The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War - xaviantvision

encounter."Well, here the two of us are," McLean said happily, "a tyrant and his downtrodden victim, talking together." He pointed his pipe stem towards the fortwhere John Moore had gone on his way to the hospital. "Young Moore reads his history. He's a fine young man too. He likes history, and here he is, herewe both are, writing a new chapter. I sometimes wish I could peer into the future and read the chapter we write.""You might not like it," Wadsworth said."I think it certain that one of us will not," McLean said.The conversation faltered. McLean drew on his pipe and Wadsworth gazed at the nearby ramparts. He could see the timber spikes in the ditch and,above them, the earth and log wall that was now higher than a man's head. No one could leap the ramparts now, the wall would need to be climbed andfought for. It would be hard and bloody work and he wondered if even Continental Army troops could manage it. They could if the wall were breached andWadsworth looked for evidence that Colonel Revere's guns were having any effect, but other than the mangled roof of the storehouse inside the fort therewas little sign of the cannonade. There were places where the wall had been battered by round shot, but those places had all been repaired. Mortars, hethought, mortars. We need to turn the interior of the fort into a cauldron of shrieking metal and searing flame. The curtain wall between the protrudingcorner bastions was lined with redcoats who gazed back at Wadsworth, intrigued by the proximity of a rebel. Wadsworth tried to count the men, but therewere too many."I'm keeping most of my men hidden," McLean said.Wadsworth felt guilty, which was ridiculous because it was his duty to examine the enemy. Indeed, General Lovell had only agreed to this inquiry aboutLieutenant Dennis's fate because it offered Wadsworth an opportunity to examine the enemy's defenses. "We're keeping most of ours hidden too,"Wadsworth said."Which is sensible of you," McLean said. "I see from your uniform you served in Mister Washington's army?""I was an aide to the general, yes," Wadsworth said, offended by the British habit of referring to George Washington as "mister.""A formidable man," McLean said. "I'm sorry young Moore is taking so long." Wadsworth made no answer and the Scotsman smiled wryly. "You verynearly killed him.""Lieutenant Moore?""He insisted on fighting the war single-handed, which I suppose is a good fault in a young officer, but I'm profoundly grateful he survived. He had greatpromise.""As a soldier?""As a man and as a soldier. Like your Lieutenant Dennis, he is a good young man. If I had a son, General, I should wish him to be like Moore. Do youhave children?""Two sons and a daughter, and another child coming very soon."McLean heard the warmth in Wadsworth's voice. "You're a fortunate man, General.""I think so."McLean drew on the pipe, then blew a stream of smoke into the damp air. "If you will allow an enemy's prayers, General, then let me pray you will bereunited with your family.""Thank you.""Of course," McLean said blandly, "you could effect that reconciliation by withdrawing now?""But we have orders to capture you first," Wadsworth said with some amusement in his voice."I shall not pray for that," McLean said."I think, perhaps, we should have attempted it a week ago," Wadsworth said ruefully, and immediately wished he had left the words unspoken. McLeansaid nothing, merely inclined his head, which small gesture might have been interpreted as agreement. "But we shall attempt it again," Wadsworthfinished."You must do your duty, General, of course you must," McLean said, then turned because Wadsworth had looked towards the fort's southwestern corner.John Moore had appeared there and now walked towards them with a scabbarded sword held in one hand. The lieutenant glanced at Wadsworth, thenbent and whispered in McLean's ear and the general winced and closed his eyes momentarily. "I am sorry, General Wadsworth," he said, "but LieutenantDennis died this morning. You may be assured that he received the best treatment we could offer, but, alas, the ministrations were not sufficient." McLeanstood.Wadsworth stood too. He looked at McLean's grave face and then, to his shame, tears rolled down his cheeks. He turned away abruptly."There is nothing to be ashamed of," McLean said."He was a fine man," Wadsworth said, and he knew he was not crying because of Dennis's death, but because of the waste and indecision of thiscampaign. He sniffed, composed himself, and turned back to McLean. "Please thank your doctor for whatever he attempted.""I will," McLean said, "and please be assured we shall give Lieutenant Dennis a Christian burial.""Bury him in his uniform, please.""We shall do that, of course," McLean promised. He took the scabbarded sword from Moore. "I presume you brought this because it belonged to thelieutenant?" he asked Moore."Yes, sir."McLean handed the sword to Wadsworth. "You might wish to return that to his family, General, and you may tell them from his enemy that their son diedfighting heroically. They can be proud of him.""I shall," Wadsworth said and took the sword. "Thank you for indulging my inquiry," he said to McLean."I enjoyed most of our conversation," McLean said and held a hand towards the abatis as though he were a host conducting an honored guest towardshis front door. "I am truly sorry about your Lieutenant Dennis," he said, walking westwards beside the much taller American. "Maybe one day, General, youand I can sit in peace and talk about these things.""I'd like that.""As would I," McLean said, stopping just short of the abatis. He smiled mischievously. "And do please give my regards to young James Fletcher.""Fletcher," Wadsworth said as if the name was new to him."We have telescopes, General," McLean said, amused. "I regret he chose the allegiance he did. I regret that very much, but do tell him his sister is well,and that the tyrants give her and her mother rations." He held out his hand. "We won't resume our cannon practice till you're back among the trees," hesaid.Wadsworth hesitated, then shook the offered hand. "Thank you, General," he said, then began the long, lonely walk back up the ridge's spine.McLean stayed at the abatis, watching Wadsworth's solitary walk. "He's rather a good man, I think," he said when the American was well out of earshot."He's a rebel," Moore said disapprovingly."And if you or I had been born here," McLean said, "then like as not we would be rebels too.""Sir!" John Moore sounded shocked.McLean laughed. "But we were born across the sea, and it's not so many years since we had our own rebels in Scotland. And I did like him." He stillwatched Wadsworth. "He's a man who wears his honesty like a badge, but luckily for you and me he's no soldier. He's a schoolmaster and that makes usfortunate in our enemies. Now let's get back inside before they start shooting at us again."At dusk, that same day, Lieutenant Dennis was buried in his green uniform. Four highlanders shot a volley into the fading light, then a wooden cross washammered into the soil. The name Dennis was scratched on the cross with charcoal, but two days later a corporal took the cross for kindling.And the siege went on.The three redcoats slipped out of the tented encampment at mid-afternoon on the day that the enemy officer had come to the fort under a flag of truce.They had no idea why the rebel had come, nor did they care. They cared about the sentries placed to stop men sneaking out of the camp and into thewoods, but that picquet was easy enough to avoid, and the three men vanished into the trees and then turned west towards the enemy.Two were brothers called Campbell, the third was a Mackenzie. They all wore the dark kilt of Argyle and carried their muskets. Off to their left thecannons were firing, the sound sporadic, sudden, percussive and now a part of their daily lives. "Down there," Jamie Campbell said, pointing, and thethree followed a vague track which led downhill through the trees. All three were grinning, excited. The day was gray and a light rain spat from thesouthwest.The track led to the marshy isthmus that connected Majabigwaduce's peninsula to the mainland. Jamie, the oldest of the brothers and theacknowledged leader of the three men, did not want to reach the isthmus, rather he was hoping to work his way along the wooded slope just above the