by J. P. Bowie
Jamie and Tanaka had watched the process from the fort walls. Now Jamie scanned the camp through the eyeglass he’d borrowed from Lieutenant Andrews. “I wonder how easy it would be to reach the colonel’s tent and take him prisoner. That way this would be over in no time at all.” He handed the eyeglass to Tanaka.
“If the colonel’s tent is that larger one in the middle of all the others, I doubt I would use the word easy. He has soldiers all around him. We would have to dispatch half his army in order to get to him. No, Jamie, you need another plan.”
“Well, it was just a thought, and a wee bit of fun though, eh? The haughty colonel reminds me of LeTouque, and remember what we did to him.” Jamie laughed at the memory of the man who had sought revenge for the humiliation he’d suffered at the hands of Antonio, the pirate captain. Being so easily defeated by ‘ruffians’ and being set adrift in a longboat with his fellow officers had been a slight he had never forgotten. Jamie had an inkling that Marchand was cut from the same cloth as LeTouque.
“I remember only too well that he almost separated you from your manhood,” Tanaka said with a wry twist to his voice. “Had I not come along—”
“I know, in the nick o’ time, as you’ve reminded me often enough.” Jamie laughed. “But don’t forget saving it was to both our benefits!”
Tanaka chuckled as he peered through the eyeglass again. “It is interesting that you can talk lightly of such things yet yesterday you ran from us when we spoke of Nashoba and the captain.”
“I didna’ think it was my place to talk of others’ intimacy,” Jamie growled. “I dinna’ care what people do in their own bed, or in this case, in our tent, which you so blithely gave away for the night.”
“To make two people very happy.”
“Aye, well, I’m glad for them of course…”
“And don’t forget how generous Nashoba was to give us shelter that first night in his village.”
“A’ right, a’ right, point taken. There’s no way I’ll win this wee debate, so onto more important matters. We have to come up with a plan to infiltrate the French camp and cause as much mischief as we can. Now, what d’ye think would be the best way to accomplish that?”
Tanaka stared at him. “The way you always do it…sneak in, cause as much mayhem as possible and hopefully don’t get captured. At least, not like the last time.”
“Burning their tents will upset them to start with.” Jamie’s eyes gleamed as an idea came to him. “Nashoba and his men could cause havoc with flaming arrows. Marchand’s ‘big tent’ will make a bonny bonfire.”
Tanaka nodded. “And while the camp is in chaos, we could turn the cannon around and…do you know how to fire a cannon?”
“No…but I wager the captain’s a dab hand at it.” Jamie chuckled. “If we ask him nicely, o’course.”
Tanaka frowned. “Is that a good idea? What if things go wrong and he is injured…or worse? The fort would be without its commander.”
“Aye, you’re right. I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to join us, but we shouldna’ put him at risk. Maybe one of the lieutenants will volunteer.”
Matthew listened to Jamie and Tanaka’s plan with wide eyes. “Your tactics are certainly unorthodox,” he exclaimed with a certain amount of admiration.
“Has Nashoba returned?” Tanaka asked.
“Yes, and with good news. The Choctaws will fight at his signal. Now I like this idea of yours of using their cannon against them. Do either of you know how to fire a cannon?”
“Unfortunately, not,” Jamie told him. “Perhaps one of your men?”
“I’ll do it.” Matthew’s eyes gleamed and clapped his hands together. “I could do with a bit of excitement.”
“Uh, Captain…” Jamie chose his words carefully, not wanting to sound as if he were trying to take charge of the sortie. “Would that be wise? I mean, I am sure you are adept at firing a cannon and even at some hand-to-hand fighting if it becomes necessary, but if something should happen to you, the men might become disheartened and—”
“Nice try, MacDonald.” Matthew chuckled as he continued, “You mean without me in command, my soldiers will lose the will to fight? I really don’t think so. For one thing, their very lives depend on how well they defend the fort, with or without me.”
“Aye, but I’ve seen the respect they have for you and that goes a long way to boost morale, should it be needed. Ask one of your men to volunteer to go wi’ us and we’ll feel easier knowing that you are not in any immediate danger.”
Matthew’s jaw set in a stubborn line and anger flared in his eyes. “MacDonald, you make it sound like I’m to be coddled behind these walls while you and Tanaka, and no doubt Nashoba along with you, go out to face the enemy. I’ve a good mind to forbid this sortie on the grounds that it’s too dangerous for any one of you to undertake. I know you have the good of me and my men at heart, MacDonald, but I am the commander here and—”
“And a verra good one, Captain,” Jamie interrupted. “That’s why we dinna’ want to lose you to injury or worse unnecessarily.”
Matthew stared at him for a long moment and Jamie wondered if he was considering punching him on the nose for his impudence. Then he laughed lightly and clapped Jamie on the arm. “You’re a rogue with a silver tongue, MacDonald. Very well, I’ll ask for a volunteer to accompany you…and good luck with your endeavor.”
Chapter Eight
Jamie grinned as Lieutenant Andrews, their volunteer fusilier, rubbed his hands together with seeming delight at the prospect of joining the sortie against the French camp.
“Colonel Fowler would never have approved of this kind of thing,” he told Jamie. “How do we get to the cannon? It’s probably guarded well, as it’s their only one.”
“Aye, we have to take those guards out, but we’ll have the advantage of Nashoba and his men causing a wee bit of a diversion. It should keep the Frenchies busy.”
Andrews stared at the Choctaws who were wrapping the tops of their arrows with bits of cloth and hide. “Ah, I see. A fiery diversion.”
“Well, good luck, men,” Matthew said. “We’ll be watching your progress from the walls. If things go awry, I’ll send reinforcements.”
The gate was opened just enough for them all to squeeze through. Keeping low to the ground, they hurried toward the shelter of the nearest trees. Nashoba and his men ran ahead to prepare their arrows for the first onslaught. They had brought flints and would start a small fire with leaves and twigs for their arrows.
As Jamie, Tanaka and Andrews drew near to the outer edges of the camp, four guards could be seen positioned by the cannon. “Two each,” Jamie whispered, “quiet as y’can.”
“I can deal with one,” Andrews protested.
“You deal with the cannon once the fires start,” Jamie said.
Tanaka gave the signal he and Nashoba had agreed upon…the hoot of an owl.
Almost immediately, flaming arrows arced through the darkness, plunging into the midst of the encampment tents. As cries of alarm and outrage were heard, the four soldiers guarding the cannon ran off into the camp.
“That makes it easier,” Jamie muttered and grabbed Andrews by the arm. “Here, we’ll give you a hand.” Between the three of them, they soon had the big gun turned around, facing the French camp. Andrews loaded it quickly, ramming the gunpowder to the breech before inserting a cannonball.
“We’ll only get one shot off,” Andrews panted.
“That should be enough to cause damage that will set them back a day or two,” Jamie muttered, helping Andrews with the flint to ignite the fuse.
“Cover your ears, gents,” Andrews said as he stepped back. The roar of the cannon was followed by an explosion and screams from within the camp.
“That’s it, then,” Jamie exclaimed. “Let’s away afore they regroup and realize it was their own cannon that fired on them.”
Tanaka again signaled Nashoba and his men, and together they ran, heading back to the fort’s gates.
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Matthew was there to congratulate them, relief that they had all returned without injury written plainly on his face. “Well done, all of you. Quick, up on the wall and see what your endeavors have wrought.”
The night sky was lit up, reflecting the conflagration as the French encampment burned. Jamie could swear he heard Marchand screaming louder than anyone else, and even though it might have been his imagination, it gave him a deal of grim satisfaction.
* * * *
Lying next to Tanaka in their tent the following night, Jamie found sleep elusive. Despite their lovemaking, which usually left him sated and ready to rest a while, something seemed off to him. The sortie they’d undertaken to cause damage to the French encampment had been a great success, but Jamie was sure Marchand would desire some kind of revenge…but would he be in a position to mount a sneak attack so quickly after the camp had been near destroyed?
One way to find out. He rose as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb a sleeping Tanaka, and slipped outside the tent. The fort was quiet, the night air chill on his bare skin, and in the light that the moon afforded he could make out the figures of the guards on the ramparts. All seemed well, yet there was still an uneasiness within him. Keeping low to avoid being seen by the guards, he skirted the fort wall. He froze as from fairly close by an owl hooted. Was it the real thing or a signal call? The French used Cherokees as scouts. They could be looking for the fort’s weaknesses, gauging how much manpower it would take to scale the wall.
Damn, but he had to get outside and take a look around. The sudden pressure of a hand on his shoulder almost made him jump out of his skin and he turned, ready to do battle with whoever had snuck up on him so quietly.
“Tanaka, you devil…” Jamie slumped against the wall with relief.
“Why are you out here skulking around on your own?”
“I thought I heard something…no, not really, felt something.”
Tanaka nodded. “I heard the hoot owl, no answering call, but I feel it too.” He tightened his grip on Jamie’s shoulder. “We should alert the captain to possible danger.”
Jamie nodded. “I’d thought of going out to scout around, but you’re right. If Marchand is planning some kind of attack, best Garland knows about it.”
They made their way to the captain’s quarters and knocked on the door. It was answered by a sleepy-eyed Lieutenant Burrows, who stared at them with surprise.
“What’s amiss?” he asked.
“Is the captain awake? We need to speak with him at once.”
“I’m here, MacDonald.” Matthew appeared, shoving his shirt inside his britches. “What d’you have?”
“Something’s not right,” Jamie told him. “Tanaka and I both feel the French are up to no good…a surprise attack, maybe. We canna’ hear anything, but the air is full o’ tension.”
Matthew and Burrows exchanged glances but Matthew nodded. “Let’s take a look from the ramparts. Perhaps Tanaka’s eyes are sharper than our guards’.”
The four men ran to the steps and climbed them swiftly. “See anything moving out there, private?” Matthew asked one of the guards who shook his head.
“No, sir. Quiet as the grave.”
Matthew stared off into the blackness. “Tanaka? D’you see anything? Damned if I do.”
“Nothing,” Tanaka replied, “but the feeling persists.”
“Aye,” Jamie muttered. “Something devilish.”
Just then, the moon that had been hidden by clouds for most of the night appeared, illuminating the ground in front of the fort. Jamie gasped as they could at last see what Marchand had intended them to. Four Choctaw women stood, hands bound behind them, and around their necks a rope held by soldiers. An officer whom Jamie recognized as the young Lieutenant Mercier he had humiliated by kicking him on the arse stood by, his sword unsheathed.
“Captain Garland,” Mercier shouted. “We know you are friends with the Choctaw. These women are the wives of the scouts you have in your fort. Surrender to Colonel Marchand or I will order them shot immediately.”
“Swine,” Matthew hissed. “Has the colonel disavowed himself of the rules of honor?” he asked the lieutenant. “To use the lives of innocent women as bargaining tools? Tell him to come meet me in a duel, weapons of his choice. We’ll see how brave your commander is when faced with a man who is not hiding behind a woman’s skirts.”
“There will be no duel, Captain,” Mercier replied in his heavily accented English. “Open the gates and surrender or the women die.”
“Very well.” He turned to the guards. “Open the gates.” He ran down the steps, Jamie, Burrows and Tanaka at his heels.
“What the devil are you doing?” Jamie asked, keeping up with him apace.
“You’ll see,” he snapped, heading for his quarters. There he buckled on his sword belt and grabbed a pair of gloves. His jaw set with determination, he strode off across the parade ground to the now open gates.
“Captain!” Jamie grabbed at Matthew’s arm. “What is it you’re planning? Tell us and we’ll be at your side.”
“Appreciate that, MacDonald, but I must do this alone.”
“But what is it you’re doing? Taking on the entire French army by yersel’?”
Nashoba joined them, looking both angry and worried. “The scouts told me they have their women. We must parlay with the French to set them free.”
“I don’t think they will listen to any talk.” Matthew gripped Nashoba’s arm for a moment. “Stay here…all of you. If what I have in mind does not work, you have my permission to engage the soldiers and free the women.”
“But—” Jamie’s protest fell on deaf ears as Matthew strode through the gates toward Mercier and the captive women. “What the devil is he doing?”
Matthew knew what he was doing held a high degree of risk, for himself and the women. If Mercier did not respond to his action and ordered the soldiers to shoot him, he could only hope that MacDonald and the others would rescue the women.
Mercier’s expression registered surprise as Matthew approached. Surprise that was quickly followed by shock as Matthew pushed his way past the soldiers, pulled his glove from his sword belt and slapped Mercier hard across the face. Mercier reeled back, a hand to his reddening cheek.
“Your commander will not face me in a duel, so you will have to do instead,” Matthew snapped. “Have your men stand down and face me man to man.”
“How dare you!” Mercier looked wildly around him and it was obvious the thought of dueling with Matthew had him unnerved. Yet, to refuse would diminish him in the eyes of his men who were already staring at him with varying degrees of anticipation.
After a long moment of hesitation, he ordered his men to stand back and pointed his sword at Matthew. “En garde, Captain.”
Matthew drew his sword and made the first move. He knew there would be no time for chivalry or heroics. His goal was to disarm Mercier, not necessarily kill him, and have him order his men to release the women. It became quickly obvious that Mercier was no swordsman. His movements were clumsy and rushed, his thrusts and parries weak, but he was also arrogant enough to be reckless, bearing down on Matthew with wide swipes of his sword, accidentally slicing through the uniformed arm of one of his soldiers.
The man screamed, released the rope he was holding and the Choctaw girl, realizing she was free, ran for the safety of the fort gates. Pandemonium broke out with Mercier screaming to stop her. The soldiers were hampered from firing their rifles by trying to keep the other women tethered. Matthew took advantage of Mercier’s distraction by closing with him, his blade resting on the lieutenant’s smooth throat.
“Tell your men to let the women go,” he rasped, pressing the blade into Mercier’s skin until the blood flowed. “Or I’ll give you an even closer shave than the one you had earlier.” A terrified Mercier could only stammer the words incoherently, but his soldiers, seeing him in trouble, dropped the ropes and surrounded Matthew, bayonets fixed threateningly at his c
hest and back.
He was heartened by Jamie’s yell for Tanaka and Nashoba to follow him now that the women were safe. Nashoba launched himself onto the back of one of the soldiers, dragging him to the ground and, because he was unarmed, pummeling the Frenchman about the face. Jamie and Tanaka dealt with the others while Matthew disarmed Mercier. He was suddenly aware of the sound of running feet. Shots fired from the fort’s ramparts resulted in screams of pain and Matthew realized that a company of soldiers was bearing down on them.
“Back to the fort,” he shouted, “before the blighters are on us.”
He slugged Mercier on the chin with the hilt of his sword, then, as the lieutenant went down, he turned and joined Jamie and the others in their race to the safety of Fort Bligh. The gates were swung shut behind them and the barrage of shots from the ramparts increased. The French returned fire, but in such an exposed position they quickly fell back, taking their dead and wounded with them.
“One more on Marchand’s nose,” Jamie exclaimed, watching the French retreat in the dawn’s gray light. “He’ll not be happy wi’ the outcome.”
“I cannot believe that he would try such a dastardly trick,” Matthew seethed. “To use women in such a vile way. There was no honor in any of that.” He gripped Nashoba’s arm. “Take the scouts and their wives back to their village and have them be prepared for any other sneak attacks.”
Nashoba nodded. “I will return once I have spoken with the elders.” Their eyes met in a look of understanding and Matthew squeezed Nashoba’s arm.
“Be safe,” he murmured.
* * * *
Later that day, the French army was positioned in battle formation, their one cannon to the fore.
“Looks as if they mean business, Captain,” Jamie remarked as they stood side by side on the ramparts.
“They’ll try to bring the gates down and test us with a charge. Risky for them, but Marchand is most likely tired of us making him look a fool.”
