Blood and Famine (Man of Conflict Series, Book 4)

by Andrew Wareham

Sergeant Exton left, at the double, abandoning the fire and the steaming tea.

  “How sure was Mr Melksham, Sergeant Exton?”

  Courtesy demanded that Septimus phrase the question that way – all ideas had to come from an officer; that was regulation. He knew it was almost a certainty that Exton had made the observations and had drawn the conclusions from them, but his officer had sent him with the message.

  “They didn’t go up the hillside, sir, not where we were, and that was as big a track as any, or so I would say. You saw that they didn’t go along the river the way you went, sir. There ain’t no other place left, sir.”

  “I must speak to the brigadier. Come with me, Sergeant Exton.”

  Septimus could not run without creating panic in the camp, but he walked quite quickly.

  “Sir, we have some reason to suppose that the company patrol sent out by the Wiltshires will run into the French in large numbers somewhere down to the south west, and not so far away, either. Sergeant Exton here will explain what Lieutenant Melksham has discovered.”

  Colonel Dudley listened and was forced to agree that there was a problem; he did not like the discovery.

  “The redoubts in the woodland face all ways, sir, but brigade and the surgeons and the Wiltshires are exposed, sir. The wall will be no protection, sir.”

  “Dig a second ditch and wall?”

  “Quickly, sir. The Wiltshire’s patrol may stir up a response.”

  Dudley stepped to the outside of his tent and bellowed for Colonel Watson. The shovels were in use ten minutes later.

  “I could set men to work with axes, sir, add timber to the wall.”

  “Make it so, Sir Septimus. The New Foresters as well. Should we put a stop out, a furlong, perhaps a quarter of a mile down the river? Two companies in square, echeloned, to forbid the river banks to cavalry?”

  “They could run into the trees if guns were brought up, or at the sight of a large force of foot… It would make good sense, sir.”

  “We need the shovels of the Wiltshires. Two companies of the New Foresters? Taken from those who were unengaged at the ford?”

  The runner sped off with the order and two companies were moving in less than half an hour, a very sharp response. The first trees were felled and dragged out onto the turf and left untrimmed in front of the line of the ditch that was already a foot deep from waterside to treeline.

  “Twenty trees will slow cavalry to a walk, sir. Forty, piled on each other and set zig-zag, will need infantry to clear the way.”

  “Quite, Sir Septimus. I have ordered the guns to reverse their trails and the howitzers to range about fifty yards from the new ditch.”

  It seemed that Dudley no longer needed a hand held; Septimus was quite pleased and returned to his own people.

  The Wiltshires’ patrol came in well before dusk, having penetrated no more than five miles downstream. The report was made to the brigadier, all commanding officers present.

  They had seen no French troops but had passed two burned-out villages. They had seen the marks left by horses rather than the local mules or donkeys, suspected that cavalry were often to be discovered in the area.

  “Thirty or forty horses, sir. A troop, probably, sent out early in the morning, we thought, sir.”

  The captain of the Wiltshire’s company knew nothing of such matters himself, but said that he had a man who had been a poacher until he had been caught and the magistrates in Devizes had made him a soldier.

  “He said he was sure that the hoofprints had been made while the dew was on the ground, sir – though how he could tell, I know not – and if that was so then, if they had set out in daylight, that could not have been more than a mile from their encampment. Not wishing to march into the arms of a regiment of cavalry, sir, I withdrew from the locality.”

  “Wise move, young man. We suspect the full brigade we have been chasing might be there or close to. Did you see the ruts left by gun wheels?”

  “No, sir, but the ground becomes harder, sir, quite close to this camp. The soil gets thinner, sir – much less grass cover – and the rock is close to the surface and the track itself is almost bare stone. The horses of the cavalry kept more to the softer going on either side of the track.”

  “No telling then. Thank you, captain.”

  There was nothing to be garnered from the captain’s report; there might be a brigade six miles away, but there was not at five miles.

  “I shall order stand-to for half an hour before dawn, gentlemen. It is not unlikely that the French know we are here; indeed, we can assume that as a given. The remnants of the party holding at the ford here will have gone in and they will have had time to send men quietly through the woods to take a look at us. They may, or may not, choose to attack us when they conclude that we have been ordered to hold this position and advance no further. Would you expect a night attack, gentlemen?”

  The three heads shook; night fighting was a very chancy business, particularly in wooded areas where units could easily wander astray.

  “Attacking a wall of a fortress or town, sir, with lights and movement and a trench line to jump off from, well, that can be done, sir. But to advance on an unlit camp on the edge of a forest, yourself perhaps exposed in the moonlight and them all in darkness… Not my idea of how to spend a night, sir!”

  “Nor mine, thinking on it, Sir Septimus. More like to come at us in the dawn, I believe.”

  But no force attacked them next morning, or the one after, by which time they were protected by a very substantial wall and abatis. The colonels and Major Howton gathered in the brigadier’s tent for another discussion.

  “They know we are here, gentlemen, or so we assume, but we do not know where they are.”

  “Sounds like the nursery game we was used to play, sir!”

  Septimus noted that as probably the first spontaneous comment Colonel Watson had ever made; it was not very helpful.

  “I rather doubt the French are playing, sir! We need to discover more than we currently know, Colonel Watson, preferably without losing men in process. Have you any suggestions, sir?”

  Septimus sat back on his camp stool; the Wiltshire’s commanding officer had grown into the role, it would seem, and had not taken too long to do so. He had been at fault in his initial impression of the man – had discounted him for being a sprig of the gentry and had not looked beyond his accent and mannerisms. It had been easy enough to make the mistake – so many younger sons of the aristocracy were fools that one expected all to be. Lord Wellington was not an idiot, and his brother was a marquis; this man might be of some quality as well.

  Colonel Watson thought slowly, a habit of his, but then, to their surprise, came up with a suggestion.

  “My Light Company, sir, for being trained as skirmishers, are the ones to do the job. Send them down the river for four miles, covering the ground quickly, then put them into cover in their pairs and send them the rest of the way, however far it is, slowly and cautiously. Orders to observe but not to engage unless they can take a prisoner or two without being seen. Not to alert the Frogs, sir, and cause them to come chasing out of their camps. The captain keeps a notebook, sir, in a pocket of his coat, with a pencil, and he will write down all that he sees, so as not to forget the details!”

  Colonel Watson seemed to regard his captain’s literacy with some awe; perhaps it was uncommon in his battalion.

  “Jolly good show, Colonel Watson. The idea of writing things down would not occur to most officers, I am quite certain, sir. When do you propose to send your men out?”

  “Why, now, sir. Plenty of time left today – it is only early yet!”

  They waited silently and Colonel Watson realised that they expected him to leave and set about his business immediately; he pulled himself to his feet and exchanged salutes punctiliously – he was very smart in his courtesies, they had noticed – and marched himself off to his own people.

  “A fine figure of an officer, gentlemen! Let us trust he may be a
little more than that. Your people have established that there are French pickets along the hilltops lining the valley, Sir Septimus. We know that there is large presence over the far hills. We are under the impression that there is a substantial force down the river. Such being the case, we might consider ourselves to be somewhat exposed in our current position. Should we perhaps beg a little in the way of assistance, do you think?”

  They debated the point, quietly and dispassionately, concluded that another battalion of infantry would be unnecessary for their defence and insufficient for an advance, and that a second brigade, and a major-general to command the new division thus formed, would still be small for any realistic aggression and far too great to fit in on the open land available to them.

  “Essentially, sir, we have a stalemate. We cannot practically advance, and have no wish to retire. We are performing a useful function by making the French nervous about their flank and rear. We may be able to patrol aggressively and increase their disquiet the meanwhile. When the army moves, then we can snap at the heels of the retiring troops. Other than that, we have little to do, I fear.”

  Major Howton agreed with Septimus; they were to represent a threat, hopefully of unknown proportions to the French. He suggested that they should sweep the woodlands and endeavour to keep them free of French scouting parties, thus to increase their ignorance and hopefully make them fearful that they were hiding a build-up of strength on the river.

  “We may be able to turn some of their attention away from the main thrust of the army, sir, and that will be useful to Lord Wellington.”

  “It might well be. I shall ensure that my reports to headquarters remind them of that fact. We must not be forgotten, gentlemen, out of sight in an irrelevant sector of the country – that would do none of us good!”

  The Wiltshire’s Light Company came back to camp an hour after dusk, by which time all were convinced they had been discovered, overwhelmed, utterly destroyed. There was a mixture of relief and irritation as they strolled in, obviously wholly untouched.

  Colonel Watson made his report, all gathered together in the brigadier’s tent again. The guard detachment outside stared blank-faced into the night, as was only proper, unawares of anything their betters were saying, their ears straining for every word. The whole camp would be informed of all that the Wiltshires had seen, no doubt with suitable embellishments as occurred to the sentries’ imaginations.

  “The French are six miles away, sir. The valley debouches onto a significant plain, good farming land, my man says, and he suggests there is a full corps in camp there, upwards of twenty thousand of all arms. He believed he could observe three separate divisions of foot and a brigade of cavalry. Substantial presence of guns, as always with the French, though he could not give exact numbers. The commissary, he says, appeared under-size for so many men. He would have expected far more in the way of wagons and beast of burden and of stores tents.”

  “Well observed. The French have always lived off the land rather than supplied their men with rations. It would seem that they are intending still to do so, but they will not find that so easy in Portugal and Spain as they did in Italy and the Germanies. Did your captain observe any foraging parties, Colonel Watson?”

  “Not in this direction, sir. There may have been horse out over the far hills, of course.”

  Brigadier Dudley thought for a few seconds, returned to the question of victuals.

  “If they cannot feed themselves, then they must move elsewhere. How permanent did the encampment feel? Were the draught animals up or pastured at a distance? What of the gun teams?”

  Colonel Watson could not give a certain answer; those points had not occurred to his man as being of importance.

  Man of Conflict Series

  BOOK FOUR

  Chapter Nine

  “The fact remains, Sir Septimus, that we are a single brigade with two batteries attached. That leaves us mighty thin on the ground if, for example, the Frogs decide that they might fancy another line of communication with the rear of the next corps to them. This valley is a sensible route for their people to follow and they might find the need to clear us out. Was we, to find ourselves pinched between columns from both sides, then we might be very hard-pressed, sir; more than that, I suspect.”

  “It could well be an embarrassment, I agree, sir, and we might well find ourselves forced back across the river, or, far worse, split up, part of the brigade retreating into the woodland, the rest by way of the ford.”

  They pondered that last prospect and discovered it to be very unpleasant. Colonel Dudley would have lost the bulk of his command and Septimus would find himself with a drastically thinned battalion scattered over a large part of Portugal.

  Colonel Dudley pressed his advantage, hoping that there might be agreement to a tactical withdrawal, at least to the other side of the ford where a sensible retreat would be far easier. He had an uneasy suspicion that their current position left little alternative to a gallant last stand, which was not a prospect he fancied.

  “We really need more guns, and could use an extra battalion at least, able to face either way at need to defend our makeshift fort. Failing that, I really do not see this side of the ford to be tenable.”

  Major Howton intervened, anxious that Septimus might not be driven to a more than usually tactless comment.

  “Yet, sir, we do not wish, ideally, to go running to Lord Wellington begging that he might hold our hands… As for relinquishing a position we have been ordered to remain in – that is unthinkable! Nor do we truly desire another brigade to join us so that we become no longer an independent entity. This is a moment when it would be very handy indeed to have a couple of hundred men from the Second Battalion come marching in, fresh from a troopship.”

  They pondered that likelihood, dismissed it. Was such a reinforcement to appear in Lisbon it would probably be snapped up and added to a Battalion of Detachments, given a number and sent off to join the main army, never to be seen again by their own regiment.

  Inspiration struck; a compromise, surprisingly coming from Septimus.

  “Sir, the Castle is no longer at our front. Its garrison is to a great extent redundant. What if we was to enquire of the Portuguese there whether they might not wish to go to war at our sides. They have a dozen of fortress guns, nine and twelve pounders, as well. There are draught oxen taken from the Frogs over winter which could be put to use. The nine pounders could easily be brought away, oxcarts used as limbers perhaps. The twelve pounders might not take well to the hills but we know that it is possible to move the nines over the tracks. I never took an exact count of the Portuguese; somewhere in the neighbourhood of five hundred, I believe. Could we persuade as many as one half of them to join us, then we would have our access of strength, and with no inconvenient senior officers either.”

  The brigadier thought the matter over; he did not like the prospect of commanding foreign troops, for one could never wholly trust them, not being English, poor souls. Six long-barrelled fortress guns, capable of throwing ball or grape further than their field guns by at least one tenth, would be very welcome. Two hundred more muskets firing their volleys, if they could be taught that little trick, would be more than handy. On balance, if they could be persuaded, showed a willing spirit, then they would be useful.

  “How will we get them to join us, Sir Septimus?”

  “You will ride back, sir, and ask them as senior officer. Their pride might be offended if a messenger of lesser status were sent, but you in person telling them that we would much appreciate their aid, that would be to pander to their wish to be important in their own country. I have a feeling that they might be willing to go to war – they have taken much harm from the foreigners fighting across their country and might well be pleased to have the chance to take action.”

  The brigadier thought long before he announced his intentions that evening and handed over command to Colonel Watson, the senior man, when he rode out in the morning.

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sp; Colonel Watson did not, he thought, shy away from the prospect of senior command, yet he could have wished that his immediate underlings had not been so much more experienced than he in the field.

  “How long will Colonel Dudley be away for, Sir Septimus?”

  “One day to ride to the Castle, sir. Then to discuss all with the Portuguese and, if they choose to come, to organise them. Setting the guns in motion will not be quickly done, I suspect. I would be pleasantly surprised was he to take fewer than five days to get them on the road, the track, that is. Two days, perhaps three, to get over the hills and along the track this far. Not less than eight days, is my estimate, Colonel Watson.”

  The acting-brigadier seemed less than delighted at the prospect of a full week, more perhaps, in sole command. He seemed to Septimus to be attempting to share the burden. It was as well, Septimus thought, to show willing to assist, to offer very obvious cooperation, to diligently act the role of loyal junior; but if anything went wrong, it would be made very clear to outside eyes just who bore the responsibility.

  “I suspect we should continue to patrol the woodland and the hillsides, do not you think so, Sir Septimus?”

  “No change in our routines; that will be best, Colonel Watson. We must not alert the Frogs to any change in our circumstances. But we should recognise your promotion, sir, celebrate it, in fact. Will you dine with us tonight, sir? My officers have bought a goat from the men who found it straying on the hillside yesterday. I do not know what currency they used for the transaction, though I much suspect that a barrel or two of wine may have figured in it. Suffice it to say that there is roast goat tonight, and the Quartermaster has come up with Irish potatoes, I am told, and there are beans and onions. A feast, in fact!”

  There was wine of drinkable quality and a particularly potent brandy to follow that sent half of the officers present into a very deep night’s sleep and a painful awakening in the morning. It was an excellent dinner, they all thought, much later next day; they had all raised their glasses to their interim, acting brigadier, more than once.