The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision
The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision
General McLean had convinced himself that the rebel attack would be launched across the neck and so was surprised by the dawn's assault on the bluff.At first he was pleased with their choice, reckoning that Archibald Campbell's picquet was heavy enough to inflict real damage on the attackers, but thebrevity of the fight told him that Campbell had achieved little. McLean could not see the fighting from Fort George because fog shrouded the ridge, but hisears told him all he needed to know, and his heart sank because he had readied the fort for an attack from the north. Instead the assault would come fromthe west, and the intensity of the musket-fire told McLean that the attack would come in overwhelming force. The fog was clearing quickly now, coalescinginto tendrils of mist that blew like gunsmoke across the stumps of the ridge. Once the rebels gained the bluff's summit, and McLean's ears told him thatwas already happening, and once they reached the edge of the trees on that high western ground, they would see that Fort George was merely a nameand not yet a stronghold. It had only two guns facing the bluff, its rampart was a risible obstacle and the abatis was a frail barricade to protect theunfinished work. The rebels would surely capture the fort and Francis McLean regretted that. "The fortunes of war," he said."McLean?" Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, the commanding officer of the highlanders, asked. Most of Campbell's regiment, those who were not on thepicquet line, now stood behind the rampart. Their two colors were at the center of their line and McLean felt a pang of sadness that those proud flags mustbecome trophies to the rebels. "Did you speak, McLean?" Campbell asked."Nothing, Colonel, nothing," McLean said, staring west through the thinning fog. He crossed the rampart and walked towards the abatis because hewanted to be closer to the fighting. The crackling noise of musketry still rose and fell, sounding like dry thorns burning and snapping. He sent one of hisaides to recall Major Dunlop's picquet, which had been guarding the isthmus, "and tell Major Dunlop I need Lieutenant Caffrae's company! Quick now!"He leaned on his blackthorn stick and turned to see that Captain Fielding's men had already moved a twelve-pounder from the fort's northeastern cornerto the northwestern bastion. Good, he thought, but he doubted any effort now would be sufficient. He looked back to the high ground where smoke and fogfiltered through the trees, and from where the sound of musketry grew louder again and where the redcoats were appearing at the edge of the far trees.So his picquet, he thought regretfully, had not delayed the enemy long. He saw men fire, he saw a man fall, and then the redcoats were streaming backacross the cleared land, running through the raw tree stumps as they fled an enemy whose coats made them invisible among the distant trees. The onlyevidence of the rebels was the smoke of their muskets, which blossomed and faded on the morning's light breeze.There was a small gap in the abatis, left there deliberately so the defenders could negotiate the tangled branches, and the fleeing redcoats filed throughthat gap where McLean met them. "Form ranks," he greeted them. Men looked at him with startled expressions. "Form in your companies," he said."Sergeant? Dress the ranks!"The fugitives made three ranks, and behind them, summoned from their picquet duty on the ground overlooking the neck, Major Dunlop and LieutenantCaffrae's company arrived. "Wait a moment, Major," McLean said to Dunlop. "Captain Campbell!" he shouted, indicating with his stick that he meantArchibald Campbell, who had retreated just as precipitously as his men.Campbell, nervous and lanky, fidgeted in front of McLean. "Sir?""You were driven back?" McLean asked."There are hundreds of them, sir," Campbell said, not meeting McLean's gaze, "hundreds!""And where is Lieutenant Moore?""Taken, sir," Campbell said after a pause. His eyes met McLean's and instantly looked away. "Or worse, sir.""Then what is that firing about?" McLean asked.Campbell turned and stared at the far trees from where musketry still sounded. "I don't know, sir," the highlander said miserably.McLean turned to Major Dunlop. "Quick as you can," he said, "take Caffrae's company and advance at the double, see if you can discover youngMoore. Don't tangle with too many rebels, just see if Moore can be found." Major Dunlop, the temporary commander of the 82nd, was an officer of rareverve and ability and he wasted no time. He shouted orders and his company, with their muskets at the trail, started westwards. It would have beensuicide to advance along the cleared spine of the ridge and thus straight towards the rebels who were now gathering at the edge of the trees, so insteadthe company used the low ground by the harbor where they were concealed by the scatter of houses and by small fields where the maize had grown tallerthan a man. McLean watched them disappear, heard the fighting continue, and prayed that Moore survived. The general reckoned that young John Moorehad promise, but that was not sufficient reason to rescue him, nor was it reason enough that Moore was a friend of the regiment's patron, the Duke ofHamilton, but rather it was because Moore had been given into McLean's charge. McLean would not abandon him, nor any other man under his care, andso he had sent Dunlop and the single company into danger. Because it was his duty.Solomon Lovell landed on the narrow beach an hour after Captain Welch's marines had spearheaded the American attack. The general arrived withLieutenant-Colonel Revere and his eighty artillerymen who, today, were armed with muskets and would serve as a reserve force to the nine hundred andfifty men who had already landed, most of whom were now at the top of the bluff. A few had never made it and their bodies lay on the steep slope, whileothers, the wounded, had been carried back to the beach where Eliphalet Downer, the surgeon general of the Massachusetts Militia, was organizing theirtreatment and evacuation. Lovell crouched beside a man whose eyes were bandaged. "Soldier?" Lovell said. "This is General Lovell.""We beat them, sir.""Of course we did! Are you in pain, soldier?""I'm blinded, sir," the man said. A musket-ball had spattered razor-sharp splinters of beechwood into both eyes,"But you will see your country at liberty," Lovell said, "I promise.""And how do I feed my family?" the man asked. "I'm a farmer!""All will be well," Lovell said and patted the man's shoulder. "Your country will look after you." He straightened, listening to the staccato rattle of musketryat the bluff's summit, which told him that some redcoats must still be fighting on the heights. "We'll need to bring artillery ashore, Colonel," he said toRevere."Soon as you release us, General," Revere said. There was an edge of resentment in his voice, suggesting that he thought it demeaning for his men tocarry muskets instead of serving cannons. "Just as soon as you release us," he said again, though more willingly this time."Let's first see what we've achieved," Lovell said. He patted the blinded man's shoulder a second time and started up the bluff, hauling himself onsaplings. "It'll be a hard job to get cannon up this slope, Colonel.""We'll manage that," Revere said confidently. Taking heavy artillery up a bluff's steep face was a practical problem, and Lieutenant-Colonel Revere likedovercoming such challenges."I never did congratulate you on the success of your gunners at Cross Island," Lovell said. "You've hurt the enemy ships! A splendid achievement,Colonel.""Just doing our duty, General," Revere said, but pleased all the same at the compliment. "We killed some damned Britons!" He went on happily. "I'vedreamed of killing the damned beasts!""And you drove the enemy's ships back! So now there's nothing to stop our fleet from entering the harbor.""Nothing at all, General," Revere agreed.The stutter of musketry still sounded from Lovell's right, evidence that some redcoats yet remained on the high ground above the bay, but it was clearthat most of the enemy had retreated because, as Lovell reached the easier slope at the top of the bluff, he found grinning militiamen who gave him acheer. "We beat them, sir!""Of course we beat them," Lovell said, beaming, "and all of you," he raised his voice and lifted his hands in a gesture of benediction, "all of you have mythanks and my congratulations on this magnificent feat of arms!"The woods at the top of the bluff were now in rebel hands, all but for a stand of pines above Dyce's Head, which was far to the general's right and fromwhere the musketry still sounded. Lovell's militia were thick in the woods. They had climbed the precipitous slope, they had taken casualties, but they hadshot the British off the summit and all the way back to the fort. Men looked happy. They talked excitedly, recounting incidents in the fight up the steepslope, and Lovell enjoyed their happiness. "Well done!" he said again and again.He went to the edge of the trees and there, in front of him, was the enemy. The fog had quite gone now and he could see every detail of the fort that layonly half a mile to the east. The enemy had made a screen of branches between the woods and the fort, but from his high ground Lovell could easily seeover that flimsy barricade and he could see that Fort George did not look like a stronghold at all, but instead resembled an earthen scar in the ridge's soil.The nearest rampart was thickly lined with redcoats, but he still felt relief. The fort, which in Lovell's imagination had been a daunting prospect of stonewalls and sheer ramparts, now proved to be a mere scratch in the dirt.Colonel McCobb of the Lincoln County militia hailed the general cheerfully. "A good morning's work, sir!""One for the history books, McCobb! Without doubt, one for the history books!" Lovell said. "But not quite done yet. I think, don't you, that we shouldkeep going?""Why not, sir?" McCobb answered.
Solomon Lovell's heart seemed to miss a beat. He scarcely dared believe the speed and extent of the morning's victory, but the sight of those distantredcoats behind the low rampart told him that the victory was not yet complete. He had a vision of the redcoats' muskets flaring volleys at his men. "IsGeneral Wadsworth here?""He was, sir." McCobb said Wadsworth had been at the wood's edge where he had encouraged Colonel McCobb and Colonel Mitchell to keep theirmilitiamen moving forward onto the cleared land, but both colonels had pleaded they needed time to reorganize their troops. Units had become scatteredas they clambered up the bluff and the necessity of carrying the wounded back to the beach meant that most companies were shorthanded. Besides, thecapture of the high woods had seemed like a victory in itself and men wanted to savor that triumph before they advanced on Fort George. PelegWadsworth had urged haste, but then had been distracted by the musket-fire which still filled the trees at Dyce's Head with smoke. "I believe he went tothe right." McCobb continued, "to the marines.""The marines are still fighting?" Lovell asked McCobb."A few stubborn bastards are holding out there," McCobb said.Lovell hesitated, but the sight of the enemy's flags tipped his indecision towards confidence. "We shall advance to victory!" he announced cheerfully. Hewanted to add those arrogant enemy flags to his trophies. "Form your fine fellows into line," he told McCobb, then plucked at the colonel's sleeve asanother doubt flickered in his mind. "Have the enemy fired on you? With cannon, I mean?""Not a shot, General.""Well, let's stir your men from the woods! Tell them they'll be eating British beef for their suppers!" The musketry from Dyce's Head suddenly intensifiedinto an angry and concentrated crackle, and then, just as suddenly, went silent. Lovell stared towards the smoke, the only visible evidence of whateverbattle was being fought among those trees. "We should tell the marines we're advancing," he said. "Major Brown? Would you convey that message toCaptain Welch? Tell him to advance with us as soon as he's ready?""I will, sir," Major Gawen Brown, the second of Lovell's brigade majors, started off southwards.Lovell could not stop smiling. The Massachusetts Militia had taken the bluff! They had climbed the precipitous slope, they had fought the regulars of theBritish Army, and they had conquered. "I do believe," he said to Lieutenant-Colonel Revere, "that we may not need your cannon after all! Not if we candrive the enemy out of their works with infantry.""I'd still like a chance to hammer them," Revere said. He was staring at the fort and was not impressed by what he saw. The curtain wall was low and itsflanking bastions were unfinished, and he reckoned his artillery could reduce that feeble excuse for a fort into a smear of bloodied dirt."You zeal does you credit," Lovell said, "indeed it does, Colonel." Behind him the militia sergeants and officers were rousting men from among thetrees and shouting at them to form line on the open ground. The flags of Massachusetts and of the United States of America flew above them and it wastime for the decisive assault.Lieutenant Moore heard the bellowed order to charge and saw the green-uniformed men erupt out of the trees and he was aware of muskets flamingunexpectedly from his left and the chaos of the moment overwhelmed him. There was only terror in his head. He opened his mouth to shout an order, butno words came, and a hugely tall rebel in a green coat crossed by white belts, and with a long black pigtail flapping behind his neck, and with a cutlasscatching the morning sun in his right hand was running straight towards him and John Moore, almost without thinking, raised the musket he had rescuedfrom Private McPhail and his finger fumbled at the trigger, and then he realized he had not even loaded or cocked the musket, but it was too late becausethe big rebel was almost on him and the man's face was a savagely frightening grimace of hatred and Moore convulsively pulled the trigger anyway andthe musket fired.It had been cocked and loaded and Moore had never noticed.The ball took the rebel under the chin, it seared up through his mouth and out through his skull, lifting his hat into the air. The shock wave of the ball,compressed by the skull, drove an eye from its socket. Blood misted, blurring red in fine droplets as the rebel, dead in an instant, fell forward onto hisknees. The cutlass dropped and the man's dead arms wrapped themselves round Moore's waist and then slid slowly down to his feet. Moore, aghast,noticed that the pigtail was dripping blood."For God's sake, young Moore, you want to win this bloody war single-handed?" Major Dunlop greeted the young lieutenant. Dunlop's men had fired acompany volley from the trees to Moore's left, and that sudden volley had served to drive the momentarily outnumbered marines back to the trees.Moore could not speak. A musket-ball plucked at the tails of his coat. He was gazing down at the dead rebel whose head was a mess of blood, red-wethair, and scraps of bone."Come on, lad," Dunlop took Moore's elbow, "let's get the devil out of here."The company retreated, taking Moore's surviving men with them. They withdrew along the lower ground beside the harbor as the American marinescaptured the three naval cannon abandoned on Dyce's Head. The rebel battery was firing from Cross Island, relentlessly thumping round shot into CaptainMowat's ships. The crest of the bluff was thick with rebels and the redcoats had no place to go now except the unfinished Fort George.And Captain John Welch was dead.It took time to fetch the militia from the trees, but gradually they were formed into a line. It was a rough line stretching clear across the high ground with themarines on its right, the Indians on the left, and the flags at its center. Paul Revere's men, Lovell's reserve, were in three ranks behind the two flags, onethe proud starred stripes of the United States and the other the pine-tree banner of the Massachusetts Militia."What a magnificent morning's work," Lovell greeted Peleg Wadsworth."I congratulate you, sir.""I thank you, Wadsworth, I thank you! But on to victory now?""On to victory, sir," Wadsworth said. He decided he would not tell Lovell about Captain Welch's death, not till the battle was over and the victory gained."God has granted us the victory!" the Reverend Jonathan Murray announced. He had joined Lovell on the heights and, besides his brace of pistols,carried a Bible. He lifted the book high. "God promises us 'I will scatter them as with an east wind!'""Amen," Lovell said. Israel Trask played his fife behind the marines, while three drummer boys and two more fifers played the "Rogue's March" besidethe two flags. Lovell's heart swelled with pride. He drew his sword, looked towards the enemy, and pointed the blade forward. "On to victory!"A half mile away, inside the fort, General McLean watched the rebels form at the tree line. He had seen Major Dunlop's men climb to the battery on Dyce'sHead and, with the help of a telescope, he had seen that young Moore and his men had been rescued. Those redcoats were now coming back to the fortthrough the low ground beside the harbor, while the remaining picquets that had guarded the neck were all inside Fort George, where McLean's troopsstood in three ranks behind the western rampart. Their job now was to defend that low wall with volley fire. McLean, watching the rebel line thicken, stillbelieved he was faced by thousands, not hundreds, of enemy infantry, and now more rebels appeared to the north, showing at the trees above the neck.So he would be attacked from two sides? He glanced at the harbor and saw, to his surprise, that the enemy ships had made no aggressive move, but whyshould they? The fort was going to fall without their assistance. McLean limped up onto the unfinished western rampart. "Captain Fielding!""Sir?" The English artillery commander hurried to join McLean."We'll give them a few shots, I think?""Wait till they advance, sir?" Fielding suggested."I think we might treat them now, Captain," McLean said."They're too far for grape or case, sir.""Then give them round shot," McLean said. He spoke wearily. He knew what must happen now. The rebels would advance and such was the length oftheir line that they must inevitably wrap around three sides of his unfinished fort. They would take some casualties at the abatis, which was well within theeffective range of the grape shot that Captain Mowat had sent ashore, but Fielding's few guns could do only limited damage and the rebels would surelysurge on to assault the low walls. Then there would be chaos, panic, and bayonets. His men would stand, of that McLean was sure, but they would standand die.So the battle was lost. Yet honor alone dictated that he showed some resistance before he surrendered the fort. No one would blame him for its loss,not when he was so outnumbered, but he would be universally despised if he yielded without showing some defiance, and so McLean had determined onhis course of action. He would fire round shot and keep firing as the rebels began their advance, and then, before they came into range of CaptainFielding's more lethal case and grape shot, he would haul the flag down. It was sad, he thought, but surrender would save his men from massacre.McLean walked to the flagpole in the southwestern bastion. He had asked his aides to place a table beside the tall staff, but his slight limp and hiscrippled right arm made the effort of climbing onto the table difficult. "Need a hand, sir?" Sergeant Lawrence asked."Thank you, Sergeant."
- 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 and 54: A rowboat banged against the Centur
- Page 55 and 56: Chapter SevenThe first shots crashe
- Page 57: sir," McClure shouted over the musk
- 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
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- Page 99 and 100: Chapter ThirteenA Royal Marine at t
- Page 101 and 102: The fifty men filed through the aba
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- Page 105 and 106: From a letter by General Artemas Wa
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Solomon Lovell's heart seemed to miss a beat. He scarcely dared believe <strong>the</strong> speed and extent <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> morning's victory, but <strong>the</strong> sight <strong>of</strong> those distantredcoats behind <strong>the</strong> low rampart told him that <strong>the</strong> victory was not yet complete. He had a vision <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> redcoats' muskets flaring volleys at his men. "IsGeneral Wadsworth here?""He was, sir." McCobb said Wadsworth had been at <strong>the</strong> wood's edge where he had encouraged Colonel McCobb and Colonel Mitchell to keep <strong>the</strong>irmilitiamen moving forward onto <strong>the</strong> cleared land, but both colonels had pleaded <strong>the</strong>y needed time to reorganize <strong>the</strong>ir troops. Units had become scatteredas <strong>the</strong>y clambered up <strong>the</strong> bluff and <strong>the</strong> necessity <strong>of</strong> carrying <strong>the</strong> wounded back to <strong>the</strong> beach meant that most companies were shorthanded. Besides, <strong>the</strong>capture <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> high woods had seemed like a victory in itself and men wanted to savor that triumph before <strong>the</strong>y advanced on <strong>Fort</strong> George. PelegWadsworth had urged haste, but <strong>the</strong>n had been distracted by <strong>the</strong> musket-fire which still filled <strong>the</strong> trees at Dyce's Head with smoke. "I believe he went to<strong>the</strong> right." McCobb continued, "to <strong>the</strong> marines.""<strong>The</strong> marines are still fighting?" Lovell asked McCobb."A few stubborn bastards are holding out <strong>the</strong>re," McCobb said.Lovell hesitated, but <strong>the</strong> sight <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> enemy's flags tipped his indecision towards confidence. "We shall advance to victory!" he announced cheerfully. Hewanted to add those arrogant enemy flags to his trophies. "Form your fine fellows into line," he told McCobb, <strong>the</strong>n plucked at <strong>the</strong> colonel's sleeve asano<strong>the</strong>r doubt flickered in his mind. "Have <strong>the</strong> enemy fired on you? With cannon, I mean?""Not a shot, General.""Well, let's stir your men from <strong>the</strong> woods! Tell <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong>y'll be eating British beef for <strong>the</strong>ir suppers!" <strong>The</strong> musketry from Dyce's Head suddenly intensifiedinto an angry and concentrated crackle, and <strong>the</strong>n, just as suddenly, went silent. Lovell stared towards <strong>the</strong> smoke, <strong>the</strong> only visible evidence <strong>of</strong> whateverbattle was being fought among those trees. "We should tell <strong>the</strong> marines we're advancing," he said. "Major Brown? Would you convey that message toCaptain Welch? Tell him to advance with us as soon as he's ready?""I will, sir," Major Gawen Brown, <strong>the</strong> second <strong>of</strong> Lovell's brigade majors, started <strong>of</strong>f southwards.Lovell could not stop smiling. <strong>The</strong> Massachusetts Militia had taken <strong>the</strong> bluff! <strong>The</strong>y had climbed <strong>the</strong> precipitous slope, <strong>the</strong>y had fought <strong>the</strong> regulars <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>British Army, and <strong>the</strong>y had conquered. "I do believe," he said to Lieutenant-Colonel Revere, "that we may not need your cannon after all! Not if we candrive <strong>the</strong> enemy out <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir works with infantry.""I'd still like a chance to hammer <strong>the</strong>m," Revere said. He was staring at <strong>the</strong> fort and was not impressed by what he saw. <strong>The</strong> curtain wall was low and itsflanking bastions were unfinished, and he reckoned his artillery could reduce that feeble excuse for a fort into a smear <strong>of</strong> bloodied dirt."You zeal does you credit," Lovell said, "indeed it does, Colonel." Behind him <strong>the</strong> militia sergeants and <strong>of</strong>ficers were rousting men from among <strong>the</strong>trees and shouting at <strong>the</strong>m to form line on <strong>the</strong> open ground. <strong>The</strong> flags <strong>of</strong> Massachusetts and <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> United States <strong>of</strong> America flew above <strong>the</strong>m and it wastime for <strong>the</strong> decisive assault.Lieutenant Moore heard <strong>the</strong> bellowed order to charge and saw <strong>the</strong> green-uniformed men erupt out <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> trees and he was aware <strong>of</strong> muskets flamingunexpectedly from his left and <strong>the</strong> chaos <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> moment overwhelmed him. <strong>The</strong>re was only terror in his head. He opened his mouth to shout an order, butno words came, and a hugely tall rebel in a green coat crossed by white belts, and with a long black pigtail flapping behind his neck, and with a cutlasscatching <strong>the</strong> morning sun in his right hand was running straight towards him and John Moore, almost without thinking, raised <strong>the</strong> musket he had rescuedfrom Private McPhail and his finger fumbled at <strong>the</strong> trigger, and <strong>the</strong>n he realized he had not even loaded or cocked <strong>the</strong> musket, but it was too late because<strong>the</strong> big rebel was almost on him and <strong>the</strong> man's face was a savagely frightening grimace <strong>of</strong> hatred and Moore convulsively pulled <strong>the</strong> trigger anyway and<strong>the</strong> musket fired.It had been cocked and loaded and Moore had never noticed.<strong>The</strong> ball took <strong>the</strong> rebel under <strong>the</strong> chin, it seared up through his mouth and out through his skull, lifting his hat into <strong>the</strong> air. <strong>The</strong> shock wave <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> ball,compressed by <strong>the</strong> skull, drove an eye from its socket. Blood misted, blurring red in fine droplets as <strong>the</strong> rebel, dead in an instant, fell forward onto hisknees. <strong>The</strong> cutlass dropped and <strong>the</strong> man's dead arms wrapped <strong>the</strong>mselves round Moore's waist and <strong>the</strong>n slid slowly down to his feet. Moore, aghast,noticed that <strong>the</strong> pigtail was dripping blood."For God's sake, young Moore, you want to win this bloody war single-handed?" Major Dunlop greeted <strong>the</strong> young lieutenant. Dunlop's men had fired acompany volley from <strong>the</strong> trees to Moore's left, and that sudden volley had served to drive <strong>the</strong> momentarily outnumbered marines back to <strong>the</strong> trees.Moore could not speak. A musket-ball plucked at <strong>the</strong> tails <strong>of</strong> his coat. He was gazing down at <strong>the</strong> dead rebel whose head was a mess <strong>of</strong> blood, red-wethair, and scraps <strong>of</strong> bone."Come on, lad," Dunlop took Moore's elbow, "let's get <strong>the</strong> devil out <strong>of</strong> here."<strong>The</strong> company retreated, taking Moore's surviving men with <strong>the</strong>m. <strong>The</strong>y withdrew along <strong>the</strong> lower ground beside <strong>the</strong> harbor as <strong>the</strong> American marinescaptured <strong>the</strong> three naval cannon abandoned on Dyce's Head. <strong>The</strong> rebel battery was firing from Cross Island, relentlessly thumping round shot into CaptainMowat's ships. <strong>The</strong> crest <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> bluff was thick with rebels and <strong>the</strong> redcoats had no place to go now except <strong>the</strong> unfinished <strong>Fort</strong> George.And Captain John Welch was dead.It took time to fetch <strong>the</strong> militia from <strong>the</strong> trees, but gradually <strong>the</strong>y were formed into a line. It was a rough line stretching clear across <strong>the</strong> high ground with <strong>the</strong>marines on its right, <strong>the</strong> Indians on <strong>the</strong> left, and <strong>the</strong> flags at its center. Paul Revere's men, Lovell's reserve, were in three ranks behind <strong>the</strong> two flags, one<strong>the</strong> proud starred stripes <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> United States and <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> pine-tree banner <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Massachusetts Militia."What a magnificent morning's work," Lovell greeted Peleg Wadsworth."I congratulate you, sir.""I thank you, Wadsworth, I thank you! But on to victory now?""On to victory, sir," Wadsworth said. He decided he would not tell Lovell about Captain Welch's death, not till <strong>the</strong> battle was over and <strong>the</strong> victory gained."God has granted us <strong>the</strong> victory!" <strong>the</strong> Reverend Jonathan Murray announced. He had joined Lovell on <strong>the</strong> heights and, besides his brace <strong>of</strong> pistols,carried a Bible. He lifted <strong>the</strong> book high. "God promises us 'I will scatter <strong>the</strong>m as with an east wind!'""Amen," Lovell said. Israel Trask played his fife behind <strong>the</strong> marines, while three drummer boys and two more fifers played <strong>the</strong> "Rogue's March" beside<strong>the</strong> two flags. Lovell's heart swelled with pride. He drew his sword, looked towards <strong>the</strong> enemy, and pointed <strong>the</strong> blade forward. "On to victory!"A half mile away, inside <strong>the</strong> fort, General McLean watched <strong>the</strong> rebels form at <strong>the</strong> tree line. He had seen Major Dunlop's men climb to <strong>the</strong> battery on Dyce'sHead and, with <strong>the</strong> help <strong>of</strong> a telescope, he had seen that young Moore and his men had been rescued. Those redcoats were now coming back to <strong>the</strong> fortthrough <strong>the</strong> low ground beside <strong>the</strong> harbor, while <strong>the</strong> remaining picquets that had guarded <strong>the</strong> neck were all inside <strong>Fort</strong> George, where McLean's troopsstood in three ranks behind <strong>the</strong> western rampart. <strong>The</strong>ir job now was to defend that low wall with volley fire. McLean, watching <strong>the</strong> rebel line thicken, stillbelieved he was faced by thousands, not hundreds, <strong>of</strong> enemy infantry, and now more rebels appeared to <strong>the</strong> north, showing at <strong>the</strong> trees above <strong>the</strong> neck.So he would be attacked from two sides? He glanced at <strong>the</strong> harbor and saw, to his surprise, that <strong>the</strong> enemy ships had made no aggressive move, but whyshould <strong>the</strong>y? <strong>The</strong> fort was going to fall without <strong>the</strong>ir assistance. McLean limped up onto <strong>the</strong> unfinished western rampart. "Captain Fielding!""Sir?" <strong>The</strong> English artillery commander hurried to join McLean."We'll give <strong>the</strong>m a few shots, I think?""Wait till <strong>the</strong>y advance, sir?" Fielding suggested."I think we might treat <strong>the</strong>m now, Captain," McLean said."<strong>The</strong>y're too far for grape or case, sir.""<strong>The</strong>n give <strong>the</strong>m round shot," McLean said. He spoke wearily. He knew what must happen now. <strong>The</strong> rebels would advance and such was <strong>the</strong> length <strong>of</strong><strong>the</strong>ir line that <strong>the</strong>y must inevitably wrap around three sides <strong>of</strong> his unfinished fort. <strong>The</strong>y would take some casualties at <strong>the</strong> abatis, which was well within <strong>the</strong>effective range <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> grape shot that Captain Mowat had sent ashore, but Fielding's few guns could do only limited damage and <strong>the</strong> rebels would surelysurge on to assault <strong>the</strong> low walls. <strong>The</strong>n <strong>the</strong>re would be chaos, panic, and bayonets. His men would stand, <strong>of</strong> that McLean was sure, but <strong>the</strong>y would standand die.So <strong>the</strong> battle was lost. Yet honor alone dictated that he showed some resistance before he surrendered <strong>the</strong> fort. No one would blame him for its loss,not when he was so outnumbered, but he would be universally despised if he yielded without showing some defiance, and so McLean had determined onhis course <strong>of</strong> action. He would fire round shot and keep firing as <strong>the</strong> rebels began <strong>the</strong>ir advance, and <strong>the</strong>n, before <strong>the</strong>y came into range <strong>of</strong> CaptainFielding's more lethal case and grape shot, he would haul <strong>the</strong> flag down. It was sad, he thought, but surrender would save his men from massacre.McLean walked to <strong>the</strong> flagpole in <strong>the</strong> southwestern bastion. He had asked his aides to place a table beside <strong>the</strong> tall staff, but his slight limp and hiscrippled right arm made <strong>the</strong> effort <strong>of</strong> climbing onto <strong>the</strong> table difficult. "Need a hand, sir?" Sergeant Lawrence asked."Thank you, Sergeant."
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