Nine: Confusion
Horatio hoped La Sombra was nearby. There were more revolutionaries than he could handle and he would appreciate the extra pair of expert eyes. But, without any sign of the masked man, he had to hope for the best. He noted the target and assessed the distance. They were sure to be noticed if they tried to get to it in secret – and there were too many to fight. He looked over his shoulder, hoping for the familiar grin and sharp wit.
"Sir?" Horak questioned. "Do you wish us to proceed sir?" Horatio shook his head.
"No." They had been sitting in hiding for nearly fifteen minutes, and the men were restless. He had to make a decision either way soon, or else risk losing respect. "I… I have an idea. Follow me." He suddenly announced, leading the Irish midshipman away from the other crew. "I want you to send a signal."
"What kind of signal?" Horak looked bewildered. Horatio paused a second more – what signal would La Sombra recognise?
"I want you to make an X shape – very visible. Can you do that?" Horak nodded, and the captain knew the man had enough initiative to create it. "Good. I will lead the men on an attack. Join us as soon as you've finished."
"Yessir. Good luck, sir." Horak disappeared, and Horatio rejoined the rest of the crew, drawing his sword and pistol.
"Everybody ready?" They all nodded eagerly. "Right… CHARGE!" They stood and ran towards the astonished French, Horatio praying that La Sombra would see the signal in time. As he fired his pistol he saw a smoke signal floating in the air – Horak had somehow controlled the smoke to form a cross in the sky. It was brief, but the captain hoped it was enough. It was quickly becoming clear that the charge had been a mistake. The French were beating them back, and there were already six dead. "Dammit!" Horatio cursed to himself as he saw Horak join the fray. Battling his way over, he managed to give an encouraging grin. "Well done, sir."
"I hope it works, cap'n." The midshipman replied fiercely, throwing off a Frenchman with his sword.
"As do I." Horatio muttered, wondering where in God's name La Sombra was. "Hotspurs! To me!" He called, trying to rally his scattered men in a last ditch attempt to reach the target. He heard a roar nearby, and a thundering of hooves. Not cavalry! He thought wildly, hopelessly. To his left suddenly emerged five black chargers, seventeen hands with huge pounding hooves and rolling eyes. Leading the charge was La Sombra himself, sword singing as it span in the air. Laughing, Horatio pressed forward with renewed vigour – the man was certainly full of surprises. After the arrival of the horses, the French lost heart and began to retreat. Face to face with the commander of the revolutionary troops, Horatio tilted his sword at his neck. "Do you surrender?" He demanded. The fighting froze as all turned to watch. "Do you surrender, sir?" He repeated. Slowly, reluctantly, the commander turned his sword so that the hilt faced Horatio. The captain took it, to the simultaneous clatter of dropped weapons. "Mr Horak. Detain these men." Horatio smiled. He wiped dirt and sweat from his face as he turned to La Sombra, who was dismounting his giant horse. They bowed. "Just in time, sir." The captain received a laugh in reply.
"I am sorry for the delay, sir. Though I rather did appreciate the signal. Very inventive."
"I admit it was mostly my midshipman's doing, but thank you."
"I hope you can handle yourself from here. Though someone such as yourself does seem to put himself in rather… compromising positions." Horatio didn't miss the mirth in his voice and chuckled.
"I would appreciate the company."
"Then I will not disappoint." La Sombra bowed low, waving a hand. "After you." Horatio grinned at the high spirits, and headed for the target. A tent… Inside the tent lay a chest and he used his sword to break the lock. It was filled with papers, paintings, books and even jewellery.
"Loot from the houses in this area." Horatio explained to the guerrilla. He picked up some papers and looked at them closely. "And vital revolutionary plans, it seems. They are not too particular about where they keep it, obviously." He tucked the papers safely in his breast pocket. He straightened and looked at the rest of the loot. "It would be a shame to lose such valuables." He mused.
"I'm sure some of my men could make use of them, if you don't mind." La Sombra suggested. "In a republican country, there is little money to be had and such finery as that would pay for much." The masked man leant down and picked up a painting, holding it out and sighing wistfully. "It is certainly very beautiful artwork."
"You like art?" Horatio couldn't help but sound surprised.
"Very much so."
"Then I am sure you would keep some of these for your own purposes." His companion shook his head sadly, putting the painting back.
"Alas, no. My home is no place for such… controversial things." The words were carefully placed, and Horatio pondered on them, but said nothing. "Come, now is not the time to linger. These parts are rife with French." La Sombra left the tent first, and was replaced by two of his men, who lifted the chest and disappeared with it. Horatio never saw it again.
He walked alongside La Sombra's charger, conversing lightly with the man. He was quick and intelligent and perceptive, and seemed to know more than he let on – even by Horatio's reckoning. With the target papers safely tucked inside his coat, Horatio felt confident. Bonaparte would certainly have a surprise when he discovered that the English knew his every move. Another horse trotted near, and the captain recognised the rider as Bernard – or, at least, thought it was, but with the soot it was so hard to tell the difference.
"Il y a des républicains en avant. Ils ne savent pas que nous sommes ici. Encore." La Sombra started in surprise, and Horatio – who knew a little French – translated mentally… Republicans ahead, though they knew nothing of their party yet.
"Prenez les chevaux. Cachez-les et prenez la formation. Attendez mon signal." The leader replied quickly, dismounted and throwing the reins to Bernard.
"Oui. Hommes! Formation de prise! Vite, allez!" Bernard shouted, and there was an eruption of activity from the blackened fighters. La Sombra looked to Horatio.
"You attract trouble like flies, sir." The captain laughed.
"So it would seem!" A grin flashed behind the mask, and then was gone, the man shouting instructions as he rushed ahead.
"Hide your men, we'll get you out." And then he was gone – Horatio truly thought he was a ghost sometimes.
"Well you heard him. Hide yourselves. Wait for my signal to move, and then get to the boats as quick as you can." With that, he followed the trail of the shadowy figure.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
After a berating from La Sombra for following, the pair lay low in a thicket of ferns, the soft leaves brushing their cheeks. He could hear his heart beating and felt his pulse thrumming against his throat, his palms cold but his brow hot. Adrenaline pumped through him so hard it made his hands tremble. His gold-flecked brown eyes were fixed on the scene below, trained for any sign of movement. His was distracted briefly as his companion brushed arms, sending thrills shocking through his shoulder and across his skin. Horatio swallowed hard – frightened by it. Elizabeth, he thought furiously, think of Elizabeth… It calmed him mentally, but his heart beat faster. He heard La Sombra shift slightly.
"Signal for your men to retreat." The leader breathed. Horatio nodded, twisted his hand and waved his hand. Swiftly, his men began to move, heading for the boats and safety. They were soon opposite him and the guerrilla, making their way downwards.
"ICI!" Shouted an excited voice from the pair's right. La Sombra swore angrily, and Horatio felt a jolt of dismay that his men had been spotted, and musket fire broke apart branches as the crew ran hell-for-leather down the slope.
"Damn you navy!" The leader hissed. He pulled himself onto his feet, still crouching. He looked seriously at Horatio. "Go with your men, now." His voice was deadly.
"I'm not going to leave –"
"Yes you are, damn you!" He received a hefty shove. As Horatio stumbled away, he looked back at his friend.
"Thank you." He couldn't express the gratification he felt enough. La Sombra grinned.
"Just say the word and I'll come running." He replied. He leant forward and landed a quick, fleeting kiss on the captain's lips. Horatio nearly choked in shock. La Sombra, a… no… The black-clad man was already gone, leaping into the air and screaming: "OI! AHOY!" The republicans below yelped in excitement and shots cracked around the guerrilla. Spurring his feet into action, the captain of the Hotspur, ran, his mind racing in a whirl of confusion. A man had just kissed him… but what bewildered him more was his lack of disgust… those lips…
"Elizabeth!" He hissed to himself furiously. "I won't… I am not…" He finished neither sentence, feeling the implication was too serious if he did. He reached the beach mere paces behind his men, and threw himself against a boat, pushing against the waves as they dragged the boats out to sea and into safety. He was silent on the return, and barely acknowledged the men before disappearing into his cabin, deep in thought. This was too much to contemplate. He had to rest… to forget.
