Chapter Five - Under Attack
One of my chief worries was that I would actually be assigned to the party deputed to capture the raiders from the 'Hotspur'. The last thing I needed right now was to be recognised. The possibility of a face-to-face meeting with Ulysses was even more of a worry, that would ruin all. Since Hare was by now expecting me to run everything for him, it required considerable care for me to convince him that with the Commandant due to return I should keep a low profile. It's a testament to Hare's stupidity that he actually agreed to that. He should have attempted to make me the target for the Commandant's inevitable fury over that business with the Loire.
I spent most of the evening preparing for the cannon-fire that would be brought to bear on the British fleet next day. At least that was the intention. I had to be reasonably careful in my dispositions, the Commandant might well check them, and he wasn't a fool like Hare. But if I was careful I could quietly mix powder with earth so the shot would fall short, maybe even disable some of the guns....
So I missed the capture. I did not manage to miss an interview with the returned Commandant, to which all officers were called so he could throw his weight about and generally remind us who was in charge.
Commandant Wolfe was a thoroughgoing bully. Fortunately he was also the type of bully who likes to prey on the weak, and since they don't come much weaker than Hare, he was the main target. Having cultivated an impassive demeanour on Renown, I generally got off with a few random barbs. All the same bringing the man down was going to be an absolute pleasure.
We got to see him vent his anger over the attack by the Loire (for which I did not altogether blame him), blast the arrangements that had been made that day (I have to admit he had a point), generally sneer at our inability to do anything right in his absence (not really fair given how well we'd managed the captures) and swiftly reduce Hare to a quivering jelly, which he took great pleasure in forcing through a strainer. He then found every fault he could think of with our current dispositions, made a few changes just to show he could, reissued orders about the main landing party - including firm instructions not to harm the man in charge - and, for good measure, reminded us we would be up all night and any man caught sleeping on duty would be shot. In other words, it was not an enjoyable reunion.
Wolfe kicked us all out eventually, which left me with a major problem.
Should I let Horatio and the others out?
I probably *could*, but it would almost certainly blow my cover completely. And that might yet be needed to see things through. And I could certainly get in a bit more sabotage, if I went about it carefully.
Horatio would manage things fine alone. He didn't need me. Really.
And I was a creature of the service, and my orders were to see things through. Even if it meant risking the life of a man who has been more than a brother to me.
Perhaps that's not quite fair. There were other lives. Others I might save if I stuck to orders.
Horatio would be the first to tell me to put him last. Then again I never did think much of his judgement where his own preservation was concerned.
But I left him to it. And the event proved me right. Although when I heard how he actually did get out of the stocks (they didn't find the files) I very much regretted not being there.
I wasn't present when Ulysses and his men were taken prisoner either - that one required a bit of ingenuity to get out of. I'd learned by then that his nephew hadn't been captured with the raiding party, I assume Wolfe or someone must have told him, but what his reaction was I never heard.
I knew that Ulysses wasn't intending to stay in France - his plans were too big to be abandoned. He planned on making an 'escape' with a couple of officers who were in on the plot also. The nephew was due to stay, though, and become part of the Legion. So his not being there might have been a minor annoyance to Ulysses - but no doubt he could have adapted to it. All that's by the way, though. I didn't think much about it at the time.
I was with the guns when our ships began to come in. That was a bad moment. I had no choice but to open fire. Fire on my own compatriots. No choice. I'd done all I could to minimise the damage, but all the same.... I still dream of it. I had no choice.
It was at that point that someone shouted at me. "You! Lieutenant!"
I turned to confront Black Charlie Hammond.
Oh hell.
Pure shock first, then a wild thought that if I was quick I could shoot him. Then I realised he was speaking again.
"Just got word the prisoners have escaped. I'll be having a few words with Wolfe about that later on, but we need to catch them first. Get some men to cut off the escape routes, I want them cornered quickly. And I want word sent, so I can see them in person. I've been looking forward to this. Do you hear me?"
I had just enough presence of mind left to say, "Yes, Sir." Then he was gone.
The bastard. He hadn't even recognised me.
Yes, he'd only seen me once and no doubt I looked a bit different then. But this man tore up my life to satisfy his own warped ends and *he hadn't recognised me.*
The bastard. The *bastard*.
But I had to let him go... for now. I pulled half the men off the guns and sent them to cut off routes to the local settlements, on grounds the fugitives would likely head there to look for a boat. Which was the last thing Horatio was likely to do, but then that was the point.
That done, I really wasn't sure what to do next. Somehow I had to make sure the papers in my coat would reach the Admiral. Yet I might still be needed here. And it would be hideously easy to get shot by either or both sides. So incompetent an end would be downright embarrassing. Rather feebly I settled for finding a likely spot on the cliff to keep an eye on things. So it was that I saw the fleet come in. For a few hours we might get the whole area under our control. At last something was truly going right.
Perhaps I should start looking for someone to surrender to. But I found O'Donnell and a dozen men instead.
"What's happening?" He was looking worried.
"It's all shot to hell." I told him "The fleet's got through and we're going to be wiped out. Get all the men you can and get them out of here" Lies blossomed easily. "The Commandant's ordered a general withdrawal."
"He has?"
"Yes. He sent me with orders." I willed him to believe me, the irony was that all except the part about the Commandant was true. "Go, man! There's no time to lose!"
"Are you not coming?"
"I've still got some orders," I told him. Hatefully he was looking concerned. "Don't worry about me, O'Donnell. I always survive."
He threw a salute, and left me with the knowledge that what I'd done might well be treason. But you can't work with people and remain indifferent to them. O'Donnell, some of the men.... I didn't want to see them die. I was arranging the escape of traitors, because I thought well of them - and my only regret was that I hadn't managed to arrange the escape of a few more. That was something I'd never expected when I agreed to do this.
I had to end this fast, or I'd start forgetting which side I really was on. Or worse, wondering why I should take sides at all.
The next thing I found was Hare running one half of a scattered fight with some of our men. The British, that is. He greeted my arrival with obvious relief, and ordered me to take over. I tried the same story on him I'd used to O'Donnell, but Hare was quite set against retreat for anyone other than himself. It would have been safest simply to let him go, but something in me rebelled. I was sick of playing the shadow game, and here was a man despicable from any point of view.
"Oh, no," I jabbed my pistol into his back. "You're not running out on your men, Hare. You are going to stand here and order them to surrender. Believe me, I'd enjoy shooting you."
Hare's eyes bulged, but he ordered the surrender. With a flash of the old spite he hissed, "Do you hope to gain mercy by betraying your countrymen?"
"You fool," I said. "Do you really think only the Irish make good spies?" It was the last thing I got a chance to say before we were both made captive.
So I missed seeing the suicide of Black Charlie Hammond, otherwise known as Ulysses. But I didn't really mind. He was dead, that was what counted. He has never haunted my dreams.
One of my chief worries was that I would actually be assigned to the party deputed to capture the raiders from the 'Hotspur'. The last thing I needed right now was to be recognised. The possibility of a face-to-face meeting with Ulysses was even more of a worry, that would ruin all. Since Hare was by now expecting me to run everything for him, it required considerable care for me to convince him that with the Commandant due to return I should keep a low profile. It's a testament to Hare's stupidity that he actually agreed to that. He should have attempted to make me the target for the Commandant's inevitable fury over that business with the Loire.
I spent most of the evening preparing for the cannon-fire that would be brought to bear on the British fleet next day. At least that was the intention. I had to be reasonably careful in my dispositions, the Commandant might well check them, and he wasn't a fool like Hare. But if I was careful I could quietly mix powder with earth so the shot would fall short, maybe even disable some of the guns....
So I missed the capture. I did not manage to miss an interview with the returned Commandant, to which all officers were called so he could throw his weight about and generally remind us who was in charge.
Commandant Wolfe was a thoroughgoing bully. Fortunately he was also the type of bully who likes to prey on the weak, and since they don't come much weaker than Hare, he was the main target. Having cultivated an impassive demeanour on Renown, I generally got off with a few random barbs. All the same bringing the man down was going to be an absolute pleasure.
We got to see him vent his anger over the attack by the Loire (for which I did not altogether blame him), blast the arrangements that had been made that day (I have to admit he had a point), generally sneer at our inability to do anything right in his absence (not really fair given how well we'd managed the captures) and swiftly reduce Hare to a quivering jelly, which he took great pleasure in forcing through a strainer. He then found every fault he could think of with our current dispositions, made a few changes just to show he could, reissued orders about the main landing party - including firm instructions not to harm the man in charge - and, for good measure, reminded us we would be up all night and any man caught sleeping on duty would be shot. In other words, it was not an enjoyable reunion.
Wolfe kicked us all out eventually, which left me with a major problem.
Should I let Horatio and the others out?
I probably *could*, but it would almost certainly blow my cover completely. And that might yet be needed to see things through. And I could certainly get in a bit more sabotage, if I went about it carefully.
Horatio would manage things fine alone. He didn't need me. Really.
And I was a creature of the service, and my orders were to see things through. Even if it meant risking the life of a man who has been more than a brother to me.
Perhaps that's not quite fair. There were other lives. Others I might save if I stuck to orders.
Horatio would be the first to tell me to put him last. Then again I never did think much of his judgement where his own preservation was concerned.
But I left him to it. And the event proved me right. Although when I heard how he actually did get out of the stocks (they didn't find the files) I very much regretted not being there.
I wasn't present when Ulysses and his men were taken prisoner either - that one required a bit of ingenuity to get out of. I'd learned by then that his nephew hadn't been captured with the raiding party, I assume Wolfe or someone must have told him, but what his reaction was I never heard.
I knew that Ulysses wasn't intending to stay in France - his plans were too big to be abandoned. He planned on making an 'escape' with a couple of officers who were in on the plot also. The nephew was due to stay, though, and become part of the Legion. So his not being there might have been a minor annoyance to Ulysses - but no doubt he could have adapted to it. All that's by the way, though. I didn't think much about it at the time.
I was with the guns when our ships began to come in. That was a bad moment. I had no choice but to open fire. Fire on my own compatriots. No choice. I'd done all I could to minimise the damage, but all the same.... I still dream of it. I had no choice.
It was at that point that someone shouted at me. "You! Lieutenant!"
I turned to confront Black Charlie Hammond.
Oh hell.
Pure shock first, then a wild thought that if I was quick I could shoot him. Then I realised he was speaking again.
"Just got word the prisoners have escaped. I'll be having a few words with Wolfe about that later on, but we need to catch them first. Get some men to cut off the escape routes, I want them cornered quickly. And I want word sent, so I can see them in person. I've been looking forward to this. Do you hear me?"
I had just enough presence of mind left to say, "Yes, Sir." Then he was gone.
The bastard. He hadn't even recognised me.
Yes, he'd only seen me once and no doubt I looked a bit different then. But this man tore up my life to satisfy his own warped ends and *he hadn't recognised me.*
The bastard. The *bastard*.
But I had to let him go... for now. I pulled half the men off the guns and sent them to cut off routes to the local settlements, on grounds the fugitives would likely head there to look for a boat. Which was the last thing Horatio was likely to do, but then that was the point.
That done, I really wasn't sure what to do next. Somehow I had to make sure the papers in my coat would reach the Admiral. Yet I might still be needed here. And it would be hideously easy to get shot by either or both sides. So incompetent an end would be downright embarrassing. Rather feebly I settled for finding a likely spot on the cliff to keep an eye on things. So it was that I saw the fleet come in. For a few hours we might get the whole area under our control. At last something was truly going right.
Perhaps I should start looking for someone to surrender to. But I found O'Donnell and a dozen men instead.
"What's happening?" He was looking worried.
"It's all shot to hell." I told him "The fleet's got through and we're going to be wiped out. Get all the men you can and get them out of here" Lies blossomed easily. "The Commandant's ordered a general withdrawal."
"He has?"
"Yes. He sent me with orders." I willed him to believe me, the irony was that all except the part about the Commandant was true. "Go, man! There's no time to lose!"
"Are you not coming?"
"I've still got some orders," I told him. Hatefully he was looking concerned. "Don't worry about me, O'Donnell. I always survive."
He threw a salute, and left me with the knowledge that what I'd done might well be treason. But you can't work with people and remain indifferent to them. O'Donnell, some of the men.... I didn't want to see them die. I was arranging the escape of traitors, because I thought well of them - and my only regret was that I hadn't managed to arrange the escape of a few more. That was something I'd never expected when I agreed to do this.
I had to end this fast, or I'd start forgetting which side I really was on. Or worse, wondering why I should take sides at all.
The next thing I found was Hare running one half of a scattered fight with some of our men. The British, that is. He greeted my arrival with obvious relief, and ordered me to take over. I tried the same story on him I'd used to O'Donnell, but Hare was quite set against retreat for anyone other than himself. It would have been safest simply to let him go, but something in me rebelled. I was sick of playing the shadow game, and here was a man despicable from any point of view.
"Oh, no," I jabbed my pistol into his back. "You're not running out on your men, Hare. You are going to stand here and order them to surrender. Believe me, I'd enjoy shooting you."
Hare's eyes bulged, but he ordered the surrender. With a flash of the old spite he hissed, "Do you hope to gain mercy by betraying your countrymen?"
"You fool," I said. "Do you really think only the Irish make good spies?" It was the last thing I got a chance to say before we were both made captive.
So I missed seeing the suicide of Black Charlie Hammond, otherwise known as Ulysses. But I didn't really mind. He was dead, that was what counted. He has never haunted my dreams.