His Excellency's Orders
Written By: Commander Cody CC-2224
CHAPTER 12
The bandwagon started shuddering with a gradual jolt, which seemed to have been more than enough to stir the troops from their boredom. The back covering was removed by a British officer.
Ben, Walter, and Brady were the very first men to scramble out of the bandwagon. The rest of the redcoat troops followed suit when stepping outside. The rain still continued, except in light showers. The sky was almost reaching night, presenting a rather gloomy atmosphere. In nearly half an hour, it would be nightfall.
The squad was now in Charles Town. At present, and according to what Captain Howell had mentioned to them during the briefing, Charles Town was occupied by the British a year ago, and at present, still occupied by the British now. Ben estimated that it would take them about a half-hour to navigate their way through the town itself to locate the Charles Town docks.
"Now what?" Walter asked his superior almost immediately.
"Well…according to the last time I was here, I think we move…that way," Ben answered pointing his finger to the south end of Charles Town's main street. "Let's move out."
The squad immediately followed Ben's lead. Brady leaned closer to Ben, with the intention of confiding something to his superior.
"'Last time you were here'"? Brady asked Ben rather curiously.
"Aye," Ben answered.
"What were you doing in Charles Town, then, Sergeant?" Brady inquired Ben rather anxiously.
"Hush!" Walter warned Brady. "He'll talk about that later. Come on. We'll make our heading through Queen Street. It's where Captain Howell said that be where Colonel Cooke's house is."
Ben led his squad through Queen Street. The passage through Queen Street would be a pretty straightforward route to the Charles Town harbor. There were several shops alongside the street.
From the looks of it, the town looked like life was going on, save for the redcoat occupation. A handful of armed redcoats patrolled the street. Citizens hurried and slogged through the rain. The dirt streets were quite muddy, due to the rain. A horse carriage sped them by and almost sloshed mud on them. It was a close call, since there were only a few but very small mud spatters at the lower end of their uniforms.
"Sergeant, I can't help but notice that something about this place is putting you on edge," said Walter.
Ben laughed. "Aside from the redcoats, what else is putting me on edge, Walter…I mean, 'Mr. Markham'?" he asked.
It seemed that something was beginning to dawn on Walter. "Hang on," he said. "You mentioned sometime back in '79 that you and a native-born Charles Town resident John Herring were involved in a heist for the local government treasury."
"Hush!" cried Ben.
"Sorry, sir," Walter immediately apologized.
"Indeed I was…Mr. Markham," Ben replied quietly to Walter. "Frankly I don't like talking about it. Especially not here."
Ben passes the street that he used to take during the failed heist in Charles Town regarding the filching of the local government treasury. Two years ago, Ben was assigned to filch the governor's treasury in the Charles Town seat to fund the war effort against the British. Ben was accompanied by a Fifth Regimenter named John Herring, who was a native of Charles Town. Because he was a native of Charles Town, he was assigned to assist Ben with the assignment since he would know the place intimately. However, both Ben and Herring had extraordinarily serious issues with each other that bordered on bitterness, particularly when Herring let Felicity think that Ben had died while in the field of duty when Ben was actually still alive.
Ben and Herring had successfully filched the treasury money, which was in hard currency collected and stored in a huge wooden coffer that was ornately decorated. Ben was commandeering the horse-drawn carriage while Herring was inside the carriage itself, guarding the treasury money with his life. The British were on their heels.
British dragoons were already closing in on them. Because Herring was a pain in the ass, and because of the bitter history with him, Ben decided to cut away the horses from the carriage, leaving Herring to his fate. As for the treasury money, it just wasn't worth being captured and held prisoner, and worse, being tortured for information on the Fifth Regiment.
"I cannot believe we forgot to mention the history of your heist to Captain Howell," Walter whispered to Ben. "Surely he would have found a way to make sure you were less recognized in this town."
"Frankly, I'm not sure there would be much that Captain Howell could do here," Ben said quietly. "I guess he assumed that we were just as white as everyone else in the British army." Because they were light-skinned as the British were they would stand out less even in disguise.
"After all, we…" interjected Brady in a whisper.
"Don't say "we", Brady…I mean, Mr. Woolsworth!" cried Walter, in hushed tone. "We'll be suspect!"
"Sorry, sir," Brady replied rather nervously. "What I meant was…um…I mean, the colonists are still British, even though they are rebelling against England."
"That may be," Ben had to agree. "I guess being white and English gives us…I mean, the colonists, an advantage here, both in society as well as behind the enemy lines."
The squad was making their attempt to locate Colonel Cooke's house.
"I hate to admit it, Sergeant, but we haven't the slightest idea what Colonel Cooke's house looks like," said Walter.
"Might I propose asking one of the locals where it is?" asked Brady.
Ben thought about Walter's proposal for a moment.
"All right," said Ben. "But remember, I'm suspecting some of the locals will either be too intimidated from answering or they'll give you looks. Remember, you're still…" he leaned closer to both Walter and Brady. "…In disguise, so you cannot confide to them that you're on the rebel side."
"Aye, sir," replied Walter.
Brady swallowed. "Aye, sir," he answered.
Walter and Brady began to look around for at least one local. They managed to spot a girl who was still in her teens. She was carrying a parasol to shield herself from the light rain.
"There's a girl," said Walter, pointing at her. "We can intimidate her a little easily." He started calling out to her. "Oi! Miss!" he shouted.
The girl immediately stared at Walter.
"Aye, you!" said Walter. "We want a word. With you."
Feeling quite intimidated, the girl cautiously made her approach to the two Fifth Regiment boys in disguise.
"What do you two gentlemen want from me?" she asked them rather cautiously. Her voice was both quiet and timid.
Walter cleared his throat quickly while making sure that his musket was secure on his right shoulder. "What's your name, Miss?" Walter asked the girl in a friendly manner.
"I'm Mary," the girl replied. "Mary…Sutton."
"All right, then, Miss Mary," said Walter, acknowledging her name. "Can you tell us about the whereabouts of a house owned by a…a Colonel Matthias Cooke?"
"Begging your pardon, sir, but I won't," said Mary. "I shall never cooperate with you in any way."
"We're assigned to help guard his daughter," said Walter, trying to act sympathetic toward the girl.
"You?" the girl asked Walter crossly. "I should have known. Miss Susanna is my best friend. Why should I help you if I know you're going to keep her prisoner in her own house?"
"We're going to make sure she comes to no harm, Miss," Walter promised her.
The girl exhibited an anxious countenance in her face. "Can I have your word on that?" she asked of Walter quite bluntly.
Walter smiled charmingly. "Aye, Miss," he answered.
The girl took a deep breath. "Miss Susanna's house is only a couple of houses…this way." She turned around and pointed her finger forward. Walter observed her finger-pointing.
"Where?" asked Walter.
"Two houses down, where I am…right now," the girl answered him. "It's…the green one."
Walter studied the scenery as he counted two houses down. He began to take notice of a house that was painted in the color of emerald green.
Slowly Walter began to notice the parasol she was carrying. "What I would give just to have one of those things to shield us from the rain," he said rather wistfully.
"Well…um…I'm afraid there's only room for…one," replied the girl.
"Anyway, thanks, Miss," said Walter.
The girl curtsied to the two boys before taking her leave.
"We'll keep her safe. That we'll do…" Walter said to himself.
Walter and Brady wasted no time in following the girl's directions. Sure enough, they found the house and started surveying it. Just as the girl said, it was green, and an emerald green at that. The house was three stories high, with a balcony perching on the third story itself.
As Walter and Brady strolled through Queen Street, they started counting houses alongside their left after Colonel Cooke's house. Much of the time it was Walter muttering the count.
"One…two…three…four…five…," Walter muttered to himself.
"Walter, stop," said Brady. "We've reached the edge of Queen Street."
Walter immediately got back to his senses. He found that he and Brady had indeed reached the end of Queen Street.
"Look for a street sign," commanded Walter.
Brady started scanning the busy street of Charles Town, searching for some sign. At last his eyes spotted a wooden signpost at the right-hand corner of Queen Street, from where he and Walter were.
"I found it," said Brady. "The street across us…is King Street."
"Really?" asked Walter.
"That street sign across to the right of us says so," said Brady. "Look."
Walter followed Brady's direction of finger-pointing. His own eyes confirmed it. It was indeed King Street ahead of them.
"Bra-vo," Walter commended proudly to Brady. "Ben's gonna be thrilled."
Walter and Brady headed the opposite direction on Queen Street. They both maintained a steady pace, as to make it look as if they were walking casually until they reached the area where Ben was.
"Well?" Ben asked his squad.
"We got it, sir," answered Walter. "Colonel Cooke's house is right around the middle of Queen Street. We counted five houses after that…before reaching King Street."
"Hmm…I'll need to see for myself," said Ben.
"As you wish, Sergeant," said Walter.
The entire squad wended their way alongside Queen Street in a casual manner. With Ben he could not help but satisfy his curiosity of this part of the town by looking around. It did not take long for Walter to lead Ben to the place of Colonel Cooke's residence.
"This…is it," said Walter.
"I see…" Ben said to himself, observing the entire structure before facing Walter. "Who did you ask?"
"One of the locals, sir," said Brady.
"A girl…by the name of Miss Mary Sutton," Walter put forth. "Told us she was a friend of hers."
"You didn't intimidate her, did you?" asked Ben.
Walter remembered the point where he shouted at her to get her attention. "Um…kind of," he admitted quietly. "But not too much."
Ben considered Walter's response for a brief moment. It was as though Walter was simply taking a few creative liberties with his squad orders, which any officer aside from him would take as a response of insubordination. But so long as Walter had not fouled up the operation in any significant way, whatever Walter did with the girl did not seem to be worth fretting over.
"All right, gentlemen," he said. "You did very well. We'll cut across King Street. From there, it's a straightforward route to the harbor."
The squad finally reached Charles Town harbor. By that time, nightfall had already reached its course. The dark rainy clouds loomed across the sky as nature kept up its continuous rainy weather.
"This is the place," said Ben.
"Aye," agreed Walter. "But…there's no India or Archer around the harbor."
"We haven't looked around hard enough…yet," said Ben. He turned to face his squad. "Spread out," he whispered in a discreet manner. "Look for anything resembling a ship's name on any of their rear ends."
"Sir, if I may interject…" Walter put forth.
"Oh, for God's sake, what is it, Walter?" Ben asked him in exasperation.
"With all due respect, Sergeant, I think spreading out is a terrible idea," Walter tried to advise Ben. "We're not likely to communicate with each other if we find a ship."
But we'll all get captured together," Ben warned him.
"Aye," said Walter. "But…we risk suspicion by the redcoats if we have to resort to signaling with our own hands."
Ben had to take Walter's way of thinking into consideration. He began to weigh the options. Either he could insist with the squad going with his way, which would be a mite easier, considering his superiority in rank, and risk his squad getting captured by the British altogether, or he could go with Walter's proposal, which would lessen that risk. By far, being captured altogether by the British was not something he was looking forward to. Better for a few members of a Fifth Regiment squad to face captured than to have all of a squad get captured.
"All right, Walter," said Ben. "You have a point. We'll go together, then, marching alongside like we're on patrol duty. You'll look around the docks for any sign of the ships."
"Aye, sir," said Walter.
The squad members started simulating patrol duty. As they performed their own little act, they passed by people rushing across the street, struggling to keep themselves dry, as well as a handful of armed redcoats on duty.
It did not take long for something to attract the attention of the Fifth Regiment squad. One redcoat officer was hollering orders to handful of regulars.
"…And let's have the ammunition and the guns stowed on board the India," the officer ordered.
"Sir, the India's almost full to capacity," pointed out one regular. "And given that we're transporting over four hundred troops…"
"Then stow the rest of the men on the Archer," said the officer. "Any remaining ammunition will go on the Longhorn. We're transferring troops, not artillery."
"Very good, sir," acknowledged the regular.
Brady immediately faced Ben. "Sergeant…did you hear that?" he asked his commanding officer half-discreetly.
Ben had the officer and his redcoat regulars in sight. The regulars were crossing a gangplank. He and his squad steadily passed by the ship that they witnessed the redcoats de-boarding.
The name of the ship gradually emerged from the back of the stern. It was the India.
"We've found one of our ships," said Ben.
The squad resumed their patrol walk, eyeing the next ship docked behind the newly found India. Soon enough, the next name to emerge from the rear of the other ship's stern was the Archer.
"Eu-re-ka," Ben whispered to himself in relief.
"Frigates, by the looks of them," said Walter. "Triple-decker. I dare say Captain Howell's intelligence would be accurate."
"How the hell did you identify that kind of ships they were, Walter?" Brady inquired Walter rather curiously.
"I looked up a chart, is what," Walter answered, looking at Brady in a queer sort of way.
"Oh…" Brady said quietly.
Ben took a deep breath with an air of finality. The time had now come to relay the plan to his squad.