One substantial building in particular stood a full three stories high, only twenty feet away from the foot of the walls. The roof and substantial chimneys of this house rose to a peak less than fifteen feet below the battlements. Lieutenant Vere led his squad directly to the rear of this house, which was showing no lights or any other signs of life. Either the occupants had retired early to bed or perhaps were away. One of the windows yielded to pressure and the smallest man in the squad squeezed through. Seconds later the door was unbolted and the men searched quickly through the house for signs of anyone in residence.
The owners were obviously away, leaving everything in the care of an old servant, who was awakened, swiftly reassured that he was in no danger, told to remain quiet and locked in his own bedroom. Vere led the way to the attic where a dormer window led directly out onto the grey slates of the sloping roof.
All the men removed their knapsacks, retaining only their arms and ammunition pouches. They scrambled out onto the roof, making their way warily to the ridge and gathered by one of the stout chimneys, rising in twisted artistry from the end of the roof. Vere checked his watch before climbing out to join them and reaching out to touch a tall, powerful man on the shoulder. The man nodded at the signal and began to coil a long length of strong rope, to the end of which was attached a small, steel-pronged grapnel.
When the rope was coiled to his satisfaction, he stood braced with his feet either side of the roof ridge, swinging the grapnel easily as he measured the distance to the battlements and waited for the order to throw.
As they waited and as if on cue, the sound of loud argument, shouting and fighting came from a point some two hundred yards away. The noise swelled, together with the sound of running feet and started to die away as Vere gave the signal to the waiting man, who swung the grapnel with one easy motion and hurled it over the parapet above. The grapnel had twine whipped along most of its length and landed without a clatter.
The second man, who was anchoring the end of the rope, carefully took up the slack and pulled gently. The grapnel caught and gave, caught again and slipped a few inches, then caught a third time and appeared to have gained a solid purchase. He hauled strongly on the rope and finding no more give, quickly threw a hitch around the chimney stack. The lightest man was ready. He handed his flintlock to his friend and went up the rope hand over hand, easing himself carefully over the parapet.
The next man was on his way as soon as the leader’s weight was off the rope and he too disappeared onto the battlements. A stout cord had been attached to him and as his hand waved, those on the roof released a cradle holding their flintlocks, which were quickly pulled up, followed one by one, by the rest of the squad.
Without waiting for orders the first two men onto the battlements rapidly and stealthily moved in different directions searching for the sentries who had been lured away by the commotion in the town. They were speedily followed by the next two, all of them fading into the deeper shadows of the crenellations and embrasures.
The disturbance below had now completely died away and the sentries once more spread themselves around their patrol area. One by one they experienced a steely arm encircling their throats, cutting off their breath. At the same time, the needle sharp point of a knife, pricking under their chins, discouraged any noise or struggle while they were swiftly gagged and bound.
Within minutes the six sentries had been silenced and Lieutenant Vere led the way silently down the steps towards the guardroom, sending four men to cover the barrack quarters and two more to secure the magazine.
There were ten more men and a sergeant in the guardroom. Only the sergeant was awake, the others snatching whatever sleep they could before being called for their own spell of guard duty. The sergeant was overpowered before he realised anyone was present and Vere’s men quietly collected all the weapons as a preliminary to waking each man in turn, binding them and leaving them gagged.
Once all the guards were secured, one man was left to watch them while the rest made for the main gate, overpowered the two gate men and admitted the second party, who by this time were gathered outside. They spread out through the fortress, searching for any stray sentries not yet accounted for, and any other residents who might still be awake. Twenty silent minutes after the grapnel had been thrown; the castle was effectively in the hands of the invaders.
In the dining room, Welbeloved had finished pacing and was contemplating the two snoring figures. He consulted his pocket watch once more and grinned with amusement while walking across and shaking them both vigorously. The colonel was most reluctant to wake up, clutching his head and groaning. His groans quickly turned into a petulant outburst.
“What the devil’s up, Welbeloved? Can’t you let a feller rest after a good supper?” he took the glass of brandy that Welbeloved had thoughtfully poured and drained it at a gulp.
“Take it easy, Colonel. Yew’ll be givin’ yorself a stroke else.” Welbeloved still looked highly amused. “I woke yew because I’m going to have to leave yew now.” He tapped his pocket. “These orders from the Admiralty mean I’m to take my men and sail south and I know yew wouldn’t want me to go before we’d settled our little wager.”
Forsythe shook his head to try and clear his brain. Grudgingly, “at least you’re acting the gentleman, Captain. I’ll be happy to take your note if you haven’t got the cash with you. Mind you, it’s been like taking pennies from a blind beggar. You had no chance this side of hell of proving that your mob of vagabonds were as good as my regulars.”
“Better, Colonel, better! The wager was that I’d show yew they were better. Not just as good as.”
“Oh stuff, Welbeloved. Don’t quibble. You had not one hope this side of the grave of proving one or the other. Just give me your note of hand and let me get to bed. My head's splitting.”
“Well I’ll tell yew what, Colonel. I was rather hoping yew would be payin’ me that hundred guineas. After all, I promised my lads that we’d have a party on the proceeds and I wouldn’t want to disappoint them. I expect that’ll be them now, comin’ to collect.”
Right on cue, there was a loud knocking on the door and the three menservants were ushered in, in front of Lieutenant Vere and three armed men. While Forsythe looked on with bulging eyes, Vere marched smartly forward, stopped in front of Welbeloved and saluted. “Have to report sir, the castle is under our control. The guard, the gate and the magazine are in our hands and the rest of the garrison is locked in the barrack rooms. A charge and powder train has been laid into the magazine. We await your further orders sir.”
Welbeloved was looking very serious now as he turned to face an apoplectic Forsythe. “What do yew say, Colonel? Shall I tell this young man to light the fuse to the magazine, or are yew prepared to concede that my gang of ruffians - yor own description, Colonel - have caught yor pretty soldiers with their breeches round their ankles and can blow them all sky high? Against odds of more than ten to one, Colonel. I reckon that makes my lads better; don’t yew think so?”
It wasn’t the expression on Forsythe’s face that caused a look of concern to show on Welbeloved’s, but the dark purple of his cheeks and temples and the bulging of his eyes, before he exploded in monumental wrath.
Even Winterton, who had much experience with the Colonel’s temper, stood with his mouth agape, while imprecations and oaths flooded out at the top of his voice until he ran out of breath and had perforce to halt the flow.
Welbeloved took advantage of the momentary pause to interject. “‘Tis a pity yew’re takin’ it so badly, Colonel. After all it is only the sort of operation my men have been trained for, and if they can do this to yor garrison, just think what they’ll do to the French when I let ‘em loose against them.”
This merely provoked another tirade, although not of quite the same intensity, and while everyone looked on in amazement, it tapered away into a fit of laughter? Forsythe spluttered and coughed, but there was no doubt he was actually laughing. He wiped his eyes and to
ok a deep breath. “Begad, Welbeloved, you’ve made us all look a proper bunch of fools. By rights I should call you out, but I must admit you’ll have taught my men a lesson they’ll never forget. Mind you,” his eyes glinted nastily, “there will be some heads rolling in the morning.”
He walked over to a bureau. “You’ll accept my note of hand for your money?” Welbeloved nodded gravely. “Thank yew kindly, Colonel. It’ll go towards a celebration. My lads could do with some relaxation after their efforts over the last six months.”
Forsythe handed over the note and turned to Vere, but spoke to Welbeloved. “This young man looks like a vagrant but talks like a gentleman. You’d better introduce him. I’d like to know the name of the man who’s made me the laughing stock of the army.”
Welbeloved twitched his eyebrows wryly. “Very well, Colonel. Permit me to name Lieutenant Lord George Vere.”
Forsythe looked startled. “Did you say Lord Vere?” He thought for a while. “You must be the son of Viscount Castlelough. I thought you were in the Prince of Wales’s set?”
Vere smiled mirthlessly. “Not for long, Colonel. Couldn’t afford to gamble against Prinnie, don’t you know. He don’t stay friendly for long if you forget to let him win nine times out of ten.” He didn’t add that he couldn’t even afford to keep up with the Prince of Wales’s set. His father’s estates in Ireland were mortgaged up to the hilt and the pitiful rents collected – more often in default – from his tenants hardly kept his head above water.
The title however, obviously went some way further to mollify Forsythe whose tone became much more obsequious. “At least before you go Gentlemen, you owe me an explanation of how you managed to take over a manned and guarded fortress. Egad, it seems to me that if you can do it, there’s no reason why the Frogs couldn’t. And it wouldn’t only be my dignity that would suffer in that event.”
Welbeloved conceded the justice of the request and he, Vere and Forsythe sat down amicably to relive the assault, after arranging the release of all the captives.
CHAPTER 3
Poppy had beaten south through the Irish Sea against stiff south-westerly winds. The orders from the Admiralty required Welbeloved to report personally in London and he had decided to head for Southsea and post up to town, leaving the schooner handily placed for whatever eventuality Admiral Harrison had planned for him.
Welbeloved had no very clear idea what Harrison’s full duties entailed. He seemed to have no official position at the Admiralty, yet had fingers in every venture that was going. Not only naval ventures. Indeed, it was well known that he had the ear of the Duke of York, whose life’s ambition was the creation, by reform, of an efficient modern army.
He remembered his first encounter with the admiral. It was while Welbeloved was still a lieutenant and during a visit to England with Captain Cockburn after their joint participation in the campaign against Bonaparte and the French in the Holy Land, culminating at the siege of Acre. Welbeloved’s experience as a boy in America; helping his father while scouting for the British army against the rebels; had given him fighting and woodcraft skills the equal of any indian. In addition, his Ferguson breech-loading rifle, inherited when his father was killed, gave him a weapon that was far more accurate and efficient than any of the small arms he had yet encountered, even though it was now over thirty years old.
Welbeloved had participated in the campaign in Egypt and Syria, training and leading a small band of sailors and marines, and assisting the Turks by raising bands of Turkish irregulars. His efforts had made an important contribution to the successful outcome of this campaign, which had eventually forced Bonaparte to retreat to Egypt with the remains of his army.
Cockburn’s report on their successes had been passed from Lord Nelson to Lord Keith and then to the Admiralty where Harrison had read it with considerable interest. They had both been summoned to the Admiralty where Harrison and Welbeloved had spent several hours discussing his ideas on the use of specialised forces in war.
Since that time there had been no contact until almost a year ago, upon his promotion to Post Captain. Welbeloved was cynically amused that his promotion; although well-earned and overdue; was more in the nature of a compliment to his captain after a series of successful actions, than in recognition of his own abilities and achievements. It was traditional in the Royal Navy for the second-in-command of a successful captain to be promoted in this way.
The honour was however, in the nature of a two edged sword in that it had other, less welcome consequences. Welbeloved and Cockburn, now of equal rank, could no longer continue their triumphant and successful partnership. On the other hand, Welbeloved had very little ‘interest’ or influence he could bring to bear and was unlikely to be given a ship of his own.
At a time when most of the officers in the navy of King George III had to rely on the interest they could bring to bear through family or friends in high places in order to secure coveted appointments and promotions, Welbeloved was in the situation of being an American loyalist. He was an American who had remained loyal to the crown and had paid the penalty when the Colonies had gained their independence. No longer welcome in his own country, he was little more esteemed in England, as being the representative of one of the few countries that had successfully given England a bloody nose.
At a time when even Nelson himself had had to rely on the influence of an uncle in a high position to secure his promotion to captain, the prospects of a newly promoted, but relatively unknown American officer without a ship, were not great. He could settle down on half pay and pester the Admiralty in the hope that something suitable could eventually be found for him to command. He could perhaps come to terms with the fact that he was unlikely to be employed in the navy again and offer his services to command one of the number of privateers that were being commissioned by wealthy entrepreneurs to prey on enemy shipping.
He had been fortunate in the matter of prize money while sailing with Cockburn and could quite easily afford to retire and live the life of a country gentleman, but this did not appeal to him at all. Some years before, his wife and child had been brutally murdered by the colonel in command of a French cavalry unit in Italy. There was nothing left to attract him to a bucolic life on his own, and in any case he nurtured a well-controlled but burning desire to continue the fight against the French tyranny that had devastated Europe and his own life for so many years now.
That was when Admiral Harrison had approached him again and reopened the discussions they had first started eight or nine years previously. The admiral’s aim was to raise a small specialised unit which could be used for particular operations against the enemy, where conventional forces, either army or navy, would be inappropriate.
Both Harrison and Welbeloved had watched with keen interest, the development of the new rifle companies and the first concessions to camouflage by the introduction of their dark green uniforms. Welbeloved was nevertheless critical of the standard issue Baker rifle, which although very accurate, was a muzzle-loader, and in his opinion, cumbersome in use.
The very nature of the rifled barrel meant that the balls had to be a tight fit and could not be rolled home when loading, as was possible with smooth-bore muskets. Rapidity of fire was curtailed and Welbeloved’s experience with his own treasured Ferguson breech-loading rifle made him disinclined to accept second best.
When Captain Patrick Ferguson had patented it in the 1770’s he had paid from his own pocket to equip his own Company. The new rifle had been a great success in operations against the American rebels and later had demonstrated its outstanding qualities before the powers-that-be in the army. Welbeloved was at a loss to explain why it had never been adopted, putting it down to further evidence of ‘interest’ used against it by some powerful politician or contractor.
Enquiries had revealed that the Nock company, makers of flintlocks for smallarms had been involved in the original manufacture, and could be persuaded to produce another batch for Welbeloved’s men; although Welbe
loved had to dig into his own funds to pay for them. There was already considerable resistance to this irregular force and neither the army nor the navy was willing to provide the money for special arms.
Now however, every man in his squad had an accurate rifle that could deliver up to five rounds every minute, and in the hands of a good marksman, take the ace out of a playing card at two hundred yards. It had a calibre of .68, and when loading, the breech plug screwed out by the simple expedient of swinging the trigger-guard finial three-quarters of a turn. Ball and powder were fed directly into the breech, the finial returned to its original position, screwing the breech-plug back in. Finally the pan was primed and the rifle was ready to fire. Welbeloved had used his own Ferguson many times with devastating effect, and was impatient to see what his trained squad could achieve.
A great deal of thought had also gone into the design of the uniform each man wore. Well-made leather boots and gaiters, leather ammunition pouches and knapsacks helped to keep feet and kit as dry as possible. Tunic and trousers were of heavy cloth dyed as closely as possible to resemble the buckskin coats most of the American scouts favoured. All this was topped off with a flat bonnet of the same colour, but in style similar to that worn by highland regiments fifty years before.
A bayonet with a twenty inch blade that could double as a short sword was also a special addition on the new replicas, and each man was allowed to carry one other small weapon of his own choice. Most of these personal weapons were knives of various lengths, but there were at least two small axes with a blade one side and a vicious spike the other.
A Despite of Hornets Page 2
