by Smith, Skye
"We have come to break the dams so that the king's cannons can't approach the fortress walls." Daniel told him.
"What? And take the bread from my mouth. Over my dead body." The man was carrying a pry bar and he swung it around him meaningfully. The big men ignored him and began work on the timbers with their axes.
"Yer not jesting,” the old man called to them while keeping a safe distance from them for they looked every bit like pirates and even carried pirate pistols.
"How many more dams are there on this side of Hull?" Daniel asked him while puffing and taking a rest from swinging his axe. His was more of a battle axe than the felling axes that the other men carried, so it had a thinner head with a hooked point on the rear of it for digging into things and hooking on to things to pull them down. Things like armour and shields. Rather than the graceful curve of the normal hickory axe-handle, its was longer, straighter, and thinner with a leathered grip big enough for two hands.
"Four more to the creek and then two more after it,” the old man didn't know what to do. Opening this common land to the brackish Humber waters would be a disaster for the cottagers who grazed their animals on it. "I've got to warn someone that you are doing this. I've been told nothing."
"Your choice, help us or run to town. We'll be glad of either."
"The king is closer than the town,” the old man said with a teasing glint in his eye. "His scouts are in the woods beyond the creek." From his perch on the dike beside the dam he felt safe and out of reach. Even if they pulled their pistols, he could duck down the inside of the dike and be out of range before they could follow him. He hadn't counted on there being a hook on the back of one of the axes. One moment he was staring down at the leader of these men, and the next moment the hook had snagged his breeches and he was sliding down the dike towards them.
Suddenly he didn't feel so cocky. "I was just teasing, oh please, I was just teasing. I would fear to go near the king's scouts. They may hang me as a spy for I work for the parish council."
"Then prove your worth,” Daniel told him while lifting him with a fist curled into his homespun. "Is there an easier way of pulling down these dams."
"No, but it would be faster if you just stole the gate. See how it slides up and down in the notches in those two posts. Split the notch from top to bottom and the gate will fall out. It wouldn't let the tide in as fast, but eventually the fields would flood just the same."
Daniel looked around at his exhausted men. "Do it. Split the notches." Within a few minutes the gate was free and they dragged it into the Humber and pushed it out into deep water.
"Good,” Daniel puffed and stared as the gate floated up the Humber on the tide. "If we have time we can come back and tear down the dams as well."
As they pulled into the sluice channel of their eighth gate, they were spotted by mounted men over in the woods towards the village of Hedon. They ignored the first challenges and pretended to be men working on some drainage project. Some of the scouts left the cover of the trees and came nearer to see what they were doing. When they saw the axes biting into the timbers of the dam, they knew the all of it, and raced back to the woods to report it.
Before they could finish spitting the notch, a squad of cavalry was racing across the meadow towards them. They kept working at releasing the gate for a while longer because there was a canal and a dike between them and the horsemen, but then Teesa yelled at them from the jolly. She had seen a second squad of cavalry racing along what was left of the shore between the tide and the dike.
"Back to the boat,” Daniel yelled out, and they all began to run.
All except for the old man. He had his pry bar stuck in the split in the notch and was heaving on it, but who knows whether he was heaving to free his bar or to finish the split and free the gate. The men got their legs wet as they frantically pushed the jolly to float it so they could get in without it grounding in the silt, meanwhile Daniel ran back to drag the old man away from his work.
He called out over and over for him to "Let go of the effing thing and run to me. I will keep you covered." His axe was already in the boat so now he had pistols in both hand. Since his dragon had two barrels, one a dragon and the other a killing pistol, he had three shots. That third shot had saved him more than once.
"Danny, leave him. It's too late,” his men called to him, and it was. Just as the gate fell away and the old man had his pry bar free, the lead cavalryman was onto him and his sabre slashed cruelly across the old man's head. The second rider was charging directly at Daniel. The crew left the jolly and ran towards their clansman to cover his retreat with their dragons. Something behind them exploded and they glanced over their shoulders back to the jolly.
There was Teesa leaned back against the far side of the boat with the muzzle of the long rifle balanced on the gunnels, with both her feet up bracing it in place, and with the butt of the gun between her breasts so she could aim the thing and pull the trigger at the same time ... and then the vision was gone behind a cloud of gunsmoke. There was a scream and another explosion in front of them and they turned their attention back to saving their clansman, but there was no longer an urgency to that.
The scream was from the horse that had almost trampled Daniel, but was now rearing and kicking in panic and pain and trying to reach the water of the Humber despite the beating he was getting from his rider. The brown cloud in front of Daniel told the whole story. He had fired his dragon into the face of the horse. The horse would be blind forevermore after being hit in the eyes by a load of sulphur, lye, glowing grit, and birdshot. The rider was fully busy just trying to keep his saddle.
That did not explain why another horse, at least two hundred yards down the beach, had crumpled to the strand and slid along the coarse silt in a tangle of legs. The rider leaped out of the saddle of the downed horse and rolled over and over towards the water trying to cushion his bones from being shattered. There was only one explanation. Teesa had shot the damn horse, and had made a clean kill of it at long range from a bouncing boat.
Teesa's voice reached them again. "Man down, man down." They all looked around. The old man was limping towards them holding his head, and the rider who had struck him had turned his horse and now was bearing down on him for the kill. The race was on between the rider and the two crew closest to him. Their plan was obvious. Get close enough to the rider to pull a Daniel and blind the horse with their dragons. Meanwhile Daniel continued his run to help the old man. The rest of the men stayed close to the boat and waited nervously for the rest of the cavalry to reach them for a taste of dragons' breath.
An explosion of foul smoke blinded the horse that was riding the sluiceman down. The pain must have been intense because the horse bucked with straight legs and the rider suddenly had other things to worry about than a crippled old man. Daniel reached the old man and threw him over his shoulder to run him back to the boat. While the horse was screaming in agony and the rider screaming obscenities, the two crew who had blinded the horse backed towards the jolly.
The other cavalry riders had slowed down and were keeping their distance from the jolly. They had watched three of their horses destroyed, and were in no hurry to risk their own, especially since the men with the boat were no longer threatening the lives of their downed men. They watched as crew of the boat covered each other as they clamboured aboard. These men were no amateurs with pistols, and they were dressed more like pirates than like navy men or like the militia.
Teesa had the long rifle loaded again and she called to Daniel as he laid the injured sluiceman onto one of the benches. "Should I shoot another one of them?"
"No need,” Daniel told her. "They aren't trying to stop us from leaving. Put the rifle down and steer for the harbour. Nice shot by the way."
"Nice shot?" she called back. "I was aiming for the rider and instead I killed a beautiful horse that had never harmed anyone. It was the worst shot I have ever made."
Daniel would have joined the other men in laughter, a
nd on the oars, but he was too busy cradling the old man in his arms so he could inspect the head wound. The trouble with head wounds is that the bleed so much that it was hard to see how bad the wound really was. The man's eyes finally told him all. They were twinkling up at him and smiling.
"We did it Danny,” called Daniels oar mate who had grabbed the rifle from Teesa and had it aimed in the general direction of the mounted men on shore. "Look at the tide. It's reached the gate. The flood has begun."
"I hope it was worth it,” Daniel mumbled as he tied his kerchief around the man's head to staunch the bleeding. "The old man's forehead needs stitches and we don't have a woman along with a needle and thread. Make for Hull Teesa."
Teesa stuck out her tongue at him for the backhanded jab about her womanhood. "Do cavalrymen always strike men down before they ask questions?" she asked. She hoped the question wasn't silly enough to get the crew laughing at her again.
A moment of thought caused Daniel to change his mind. "Turn us around, Teesa. Let's go and take a look at what is on the other side of those woods. There has to be a good reason for those scouts to be there." The men all groaned. They were hot and dirty and exhausted, and turning around meant rowing against the tide.
The sluiceman's head had stopped bleeding so Daniel and his oar mate ran out their oars and leant their backs to the chore. About two miles further east there was a tall dune that wild grasses were trying to turn into a hill, and that is where they made for. Once there they left Teesa and two men with the jolly while the rest climbed the dune to the top. This was very flat land so despite the dune being less than a hundred feet high, it had an unobstructed view all around.
At first they stayed low and peered over the crest to make sure they had not been followed by the scouts. There was no sign of them, although they could have been hidden by the white mist that gathered in the low, damp pockets of this flat land. To the east of them was the mouth of a creek and being high tide it would have been deep enough to float a light ship. To the north of them was the woods where the scouts were watching from. Inland there was a mix of pasture and woods but very few planted fields or houses. "What's that?" one of Teesa's cousins asked and pointed towards a stand of tall trees.
"Those trees must run along that creek,” his brother replied. "They grow so much taller than the others because they are closest to the water."
"Some of them are not trees. Not anymore at least."
Daniel stared at where they were looking and shaded his eyes to see better through the half mist. "Masts. Two masts. Two tall ones anyway. There is a ship hiding up that creek. I think we have just found the Providence."
They ran down the dune back to the jolly boat. The king's scouts must have already found it so it will be guarded, but they couldn't have unloaded it yet else it would have put to sea again. From the dune the only road they had seen was a cart track, so the scouts would be waiting for carts to arrive, or perhaps they were waiting for Hull to fall so they could unload it at the harbour. Whatever was happening, the faster they got this news back to the fortress, the better.
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The Pistoleer - Edgehill by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 8 - Finding Providence in Hull, July 1642
"If you hadn't flooded the pastures,” John Hotham Junior told Daniel, "we would have been able to cut across them and save ourselves at least a mile." They were leading two companies of the East Riding Trained Bands to go and capture the Providence. Between them and the dikes along the Humber the land glistened to show how wet it was. They were the only men mounted. The rest were outfitted with stout boots and a musket or a pike or both, though the muskets were old fashioned match-locks and the pikes looked home made.
"So what would it take to make a man like Lieutenant Fowkes betray his unit?" Daniel asked. "What good is silver when your career would be ruined and with it your name."
"Ah, but would it have cost him his name?" Junior replied. "Unlike parliament, the king can grant you a grand name. Sir Fowkes perhaps, or Lord Fowkes, or Baron Fowkes. Would you not be swayed by the promise of a title? If not, you are a fool. I dream of having a title."
Junior's answer explained a lot, and not just about Fowkes. "I see you have taught them how to march in formation,” Daniel said to keep Junior from realizing what he had just admitted. Three triangle sails were gliding along on the other side of the dike. He didn't want to be here. He should be on the Swift racing to the sea to fetch back Hull's navy ships. Unfortunately Warwick did not trust Junior Hotham any more than he trusted the man's father, the governor. This mission to secure the Providence was too important to leave to a man you did not trust. "Can they shoot?"
"They can, but they have never seen battle."
"No, they wouldn't have,” Daniel said in a low voice. The lads following them were all fresh faced and on a lark. There was not a battle hardened veteran amongst them. "I still think we should be marching along the dike so that when the navy returns we can combine our efforts."
"I command here, Daniel. You are just a messenger from Warwick to the captain of the Providence. If the king wants the munitions from that ship then he will need carts. Carts need roads. This is the road to Keyingham Creek. If we keep close to the road then we have two chances to foil him. Capture the ship, or capture the carts."
"You do know who you are up against, don't you?" Daniel asked.
"The king's army, but from the North Tower we could see nothing of them, which means we have at least a three hour head start on them."
It answered Daniel's question. No, Junior had no idea at all who he was up against. In England as on the continent, the armies of the royals were cavalry dependant. A road was a good friend to cavalry, and by Junior keeping to this road the king's cavalry could leave Beverly and overtake them within an hour. Daniel glanced up at the angle of the sun. They had been marching along this road for about an hour now.
Word came forward from the rear guard that a cloud of dust was to be seen down the road behind them. "Ahhh, right on time,” Daniel said to himself, "the cavalry." He turned his neck to see the dust cloud for himself, and then turned his mare off the road and let her walk freely towards the Humber across the newly wetted pastures. When she stopped of her own accord he dismounted and tested the soil. Still too firm. He took several more steps until his heel got stuck and he almost walked out of his boot.
The mix of silt and clay under the web of grass roots had turned to mud during high tide. Now that the tide was low again, the mud was thickening into glue. The web of grass roots would support a weight if it were spread out, but not a pointed weight such as a boot heel or a hoof. He pulled off his tall riding boots without losing his balance and stuffed them under his horse leathers where the weight of his pistols and axe would hold them in place. While he was there, he pulled his carbine out of its holster and opened the cover of the flash pan to check the flash powder. It was still there and dry.
Junior must have assumed that he had peeled off for a pee for he hadn't stopped the marching companies. They were not marching so prettily now that they were spending half their time peering over their shoulders at the fast approaching dust cloud. In his best ship's captains voice he yelled out, "To me, companies right face and come to me." There was immediate confusion on the road as half the men turned to face him while the other half kept marching.
Junior found himself fifty yards ahead of his men and alone. He turned he horse and kicked it to a gallop to go and give Daniel a piece of his mind. How dare he order his companies around. Eventually his horse slowed and then took up a gingerly walk, which angered Junior even more.
Meanwhile Daniel was yelling repeatedly, "To me. To me." That was when Junior realized that the front legs of his stallion were fetlock deep in mud. He dismounted to lead the damn horse, but before he had gone five steps, he lost his boot and tripped and fell face first into the wet grass.
The two companies controlled their laughter as they for
med a semi circle around the tall fair ship's captain. "Is that a company of cavalry making all that dust?" a lad asked.
"Aye it is and we don't have much time so listen carefully. I want you to take off your boots and hang them around your necks. I know it sounds daft, but it will save your life. While you do that I will talk and you will listen." He pointed to their boots, and waited while the bent over to remove them. "The cavalry behind us are the second and third sons of manor lords. You know the type. It's their god given right to beat up lads like you and then hump your sisters."
Some chuckles and guffaws began but a sergeant cut them short with a loud, "Shut it!"
"The road is their friend, but this soggy land is your friend. Your captain just lost his heel to the sticky mire under this grass. His horse doesn't even want to walk on it. I am going to lead you on a stroll across this field to the dike. If you tread lightly in bare feet then you won't break through to the mire, and you won't ruin your new boots."
"But what about the cavalry?" the sergeant asked.
"If they follow us, then they will eventually ruin their boots, or their horses, or both."
"But they will charge us with sabres," the sergeant said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
"They will need their infantry to follow us across this field, and they will have none with them,” Daniel explained. "It's not like their infantry would be any match for you lot. They will all be the bastard sons that the manor lords have whelped from their dairy maids, kitchen maids, and upstairs maids, so their hearts won't be in it. Their true purpose in the king's army is to groom the cavalry horses and to shovel the shit and to be treated like shit."
"But if the cavalry dismount they can give chase as if they are infantry."
"Not likely. That would be beneath their station in life. It is important to the manor born to sit high on a horse so that everyone can see how important they are."
"There they are,” the rear guard yelled out and pointed.
