His Excellency's Orders
Written By: Commander Cody CC-2224
CHAPTER 14
Right after the explosions, both ships slowly started to capsize away from the docks before sinking vertically into the water. Because the docks were quite shallow, the only thing left of the two frigates were their masts, which stood out by a slight above the waters.
Even after the explosion all that could be heard was the moderate downpour of rain. So far, there was silence after that successful blow to British transportation of troops to Yorktown by river. But the whole thing was not yet over, as the British would be upon the Fifth Regimenters soon.
"I think we made enough of a scene today," said Ben, shouldering his Land Pattern Musket. Time we got the hell out of this place."
"I'm with you on that one," agreed Walter. "Which way to Colonel Cooke's house?"
"I think it's on Queen Street, if I recall," Ben answered. "From the South Bay of Charles Town docks, it should be north of us."
"Well, I sure hope your memories of Charles Town pay off in some way," said Walter. "Or we're…
"Quiet! Listen!" cried Brady.
Sounds of soldiers shouting could be heard from behind them. It seemed that the entire town was now on alert.
"…Compromised," Walter finished.
Ben turned around. A handful of British regulars were on their way to the docks where the flaming frigates were. An officer was carrying a lantern.
"Let's go," Ben said quietly.
The entire squad sprinted to the direction of a house located at a block east of Pratt Street. If the Fifth Regimenters could obscure themselves in the dark and rain for a little while, the company of redcoats would eventually give up their search.
But that was not to be the case, as the officer caught site of retreating movement.
"Stop right there!" shouted the officer.
The entire squad managed to take up hiding positions at one side of the house. At the opposite side, the redcoats were still in search of them. The entire ordeal for the Fifth Regiment could be unnerving even for the most steeled of Fifth Regimenters, with fear of getting captured and tortured by the British a constant companion on their side. If that was the case, then the squad would have to be ready to engage the British if they were discovered. Because this was a three-man squad against many redcoats, the squad would have to constantly evade them, but hit them to distract them or slow them down. So Ben decided that at this point, now was the time for his squad to ready their firearms.
"Check your bayonets," Ben ordered quietly.
Ben, Walter, and Brady unsheathed their bayonets and attached them to their muskets at barrels' end. Brady, feeling a mite nervous, made sure that his bayonet was attached to his musket as tightly as he possibly could. It seemed to help him relieve him of his anxiety.
Meanwhile the company of redcoats was still in search for any sign of saboteurs. There was even anxious and frustrated discussion among the company itself over the whereabouts of their phantom intruders and saboteurs.
"I thought I saw something! Or someone!" said one redcoat.
"Be more specific!" the officer demanded. "What did you see, man?"
""I thought I saw to shapes," answered the redcoat. "Maybe three, I guess."
"God!" whispered Walter in reaction. "Do they know we're here?!"
The squad continued to overhear the anxious conversation of the company of redcoats in search of their phantom instruders.
"Well, where did they go?" demanded the officer.
"Up along Pratt Street, I think," said the redcoat.
"Move along, men!" the officer ordered.
Ben managed to catch a glimpse of the Redcoat detachment running in a pretty rapid marching pace to Queen Street.
"Let them pass," Ben whispered quietly.
The sounds of running had fully diminished, giving the squad some form of indication that the redcoat detachment, which most likely was after them, has left. But this was only a fraction of what the Fifth Regiment squad would have to contend with during their escape from British-occupied Charles Town.
"Check your bayonets," Ben ordered quietly.
Walter and Brady made sure their bayonets were secured at barrels' ends of their muskets. Because their flintlock firearms would not be able to fire in the pouring rain, securing their bayonets could mean the difference between life and imminent death by being stabbed by a redcoat.
"We'll be walking along Pratt Street," Ben informed his squad. "Stick close to the houses. Stay alert, and weapons at the ready!"
"What for?" asked Brady. "You said we can't fire them."
"In case we need to stab the bastards at close range," Ben answered bluntly.
The squad continued to wend their way through Pratt Street. The handful of candle-lit lanterns and lanterns fueled by whale-oil across the street slightly illuminated the streets. This would be both an advantage and a disadvantage to the Fifth Regimenters; the advantage being that the illuminated streets would light the way for their squad, and the disadvantage being that it could allow for the squad to be spotted by the British. If that was the case, then the entire squad would have to obscure themselves in darkened areas as much as possible if they needed to avoid detection by redcoats.
In the meantime, Brady was beginning to find himself shivering a little; so much that his slight ailment was beginning to alarm Ben.
"Brady…are you all right?" Ben whispered.
"Uh…I think so, sir," Brady answered. "Slight shivers is all…"
"We'll get out of this rain soon enough," said Ben. "But I need you to stay focused. Can you do that?"
"I'll try, sir," said Brady.
The squad continued on through Pratt Street, concealing themselves in the dark as much as they could. Ever alert, they kept firm grips on their muskets. It did not take long, however, for Walter to catch their attention.
"Sergeant," Walter whispered. "Patrol."
"Where?" Ben whispered back.
"Up ahead, in front of us," replied Walter.
Ben shielded his eyes from the pouring rain as he struggled to get a glimpse of the patrolling redcoat. He wanted to make sure that it was indeed, a tangible entity and not something he was imagining.
"Permission to take him out?"
"No," said Ben. "We'll act like we're on patrol." He turned to Brady. "Brady, focus. Shoulder your musket and act like a dignified man. We're going on patrol duty."
"Of course, sir," Brady responded to his superior. "But why are we…"
"I'll explain later," Ben interrupted him.
The three squad members shouldered their muskets and made a side-by-side arrangement. On passing by the patrolling regular they walked as casually as they could. The regular simply gave a cursory look at them and simply shrugged his shoulders.
Checking that they were out of earshot, Ben decided to give the short form of his explanation to Brady. "That was a patrolling redcoat," Ben whispered to Brady.
"Ah, I see," Brady answered.
The nerve-racking journey across British-occupied Charles Town was momentarily interrupted when Ben spotted a redcoat patrol. He raised his right hand to signal his squad to cease their forward movements.
"Halt," Ben ordered quietly.
Shielding his eyes from the rain again, Ben peered through the darkness.
"Patrol up ahead," Ben warned. "We'll head over to King Street instead."
The squad made a turn to King Street. They reached the end of one block. Instinctively Ben fished out his telescope. He spotted a large group of redcoats crossing on one street…Queen Street.
"Patrol again," Ben whispered to his squad. "This way."
Directing his squad to his right-hand side, the Fifth Regimenters made a right at Broad Street. Then they continued on until they reached one end of the housing block.
"We're at one end of the block," Walter informed Ben.
"As I recall, the street to our left will lead us to Queen Street," Ben answered. "It's supposed to be where Colonel Cooke's house is located."
"You sure?" Brady asked anxiously.
Ben took a deep breath. "I think so," he answered.
"You 'think so'?" asked Walter, doubtful about Ben's navigation skills in the dark streets of Charles Town.
"Um…aye," Ben answered.
"You'd better be sure about this, or not only will we be getting lost in this town, but we'll get caught," Walter warned his superior sternly. It was not only unconventional but also a mite discourteous for a junior to treat his superior in that manner, but tension was very high over getting captured by the redcoats. There was little margin for error when it came to navigating the streets of British-occupied Charles Town in the pouring rain and the dark of night, with some of the street lanterns sometimes allowing for the possibility of the redcoats to catch sight of them.
"I know this town…fairly well," said Ben. "Remember that I was involved in a failed heist with the governor's treasury. Don't tell anyone else, though. Does that seem bolster your confidence, Walter?"
"It had better," Walter answered.
The squad finally reached the crossing at Queen Street.
"To our right is supposed to be Colonel Cooke's house," Ben informed his squad.
"We can just barge in and rescue our damsel in distress," said Walter confidently.
Ben nodded his head in agreement with Walter. "Problem is…that house is bound to be heavily occupied," Ben told his squad. "We'd be three against more than a handful. We'll need to use the element of surprise. Besides, if we barge into Colonel Cooke's house, we'd endanger the Colonel's daughter. She'll simply be another casualty of war."
"…If she accidentally gets killed in a fight," Brady finished.
"What do you propose, sir?" Walter asked his superior.
Ben pointed to the house on the opposite side of Colonel Cooke's house. "We can use this house and rope ourselves cross this street and onto that balcony over there," Ben answered.
He pointed to the balcony of Colonel Cooke's house. The eyes of Walter and Brady followed. It was difficult to make out the form of the house in the dark and rain.
"Sounds like a plan," said Walter, looking at Ben. "Let's do it."
Ben, Walter, and Brady sprinted to the front of a house alongside Queen Street. The house was right near in front of the house of Colonel Cooke, located on the edge of an adjacent block.
Wanting to know if he would have to contend with any redcoats at all during entry, Ben took a peak through the window. He could make out at least five British regulars housed inside. And they were all fast asleep.
"Bayonets at the ready," Ben whispered. "We've got five redcoats."
"Sir, wouldn't it make more sense to just simply knock at the door and expect them to courteously let us in?" asked Walter. "We're still in the enemy's uniform after all."
"No," Ben answered Walter in a blunt manner. "I suspect the patrol we encountered at the Charles Town docks is looking for us. If we don't take out those redcoats, we'll be surrounded by their reinforcements if these redcoats inside get wind of our escape attempts…and we'd be forced to surrender. And if these redcoats inside got wind of our plans to rope into Colonel Cooke's house, they'd stop us cold." He took a deep breath. "Besides…we'd be dealing with five less redcoats if we took them out now."
"But beseeching your pardon sir, that patrol may just as well be bringing reinforcements," Walter interjected.
"I think they'll be too busy looking for us to bother," said Ben. "Most of the redcoats in this town…at this time…are sheltering themselves inside the houses…and are already asleep. Besides…even if they were told that there are wolves in sheep's clothing among them…it will take them too much time to convince them of that…and even search every redcoat just to find the three of us."
"You think?" asked Walter.
"Walter, it's a chance we'll have to take," Ben declared, deciding to put a stop to this discussion once and for all. He then faced his squad. "Are you up to the task?" he asked them.
"Whatever you say, Sergeant. I'm ready," Walter whispered in reply.
Ben turned to Brady next. "Brady?" Ben called him.
Brady nodded his head. "Ready," he answered.
Readying their muskets, the squad positioned themselves across the doorway, with Walter and Brady lined up on each side of the doorway itself. Then they readied their firearms, bayonets attached. After taking in a deep breath to relieve his tension, Ben forcefully kicked open the door. The violent sound of kicking open the door was enough to stir the redcoats from their slumber, but being taken by surprise, they found themselves disoriented.
Charging with a loud cry on the offensive for what seemed to be the first time since entering Charles Town, Ben was the first to literally stab one redcoat at the front, twice, while Walter and Brady took on a redcoat each. Ben then took on another redcoat, while Walter took on the officer in charge.
The redcoats stirred from their sleep were dead, the brief carnage complete. Small pools of blood slowly grew on the floor In spite of that all three men breathed a sigh of relief, thankful inside that they were able to survive the entire ordeal.
"Tell me we haven't got blood on our uniforms," said Ben, panting.
Walter and Brady checked the front of their uniforms. "I've got none, sir," said Walter.
"Brady?" asked Ben.
"Well…maybe a little, sir," said Brady, pointing at the lower left end of his uniform waistcoat.
"Thin it out," said Ben. "If any redcoat asks you, you can say that you accidentally stabbed yourself near your belly."
"Aye, sir," Brady answered.
"Hide the bodies and wipe your bayonets clean," Ben ordered his squad. "Use their uniforms to wipe out any traces of blood from the floor. And don't get blood on yourselves."
"Where should we hide them, sir?" Walter asked his superior.
"Um…under the dining table," he answered, pointing at the dining table in another room.
Immediately Walter and Brady slowly dragged the bodies to the room where the dining table was. Ben decided to take the opportunity to clean his bayonet by using one of the uniforms of the dead redcoats to wipe the blade clean. The whole process of moving the bodies was literally a struggle, given that the dead redcoat bodies were quite heavy.
When the last of the redcoats was pushed under the table, Walter and Brady immediately wiped their bayonets clean using clean areas of the redcoat uniforms belonging to the dead redcoats. Brady then got to work on trying to remove as much of the thickness of the slightly congealed blood from the lower left end of his uniform waistcoat.
"Brady, get one of the uniforms off the redcoats," Walter ordered him.
Both Ben and Walter struggled to undress the uniforms from two of the dead redcoats. Walter ended up pulling out the uniform of the officer. The uniforms were stained with blood, and the smell that almost smelled like iron and sweat was emanating from the corpses.
"That's the uniform belonging to the officer I killed," said Walter, sniffing with disgust.
"Really?" asked Brady.
"Aye," Walter answered him.
Walter and Brady immediately set to work on finding any pools and traces of blood on the wooden floor. Walter spotted one big spot and immediately applied the officer's uniform to clean away the blood.
Both Walter and Brady were still finding themselves revolting over the sight of blood. But the stench was getting the better of Brady too much that he found himself starting to cover his nose.
"I've…never seen so much blood…" said Brady. "The smell of it…is…"
"I know the sight and smell of blood is…revolting…but you kind of get used to it after a while," said Walter.
"You mean you've killed…before?" asked Brady.
"On occasion…during some missions with Sergeant Davidson," Walter answered.
"How does the Sergeant expect us to remove the blood completely?" asked Brady.
"I don't know," said Walter. "Just…remove whatever you can."
While Walter and Brady busied themselves with cleanup, Ben took on patrol duty. His ears could register the rain pouring outside, which had increased its tempo. However, he was trying to listen for any footsteps outside the house, because they could very well be a clear indication of British regulars making their approach to the house. Sometimes they might march past by, if they were lucky, but Ben would not take that chance. For the sake of his squad, he had to maintain alertness if they were escape from the grasp of the British.
When Walter and Brady were done they shoved the bloodied uniforms back under the dining table where the dead redcoats were initially shoved in.
"We're done, sir," said Walter. "We…um…couldn't really remove the blood in its entirety. We at least made it…somewhat less noticeable by removing the congealing layers."
"It will have to do," said Ben. "Load up and head upstairs."
The squad members gathered together their firearms and began loading up. Using the residual light shining into the windows, Ben, Walter, and Brady shoved bullet balls into their barrels and poured powder into their priming pans. When they were finished, they shouldered their muskets and readied their pistols.
Quietly they headed up the stairs, with Ben in the lead. When they arrived upstairs at the fourth floor, they came across a dark hallway with many doors on the sides. Instinctively Walter decided to check one of the doors. Much to his astonishment the doors opened, even if the handles were locked.
"Sergeant…the doors," Walter whispered.
"What about them?" Ben whispered back.
"They're…well, it appears that one of them is…well, they can open, in spite of them being locked."
Ben wasted no time in verifying Walter's claim. Sure enough, he pushed open one of the doors as well. He checked the door handle; it was locked. This led him to check the side of the doorway, which sported damage.
"It looks like our previous visitors were barging in the rooms," said Ben.
Keeping in mind the objective of finding a room that would lead them directly to Colonel Cooke's house, Ben tried one of the middle rooms. The window in front of him was covered by a two-sided white curtain, which was obscured in the dark. Carefully he separated the right-hand curtain and peered through the window. A balcony, which he presumed belonged to the house of Colonel Cooke, was right in his view, in spite of being obscured by the dark and rain.
Ben immediately left the room to summon his squad. "This way, into this room," he ordered them quietly. It took both Walter and Brady a while to enter the same room where Ben was in.
"What's up with you?" Ben asked Walter.
"Well…um…some of us were stumbling in the dark," Walter answered.
"I see," said Ben. He pulled open the curtains.
"Right here," said Ben, pointing to the window that faced Colonel Cooke's house. "We can use this window to gain entry into Colonel Cooke's house using our rope-line." He turned to Brady. "Brady, start assembling the crossbow."
"Aye, sir," Brady acknowledged. He immediately set to work on assembling the crossbow.
"While Brady is assembling our crossbow, we should try to slow the redcoats down…in case any of them manage to find out what happened here," Ben said to Walter.
"We can use this wardrobe to hold them off," said Walter, pointing to a wardrobe furniture beside the left of the doorway.
"Good work," Ben complimented Walter. "Let's get to it.
Walter and Brady immediately got to work on moving the heavy wooden wardrobe. Because they were in a hurry, they couldn't afford to have any qualms about scratching the floor, since it was indeed quite heavy. As a result, the bottom of the wardrobe was making creaky sounds on the wooden floor.
"Lift, Brady!" Walter whispered in frustration.
The two squad members, after some struggle, were able to prop the wardrobe directly at the door.
Catching sight of a fairly large table, Ben flipped it over to use for temporary cover should the redcoats start breaching the room.