1777, since annual clothing shipments typically arrived in America late in the year. A War Office letter to regimental colonels discussing finances associated with the German recruits confirms this:

The above German Recruits having been furnished with a Slop Cloathing, I am to desire that you would inform the respective Colonels to which you are agent, that it is expected they should be at the expence of the said Slop Clothing, if no other Clothing has been furnish'd for them for the year 1775.

We often think of “slop clothing” as synonymous with sailor’s clothing, but this is not the case; “slop clothing” referred instead to cheap unfitted clothing that could be purchased in bulk. When the German recruits joined their regiments in America, this is how they were clothed until regimentals could be fitted for them.

Römer was put into Captain Edward Handfield’s company of the 22nd Regiment where he served the entire war. The only distinguishing event that we are aware of is his court martial for desertion in Rhode Island. In August of 1778 the Rhode Island garrison was under siege in Newport, resisting America’s first cooperative military operation with her new French allies. Two weeks after the siege was lifted, Römer stood trial for an infraction that occurred at the height of it. The proceedings of his trial tell the story:

Prisoner Hubertus Reimar, of the 22d Regiment and Captain Handfield's Company being brought before the Court, was charged with being guilty of Desertion.

Interpreter Serjeant Cling of the 54th Regiment was sworn to duly Interpret all Evidences delivered by Foreigners, and explain to the Prisoner, who is a German, those delivered by the British ones against him.

1st Evidence Serjeant George Reason, of the same Regiment and Company with the Prisoner, being duly sworn deposes, that early on the Morning of the 14th of August, the Prisoner was absent, that on examining his Necessaries, three Shirts and two pair of Stockings were missing, and that the same day the Prisoner was brought to his Regiment by two Soldiers of the Anspach Corps, and adds, the Regiment was at that time encamped within the lines of Newport, as also, that till then, the Prisoner had always behaved himself well.

2d Evidence John William Brown, Grenadier in the Anspach Regiment of Voit, being duly sworn deposes, (the same being interpreted to the Court) that being Sentry on the outside of the Abattees, about ten o'Clock one night, he heard a noise in front of him, on which he Challenged, but receiving no reply fired, when the prisoner called out to him, and the other Soldier who was posted with him and desired them not to fire again, as he was coming in to them, that he then came up to them and said, he had lost his way, and appeared to be in liquor, but desired them to take him to the Regiment.

3rd Evidence John Free, private soldier in the same Regiment with the former Evidence being duly sworn, deposes, (the same being interpreted to the Court) in substance as the foregoing Evidence, with whom he was posted Sentry when the prisoner was taken by them.

Defence

The Prisoner Hubertus Reimar, being called to, and put on his Defence, says he was in Liquor when he went from his Tent, and had no design to Desert the Regiment.

The Court having heard and considered the Evidence against the Prisoner Hubertus Reimar, as also his Defence is of Opinion, he is not Guilty of the Crime laid to his Charge and doth therefore Acquit him.

It is striking that the court acquitted Römer, considering that he had taken his necessaries (that is, his shirts, shoes and stockings; it is strange that the court did not ask what happened to them) and was beyond the front lines during a siege. Apparently the fact that Römer was coming in to the lines and willingly turned himself over to the sentries made a very strong impression on the court.

We have no other information on Römer until his discharge in 1783, when he took advantage of the offer of land grants in Canada. He was among a large contingent of discharged soldiers and their families that sailed from New York to Shelburne, Nova Scotia (at that time called Port Roseway) in late September. The following year he received a grant on the island of Saint John; land grant records show that he had no wife or family at this time, so he was entitled to 100 acres. This landholding venture apparently went poorly, for Römer received a new a new copy of his discharge from the 22nd Regiment in 1789 when the regiment was serving at Dover Castle in England. It appears from this that Römer had returned to England, but this is not certain. Regardless, he was recommended for a military out-pension because his eight years of service had rendered him “rheumatic”. His trade is listed as “labourer.” Rather than a signature, the discharge bears “his mark”, indicating that he was illiterate (in spite of the common assertion that most British soldiers were illiterate, about 60% of surviving discharges bear signatures of the soldiers; while a signature alone is not proof of literacy, it suggests that the ability to write was more common than generally believed).

This is a very rare case of a soldier for whom we have many surviving documents: a description on an embarkation return, a service record from muster rolls, the proceedings of a court martial, two land grant records (for the same grant), and a discharge filed among pension documents (with descriptive details that match the embarkation return). Would that we had as much for every British soldier.

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William Whitlow, Musician, 44th Regiment of Foot

Among the soldiers serving in the 44th Regiment of Foot in late 1779 was a private named William Whitlow. He was in many ways typical of career soldiers in the British army: he had been in the regiment for at least 14 years (and may in fact have been born in the regiment); he was married, his wife was with him in the regiment, and they had a child; he played a musical instrument, and performed in the regimental band in addition to his usual duties as a private soldier. Unfortunately we do not know his age, but evidence suggests that he was younger than 25. He may have started his career both in the army and in music by playing the fife at a young age.

Whitlow was described as 'a Mild, discreet and Well behaved Man'; as for his marriage, 'there was not a happier Couple in the Regiment.' Usually. But William Whitlow had a problem. As a child he had fallen from a wall in Kinsale, Ireland, and hit his head. This caused him pain sometimes, and worse than that it subjected him to occasional bouts of irrational behavior. The problem was compounded by drinking. It was well known in the regiment that excessive drinking deprived Whitlow of his senses. The commander of his company had more than once confined him when he was drunk 'to prevent him doing his Wife & Child an Injury.'

During the time the 44th Regiment was in America, beginning in 1775, these bouts of insanity had gotten worse. The serjeant who was master of the 44th's band related that 'when they went to practice, he has frequently known the Prisoner get up, flourish his Instrument about, and indeed would not obey any Order that was given him; and in fact he has always been obliged in those Cases to let him have his Frenzy out.' When out of his sense he would express delusions that his wife was cheating on him with other soldiers, and wish her away from him. Soldiers who had known Whitlow all his life discerned that these events could occur when he was completely sober, although others might attribute the behavior to intoxication. No one had any reason to suspect anything of his wife.

In September 1779 Whitlow, his wife and other of the 44th Regiment were on a transport ship that was being tossed by heavy seas. Perhaps it was the erratic motion of the ship, or perhaps it was just the progression of his malady, but William Whitlow was exhibiting strange behavior. He was seen running around the deck like a madman. On one occasion he left his wife and child in their berth, went to a group of sailors in steerage and accused them of having his wife with them. For nearly an hour he ranted and no one could convince him that his family was right where he'd left them. When he did return to his wife he claimed that he knew where she'd been and told her that he had been 'talking to three little Devils upon Deck.' Soon after a non-commissioned officer found him beating his wife; when asked why, he replied 'Why should not I beat her, when I this Moment saw her in the Steerage with a Sailor on top of her.' One night when he was standing sentry at a hatchway on the ship, he approached the serjeant-major and insisted that he had been with his wife and had her hidden behind him in his watchcoat.

The next morning other soldiers observed Whitlow and his wife sitting on a berth at breakfast. They could not hear their conversation, but observed Whitlow repeatedly hold his fist to her face between draughts from a quart mug. Whitlow got up and asked another soldier 'if it was true what they said of him?' The soldier responded that he did not know what was said of him. Whitlow considered this for a few seconds then returned muttering to his wife. Moments later, Whitlow picked up a rusty bayonet from the deck and thrust it towards his wife. She cried out and a soldier ran up and grabbed the bayonet, but not before it had penetrated about an inch and a half into her upper chest. Soldiers wrenched the bayonet from him, wrestled him to the deck and tied him up. Whitlow seemed crazy like madman and ranted that he meant to kill his wife, his child and then himself. He continued to rave as he was carried up to the main deck and was confined.

Soldiers attended to Mrs. Whitlow, and the master of the transport advised putting lint on the wound. As she recovered she frequently said that she forgave her husband, telling one of the band members that she believed he wounded her because he had too much love for her. The wound became putrid; two days after the stabbing the master of the transport examined it and found it full of vermin. He washed it with rum and applied some medication. After two more dressings and two more days it appeared to have healed, but she still complained of pain.

The storm continued to rage, and so did William Whitlow. He managed to escape confinement and jumped overboard; in spite of the weather, sailors managed to recover him. He said that the rest of the regiment had gone to another ship and he was determined to go there too, which was the reason for his leap into the sea. The masts of the ship were carried away by the storm. The heaving of the ship left Mrs. Whitlow in a weak state, and although her would appeared healed she suddenly developed a yellow pale. Within a week after receiving the wound, she died.

The following month William Whitlow was put on trial in New York for the murder of his wife. Witnesses related the various vignettes described here, from events of his childhood to the details and aftermath of the stabbing. Whitlow remembered none of it. Soldiers who'd known him their entire lives testified to his bouts of insanity, while others less intimate described his insensibility when intoxicated. He had no recollection of the stabbing, of having jumped overboard, or of having been tied down for several days afterward. He made a final declaration to the court that he never had the least reason to be jealous of his wife, and was convinced that she was always faithful to him.

The court found him guilty of causing his wife's death, but acquitted him of murder because 'he was in a State of Lunacy at the time.' He was not punished.

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Died in America: David Stuart, 22nd Regiment of Foot

Much of the personal information that we have on British soldiers - age, place of birth, trade and similar details - comes from data recorded when they received pensions. If a man died while still in the army, he clearly did not receive a pension, and unfortunately we often know nothing more about him than his name and the dates of his service reported on muster rolls.

We are fortunate that one soldier of the 22nd Regiment left a document that reveals more about him and his situation. David Stuart joined the regiment on 1 April 1766. The fact that he joined as a serjeant indicates that he had prior military service about which we have no information. He served in several companies, joining the grenadier company on June 1776 just in time for the spectacular American campaigns under General Howe that put the grenadier and light infantry battalions in the forefront of numerous famous actions. Stuart seems to have come through all of these unscathed, from Brooklyn and the subsequent fighting in 1776, engagements in New Jersey in early 1777, Brandywine and Germantown later that year, the 1778 battle of Monmouth which saw eight men of his company killed, and the siege of Charleston early 1780.

In Autumn of 1780 fate caught up with David Stuart, not from battle but from illness. He died in New York on 14 October 1780, but he must have known the end was near because he prepared a will four days beforehand. His simple testament reads:

In the name of God Amen. I, David Stuart, Serjeant in the Grenadier Company of His Majesty’s 22d Regiment, and acting Quartermaster in the second Batalion of British Grenadiers. I leave my wife, Mary Stuart, otherwise Smith, all my estate, real and personal, and all arrears of pay, and she is to pay all debts. And she shall pay to my only son, James Stuart, aged nine years, one half of what I shall die possessed of. I make my wife executor.

We do not know the value of Stuart's "estate, real and personal", but it could have been significant. Although much is made of poor pay in the British army, a non-commissioned rank offered not only higher pay but also opportunities for additional earning in staff appointments. Stuart was serving as quarter master for the pro tem grenadier battalion, and may have had a number of similar appointments during his 14 years as a serjeant in the 22nd Regiment.

The will tells us that he had married a woman named Mary Smith. We assume that they had a son James together but it is possible that James was David Stuart's son by a previous marriage, as suggested by the will's direction that she pay half of the estate to James.

The will was witnessed by three other serjeants of grenadier companies - Alexander Stuart of the 22nd Regiment (who may have been a relative of David), George Thompson of the 63rd and David White of the 64th. The will was proved on 6 November 1780.

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John Lloyd and James Nowland, recruits, 22nd Regiment

John Lloyd and James Nowland were British army recruits who joined the 22nd Regiment of Foot in America in 1779. Although they arrived in America together, their backgrounds were as different as can be. So were their fates.

John Lloyd was born in 1757 in Shrewsbury, Shrophsire, in the west midlands of England. His parents were somewhat wealthy, apparently owning farmland. John's father died when he was still a child, leaving his mother, Hannah Lloyd, a considerable fortune. In June 1775 she remarried. This opened the risk that her fortune would go to her new husband if anything happened to her. To protect her son against any risk of impoverishment, she set up a trust fund for him insuring that, regardless of what fortunes met the family, John would be paid the sum of £150. Rather than stay in Shropshire, however, John did what many young men of all classes did - he joined the army, probably some time in 1778. His place and date of enlistment are not known, but he was sent for training to the depot at Chatham Barracks outside London. From there he wrote to his mother on 22 March 1779 that he was in the 22nd Regiment and would soon be embarking either for America or the West Indies. Four days later he was on board a transport ship.

James Nowland was considerably older, having been born in 1743. An Irishman, is place of birth is not known, but he was among the many Irish Catholics who joined the army even though the letter of the law prohibited it; the exigencies of war took priority over the niceties of recruiting regulations, and although enlistment required a recruit to attest that he was a Protestant many men surely just paid lip service to the assertion. There is no information to suggest whether Nowland had any prior military service. The age of 35 was not typical for enlistment, but neither was it unprecedented; Nowland could have been a voluntary enlistee, a draft from another regiment, or a vagrant rounded up under the new and wildly unpopular army press act of 1778. It is not clear whether he boarded a troop transport in Ireland or was first sent to Chatham Barracks, but one way or the other he was in the same group of 63 recruits sent to the 22nd Regiment in 1779.

The fleet of transports escorted by British warships carried four complete regiments and a substantial number of recruits - almost 1300 for the British infantry regiments in America, and more for the Brigade of Guards, the Royal Artillery, and the German regiments. Their voyage went badly from the beginning. The men who embarked at Chatham on 26 March remained on board while the fleet picked up more transports at Plymouth. By late April the fleet was read to sail, but as they plied the waters off Torbay waiting for favorable winds news came that the French were making a descent on the British channel islands of Jersey and Guernsey. The admiral commanding the fleet took the warships and the troop transports, leaving other ships at Torbay, and made for the island on 2 May. Four days later they arrived to find that a French attack had been repulsed; the admiral left a small but sufficient force of ships to protect the islands and took the transports and troops back to Torbay. The delay had cost a week, and now weather conditions turned unfavorable. It was not until the end of the month that they were finally able to get underway into the Atlantic, the troops from Chatham having been on board ship for two months before even leaving British waters. The voyage from Torbay to New York took 13 weeks, and during this time illness in the form of scurvy set in. They did not reach New York until 25 August, by which time a quarter of the British recruits were sick and another 43 had died.

The first muster rolls to show these new men show that conditions grew worse after they landed in New York. Nearly all of the 63 recruits for the 22nd Regiment were sick. The regiment itself was still in Rhode Island, but when that place was evacuated at the end of October they joined the New York garrison. Although many of the recruits eventually recovered to serve with the regiment, a third of them died within their first year in America.

Among the dead was John Lloyd, the young man from Shropshire with a wealthy mother and a trust fund. He died in Jamaica, Long Island on 11 January 1780. His mother did not learn of his death until four years later when she engaged an attorney to track him down. By this time the regiment was back in England and the adjutant, responding to the lawyer's letter which had been conveyed through the regimental agent, examined the regimental books and confirmed that Lloyd had joined the regiment and died in America. The information was critical because Hannah Lloyd's new husband had gone bankrupt and the family lands were being sold off to pay his debts. With her only son gone for a soldier and now gone from the world, her fortune was lost.

James Nowland was also listed as sick on the first muster rolls in America, but he recovered. Just as nothing distinguished his life before joining the army nothing distinguished his career as a soldier; his name appears duly on the rolls until the end of the war. At that time, men who had enlisted after 1775 were entitled to be discharged and had the option of returning to Great Britain or taking a land grant in Canada. He chose the latter along with 85 other men from the 22nd, and landed at Shelburne, Nova Scotia (at that time called Port Roseway) in the closing months of 1783. He received his land. He farmed. In his late 50s, he married and then had a remarkable 11 children before his wife died in 1829. On 30 June 1840 he scrawled his mark on a deposition for relief under an act passed during the second year of the reign of Queen Victoria. He was living in the parish of Glenelg, New Brunswick, and at the age of 93 submitted that he was no longer able to support himself. He was granted relief of 10 pounds per year which he was still collecting in 1843 at the age of 100, but he is known to have passed away before one of his sons married five years later. Descendants of his, still carrying the Nowland name, live in Canada to this day.

Such were the disparate fates of two men who became soldiers, one who began with promise and the other who ended with a legacy.

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Pensioner: Alexander Sheppard, 16th Light Dragoons

Our previous installment dealt with a soldier of the 4th Regiment who stole a horse and was chased by a trooper of the 16th Light Dragoons, Alexander Sheppard. We are fortunate to have details on Sheppard's long career as a horse soldier.

Sheppard was born in about 1736 in Manchester, England, and pursued the trade of a calendar man. This was one of many skills in the highly-developed British textile industry, involving using a hot press to make a smooth finish on cloth. At the age of 26, however, he changed careers and joined the army; September 1776 found him disembarking in America with the 16th (Queen's) Light Dragoons. His experience as a sentry on the night after the Battle of Germantown is described in the previous installment; note that he was 42 years old when he successfully chased down a British light infantryman. When the British army evacuated Philadelphia in June 1778, Sheppard and his regiment returned to New York.

The following year, the 16th Light Dragoons were ordered back to Great Britain. In typical fashion, all of the men who were still fit for foreign service were drafted into other regiments serving in America. 94 men were drafted into the only other British regular cavalry regiment in America, the 17th Light Dragoons; Alexander Sheppard was among them. Soon after, he was in the detachment of the regiment sent on the expedition to Charleston, South Carolina.

We don't know the circumstances, but some time in 1780 Sheppard was injured in such a way as to lose the use of his right hand. On the muster rolls prepared on 4 February 1781, he is listed as having been "Invalided gone to England." Once there, his infirmity along with his long service earned him an out-pension, granted on 10 April 1781 at the age of 45 after 19 years as a soldier.

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Died in America: John Wilkins, 4th Regiment of Foot

John Wilkins was a seasoned soldier in the 4th (King's Own) Regiment of Foot. He was a private soldier in the regiment when it arrived in Boston in 1774, and at the end of 1776 was among those selected for the regiment's light infantry company. This company was formed of experienced troops who were limber, quick and well suited for rapid movement and open-order skirmishing. The 4th's light company was among those that fought on the opening day of hostilities on 19 April 1775, and then suffered terribly in the abortive flanking movement at Bunker Hill the following June. Brought up to strength by transferring experienced soldiers from the regiment's eight battalion companies, the lights became part of the 1st Battalion of Light Infantry, a corps that was in the forefront of the spectacularly successful campaign around New York and into New Jersey in the fall of 1776. Although repeatedly victorious, the companies in the battalion had suffered numerous casualties in their roll at the vanguard of the army. They were replenished again at the end of 1776, with John Wilkins among the replacements.

The battalion remained active throughout 1777, first during campaigning in New Jersey and then during the aggressive campaign to Philadelphia in August and September. The battalion almost met with disaster when their encampment was suprised by an overwhelming American force at Germantown outside of Philadelphia on 4 October 1777. The American attack fell into confusion and the arrival of substantial British reinforcements turned the tide, prevent a rout of the light infantry. The 4th's light company suffered three men killed and several wounded in the fight. It was on the night after this famous action that John Wilkins was shot and killed, but the circumstances were quite different than we might expect from finding him listed as "died" on the regiment's muster rolls.

At midnight on the night of 4-5 October, trooper Alexander Sheppard of the 16th (Queen's) Light Dragoons was posted sentry over the troops horses that were tied on a picket line in Germantown. About a half hour later one of the horses got loose, and Sheppard quickly went to secure it. As he was doing so, someone came towards him in the darkness and said, "You bougre, are you sentry over those horses?"

Sheppard replied that he was. The stranger then said, "If I can get to you, I'll give you a good licking."

Sheppard told the man to go about his business, as he had nothing to say to him. Sheppard then secured the horse, took it to the line and tied it up. As he was doing so, the man who'd accosted him untied the leftmost horse in the line and made off with it. After Sheppard tied up the loose horse he went along the line to see that the rest were secure. When he found that the end horse was missing, he saw the stranger running off with it and called to him. The stranger responded, "Kiss my arse, you bougre," and continued leading the horse away.

Sheppard guessed that the man was a rebel prisoner who had gotten loose and wanted the horse to speed his escape. He quickly woke the corporal of the guard, Roger Thorne; Thorne suggested that the thief was "the foolish man called Billy the Ram," apparently referring to a colorful local character who bore this common sobriquet. Sheppard said that Billy the Ram would not have used such language, and told Thorne to get a carbine or pistol and follow him after the fleeing stranger.

Sheppard then gave chase, calling for the horse thief to stop. The thief continued to respond with abusive language. They ran along the road out of town and up a hill, then turned into an orchard were Sheppard managed to catch the thief and began to struggle with him. As they struggled, Corporal Thorne arrived, having himself grabbed one of his pistols and given chase. Thorne had a particular interest in recovering the horse; some time before, when he was a Lance Corporal (a private soldier doing a corporal's duty) he had been tried by a regimental court martial because a horse had gotten loose from some sentries that he commanded. This time he was determined not to be humiliated. Rather than join the struggle between Sheppard and the thief, he told Sheppard to back off and then shot the thief in the chest from about six feet away.

The thief staggered backwards and began saying "I ask you pardon," then fell. Having more interest in recovering a lost horse than in assisting an escaped rebel prisoner turned horse thief, Thorne and Sheppard left him there. Thorne went to report the incident to the serjeant-major of the regiment, but the serjeant-major had not stayed in his usual lodgings that night and Thorne could not find him. Instead Thorne gave his report first thing in the morning. In the mean time, Sheppard had gone back to the orchard during the night and seen that the thief had died.

The dead man was not an escaped prisoner, nor was it Billy the Ram. It was John Wilkins, private soldier in the light infantry company of the 4th Regiment of Foot. On Monday, 6 October, Corporal Thorne was tried by a general court martial for the murder of a fellow soldier.

At the trial, Alexander Sheppard gave his account of the events. The court asked if he could see Wilkins' uniform, but Sheppard testified that it was too dark. The serjeant-major explained that both Sheppard and Thorne had been sober when paraded for guard on the evening of 4 October, and also that the following morning several people told him that Thorne had been trying to find him the night before. He also noted that Thorne was not prone to quarrels or disputes, and so he was particularly surprised to hear that he had been involved in the shooting. An officer of the regiment testified that Thorne had been in the regiment for four years and was "a sober quiet man, and of an unexceptionable character"; he noted that the Major of the regiment would also have testified to Thorne's good character but was unable to attend the trial.

There was no indication in the trial of what might have caused John Wilkins' unusual behavior. The court judged that Corporal Roger Thorne had acted in accordance with his duty, and acquitted him.

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