The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision

just above the steepest part of the hill, and Moore was positioning his men so that they would be directly above the beach to which the Americans rowed.He was feeling a sudden excitement. He had dreamed of battle for so long and now it was imminent, though it was nothing like his dreams. In thosedreams he was on a wide-open field and the enemy was in dense ranks beneath their flags, and cavalry was on the flanks, and bands were playing andMoore had often imagined surviving the enemy volleys until he ordered his own men to fire back, but instead he was scrambling through bushes andwatching a flotilla of large longboats pull hard for the shore.Those boats were close now, not more than a hundred paces from the narrow beach where the short, wind-driven waves broke white. Then a gunsounded. Moore saw a cloud of smoke appear amidships on one of the transport ships and realized it had been a small cannon aboard that ship. Theround shot crashed noisily through the bluff's trees, startling birds into the evening sky, and Moore thought the single shot must presage a bombardment,but no more guns fired. Instead two flags broke from the ship's yardarm and the longboats suddenly rested their oars. The boats wallowed in the turbulentwater, then began to turn around. They were going back."God damn them," Moore said. He watched the boats turn clumsily and realized the Americans had abandoned their plans. "Give them a volley," heordered McClure. The range was long, but Moore's frustration seethed in him. "Fire!" he snapped at the Sergeant.The Hamiltons cocked their muskets, aimed, and let loose a ragged volley. The musket sound stuttered in the trees. Moore was standing to one sideand was certain he saw a man in the nearest rowboat thrown violently forward. "Hold your fire!" Campbell shouted angrily from the summit."We hit a man," Moore told McClure."We did?" the Sergeant sounded disbelieving."One less rebel, Sergeant," Moore said, "God damn their disloyal souls."The wind carried the musket smoke away and the sun, which had momentarily been obscured by a ribbon of cloud above the bay's western shore,suddenly flared bright and dazzling. There was a silence, except for the rush of wind and the fret of breaking waves.A cheer sounded as the sun set. Brigadier McLean had led his officers down to the shore and along the beach to a place just beyond the Half MoonBattery and there, within easy earshot of the three Royal Navy sloops, he saluted them. To McLean, watching from the low unfinished ramparts of FortGeorge, it had appeared that the Americans had tried to enter the harbor but had been repulsed by Mowat's guns, and so McLean wanted to thank thenavy. His officers faced the ships, raised their hats and McLean led them in three heartfelt cheers.The Union flag still flew above Fort George.* * *"An Indian named John," Wadsworth said."What was that? Who?" General Lovell had been whispering to his secretary and missed his deputy's words."The man who died, sir. He was an Indian named John.""And then there were forty," a man spoke from the cabin's edge."Not one of ours, then," Saltonstall said."A brave man," Wadsworth said, frowning at both comments. The Indian had been struck by a musket-ball the previous evening, just after the assaultboats had turned away from the shore. A small volley of musketry had crackled from the woods on the bluff and, though the range war far beyond any hopeof accuracy, the British ball had struck the Indian in the chest, killing him in seconds. Wadsworth, on board the Sally, had seen the survivors climb aboard,their coats spattered with John's blood."Just why did we abandon last night's landing?" Saltonstall asked dourly. The commodore had tipped his chair back so that he looked at the armyofficers down his long nose."The wind was too strong," Lovell explained, "and we discerned that we should have difficulties returning the boats to the transports to embark thesecond division."The leaders of the expedition were meeting for a council of war in the commodore's cabin on board the Warren. Twenty-one men crowded about thetable, twelve of them captains of the warships while the rest were majors or colonels from the militia. It was Monday morning, the wind had dropped, therewas no fog and the skies above Penobscot Bay were clear and blue. "The question," Lovell opened the proceedings by tapping a long finger against thecommodore's polished table, "is whether we should exert our full force against the enemy today.""What else?" Captain Hallet, who commanded the Massachusetts Navy brigantine Active, asked."If the ships were to assault the enemy vessels," Lovell suggested diffidently, "and we were to land the men, I think God would prosper our endeavors.""He surely would," the Reverend Murray said confidently."You want me to enter the harbor?" Saltonstall asked, alarmed."If that is necessary to destroy the enemy shipping?" Lovell responded with a question."Let me remind you," the commodore let his chair fall forward with a sharp bang, "that the enemy presents a line of guns supported by batteries andbeneath the artillery of a fortress. To take ships into that damned hole without a reconnaissance would be the very height of madness.""Fighting madness," someone muttered from the after part of the cabin, and Saltonstall glared at the officers there, but made no comment."You are suggesting, perhaps, that we have not reconnoitered sufficiently?" Lovell still spoke in questions."We have not," Saltonstall said firmly."Yet we know where the enemy guns are situated," Wadsworth said, just as firmly.Saltonstall glared at the younger brigadier. "I take my fleet into that damned hole," he said, "and I get tangled with their damned ships and all you haveis a mess of wreckage, maybe ablaze, and all the while the damned enemy is pouring shot at us from their land batteries. You wish to explain to the NavyBoard that I lost a precious frigate at the insistence of the Massachusetts Militia?""God will watch over you," the Reverend Murray assured the commodore."God, sir, is not manning my guns!" Saltonstall snarled at the clergyman. "I wish to God He were, but instead I have a crew of pressed men! Half thebastards have never seen a gun fired!""Let us not be heated," Lovell put in hastily."Would it help, Commodore, if the battery on Cross Island were to be removed?" Wadsworth asked."Its removal is essential," Saltonstall said.Lovell looked helplessly at Wadsworth who began to think what troops he could use to assault the island, but Captain Welch intervened. "We can dothat, sir," the tall marine said confidently.Lovell smiled in relief. "Then it seems we have a plan of action, gentlemen," he said, and so they did. It took an hour of discussion to resolve the plan'sdetails, but when the hour was over it had been decided that Captain Welch would lead over two hundred marines to attack the British battery on CrossIsland and while that operation was being conducted the warships would again engage the three sloops so that their guns could not be trained on Welch'smen. At the same time, to prevent the British from sending reinforcements south across the harbor, General Lovell would launch another attack on thepeninsula. Lovell offered the plan for the Council's approval and was rewarded with unanimous consent. "I feel confident," Lovell said happily, "supremelyconfident, that Almighty God will shower blessings on this day's endeavors.""Amen," the Reverend Murray said, "and amen."Captain Michael Fielding sought out General McLean shortly after dawn. The general was seated in the new sunlight outside the large store-hut that hadjust been completed inside the fort. A servant was shaving McLean who smiled ruefully at Fielding. "Shaving's difficult with a gimped right arm," thegeneral explained."Lift your chin, sir," the servant said, and there was no talking for a moment as the razor scraped up the general's neck."What's on your mind, Captain?" McLean asked as the razor was rinsed."An abatis, sir.""An excellent thing to have on your mind," McLean said lightly, then was silent again as the servant toweled his face. "Thank you, Laird," he said as thecloth was taken from his neck. "Have you breakfasted, Captain?""Thin commons, sir."McLean smiled. "I'm told the hens have begun to lay. Can't have you fellows starving. Laird? Be a good fellow and see if Graham can conjure up somepoached eggs.""Aye, sir," the servant gathered his bowl, towel, razor, and strop, "and coffee, sir?""I shall promote you to colonel if you can find me coffee, Laird."