Flashmans' Lady fp-6

by George MacDonald Fraser

  "But Harry, where is the ship? You said it would be here—" And then, putting two and two together, I suppose, she added: "Whatever shall we do now?"

  It was a question which had occurred to me, as I stared palsied from the empty sea in front to our pursuers behind - they had halted on the far crest, which was an irony, if you like. They could crawl on their bellies towards us now, for all it mattered - we were trapped, helpless, with nothing to do but wait until they came up with us at their leisure, to seize and drag us back to the abominable fate that would be waiting for us in Antan'. I could picture those snakelike eyes, the steaming pits at Ambohipotsy, the bodies turning in the air from the top of the cliff, the blood-curdling shriek of the mob - I realized I was babbling out a flood of oaths, as I stared vainly round for an escape which I knew wasn't there.

  Elspeth was clutching my hand, white-faced - and then, because it was the only way to go, I was urging her down the slope to our left, towards a long grove of palms which began about two furlongs from the fort and ran away into the distance along the coastline northwards. That's one thing about a sound cowardly instinct - it turns you directly to cover, however poor and useless it may be. They'd find us there in no time, but if we could reach the trees undetected from the fort, we might at least be able to flee north - to what? There was nothing for us yonder except blind flight until we dropped from exhaustion, or our horses foundered, or those black hounds came up with us, and I knew it, but it was better than stopping where we were to be run down like sheep.

  "Oh, Harry!" Elspeth was wailing in my rear as we thundered down the slope, but I didn't check; another minute would have us in the shelter of the grove, if no one in the fort saw us first. Crouched over my beast's neck, I stole a look down towards the stone battlements at the foot of the hill - Elspeth's voice behind me rose in a sudden scream, I whirled in my seat, and to my amazement saw that she was hauling in her mount by the mane. I yelled to her to ride, cursing her for an idiot, but she was pointing seaward, crying out, and I wrestled my brute to a slithering halt, staring where she pointed - and, d'you know, I couldn't blame her.

  Out in the roads something was moving in that rolling bank of mist. At first it was just a shadow, towering in the downy radiance of the fog; then a long black spar was jutting out, and behind it masts and rigging were taking shape. In disbelief I heard the faint, unmistakable squeal of sheaves as she came into view, a tall, slim ship under topsails, drifting slowly out of the mist, turning before my eyes, showing her broad, white-striped side - her ports were up, there were guns out, men moving on the decks, and from her mizzen trailed a flag - blue, white, red - dear God, she was a Frog warship - and there, to her right, another shadow was breaking clear, another ship, turning as the first had done, another Frenchie, guns, colours and all!

  Elspeth was beside me, I was hugging her almost out of her seat as we watched them spellbound, our flight, the fort, pursuit all forgotten - she yelped in my ear as a third shadow loomed up in the wake of the ships, and this time it was the real thing, no error, and I found myself choking tears of joy, for that was the dear old Union Jack at the truck of the frigate which came gliding out on to the blue water.

  I was shouting, God knows what, and Elsepth was clapping her hands, and then a gun boomed suddenly from the fort, only a few hundred yards away, and a white plume of smoke billowed up from the battlements. The three ships were standing in towards the fort; the leading Frog tacked with a cracking of canvas, and suddenly its whole side exploded in a thunder of flame and smoke, there was a series of tremendous crashes from the fort as the broadsides struck home - and here came her two consorts, each in turn letting fly while sea and sky echoed to the roar of their cannonade, a mighty pall of grey smoke eddying around them as they put about and came running in again.44

  It was a badly-aimed shot screaming overhead that reminded me we were in the direct line of fire. I yelled to Elspeth, and we careered down to the trees, crashing into the thickets and sliding from our mounts to stare at the extraordinary scene being played out in the bay.

  "Harry - why are they shooting? Do you suppose they are come to rescue us?" She was clutching my hand, all agog. "Will they know we are here? Should we not wave, or light a fire, or some such thing? Will you not call to them, my love?"

  This, with forty guns blazing away not a quarter of a mile off, for the fort was firing back as well; the leading Frog was almost at point-blank range. Clouds of dust and smoke surged up from the fort wall; the Frog seemed to stagger in the water, and Elspeth shrieked as his foretop sagged and then fell slowly into the smoke, with a wreckage of sail and cordage. In came the second ship, letting off her broadside any old how in lubberly, garlic-eating fashion, and the fort thumped her handsomely in reply, serve her right. My God, thinks I, are the Crapauds going to be beat? For the second Frog lost her mizzen top and sheered away blind with the spars littering her poop - and then in came the British frigate, and while I ain't got much use for our navy people, as a rule, I'll allow that she showed up well in front of the foreigners, for she ran in steady and silent, biding her time, while the fort hammered at her and the splinters flew from her bulwarks.

  Through the clear air we could see every detail - the leadsman in the chains swinging away, the white-shirted tars on her decks, the blue-coated officers on the quarter-deck, even a little midshipman in the rigging with his telescope trained on the fort. Silently she bore in until I was sure she must run aground, and then a voice called from the poop, there was a rush of men and a flapping of canvas, she wore round, and every gun crashed out as one in a deafening inferno of sound. The wave of the broadside hit us in a blast of air, the fort battlements seemed to vanish in smoke and dust and flying fragments - but when all cleared, there the fort still stood, and her guns banging irregularly in reply.

  The frigate was tacking away neatly, but neither she nor the injured Frogs looked like coming in again - the appalling thought struck me that they might be sheering off, and I couldn't restrain myself at such cowardly behaviour.

  "Come back, you sons of bitches!" I roared, fairly dancing up and down. "Damnation, they're only a parcel of niggers! Lay into them, rot you! It's what you're paid for!" "But, see, Harry!" squeaks Elspeth, pointing. "Look, my love, they are coming! See - the boats!"

  Sure enough, there were longboats creeping out from behind the Frogs, and another from the British ship. As the three vessels stood to again, firing at the fort, the smaller boats came heading in for the shore, packed with men - they were going to storm the fort, under the covering guns of the squadron. I found I was dancing and blaspheming with excitement - for this must be our chance! We must run to them when they got ashore - I ploughed back through the fronds, staring at the hill behind, to see how our Hova friends were doing - and there they were, dropping down from the crest beind us, making for the landward side of the fort. They were running any old how, but an under-officer was shouting in the rear, and it seemed to me he was pointing towards our grove. Yes, some of the Hovas were checking - he was sending them in our direction - damn the black villain, didn't he know where his duty lay, with foreign vessels attacking his b--y island?

  "What shall we do, Harry?" Elspeth was at my elbow. "Should we not hasten to the beach? It may be dangerous to linger."

  She ain't quite the fool she looks, you know - but fortunately neither am I. The boats were into the surf, only a moment from the shore; the temptation to run towards them was almost more than a respectable poltroon could bear - but if we broke cover too soon, with three hundred yards of naked sand between us and the spot where the nearest Frog boat would touch, we'd be within easy musket-shot from the fort to our right. We must lie up in the grove until the landing-party had got up the beach and rushed the fort - that would keep the black musketeers busy, and it would be safe to race for the boats, waving a white flag - I was tearing away at Elspeth's petticoat, hushing her squeals of protest, peering back through the undergrowth at the approaching Hovas. There were three of 'em, trott
ing towards the grove, with their officer far behind waving them on; the leading one was almost into the trees, looking stupid, turning to seek instructions from his fellows; then the flat, brutal face turned in our direction, and he began to pick his way into the grove, his spear balanced, his face turning this way and that.

  I hissed to Elspeth and drew her towards the seaward side of the grove, under a thicket, listening for everything at once - the steady boom and crash of gunfire, the faint shouts from the fort walls, the slow crunch of the Hova's feet on the floor of the grove. He seemed to be moving away north behind us - and then Elspeth put her lips to my ear and whispered:

  "Oh, Harry, do not move, I pray! There is another of those natives quite close!"

  I turned my head, and almost gave birth. On the other side of our thicket, visible through the fronds, was a black shape, not ten yards away - and at that moment the first Hova gave a startled yell, there was a frantic neighing - Jesus, I'd forgotten our horses, and the brute must have walked into them! The black shape through the thicket began to run - away from us, mercifully, a crackle of musketry sounded from the beach, and I remembered my dear little woman's timely suggestion, and decided we should linger no longer.

  "Run!" I hissed, and we broke out of the trees, and went haring for the shore. There was a shout from behind, a whisp! in the air overhead, and a spear went skidding along the soft sand before us. Elspeth shrieked, we raced on; the boats were being beached, and already armed men were charging towards the fort - Frog sailors in striped jerseys, with a little chap ahead waving a sabre and making pronouncements about la gloire, no doubt, as the grape from the walls kicked up the sand among him and his party.

  "Help!" I roared, stumbling and waving Elspeth's shift. "We're friends! Halloo, mes amis! Nous sommes Anglais, pour l'amour de Dieu! Don't shoot! Vive la France!"

  They didn't pay us the slightest heed, being engaged by that time in hacking a way through the fort's outer wooden palisade. We stumbled out of the soft sand to firmer going, making for the boats, all of which were beached just above the surf. I looked back, but the Hovas were nowhere to be seen, clever lads; I pushed Elspeth, and we veered away to be out of shot from the fort; the beach ahead was alive with running figures by now, French and British, storming ahead and cheering. There was the dooce of a dogfight going on at the outer palisade, white and striped jerseys on one side, black skins on t'other, cutlasses and spears flashing, musketry crackling from the inner fort and being answered from our people farther down the beach. Then there were sounds of British cheering and cries of excited Frogs, and through the smoke I could see they were up to the inner wall, clambering up on each other's shoulders, popping away with pistols, obviously racing to see which should be up first, French or British.

  Good luck to you, my lads, thinks I, for I'm tired. At the same moment, Elspeth cries:

  "Oh, Harry, Harry, darling Harry!" and clung to me. "Do you think," she whispered faintly, "that we might sit down now?" With that she went into a dead swoon, and we sank to the wet sand in each other's arms, between the boats and the landing party. I was too tuckered and dizzy to do anything except sit there, holding her, while the battle raged at the top of the beach, and I thought, by Jove, we're clear at last, and soon I'll be able to sleep …

  "You, sir!" cries a voice. "Yes, you - what are you about, sir? Great Scott! - is that a woman you have there?"

  A party of British sailors, carrying empty stretchers, were racing across our front to the fort, and with them this red-faced chap with a gold strip on his coat, who'd checked to pop his eyes at us. He was waving a sword and pistol. I yelled to him above the din of firing that we were escaped prisoners of the Malagassies, but he only went redder than ever.

  "What's that you say? You're not with the landing party? Then get off the beach, sir - get off this minute! You've no business here! This is a naval operation! What's that, bos'un? - I'm coming, blast you! On, you men!"

  He scampered off, brandishing his weapons, but I didn't care. I knew I was too done to carry Elspeth down to the boats a hundred yards off, but we were out of effective musket shot of the fort, so I was content to sit and wait until someone should have time to attend to us. They were all busy enough at the moment, in all conscience; the ground before the palisade was littered with dead and crawling wounded, and through the breaches they'd broken I could see them spiking the guns while the scaling parties were still trying to get up the thirty-foot wall behind. They had ladders, crowded with tars and matelots, their steel flashing in the smoke at the top of the wall, where the defenders were slashing and firing away.

  Above the crashing musketry there was a sudden cheer; the big black-and-white Malagassy flag on the fort wall was toppling down on its broken staff, but a Malagassy on the battlements caught it as it fell; the fighting boiled around him, but at that moment a returning stretcher party charged across my line of vision, bearing stricken men back to the boats, so I didn't see what happened to him.

  Still no one paid any mind to Elspeth and me; we were slightly out of the main traffic up and down the beach, and although one party of Frog sailors stopped to stare curiously at us, they were soon chivvied away by a bawling officer. I tried to raise her, but she was still slumped unconscious against my breast, and I was labouring away when I saw that the landing party were beginning to fall back from the fort. The walking wounded came hobbling first, supported by their mates, and then the main parties all jumbled up together, British and French, with the petty officers swearing and bawling orders as the men tried to find their right divisions. They were squabbling and jostling in great disorder, the British tars cursing the Frogs, and the Frogs grimacing and gesticulating back.

  I called out for assistance, but it was like talking in a madhouse - and then over all the trampling and babble the distant guns from the ships began to boom again, and shot whistled overhead to crash into the fort, for our rearguard was clear now, skirmishing away in goodish order, exchanging musket fire with the battlements which they'd failed to overcome. All they seemed to have captured was the Malagassy flag; in among the retiring skirmishers, with the enemy shot peppering them, a disorderly mob of French and English seamen were absolutely at blows with each other for possession of the confounded thing, with cries of "Ah, voleurs!" and "Belay, you sod!", the Frogs kicking and the Britons lashing out with their fists, while two of their officers tried to part them.

  Finally the English officer, a great lanky fellow with his trouser leg half torn off and a bloody bandage round his knee, succeeded in wrenching the banner away, but the Frog officer, who was about four feet tall, grabbed an end of it, and they came stumbling down in my direction, yelling at each other in their respective lingoes, with their crews joining in.

  "You shall not have it!" cries the Frog. "Render it to me, monsieur, this instant!"

  "Sheer off, you greasy half-pint!" roars John Bull. "You take your paw away directly, or you'll get what for!"

  "Sacred English thief! It fell to my men, I tell you! It is a prize of France!"

  "Will you leave off, you Frog-eating ape? Damme, if you and your cowardly jackanapes had fought as hard as you squeal we'd have had that fort by now! Let go, d'ye hear?"

  "Ah, you resist me, do you?" cries the Frog, who came about up to the Englishman's elbow. "It is sufficient, this! Release it, this flag, or I shall pistol you!"

  "Give over, rot you!" They were almost on top of us by now, the sturdy Saxon holding the flag above his head and the tiny Frog clinging to it and hacking at his shins. "I'll cast anchor in you, you prancing swab, if- Good God, that's a woman!" His jaw dropped as he caught sight of me at his feet, with Elspeth in my arms. He stared, speechless, oblivious of the Frenchman, who was now drumming at his chest with tiny fists, eyes tight shut.

  "If you've a moment," says I, "I'd be obliged if you'd assist my wife to your boats. We're British, and we've escaped from captivity in the interior."

  I had to repeat it before he took it in, with a variety of oaths, wh
ile the Frog, who had stopped drumming, glared suspiciously.

  "What does he say, then?" cries he. "Does he conspire, the rascal? Ah, but I shall have the flag - death of the devil, what is this? A woman, beneath our feet, then?"

  I explained to him, in French, and he goggled and removed his hat.

  "A lady? An English lady? Incredible! But a lady so beautiful, by example, and in a condition of swoon! Ah, but the poor little! Medecin-major Narcejac! Medecin-major Narcejac! Come quickly - and do you, sir, be calm?" He was fairly dancing in agitation. "Attend, you others, and guard madame!"

  They were all crowding round, gaping, and while a Frog sawbones knelt beside Elspeth, whose eyelids were fluttering, a couple of tars helped me up, and the English officer demanding to know who I was, I told him, and he said, not Flashman of Afghanistan, surely, and I said, the very same, and he said, well, he was damned, and he was Kennedy, second of the frigate Conway, and proud to meet me. During this the little Frog officer was hopping excitedly, informing me that he was Lieutenant Boudancourt, of the Zelee, that madame would receive every comfort, and sal volatile, that the entire French marine was at her service, name of a name, and he, Boudancourt who spoke, would personally supervise her tranquil removal without delay

  "Avast there, Crapaud!" roars Kennedy. "What's he saying? Jenkins, Russell! The lady's British, an' she'll come in a British boat, by God! Can you walk, marm?"

  Elspeth, supported by the Frog doctor, was still so faint, either from fatigue or all this male attention, that she could only gesture limply, and Boudancourt squawked his indignation at Kennedy.

  "Do not raise the voice above the half, if you please! Ah, but see, you have returned madame to a decline!"

  "Shut your trap!" cries Kennedy, and then, to a seaman who was tugging at his sleeve, "What the hell is it now?"

  "Beggin' your pardon, sir, Mister Heseltine's compliments, an' the blacks is makin' a sally, looks like, sir."