The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision

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Excerpt from a letter sent by the Massachusetts Council to Brigadier-General Solomon Lovell, July 23rd, 1779:It is the Expression of the Council . . . that you will push your Operations with all possible Vigor and dispatch and accomplish the business of theExpedition before any reinforcement can get to the enemy at Penobscot. It is also reported here and believed by many that, a Forty Gun ship andthe Delaware Frigate sailed from Sandy Hook on Sixteenth Current and Stood to the Eastward; their destination was not known.Excerpt from an Order by the State of Massachusetts Bay Council, July 27th, 1779:Ordered that the Board of War be and they are hereby directed to furnish the two Indians of the Penobscott Tribe, now in the Town of Boston withTwo Hats one of them laced two Blankets and two Shirts.Excerpt from Brigadier-General Solomon Lovell's daily orders, Majabigwaduce, July 27th, 1779:All Officers and Soldiers in the Army are strictly enjoin'd not to give or sell any rum to the Indians, except those who have the immediate commandof them, under pain of the greatest displeasure. . . . The Officers are desired to pay particular Attention that the men do not waste their Ammunitionand that they keep their Arms in good Order.
Chapter SevenThe first shots crashed into the trees, exploding twigs, pine needles, and leaves. Birds screeched and flapped into the dawn. The rebels were using chainand bar shot that whirled and slashed through branches to punch gouts of earth and shards of stone where they struck the bluff's face. "Dear God alive,"Captain Archibald Campbell said. He was the highlander who commanded the picquets on the bluff and he stared aghast at the scores of longboats thatwere now emerging from the fog and pulling towards his position. In their center, clumsily rowed by men wielding extra-long sweeps, a schooner crepttowards the beach, her deck crowded with men. Two enemy warships had anchored close to the shore and those ships, still just dark shapes in thesmoke and fog, were now shooting into the bluff. The Hunter had nine four-pounders bearing on the redcoats, while the Sky Rocket had eight of the smallcannon in her broadside, but though the guns were small their scything missiles struck home with mind-numbing brutality. Campbell seemed frozen. Hehad eighty men under command, most of them scattered along the face of the bluff where the steep slope gave way to the gentler rise. "Tell the men to liedown, sir?" a sergeant suggested."Yes," Campbell said, scarcely aware that he was speaking. The ships' guns were firing more raggedly now as the faster gun crews outpaced theslower. Each gunshot was a percussive blow to the ears, and each illuminated the bluff with a sudden flash of light that was smothered almost instantly bypowder smoke. Campbell was shaking. His belly was sour, his mouth dry, and his right leg quivering uncontrollably. There were hundreds of rebelscoming! The fog-smothered sea was shadowed dark by the bluff, but he could make out the glimmer of oar blades beneath the gunsmoke and see thegray light reflecting from bayonets. Twigs, shattered bark, leaves, pinecones, and needles showered on the picquet as the shots tore through the bluff'strees. A chain shot shattered a rotted and fallen trunk. The highlanders closest to Campbell looked nervously towards their officer."Send word to General McLean, sir?" the sergeant suggested stoically."Go," Campbell blurted out the command, "yes, go, go!"The sergeant turned and a bar shot struck his neck. It severed his powdered pigtail, cut head from bod, and, in the gray gloom and darkness of thedawn, the spray of blood was extraordinarily bright, like ruby drops given extra brilliance by the fog-diffused sunlight that filtered through the eastern trees.A jet of blood spurted upwards and appeared to lift the head, which turned so that the sergeant seemed to be staring reproachfully at Campbell who gavea small cry of horror, then involuntarily bent double and vomited. The head, soaked in blood, thumped to earth and rolled a few feet down the slope.Another chain shot slashed overhead, scattering twigs. Birds shrieked. A redcoat fired his musket down into the cannon-smoke and fog. "Hold your fire!"Campbell shouted too shrilly. "Hold your fire! Wait till they're on the beach!" He spat. His mouth was sour and his right hand was twitching. There wasblood on his jacket and vomit on his shoes. The sergeant's headless body was shuddering, but at last went still."Why in God's name hold our fire?" Lieutenant John Moore, posted on the Scottish left, wondered aloud. He led twenty-two Hamiltons positioned atDyce's Head where the slope was the steepest. His picquet lay directly between the approaching boats and the small British battery at the bluff's top andMoore was determined to protect that battery. He watched the enemy approaching and also watched himself with a critical inward eye. An enemy chainshot slammed into a tree not five paces away and slivers of bark spattered Moore like the devil's hail, and he knew he was supposed to be frightened, yetin all truth he did not notice that fear. He sensed apprehension, yes, for no man wants to die or be wounded, but instead of a debilitating fear Moore wasfeeling a rising exhilaration. Let the bastards come, he thought, and then he realized that his self-examination was consuming him so that he was standingin silent absorption while his men looked to him for reassurance. Forcing himself to walk slowly along the break of the bluff, he drew his sword and flickedthe slender blade at the thick undergrowth. "Nice of the enemy to trim the trees for us," he said. "It improves the view, don't you think?""Buggers want to trim more than the trees," Private Neill muttered."I don't know if you've noticed something, sir," Sergeant McClure said quietly."Tell me, Sergeant. Brighten my morning."McClure pointed at the approaching boats that were clarifying as they emerged from the smoke-thickened fog. "Yon bastards are in uniform, sir. Ireckon they're sending their best against us. While the scoundrels up yonder, he pointed at the more northerly longboats, "are in any old clothes. Bunch ofvagabonds, they look like."Moore peered westwards, then looked at the northern boats. "You're right, Sergeant," he said. In the nearer boats he could see the white crossbeltsagainst the dark green coats of the marines and he assumed that the uniforms belonged to a regiment of General Washington's Continental Army."They're sending their best troops right here," he said loudly, "and you can't blame them.""You can't?""They're up against the most formidable regiment in the British Army," Moore said cheerfully."Oh, aye, all twenty-two of us," McClure said."If they knew what they faced," Moore said, "they'd turn right around and row away.""Permission to let them know, sir?" McClure asked, appalled at his young officer's bravado."Let's kill them instead, Sergeant," Moore said, though his words were lost as a chain shot drove noisily through the branches overhead to shower thepicquet with pinecones and needles."Don't fire yet!" Captain Archibald Campbell shouted from the bluff's center. "Wait till they're on the beach!""Bloody fool," Moore said. And so, with drawn sword, and under the bombardment of the rebel broadsides, he walked the bluff and watched the enemydraw nearer. Battle, he thought, had come to him at last and in all his eighteen years John Moore had never felt so alive.Wadsworth winced as the oars threw up droplets of water that splashed on his face. It might be July, but the air was cold and the water even colder. Hewas shivering in his Continental Army jacket and he prayed that none of the marines would mistake that shivering for fear. Captain Welch, beside him,looked entirely unconcerned, as if the boat was merely carrying him on some mundane errand. Israel Trask, the boy fifer, was grinning in the longboat'sbows, where he kept twisting around to stare at the bluff where no enemy showed. The bluff climbed two hundred feet from the beach, much of that slopealmost perpendicular, but in the fog it looked much higher. Trees thrashed under the impact of bar and chain shot, and birds circled over the high ground,but Wadsworth could see no redcoats and no puffs of smoke betraying musket-fire. Fog sifted through the high branches. The leading boats were wellwithin musket range now, but still no enemy fired."You stay on the beach, boy," Welch told Israel Trask."Can't I'" the boy began."You stay on the beach," Welch said again, then gave a sly glance at Wadsworth, "with the general.""Is that an order?" Wadsworth asked, amused."Your job is to send the boats back for more men, and send those men where they're needed," Welch said, seemingly unabashed at telling Wadsworthwhat he should do. "Our job is to kill whatever bastards we find at the top of the slope.""If there are any there at all," Wadsworth said. The boat was almost at the beach where small waves broke feebly, and still the enemy offered noresistance."Maybe they're sleeping," Welch said, "maybe."Then, as the bows of the boat grounded on the shingle, the bluff's face exploded with noise and smoke. Wadsworth saw a stab of flame high above,heard the musket-balls whip past, saw splashes of water where they struck the sea, and then the marines were shouting as they leaped ashore. Otherboats scraped onto the narrow beach, which rapidly filled with green-coated men looking for a way up the bluff. A marine staggered backwards, his whitecrossbelt suddenly red. He fell to his knees in the small surf and coughed violently, each cough bringing more dark blood.
Page 2 and 3:
THEFORTA Novel of the Revolutionary
Page 5 and 6: A voice in the darkness, a knock at
Page 7 and 8: A Note on Names and TermsIn 1779 th
Page 9: Chapter OneThere was not much wind
Page 12 and 13: ecome a base for Britain's Royal Na
Page 14 and 15: "I bloody hope so," Moore said with
Page 16 and 17: Chapter TwoLieutenant-Colonel Paul
Page 18 and 19: magazines that would keep the ammun
Page 20 and 21: "So you will take the oath?" McLean
Page 22 and 23: Excerpts of a letter from the Selec
Page 25 and 26: inflate a company into a battalion
Page 28 and 29: "The world would be better without
Page 30 and 31: So now one less man would sail east
Page 32 and 33: Chapter FourThe fleet sailed eastwa
Page 34: "We were maltreated in Boston," Cal
Page 37 and 38: Tyrannicide had also confirmed that
Page 39 and 40: From the Oath demanded by Brigadier
Page 41 and 42: "Plug it!" Little shouted at the ma
Page 43 and 44: "You promoted me to general yesterd
Page 45 and 46: "Long as it takes."They had to wait
Page 47 and 48: Chapter SixThe daylight was fading.
Page 49 and 50: "He's a patriot!" Lovell said in a
Page 51 and 52: "What are you doing?" Revere again
Page 53: A rowboat banged against the Centur
Page 57 and 58: sir," McClure shouted over the musk
Page 59 and 60: Solomon Lovell's heart seemed to mi
Page 61 and 62: From Brigadier-General Lovell's des
Page 63 and 64: emembered the tall American in his
Page 65 and 66: "We thought him indestructible," De
Page 67 and 68: could conceal men from the guns of
Page 69 and 70: Chapter Nine"Where the devil is Rev
Page 71 and 72: "Then they will have something to f
Page 73 and 74: They would attack the battery.In th
Page 75 and 76: Hundreds? He wondered. Maybe two hu
Page 77 and 78: Chapter TenThe sun had not risen wh
Page 79 and 80: Praise the Lord, Wadsworth thought,
Page 81 and 82: marsh. The rebels patrolled that gr
Page 83 and 84: Letter from Brigadier-General Lovel
Page 85 and 86: on their flank?" Easily, Wadsworth
Page 87 and 88: Commodore Saltonstall declared he w
Page 89 and 90: ecome mired in pessimism and it nee
Page 91 and 92: Chapter TwelveAnd, suddenly, there
Page 93 and 94: at their sterns. Away to port was C
Page 95 and 96: need men willing to make that attac
Page 97 and 98: timber splinter to drive cloth into
Page 99 and 100: Chapter ThirteenA Royal Marine at t
Page 101 and 102: The fifty men filed through the aba
Page 103 and 104: dared to hope that the British woul
Page 105 and 106:
From a letter by General Artemas Wa
Page 107 and 108:
the powder charges were being carri
Page 109 and 110:
fire, of the sparks flying and fall
Page 111 and 112:
Historical NoteThe Penobscot Expedi
Page 113 and 114:
on which Carnes was expertly equipp
Page 115 and 116:
About the AuthorBERNARD CORNWELL, "
Page 117 and 118:
CopyrightT HE FORT. Copyright (c) 2
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