“Get any of your men who have different languages to shout as well. If they can’t understand then…”
“Then that their bad luck, sir.”
Sergeant Kwame shouted, then three of his half of the company yelled in their turn. The slaves stayed unmoving.
“Company to form in three lines, Sergeant Affleck. Front line, kneeling, loaded, bayonets presented. Second and third lines to load and fire to my command.”
Billy waited while the men organised themselves into a tidy set of lines; advancing in the darkness had inevitably made them ragged.
“Ready, Sergeant Affleck? Ready, Sergeant Kwame?”
“Second line, present your muskets! Cock your locks… Fire!”
“Third line, at my command… present your muskets… Fire!”
One hundred yards was further distant than Billy might have wished for accurate musketry, but slaves were falling, more of them as Smyke’s company joined in. Some of them ran into the water, driven by a greater fear; there was no evidence of sharks that Billy could see, but the bottom was mud, soft and clinging, almost impossible to wade through, and the bulk of the slaves were from inland, had no idea of swimming. They screamed and wailed for help, and drowned.
Four volleys and Billy called a halt to firing, shouted across to Smyke’s company to do the same.
He waited for a few seconds, then shouted for surrender.
Hands rose into the air and men walked slowly forward, frightened to run for fear they might be thought to be charging, most of them sure they were exchanging certain, immediate death for probable slow hanging.
“Separate them out, wounded from the unhurt, Sergeant Affleck. Sit them down in rows under guard. Take a count. Sergeant Kwame, take some of the prisoners and collect up the bodies, dump them together on the shore. Count them.”
Billy turned from the immediate business of tidying up and making all safe to the matter of discovering just what had happened.
He walked across to the barricade and Smyke’s company.
“Mr Smyke?”
A white sergeant, unknown to Billy, one of those who had come down from Antigua with the new officers, stood to the front and saluted.
“Sergeant McLeod, sir. Lieutenant Smyke is dying, sir. He thought to talk to the slaves, sir. He tried to order them to surrender, to give up the killers and to go back to their plantations. They wanted him to promise them that they would be given pardon, sir, but he said that he would hang them himself if they did not obey him. So one of them hit him with a cane knife, sir. We drove them off with our muskets and picked him up and brought him to the little fort we had made here, sir. Mr Smyke had expected the French to return, sir, so had the palisade put up to protect us against ship’s guns, sir.”
“I see. Useful, in fact. What happened then?”
“Nothing, sir. He was awake till last night, sir, and seemed to be getting better. He kept the command and ordered us to stay where we were. Then he suddenly got worse, sir, and the wound started to go rotten. I think it might have been bad inside first, and only showed on the outside at the last. He ain’t awake, sir.”
“Right. Take over the company, Sergeant McLeod. Hold the fort with half of them. The rest can join me in trying to pick up the rest of the slaves – we don’t want them wandering about as brigands. Have you any idea of their numbers?”
“At a guess, sir, no more than two hundred ‘ere. They talked a lot of bull about six hundred, sir, but that ain’t real because it counts the women and children as well. The plantation owners was ‘ere, sir, some of them what didn’t get killed. They took a fishing boat, sir, and went off in that; they was shouting off about how many there were, but they was in a panic, sir. I don’t think a lot of them ran off, sir. Most of the slaves was frightened of what they’d done, sir. They fought because they was afraid.”
“What a bloody mess, Sergeant McLeod! Those plantation owners, they were all French?”
“Yes, sir. Said they was going to Martinique, sir, to get the French army to come back with them.”
“That won’t happen. But, they said they had surrendered – that’s why the Acting-Governor let them stay. If they have gone for the French army, they have broken their word, and they won’t be allowed back again… I’ll have my sergeants and corporals pass the word that the French masters are gone and won’t be seen no more. The slaves can go back and behave themselves, or they can volunteer – we need more men. Besides that, I can’t see flogging or hanging two hundred of them – it would take forever. They’ve seen what happens if they rise up against us – there must be fifty stiffs here, and those who drowned, and as many again wounded and some of those going to die slowly. Best to bring it to an end. Did you lose many men?”
“Only Lieutenant Smyke, sir. The rest of us was all lined up in our platoons and ready. I did say to him that it wasn’t a good idea to go out to them, sir, but he was that determined to ‘ave his own way, sir, that he would not be told at all.”
“Rum or gin?”
“Rum, sir. Mr Smyke ran out of gin last month – well, it was schnapps, really. There’s a Dutch trader comes this way every few weeks, sir, up from the Dutch islands, Curacao and that, and he sells spirits, sir.”
“I’m surprised Mr Smyke had the money – he did not strike me as a rich man.”
“Tax, sir. The Dutchie bought copra and sugar here, sir, and paid a duty to Mr Smyke.”
“We don’t need to mention that elsewhere, Sergeant McLeod!”
It was unlawful to trade with any other nation – all produce from the British Sugar Islands was to go exclusively to Britain. Add to that, Holland had been conquered and was in the hands of the French – they were enemies. As a final point, all trade on the island must pass through St Pierre town, under the eyes of the Acting-Governor and his Revenuers. The less said about Mr Smyke’s personal initiative, the less fuss would result.
“Sergeant Affleck, can we identify any of the slaves who actually killed their masters?”
“Yes, sir.”
Billy was disappointed by that response – he had wanted to bring the business to a quick close.
“The slaves have told me, sir, that the killers was desperate, sir. Some of them ran into the sea and drowned, sir, and the rest led the charge against us and was shot. None still alive, sir.”
“Very tidy, Sergeant Affleck. Ask the slaves for their names and we will record the murderers as dead, for the benefit of the officials back in St Pierre town.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get the prisoners to dig a big grave and put the bodies away, tidily. Then we shall escort them back to the plantations they came from, leaving a platoon at each to keep order until new owners arrive. What happened to the fisher folk here?”
“Sailed away, sir, in their boats and canoes. There are little islands a mile or so offshore, sir. No water there, but they can survive for a few days. They’ll be back when they know it’s safe. So the slaves said, anyway.”
“All tidy, in fact. We shall need to hold the little fort here, and to make sure there are no slaves wandering about – but we won’t ever catch them all – too many hills for them to hide out in, even on a small island like this. Leave you here, or Sergeant McLeod and Mr Smyke’s company?”
“McLeod’s safe, sir. He can keep things running.”
“Good. We move out to the plantations in the morning.”
They were five days marching from one plantation to another and settling the slaves down and finding overseers from the untouched places to the north to take over. It was tedious, boring work, and not entirely necessary, in Billy’s opinion. He did not believe that the Army should be doing the work of the slave-holders for them – it would have been better, he thought, to march the slaves to St Pierre and then either sell them or recruit them. He had orders from the Acting-Governor, however, and no choice other than to obey them.
On the last day he took his company to the north, along the west coast of the island and as far as the fi
shing village where they had originally landed. He found Major Simons there, with his whole company manning the walls of the little fort, guns loaded and pointing inland in newly-made embrasures.
“Have you been forced back, Captain Bacon? How far are they behind you? Has St Pierre fallen?”
Major Simons called his questions from the wall, standing at the side of the barricaded and firmly closed gate.
“We are short of water here, Captain Bacon. You will need to camp by the stream. I would dig a trench and embankment, if I were you.”
“It is over, Major Simons. The few who wished to fight have been killed and the remainder have been returned to their proper places.”
“Are you sure? There were ten thousand of them, you know! Ravaging monsters all!”
“Your information is incorrect, sir. There were six hundred, including women and children. Two hundred of men. Half of the men have been killed, or have died of wounds. The rest have been pacified.”
“You should have hanged them all! No other way of keeping a savage down. I trust you gave every one of them five hundred, at least?”
“That man so scared he need to change he breeches, sir,” Sergeant Kwame said quietly from behind.
“Silence in the ranks!”
Billy tried not to giggle, to keep a properly severe face.
Sergeant Affleck, who had old-fashioned views on discipline, was inclined to be outraged, with Major Simons and Sergeant Kwame both. He fumed, silently but obviously.
“The incident is over, sir. I have orders from the Acting-Governor to return to St Pierre, sir.”
“I shall hold the fort here, Captain Bacon. I am not at all certain that you have done the job properly, you know. Better safe than sorry!”
Billy had been intending to remain overnight and march out in the early morning. He called the company into column and pointed them up the track and over the hill.
“We shall halt at the first river, Sergeant Affleck. Not so convenient as the fort, but likely to cause less trouble.”
They had no tents, but it was dry and they could lie out overnight in some comfort. They built big fires and made their tea and ate bananas and roasted corn cobs, removed from the plantations as they passed through. It was a relaxed atmosphere for a military camp, Billy thought, but they would come back to a proper discipline in the morning, he did not doubt. He noticed that some of the men, almost all when he looked more closely, had picked up oddments of loot from the plantation houses; they had mugs and table knives and forks and spoons and tools from the kitchens and the workshops. All trivial enough, but useful little comforts in the barracks. Some he spotted to have lengths of cotton cloth, which would make up into shirts and such for their off-duty hours.
“Sensible men, Freeman. Did you pick up anything useful?”
“Don’t know, sir. Locked iron box from the office place, sir. Weighs a bit – might be the master kept he coins in it. No keys. Get back to town and take it to the blacksmith place, sir.”
“Sensible man. Keep it out of sight – no need for the others to know what you’ve got.”
“What about you share, sir?”
“You found it, you keep it. That’s how it works. Next time, if I find something when I’m with you, we share it.”
Freeman was surprised, but not displeased.
“They say they got money what is paper, sir. You know anything of that stuff, sir?”
“Never seen it, Freeman. If there’s some of it in your box, I’ll try to turn it into proper coins.”
They reached St Pierre town early, marching in the cool, and went to their barracks.
The womenfolk spotted them from the fort and packed their bags and returned to their men; all returned quickly to normal. Billy was a little surprised that his room remained empty. Freeman knew nothing, he said; perhaps Julie had not seen his return.
Billy waited till ten o’clock before presenting himself at the fort to make his report to the Acting-Governor, the gentleman not being an enthusiast of early mornings. He thought that the aide who ushered him into the Acting-Governor’s presence was somewhat uncomfortable, but put it down to a touch of the dysentery – that could make any man stiff.
Billy presented his written report and summarised verbally, as was normal practice. The Acting-Governor was very pleased with him, said so more than once.
“Pity that more than a hundred of the slaves died, but unavoidable, I do not doubt. Several thousands of pounds worth of stock gone – but they belonged to the French, anyway.”
“Beg pardon, Your Excellency, but the French plantation owners had given their parole. They left St Pierre saying that they were to go to Martinique, to beg for the aid of the French Army. A breach of their terms, Your Excellency, sufficient to justify expropriation. I believe, Your Excellency, that in law those plantations are no longer in French possession.”
“My word, Captain Bacon! I do believe you may be right! I will take legal advice.”
The sole legal officer on the island would be called, and an attorney from Antigua would be posted to deal with matters of prize and expropriation and would take fat fees for his trouble; the attorney would have no doubt that the properties had reverted to the Crown. He would almost certainly suggest that they should be placed at auction, very quickly so that they might not fall to waste.
The Acting-Governor would see many thousands potentially available to his pocket. He might arrange to auction the properties to himself, acting through a nominee, or he might more easily accept a sweetener from eventual purchasers. Either way, he would benefit greatly.
“You have achieved a remarkable success, Captain Bacon, and it seems to me that a man of your obvious ability should not remain cooped up on a tiny island such as St Pierre. Such being the case – and it has been clear to me for some little time – I have made arrangements with the Governor of Antigua that you should be posted to take over the recruitment and training of some of the new men being brought to the Colours there. I believe, in fact, you are to have one half of a battalion to your own charge. A Major will be appointed to command and there will be two captains, each with four lieutenants; you will have the Right Companies and hence will be senior of the captains. You are to be made without-purchase, Regimental rank, no longer brevet, Captain Bacon!”
Five years and the promotion would be regarded as a purchase and he would be able to consider his majority; it was a fine reward.
There was definitely something wrong, Billy realised – the Acting-Governor was far too uneasy in his speech and behaviour. It would come out, if he waited.
“When do I sail, sir?”
“There is a ship available in harbour, immediately, Captain Bacon. Your servant has been made aware, and I believe he has not unpacked your trunks. All that was in storage for you has been put aboard, in fact.”
That, Billy thought, was rather hurried – there was definitely something astray; he wondered where Julie was… If she was to join him – and they must know of her existence – then she should be told to pack her bag… He realised, suddenly, that Julie had been living in the fort during his days in the field; she might well have come to the attention of any of the unattached men… The Acting-Governor was single, in his thirties, and as wealthy as any man on the island, and Julie was a very attractive girl… Should he say anything?
It was not a love-match, in the accepted sense, and there would be any number of handsome and available young women in Antigua. It was, on the other hand, just a fraction humiliating, to be shuffled off with a promotion while Mr Montague threw a leg over his lady. Perhaps he should turn the screw, just a little bit.
“Thank you for your consideration, Your Excellency. It is rather a hurried departure, to be sure, but I make no doubt there is good reason for it. If I was to stay here, in garrison, then I am sure life would become tedious. Training up my own people on Antigua, and then no doubt taking them off to war, will be far more interesting, and eventually, you must agree, very profitable.”
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The Acting-Governor took the hint; he would pay Billy off, all properly unofficially.
“It will indeed, Captain Bacon! I understand that the remaining plantation owners of St Pierre have it in mind to make a presentation to you. I will have it sent up on the next ship.”
No more was said and Billy was hurried down to the harbour and put aboard an island boat, Freeman already waiting for him.
“Everything on board, sir. My box as well, sir. All you baggage all packed, nothing left behind.”
“Except one thing, Freeman?”
“That baggage left in the Acting-Governor’s rooms, sir. No loss! She a handsome girl, but they is many more of they about. Now we go back to war, sir, that more important, and to take some place what is rich, maybe.”
Billy was forced to agree; he was a soldier, and soldiers left nothing behind them. Perhaps he would find a settled life, one day, in the future, when the moon was blue, perhaps…
# # #
Thank you for reading Billy Bacon and the Soldier Slaves. If you get a spare moment, please consider leaving a short online review for the book wherever you can. The second book in the series is expected to be released in late 2017 - early 2018. In the meantime, please take look at the author’s other books listed on the following pages.
By the Same Author
Man of Conflict Series: Youngest son of a wealthy English merchant, Septimus Pearce is an utterly spoiled brat whose disgraceful conduct threatens his family’s good name. His father forces him to join the army in an attempt to reform him, but even the disciplines of army life where he sees bloody action in three countries fail to exorcise his nastier character traits. Please note: This series is currently available to Kindle Unlimited subscribers.
Book One Kindle Link http://getBook.at/Conflict-1
A Poor Man at the Gate Series: Book One: The Privateersman is FREE on Kindle -Escaping the hangman’s noose in England, commoner Tom Andrews finds himself aboard a privateering ship before fleeing to New York at the time of the Revolutionary War. It is a place where opportunities abound for the unscrupulous. Hastily forced to return to England, he ruthlessly chases riches in the early industrial boom. But will wealth buy him love and social respectability?
Billy Bacon and the Soldier Slaves (Colonial Warrior Series, Book 1) Page 26
