The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision

Chapter TenThe sun had not risen when Peleg Wadsworth roused Lieutenant-Colonel Revere, who, publicly ordered to sleep ashore, had erected the tents capturedon Cross Island and made them his new quarters. They were the only tents in Lovell's army and some men wondered why they had not been offered to thegeneral himself."I only just got to sleep," Revere grumbled as he pushed the tent flap aside. Like most of the army he had watched the gunflashes in the night."The enemy battery is taken, Colonel," Wadsworth said."I saw that. Very satisfying." Revere pulled a wool blanket round his shoulders. "Friar!"A man crawled from a turf-and-timber shelter. "Sir?""Rouse the fire, man, it's chilly.""Yes, sir.""Very satisfying," Revere said, looking at Wadsworth again."The captured battery is being entrenched," Wadsworth said, "and we need to move our heaviest guns there.""Heaviest guns," Revere echoed. "And boil some tea, Friar.""Tea, sir, yes, sir.""Heaviest guns," Revere said again, "I suppose you mean the eighteens?""We have six of them, do we not?""We do.""The new battery is close to the enemy ships. I want them hit hard, Colonel.""We all want that," Revere said. He went close to the campfire that, newly revived, flamed bright. He shivered. It might have been high summer, but thenights in eastern Massachusetts could be surprisingly cold. He stood by the blaze which lit his blunt face. "We're scarce of eighteen-pounder round shot,"he said, "unless the commodore can provide some?""I'm certain he will," Wadsworth said. "The shot is intended for the enemy ships, he can't possibly object.""Possibly," Revere said with evident amusement, then he shook his head as if clearing his mind of some unwelcome thought. "Do you have children,General?"Wadsworth was taken aback by the question. "Yes," he said after a pause, "I have three. Another coming very soon.""I miss my children," Revere said tenderly. "I do miss them dearly." He gazed into the flames. "Teapots and buckles," he said ruefully."Teapots and buckles?" Wadsworth asked, wondering if they were nicknames for Revere's children."How a man earns his living, General. Teapots and buckles, cream jugs and cutlery." Revere smiled, then shrugged his home thoughts away. "So," hesighed, "you want to take two of the eighteens from our lines here?""If they're the closest, yes. Once the ships are sunk they can be returned."Revere grimaced. "If I put two eighteens down there," he said, "the British are not going to like it. How do we defend the guns?"It was a good question. Brigadier McLean would hardly stand idly by while two eighteen-pounders knocked splinters off the three sloops. "ColonelMcCobb has three hundred men at the battery," he told Revere, "and they'll stay there till the ships are destroyed.""Three hundred men," Revere said dubiously."And you may place smaller cannon for your defense," Wadsworth suggested, "and by now the entrenchments should be well begun. I believe thebattery will be safe.""I could take guns down in the fog," Revere suggested. The air felt clammy and wisps of mist were already showing among the high trees."Then let's do it," Wadsworth said energetically. If the guns could be emplaced by midday then the enemy ships might be cruelly hurt by dusk. The rangewas short and the eighteen-pounder balls would strike with a savage force. Sink the ships and the harbor would belong to the patriots, and after that Lovellwould have no reason not to storm the fort. Wadsworth, for the first time since the rebels had taken the heights of Majabigwaduce, felt optimistic.Get it done, he thought. Pull down the enemy flag. Win.And then the muskets sounded.Captain Iain Campbell led his fifty highlanders down to the village, then followed a cart track westwards till the company reached the edge of JacobDyce's land. A small light flickered from behind the Dutchman's shutters, suggesting he was awake.The highlanders crouched by the corn and Campbell stood above them. "Are you all listening well?" he asked them, "because I have a thing to tell you."They were listening. They were youngsters, most not yet twenty, and they trusted Iain Campbell because he was both a gentleman and a good officer.Many of these men had grown up on the lands of Captain Campbell's father, the laird, and most of them bore the same surname. Some, indeed, were thecaptain's half-brothers, though that was not a truth admitted on either side. Their parents had told them that the Campbells of Ballaculish were goodpeople and that the laird was a hard man, but a fair one. Most had known Iain Campbell since before he became a man, and most supposed they wouldknow him till they followed his coffin to the kirk. One day Iain Campbell would live in the big house and these men, and their children, would doff their hatsto him and beg his help when they were in trouble. They would tell their children that Iain Campbell was a hard man, but a fair one, and they would say thatnot because he was their laird, but because they would remember a night when Captain Campbell took all the risks he asked them to take. He was aprivileged man and a brave man and a very good officer."The rebels," Campbell spoke low and forcefully, "captured the Half Moon Battery last night. They're there now, and we're going to take it back. I talkedto some of the men they drove away, and they heard the rebels shouting at each other. They learned the name of the rebel leader, their officer. He's aMacDonald."The crouching company made a noise like a low growl. Iain Campbell could have given them a rousing speech, a blood and thunder and fight-for-yourkingspeech, and if he had been given the tongue of an angel and the eloquence of the devil that speech would not have worked as well as the nameMacDonald.He had invented MacDonald's existence, of course. He had no idea who led the rebels, but he did know that the Campbells hated the MacDonalds andthe MacDonalds feared the Campbells, and by telling his men that a MacDonald was their enemy he had roused them to an ancient fury. It was no longera war to suppress a rebellion, it was an ancestral blood feud."We're going through the corn," Captain Campbell said, "and we'll form line at the other side and you charge with your bayonets. We go fast. We win."He said no more, except to give the necessary orders, then he led the fifty men past the field of corn that grew taller than a bonneted highlander's head.Fog was spreading from the water, thickening over the battery and hiding the dark shapes of the highlanders.The sky behind Campbell was lightening to a wolf-gray, but the tall corn shadowed his men as they spread into a line. Their muskets were loaded, butnot cocked. Metal scraped on metal as men slotted and twisted their bayonets onto gun muzzles. The bayonets were seventeen-inch spikes, eachsharpened to a wicked point. The battery was only a hundred paces away, yet the rebels had still not seen the kilted highlanders. Iain Campbell drew hisbroadsword and grinned in the half-darkness. "Let's teach the Clan Donald who is master here," he said to his men, "and now let's kill the bastards."They charged.They were highlanders from the hard country on Scotland's west coast. War was in their blood, they had suckled tales of battle with their mother's milk,and now, they believed, a MacDonald was waiting for them and they charged with all their clan's ferocity. They screamed as they charged, they raced to