e first among <strong>the</strong> enemy and <strong>the</strong>y had <strong>the</strong> advantage <strong>of</strong> surprise.Yet even so Iain Campbell could not believe how quickly <strong>the</strong> enemy broke. As he neared <strong>the</strong> battery and could see more through <strong>the</strong> dark fog he had amoment <strong>of</strong> alarm because <strong>the</strong>re seemed to be hundreds <strong>of</strong> rebels, <strong>the</strong>y were far more numerous than his company, and he thought what a ridiculousplace this was to meet his death. Most <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> rebels were in <strong>the</strong> battery itself, which was as crowded as a Methodist meeting. Only about twenty men wereworking on <strong>the</strong> entrenchments and it was evident <strong>the</strong>y had set no sentries or, if <strong>the</strong>y had placed picquets, those sentries were asleep. Astonished facesturned to stare at <strong>the</strong> shrieking highlanders. Too many faces, Campbell thought. <strong>The</strong>re would be a marble plaque in <strong>the</strong> kirk with his name and this day'sdate and a dignified epitaph, <strong>the</strong>n that vision vanished because <strong>the</strong> enemy was already running. "Kill!" Campbell heard himself shout. "Kill!" And <strong>the</strong> shoutspurred even more <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> enemy to flee westwards. <strong>The</strong>y dropped <strong>the</strong>ir picks and spades, <strong>the</strong>y scrambled over <strong>the</strong> west-facing rampart and <strong>the</strong>y ran. Afew, very few, fired at <strong>the</strong> approaching highlanders, but most forgot <strong>the</strong>y were carrying muskets and just abandoned <strong>the</strong> battery to run towards <strong>the</strong> heights.One group <strong>of</strong> men was dressed in dark uniforms crossed by white belts and those men did not run. <strong>The</strong>y tried to form a line and <strong>the</strong>y presentedmuskets and <strong>the</strong>y fired a ragged volley at Campbell's men as <strong>the</strong> highlanders leaped <strong>the</strong> newly dug scratch <strong>of</strong> a ditch. Iain Campbell felt <strong>the</strong> wind <strong>of</strong> a ballwhip past his cheek, <strong>the</strong>n he was swinging his heavy blade at a smoking musket, knocking it aside as he brought <strong>the</strong> sword back to stab low and fast.<strong>The</strong> steel punctured cloth, skin, flesh, and muscle, and <strong>the</strong>n his Campbells were all around him, screaming hatred and lunging with bayonets, and <strong>the</strong>outnumbered enemy broke. "Give <strong>the</strong>m a volley!" Campbell shouted. He twisted his blade in <strong>the</strong> enemy's belly and thumped his left fist into <strong>the</strong> man'sface. Corporal Campbell added his bayonet and <strong>the</strong> rebel went down. Captain Campbell kicked <strong>the</strong> musket from <strong>the</strong> enemy's grasp and dragged hisblade free <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> clinging flesh. Musket flashes cast sudden stark light on blood, chaos, and Campbell fury.A lone American <strong>of</strong>ficer tried to rally his men. He slashed his sword at Campbell, but <strong>the</strong> laird's son had learned his fencing at Major Teague's Academyon Edinburgh's Grassmarket and he parried <strong>the</strong> swing effortlessly, reversed, turned his wrist and lunged <strong>the</strong> blade into <strong>the</strong> American <strong>of</strong>ficer's chest. He felt<strong>the</strong> sword scrape on a rib, he grimaced and lunged harder. <strong>The</strong> man choked, gasped, spewed blood, and fell. "Give <strong>the</strong>m a volley!" Campbell shoutedagain. He had hardly needed to think to defeat <strong>the</strong> rebel <strong>of</strong>ficer, it had all been instinctive. He dragged his sword free and saw an American sergeant in agreen uniform coat stagger and fall. <strong>The</strong> sergeant was not wounded, but a highlander had thumped <strong>the</strong> side <strong>of</strong> his head with a musket stock and he washalf-dazed. "Take his musket!" Campbell called sharply. "Don't kill him! Just take him prisoner!""He could be a MacDonald," a Campbell private said, quite ready to thrust his bayonet into <strong>the</strong> sergeant's belly."Take him prisoner!" Campbell snapped. He turned and looked towards <strong>the</strong> heights where <strong>the</strong> dawn was lighting <strong>the</strong> slope, but <strong>the</strong> fog hid <strong>the</strong> fleeingrebels. Scottish muskets coughed smoke, stabbed flame into <strong>the</strong> fog, and shot balls uphill to where <strong>the</strong> Americans retreated. "Sergeant MacKellan!"Campbell called. "You'll set a picquet! Smartly now!""You sure this bastard's not a MacDonald?" <strong>the</strong> private standing above <strong>the</strong> dazed rebel sergeant asked."He's called Sykes," a voice said, and Campbell turned to see it was <strong>the</strong> wounded rebel <strong>of</strong>ficer who had spoken. <strong>The</strong> man had propped himself on anelbow. His face, very white in <strong>the</strong> dawn's wan light, was streaked with blood that had spilled from his mouth. He looked towards <strong>the</strong> green-coatedsergeant. "He's not called MacDonald," he managed to say, "he's called Sykes."Campbell was impressed that <strong>the</strong> young <strong>of</strong>ficer, despite his chest wound, was trying to save his sergeant's life. That sergeant was sitting now, guardedby Jamie Campbell, <strong>the</strong> youngest son <strong>of</strong> Ballaculish's blacksmith. <strong>The</strong> wounded <strong>of</strong>ficer spat more blood. "He's called Sykes," he said yet again, "and <strong>the</strong>ywere drunk."Campbell crouched beside <strong>the</strong> injured <strong>of</strong>ficer. "Who was drunk?" he asked."<strong>The</strong>y found barrels <strong>of</strong> rum," <strong>the</strong> man said, "and I couldn't stop <strong>the</strong>m. <strong>The</strong> militia." <strong>The</strong> highlanders were still shooting into <strong>the</strong> fog, hastening <strong>the</strong> retreat <strong>of</strong><strong>the</strong> rebels who had now vanished into <strong>the</strong> fog that spread inexorably up <strong>the</strong> long slope. "I told McCobb," <strong>the</strong> wounded <strong>of</strong>ficer said, "but he said <strong>the</strong>ydeserved <strong>the</strong> rum.""Rest," Campbell said to <strong>the</strong> man. <strong>The</strong>re were two great hogsheads at <strong>the</strong> back <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> battery and <strong>the</strong>y had evidently been full <strong>of</strong> naval rum, and <strong>the</strong>rebels, celebrating <strong>the</strong>ir victory, had celebrated too hard. Campbell found a discarded knapsack that he put beneath <strong>the</strong> wounded <strong>of</strong>ficer's head. "Rest,"he said again. "What's your name?""Lieutenant Dennis."<strong>The</strong> blood on Dennis's coat looked black and Campbell would not even have known it was blood except that it reflected a sheen in <strong>the</strong> weak light."You're a marine?""Yes," Dennis choked on <strong>the</strong> word and blood welled at his lips and ran down his cheek. His breath rasped. "We changed sentries," he said, andwhimpered with sudden pain. He wanted to explain that <strong>the</strong> defeat was not his fault, that his marines had done <strong>the</strong>ir job, but <strong>the</strong> militia picquet that hadreplaced his marine sentries had failed."Don't speak." Campbell said. He saw <strong>the</strong> fallen sword nearby and slid <strong>the</strong> blade into Dennis's scabbard. Captured <strong>of</strong>ficers were allowed to keep <strong>the</strong>irswords, and Campbell reckoned Lieutenant Dennis deserved it as a reward for his bravery. He patted Dennis's blood-wet shoulder and stood. RobbieCampbell, a corporal, and almost as great a fool as his fa<strong>the</strong>r, who was a drunken drover, had found a drum that was painted with an eagle and <strong>the</strong> word"Liberty" and he was beating it with his fists and capering like <strong>the</strong> fool he was. "Stop that noise, Robbie Campbell!" Campbell shouted, and wasrewarded with silence. <strong>The</strong> drummer boy's corpse was lying beside a newly dug grave. "Jamie Campbell! You and your bro<strong>the</strong>r will make a stretcher. Twomuskets, two jackets!" <strong>The</strong> quickest way to fashion a stretcher was to thread <strong>the</strong> sleeves <strong>of</strong> two jackets onto a pair <strong>of</strong> muskets. "Carry Lieutenant Dennisto <strong>the</strong> hospital.""Did we kill <strong>the</strong> MacDonald, sir?""<strong>The</strong> MacDonald ran away," Campbell said dismissively. "What do you expect <strong>of</strong> a MacDonald?""<strong>The</strong> yon bastards!" a private said angrily and Campbell turned to see <strong>the</strong> bloodied heads <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Royal Marine corpses, <strong>the</strong>ir scalps cut and torn away."Bloody hea<strong>the</strong>n savage god-damned bastards," <strong>the</strong> man growled."Take Lieutenant Dennis to <strong>the</strong> surgeons," Campbell ordered, "and <strong>the</strong> prisoner to <strong>the</strong> fort." He found a rag in a corner <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> battery and wiped hisbroadsword's long blade clean. It was almost full light now. Rain began to fall, heavy rain that splashed on <strong>the</strong> battery's wreckage and diluted <strong>the</strong> blood.<strong>The</strong> Half Moon Battery was back in British hands, and on <strong>the</strong> high ground Peleg Wadsworth despaired."<strong>The</strong>y're patriots!" General Lovell complained. "<strong>The</strong>y must fight for <strong>the</strong>ir liberty!""<strong>The</strong>y're farmers," Wadsworth said wearily, "and carpenters and laborers and <strong>the</strong>y're <strong>the</strong> men who didn't volunteer for <strong>the</strong> Continental Army, and half <strong>of</strong><strong>the</strong>m didn't want to fight anyway. <strong>The</strong>y were forced to fight by press gangs.""<strong>The</strong> Massachusetts Militia," Lovell said in a hurt voice. He was standing beneath <strong>the</strong> cover <strong>of</strong> a sail that had been strung and pegged between twotrees to make a headquarter's tent. <strong>The</strong> rain pattered on <strong>the</strong> canvas and hissed in <strong>the</strong> camp-fire just outside <strong>the</strong> tent."<strong>The</strong>y're not <strong>the</strong> same militia who fought at Lexington," Wadsworth said, "or who stormed Breed's Hill. Those men are all gone into <strong>the</strong> army," or <strong>the</strong>irgraves, he thought, "and we have <strong>the</strong> leavings.""Ano<strong>the</strong>r eighteen deserted last night," Lovell said despairingly. He had set a picquet on <strong>the</strong> neck, but that post did little to stop men sneaking away in<strong>the</strong> darkness. Some, he supposed, deserted to <strong>the</strong> British, but most went north into <strong>the</strong> wild woods and hoped to find <strong>the</strong>ir way home. Those who werecaught were condemned to <strong>the</strong> Horse, a brutal punishment whereby a man was sat astride a narrow beam with muskets tied to his legs, but <strong>the</strong>punishment was evidently not brutal enough, because still <strong>the</strong> militiamen deserted. "I am ashamed," Lovell said."We still have enough men to assult <strong>the</strong> fort," Wadsworth said, not sure he believed <strong>the</strong> words.Lovell ignored <strong>the</strong>m anyway. "What can we do?" he asked helplessly.Wadsworth wanted to kick <strong>the</strong> man. You can lead us, he thought, you can take command, but in fairness, and Peleg Wadsworth was a man given tohonesty about himself, he did not think he was showing great leadership ei<strong>the</strong>r. He sighed. <strong>The</strong> dawn's fog had cleared to reveal that <strong>the</strong> British hadabandoned <strong>the</strong> recaptured Half Moon Battery, leaving <strong>the</strong> earthwork empty, and <strong>the</strong>re was something insulting in that abandonment. <strong>The</strong>y seemed to besaying that <strong>the</strong>y could retake <strong>the</strong> battery whenever <strong>the</strong>y wished, though Lovell showed no desire to accept <strong>the</strong> challenge. "We can't hold <strong>the</strong> battery," <strong>the</strong>general said despairingly."Of course we can, sir," Wadsworth insisted."You saw what happened! <strong>The</strong>y ran! <strong>The</strong> rascals ran! You want me to attack <strong>the</strong> fort with such men?""I think we must, sir," Wadsworth said, but Lovell said nothing in return. <strong>The</strong> rain was coming down harder, forcing Wadsworth to raise his voice. "And,sir," he continued, "at least we've rid ourselves <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> enemy battery. <strong>The</strong> commodore might sail into <strong>the</strong> harbor.""He might," Lovell said in a tone that suggested pigs might take wings and circle <strong>the</strong> heights <strong>of</strong> Majabigwaduce singing hallelujahs. "But I fear . . ." hebegan, and stopped."Fear, sir?""We need disciplined troops, Wadsworth. We need General Washington's men."
Praise <strong>the</strong> Lord, Wadsworth thought, but did not betray his reaction. He knew how hard it had been for Lovell to make that admission. Lovell wanted <strong>the</strong>glory <strong>of</strong> this expedition to shine on Massachusetts, but <strong>the</strong> general must now share that renown with <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r rebellious states by calling in troops from <strong>the</strong>Continental Army. That army had real soldiers, disciplined men, trained men."A single regiment would be enough," Lovell said."Let me convey <strong>the</strong> request to Boston," <strong>the</strong> Reverened Jonathan Murray suggested."Would you?" Lovell asked eagerly. He had become more than slightly tired <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> Reverend Murray's pious con- fidence. God might indeed wish <strong>the</strong>Americans to conquer here, but even <strong>the</strong> Almighty had so far failed to move <strong>the</strong> commodore's ships past Dyce's Head. <strong>The</strong> clergyman was no militaryman, but he possessed persuasive powers and Boston would surely listen to his pleas. "What will you tell <strong>the</strong>m?""That <strong>the</strong> enemy is too powerful," Murray said, "and that our men, though filled with zeal and imbued with a love <strong>of</strong> liberty, never<strong>the</strong>less lack <strong>the</strong>discipline to bring down <strong>the</strong> walls <strong>of</strong> Jericho.""And ask for mortars," Wadsworth said."Mortars?" Lovell asked."We don't have trumpets," Wadsworth said, "but we can rain fire and brimstone on <strong>the</strong>ir heads.""Yes, mortars," Lovell said. A mortar was even more deadly for siege work than an howitzer and, anyway, Lovell possessed only one howitzer. <strong>The</strong>mortars would fire <strong>the</strong>ir shells high in <strong>the</strong> sky so that <strong>the</strong>y fell vertically into <strong>the</strong> fort and, as <strong>the</strong> fort's walls grew higher, so those walls would contain <strong>the</strong>explosions and spread death among <strong>the</strong> redcoats. "I shall write <strong>the</strong> letter," Lovell said heavily.Because <strong>the</strong> rebels needed reinforcements.Next day Peleg Wadsworth tied a large piece <strong>of</strong> white cloth to a long stick and walked towards <strong>the</strong> enemy fort. Colonel Revere's guns had already fallensilent and, soon after, <strong>the</strong> British guns went quiet too.Wadsworth went alone. He had asked James Fletcher to accompany him, but Fletcher had begged <strong>of</strong>f. "<strong>The</strong>y know me, sir.""And you like some <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>m?""Yes, sir.""<strong>The</strong>n stay here," Wadsworth had said, and now he walked down <strong>the</strong> ridge's gentle slope, between <strong>the</strong> shattered tree stumps, and he saw two redcoated<strong>of</strong>ficers leave <strong>the</strong> fort and come towards him. He thought that <strong>the</strong>y would not want him to get too close in case he saw <strong>the</strong> state <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> fort's walls,but he was evidently wrong because <strong>the</strong> two men waited for him inside <strong>the</strong> abatis. It seemed <strong>the</strong>y did not care if he had a good view <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> ramparts.Those ramparts were under constant bombardment from Revere's guns, yet to Wadsworth's eyes, <strong>the</strong>y looked remarkably undamaged. Maybe that waswhy <strong>the</strong> British <strong>of</strong>ficers did not mind him seeing <strong>the</strong> walls. <strong>The</strong>y were mocking him.It had rained again that morning. <strong>The</strong> rain had stopped, but <strong>the</strong> wind felt damp and <strong>the</strong> clouds were still low and threatening. <strong>The</strong> wet wea<strong>the</strong>r hadsoaked <strong>the</strong> men encamped on <strong>the</strong> heights, it had drenched <strong>the</strong> stored cartridges and increased <strong>the</strong> militia's misery. Some men had hissed at Lovell as<strong>the</strong> general accompanied Wadsworth to <strong>the</strong> tree line and Lovell had pretended not to hear <strong>the</strong> sound.<strong>The</strong> abatis had been knocked about by gunfire and it was not difficult to find a way through <strong>the</strong> tangled branches. Wadsworth felt foolish holding <strong>the</strong> flag<strong>of</strong> truce above his head so he lowered it as he approached <strong>the</strong> two enemy <strong>of</strong>ficers. One <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong>m, <strong>the</strong> shortest, had gray hair beneath his cocked hat. Heleaned on a stick and smiled as Wadsworth approached. "Good morning," he called genially."Good morning," Wadsworth responded."Not really a good morning, though, is it?" <strong>the</strong> man said. His right arm was held unnaturally. "It's a chill and wet morning. It's raw! I am Brigadier-GeneralMcLean, and you are?""Brigadier-General Wadsworth," Wadsworth said, and felt entirely fraudulent in claiming <strong>the</strong> rank."Allow me to name Lieutenant Moore to you, General," McLean said, indicating <strong>the</strong> good-looking young man who accompanied him."Sir," Moore greeted Wadsworth by standing briefly to attention and bowing his head."Lieutenant," Wadsworth acknowledged <strong>the</strong> politeness."Lieutenant Moore insisted on keeping me company in case you planned to kill me," McLean said."Under a flag <strong>of</strong> truce?" Wadsworth asked sternly."Forgive me, General," McLean said, "I jest. I would not think you capable <strong>of</strong> such perfidy. Might I ask what brings you to see us?""<strong>The</strong>re was a young man," Wadsworth said, "a marine <strong>of</strong>ficer called Dennis. I have a connection with his family," he paused, "I taught him his letters. Ibelieve he is your prisoner?""I believe he is," McLean said gently."And I hear he was wounded yesterday. I was hoping . . ." Wadsworth paused because he had been about to call McLean "sir," but managed to checkthat foolish impulse just in time, "I was hoping you could reassure me <strong>of</strong> his condition.""Of course," McLean said and turned to Moore. "Lieutenant, be a good fellow and run to <strong>the</strong> hospital, would you?"Moore left and McLean gestured at two tree stumps. "We might as well be comfortable while we wait," he said. "I trust you'll forgive me if I don't inviteyou inside <strong>the</strong> fort?""I wouldn't expect it," Wadsworth said."<strong>The</strong>n please sit," McLean said, and sat himself. "Tell me about young Dennis."Wadsworth perched on <strong>the</strong> adjacent stump. He talked awkwardly at first, merely saying how he had known <strong>the</strong> Dennis family, but his voice becamewarmer as he spoke <strong>of</strong> William Dennis's cheerful and honest character. "He was always a fine boy," Wadsworth said, "and he's become a fine man. Agood young man," he stressed <strong>the</strong> "good," "and he hopes to be a lawyer when this is all over.""I've heard <strong>the</strong>re are honest lawyers," McLean said with a smile."He will be an honest lawyer," Wadsworth said firmly."<strong>The</strong>n he will do much good in <strong>the</strong> world," McLean said. "And yourself, General? I surmise you were a schoolteacher?""Yes.""<strong>The</strong>n you have done much good in <strong>the</strong> world," McLean said. "As for me? I went to be a soldier forty years ago and twenty battles later here I still am.""Not doing good for <strong>the</strong> world?" Wadsworth could not resist inquiring.McLean took no <strong>of</strong>fense. "I commanded troops for <strong>the</strong> King <strong>of</strong> Portugal," he said, smiling, "and every year <strong>the</strong>re was a great procession on All Saint'sDay. It was magnificent! Camels and horses! Well, two camels, and <strong>the</strong>y were poor mangy beasts," he paused, remembering, "and afterwards <strong>the</strong>re wasalways dung on <strong>the</strong> square <strong>the</strong> king needed to cross to reach <strong>the</strong> ca<strong>the</strong>dral, so a group <strong>of</strong> men and women were detailed to clean it up with brooms andshovels. <strong>The</strong>y swept up <strong>the</strong> dung. That's <strong>the</strong> soldier's job, General, to sweep up <strong>the</strong> dung <strong>the</strong> politicians make.""Is that what you're doing here?""Of course it is," McLean said. He had taken a clay pipe from a pocket <strong>of</strong> his coat and put it between his teeth. He held a tinderbox awkwardly in hismaimed right hand and struck <strong>the</strong> steel with his left. <strong>The</strong> linen flared up and McLean lit <strong>the</strong> pipe, <strong>the</strong>n snapped <strong>the</strong> box closed to extinguish <strong>the</strong> flame. "Youpeople," he said when <strong>the</strong> pipe was drawing, "had a disagreement with my people, and you or I, General, might well have talked our way to an accord, butour lords and masters failed to agree so now you and I must decide <strong>the</strong>ir arguments a different way.""No," Wadsworth said. "To my mind, General, you're <strong>the</strong> camel, not <strong>the</strong> sweeper."McLean laughed at that. "I'm mangy enough, God knows. No, General, I didn't cause this dung, but I am loyal to my king and this is his land, and hewants me to keep it for him.""<strong>The</strong> king might have kept it for himself," Wadsworth said, "if he had chosen any rule except tyranny.""Oh, he's such a tyrant!" McLean said, still amused. "Your leaders are wealthy men, I believe? Landowners, are <strong>the</strong>y not? And merchants? And lawyers?This is a rebellion led by <strong>the</strong> wealthy. Strange how such men prospered so under tyranny.""Liberty is not <strong>the</strong> freedom to prosper," Wadsworth said, "but <strong>the</strong> freedom to make choices that affect our own destiny.""But would a tyranny allow you to prosper?""You have restricted our trade and levied taxes without our consent," Wadsworth said, wishing he did not sound so pedagogic."Ah! So our tyranny lies in not allowing you to become wealthier still?""Not all <strong>of</strong> us are wealthy men," Wadsworth said heatedly, "and as you well know, General, tyranny is <strong>the</strong> denial <strong>of</strong> liberty.""And how many slaves do you keep?" McLean asked.Wadsworth was tempted to retort that <strong>the</strong> question was a cheap jibe, except it had stung him. "None," he said stiffly. "<strong>The</strong> keeping <strong>of</strong> Negroes is notcommon in Massachusetts." He felt acutely uncomfortable. He knew he had not argued well, but he had been surprised by his enemy. He had anticipateda pompous, supercilious British <strong>of</strong>ficer, and instead found a courteous man, old enough to be his fa<strong>the</strong>r, who seemed very relaxed in this unnatural
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THEFORTA Novel of the Revolutionary
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A voice in the darkness, a knock at
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A Note on Names and TermsIn 1779 th
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Chapter OneThere was not much wind
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ecome a base for Britain's Royal Na
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"I bloody hope so," Moore said with
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Chapter TwoLieutenant-Colonel Paul
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magazines that would keep the ammun
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"So you will take the oath?" McLean
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Excerpts of a letter from the Selec
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inflate a company into a battalion
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- Page 30 and 31: So now one less man would sail east
- Page 32 and 33: Chapter FourThe fleet sailed eastwa
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- 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 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
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- 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
- Page 107 and 108: the powder charges were being carri
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- 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