Six: Attack

"FIRE!" Roared Bush, Horak and Horatio in unison. There was a juddering explosion of canons, the recoil rocking the sloop as they heard echoing shots from the other ships of the fleet. Shrapnel flew in hundreds of directions from the battery, which was blown nearly to non-existence by the English. "Reload." Came the order, and the men manning the canons rushed to obey. But, for the first time since the ships had entered the bay, there were no return shots. The battery was silent, the breeze tugging at the French flag forlornly. Several flags ran up the flagship, and Bush placed a glass to his eye, repeating the order it gave.

"Sir, flagship says to hold fire until further notice." Horatio nodded and shouted:

"Hold fire!" The words were repeated down the length of the sloop, and everyone stopped in their actions. A powder-monkey waited patiently by Horak's side to hand the shot-powder to the gunners. There was a ringing silence across the bay, and the ships waiting, hanging in the sea. The flagship ran out a new order.

"Cease fire and proceed to disembark, sir." Bush told his captain.

"Very good, Mr Bush. Call the hands to ready for landing."

"Yessir." Bush dipped his head in acknowledgement and roared the instruction. Movement rippled over the Hotspur and the boats were readied whilst they weighed anchor. Horatio returned briefly to his cabin. He had pistol and shot, sword, dagger and glass. There was nothing else for it; he had to return to shore, after only half a night aboard his ship. Once the arrival of Horatio had been conveyed to Pellew, the admiral had instantly ordered his presence to give a report. The older man seemed slightly amused but unsurprised at Horatio's announcement of La Sombra's appearance, and agreed that it was probable they would see him on the battlefield. They had talked long into the night about battle plans and the mystery of their guerrilla helper. Horatio explained as best he could the remarkable familiarity of La Sombra, and Pellew simply decided that it was Horatio's imagination. Horatio had returned to the Hotspur well gone the dawn and had slumped in his cabin to snatch no more than a few hours rest before he had been summoned to help attack the second battery and ready for the battle.

The captain yawned widely as he waited for the jolly to be under way, and received smirks from many of the crew. He beat them down with a hard glare. Soon the oars pushed through the water, taking them to the landing beach. Looking around, Horatio saw nearly forty other boats doing the same – loaded with crew and military. He spotted Pellew, admiral's uniform glinting in the morning light, cutting an awing sight at the prow of his boat. Horatio smiled to himself, and looked ahead, already going through the plans in his mind. After landing, they would take their formations and march South through the woodland across the cliffs to the first encampment, where they would surround it on all sides (Horatio worried at this, those between the first and second encampments could easily be trapped) so as to make sure no word would get out of their attack. The signal to attack was a blue flag, and signal to retreat a red flag. They would then fire on the camp and march their way to the centre, forming a tight ring of people. It sounded good, but too easy. Horatio knew it would not be so. They landed on the beach and dragged the boats up to the tidemark before standing in their formations. Horatio faced his crew, watching Pellew out of the corner of his eye.

"For'ard MARCH!" Pellew bellowed, and as one, the men stepped forward, tramping thousands of footprints in the soft sands. Horatio took a deep breath and fell in line beside Pellew, who shot him a comforting look. "Let us hope your friend La Sombra has no need to appear." He muttered good-naturedly.

"Let us hope, sir." Horatio replied, having a good feeling that the hope was already lost.

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"Good God." Bush muttered under his breath as they peered through the trees at the revolutionary camp. There were thousands of men, a cavalry, canons, hundreds of tents and all manner of weaponry. Horatio glared at him.

"Hush, Mr Bush. We don't want the men hearing us afraid." He reprimanded, and his lieutenant looked suitably chastened. The captain held a glass to his eye to search for the telltale red or blue flag. All he saw were the occasional green flag appear, to announce that each regiment was in place and ready for action. "There!" He hissed suddenly, spying the blue flag appear and swish subtly.

"Wait." Came Bush's reply. "Look." Horatio angled the glass to where he was pointing and frowned.

"What is God's name..?" There was the red flag, waving hurriedly. "What's going on?" He lowered his glass and rose from his kneeling position carefully. "I'm going to find the admiral." He told Bush. "Stay here, and act on whatever flag shows first next, even if I have no returned." Bush nodded, and Horatio darted away through the undergrowth, head bowed.

Pellew looked as baffled as Horatio when the captain finally found him. They bowed to one another, and Pellew spoke first.

"Can you tell me what's happening?"

"No sir, I was rather hoping…" Horatio trailed away, suddenly lost in thought. "Wait. Sir, where was the red flag ordered to be placed?"

"Well, the gentleman with the blue flag was meant to have it, but it seems that someone else has hold of the confounded thing." Horatio chuckled.

"Sir. I think I have just solved it. I'm sure you would like to meet the protagonist of this situation." He bowed, extending a hand to indicate Pellew should go first. Thoroughly bewildered, the admiral obliged, and the two crept around the outskirts of the French camp until they reached a small copse of trees, thicker than the surrounding trunks and rowing closer together. Leaning on one of these trees, arms folded and one leg jauntily pressed against the trunk, was La Sombra, one of his men holding the red flag limp. "Sir," Horatio bowed and the guerrilla nodded, "meeting again so soon. I had rather hoped in different circumstances." He couldn't escape the smirk that flitted across the man's face before he inclined his head. Pellew looked positively irritated and pompous.

"What is the meaning of this sir? You could have jeopardised the whole attack! Who are you?" He demanded.

"Admiral Pellew, sir, I would like you to meet La Sombra." Horatio introduced, feeling pleased to see the admiral utterly confused and then astonished. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, bereft of anything to say. La Sombra pushed himself away from the tree and bowed low, nearly tipping his wide hat from his head in the process.

"An honour, sir, to finally meet your esteemed self." Pellew, who seemed to have taken leave of his senses at this moment, continued to splutter before puffing:

"Thank you, sir, and the honour is returned, I am sure." Horatio smirked behind his hand.

"I am sorry to disrupt your plan so much, but I had to intervene, you understand." Pellew nodded slowly.

"Of course. I see." He obviously didn't see.

"The French do not yet know of your presence, but I fear that this plan will not work without the help of a few…" At this, he paused. "Locals." The word was laden heavy with meaning. Horatio felt as perplexed as Pellew. "You see the tent over there, with the flag?" The masked man pointed through the trees and their eyes followed his finger before the admiral nodded. "It covers an underground passage to the manor house beyond the thicket there. The nobility built it in the early days of the uprising by means to escape should it ever come to such an outcome. Of course, it was over before they could… but I digress… the revolutionaries will use that passage to get word to the other encampment. Your surprise will be lost. And the other camp, sirs, is by far the biggest. It would not bode well for your campaign." La Sombra shrugged. "So, you see, I had no choice but to halt the charge."

"How do you know this?" Pellew enquired curiously.

"I have my ways to know everything, sir. That is not the question you should be asking." His impertinence was overlooked as Pellew moved on to the more important task.

"And how do you propose to help us?"

"As I said, I have a few locals to assist me. We can block the passage, but I am afraid there are not enough of us to complete the second part of the plan."

"Second part?" Horatio was astounded that the man was so confident of his success that he should have two parts to his plan. La Sombra nodded.

"I noticed you have no heavy artillery. Muskets and cutlasses would be no match." Again he pointed, and they noticed the cluster of canons set near the tent covering the underground passage. "They are permanently loaded with shot and highly flexible – they can be turned by a single man and their recoil is very small. As soon as the first wave of your men is in sight, the French can launch those canons in seconds. My second plan was to take control of the canons, turn it on the French." He smiled broadly. "But, you see, I have limited numbers and this is a job for more than I can offer."

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Horatio believed it complete madness, but he had seen La Sombra in action and knew the man had no fear. His daring was unmatched, and his men loved him, and that was good enough for the captain. He had selected the same men he had at the battery to assist in capturing the canons and passage. But as they returned to the copse, Horatio saw La Sombra facing a Frenchman in revolutionary colours. Styles swore loudly and cocked his pistol. At the sound, La Sombra and the revolutionary turned and saw them. Horatio grabbed Styles' pistol before it could be fired.

"No!" He hissed. Slowly he approached the pair, and La Sombra visibly relaxed and smiled in greeting.

"Sir, meet my local friend." The revolutionary bowed nervously, before turning to the guerrilla.

"Vous ne m'avez jamais dit au sujet d'aucun Anglais! C'est trop dangereux, si je suis découvert –"

"Vous pas. J'ai promis votre sûreté. S'il vous plait, vous ne pouvez pas casser notre affaire." The revolutionary looked positively pale, but nodded slowly.

"Oui, monsieur." He looked back to Horatio and gave a quick bow again, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword. "You 'ave my wurd, monsieur, zat I will not fail." The English was heavily accented, and Horatio somehow doubted the words, but smiled anyway. After another short exchange with La Sombra, the revolutionary returned to the camp.

The masked man had scratched the plan into the dirt, and now they were ready to move to their positions at the signal. Suddenly, the revolutionary appeared again, standing a good distance away from the trees and not looking in their direction. He gave a quick nod, and La Sombra breathed an instruction to his followers. Horatio counted six – two more than usual. This was a very serious operation. The black-clad men ran low, swords and pistols ready to hand. They spread at various points, and La Sombra himself disappeared into the target tent. There were faint groans and thuds before his head appeared again and nodded to the nearest follower, who sent the message along to the others. Three then went and surrounded the tent, still crouching to the ground. The other three moved to cover the crew's progress. A short, sharp whistle was Horatio's signal to move. He nodded to his men, and they flitted across to the tent and the canons.

"Ready the canon, Matthews." He hissed, using the said weapons as cover from suspicious eyes. Matthews obeyed whilst the Styles, Horak, Bush and Horatio untied the other canons from their anchorage and moved them into position. "All set, sir." Horatio told La Sombra, who nodded and sent his men scurrying back to cover the progress back to the copse. Slowly and creakily, the canons were wheeled towards the copse. Once the last canon was out of sight and all La Sombra's men and the crew were hidden, the guerrilla leader whistled again. The revolutionary from before slowly approached the canon Matthews had readied, and lit the fuse with his pistol hammer before running as fast as he could from the scene. There was a hiss as the fuse touched the powder and an almighty explosion. The canon blew apart the tent and caused the tunnel it hid to cave in at the mouth. "FIRE!" Horatio roared, and the other canons simultaneously expended their shot into the came, tearing apart tents and men alike. "Now run!" He shouted, and his men and La Sombra's men ran like jack-rabbits away from the canons, for Matthews had loaded them so as to automatically spite them once their shot was spent. Explosions shook the ground and there were more French screams from those who had rushed in that direction to catch them. Several trees caught fire, and in a few minutes collapsed in a rush of flames and burnt wood onto the camp. The shouts from the revolutionaries grew and died away several times before some sort of semi-silence fell on them. By then, Horatio had been led by La Sombra to the next cluster of canons. Again, the revolutionary appeared to nod, and La Sombra covered the crew's progress. Again, Matthews set the canons to explode after shot. And again, they fired on the bewildered encampment before running as fast as they could to the final point. This time, silence didn't fall on the French, terrified shouts and screams echoed across the tents and there was the thunder of feet. The revolutionary appeared, his face drawn and pallid. With a visible swallow, his gave a quick nod. As La Sombra began to make his way across to the canons, the revolutionary blanched and shouted:

"Non! Non! Courir!" His frantic hands were stilled by the crack of a musket. La Sombra froze mid-step, staring at the fallen revolutionary in horror.

"Ici! Le voici!" Was the excited shout. More revolutionaries flooded forward, and Horatio realised they must have figured out their plan. Swearing, he turned to his men.

"Help him. Now!" He started to run, shouting at the top of his lungs. He heard his crew behind him and felt comforted as the bang of pistol shots met those of the French muskets. He found himself shoulder to shoulder with La Sombra as the French charged at them, blades drawn. As he pulled his sword from another body, he heard Matthews shout.

"Sir!" He turned to see a canon pointed his way, fuse dipping spark towards the powder. Grabbing La Sombra's arm, they dived flat to the ground as the shot shrieked overhead. Standing, Horatio grinned his thanks at the wiry-haired man. He reached down and helped La Sombra to his feet.

"Now. Shall we fire the other guns, sir?" He asked of the leader. In the lull before more revolutionaries came on them, La Sombra paused, staring at the dead revolutionary with misery.

"He was my friend. I had promised him freedom from this." He said quietly. Horatio felt a pang of pity.

"He has found freedom." He laid a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. "Let us finish the fight for him." La Sombra nodded, picking up his pistol from where it had fallen. Horatio, taking this as a prompt, issued orders for the canons to be wheeled to the trees and fired, same as the others.

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The battle was nearly over. Silence had begun to descend on the ruined encampment, and the dead were being counted. Four from the Hotspur. Horatio's crew had been lucky, as had Pellew's. The worst death count came from captain Lewin's crew – forty-five from a ship of two hundred. Horatio stepped around the scattered bodies and found La Sombra, laying the body of one of his men alongside the revolutionary. He had lost two of his men, and the three lay in a row, eyes closed and hands crossed on their breasts. Horatio saw tears shining in the leader's eyes, and looked bashfully away, feeling guilty for witnessing another man's grief. But, unable to stop himself, he looked back again, watching the man kneel by his fallen comrades, hands gripping his knees tightly.

"Battle is such an evil thing." La Sombra said quietly, acknowledging the captain's presence and surprising him. "It takes what is should not and gives what is least wanted." He looked up, unashamed of his tears. Horatio blushed. "It takes life and gives misery." He looked back down at the dead.

"They followed you because they loved you, sir, and you should love them with the same dedication, so that their memories should never be erased."

"I love them." La Sombra replied fervently.

"And that is all they ever wanted." Horatio turned awkwardly and left, feeling like an interloper on a private event.

A few moments later, Horatio once more came across the leader, using a bag of powder to lay a cross shape in a patch of cleared earth – each line roughly four feet in length. La Sombra looked up and smiled.

"So they will know who came." He lit a corner of the powder, and it fizzled along the lines, splitting in two at the crossover and scorching an X into the ground. Then, brushing powder from his hands, La Sombra straightened and looked at Horatio. "I will come with you to the second encampment. You need the help." There was a glint of amusement in his eye, and Horatio laughed.

"Lord knows I would be glad of the company."