Enemies at Every Turn

by David Donachie

  The fellow looked at Puisaye, and Pearce saw the back of his head move as he nodded, which got a sharp response. The fellow moved to the very edge of the wood, kneeling and aiming carefully, his nose twitching as if he was actually smelling the wind. Then he waited, with Pearce having to contain deep frustration as he took time to pull on the trigger. The two French soldiers were close to Michael now and they were shouting, he with his hands still raised.

  The crack of the single shot sent what birds had settled flapping and screeching into the air again, and in a blink one of the men approaching Michael spun away, having taken the ball. Out of the corner of his eye Pearce saw the shooter was moving with speedy grace to reload, not flustered, but with the ease of long practice, powder poured, ball out and in the muzzle, the rammer flicking twice, the powder horn now in the teeth ready to prime the cap.

  More important, the second French soldier had become like a statue, his eyes, even at a distance, so clearly opening in shock, while his mate writhed at his feet. The clout Michael gave him sent him about ten feet and then the Irishman was running. The man in command, the officer who had sprung the trap, emerged from the trees to shout that his men should shoot at the fleeing Michael, who was dodging from side to side and stumbling as much as moving forward.

  The long rifle was up again, aimed with repeated care, and when the trigger was slowly squeezed it was at that haranguing officer. Where it hit him no one could tell but the shooter, but the man stood still as if surprised for several seconds, then slowly crumpled to the ground. No one was shooting at Michael O’Hagan now and the second soldier who had come to arrest him was heading for his own trees at a rush.

  ‘I think we might be able to move forward soon,’ Pearce said softly.

  That proved to be the case, those before them melting away without anyone to lead them. They collected the prelate’s body for burial and as a bonus found Michael’s pony grazing happily in another clearing, which was a double relief since the bishop’s horse was gone and he was a burden to carry. The frontier fellow seemed mollified when he found out the man he had saved was Irish, not English, and their stilted exchange allowed Pearce to consider what he was going to do next.

  He was not so vain as to think his appreciation would be enough to persuade Pitt and Dundas to send an expedition to the Vendée, nor was he sure that such a policy would be wise. Puisaye and his friends had taken care to show him what they wanted him to see, but that ambush had underlined that they were not wholly in control of what they claimed. In the end the solution seemed obvious.

  ‘Monsieur,’ he said to the Count de Puisaye, ‘someone must return with me to England and seek to make your case.’

  Expecting him to demur, the alacrity with which he agreed had Pearce wondering if that had been his hope all along; for a man of refinement, which he was, being locked up in a swamp could not be a life of choice, and given there was nothing more to see and the Larcher was waiting, it was agreed they would depart at first light. The next problem for Pearce was Amélie Labordière.

  ‘I will beg if you wish me to, Jean?’

  Much as he sought for a reason to say no, he could not think of one that would not make him feel like a scrub. He had a ship, she had a need and his only reservation was what would become of her when she landed in England, for she would be penniless. He had no choice but to say yes, though he did wonder as they made their ways to Noirmoutier to find HMS Larcher where he had left her, safely anchored in the bay.

  They weighed as soon as the passengers were aboard, with John Pearce wondering what Emily Barclay would say when he turned up in England with an ex-mistress for whom he knew he was going to feel responsible. That was not a feeling that diminished much over the next few days of sailing, in heavy weather that made both his French passengers, who occupied his cabin, sick. Such distress at least saved him from anything other than minimal contact with Amélie, who in truth he feared to be alone with.

  He had concerns over money, a future to construct in which he and Emily could live as a couple, no real career unless he bowed to the constraints of naval service and still three friends – his fellow Pelicans Michael, Charlie and Rufus – to whom he felt a debt.

  Nor did his worries ease when he sighted the Lizard at last and Dorling set a course for the Solent and Buckler’s Hard, having heard from a passing coastal merchantman of Howe’s great victory on the first of June, which was being hailed from any vessel that sighted another, the capture of several line-of-battle ships, the damage to many more and the sinking of the 74-gun Vengeur du Peuple.

  That promised a happy return to a country ecstatic in celebration, for nothing cheered Britannia like a proper naval victory. Perhaps, for all his unease, John Pearce would benefit from that euphoria and find waiting for him a woman not only happy that he was home again, but so full of love and understanding that she would accept Amélie Labordière as a charge on her charity as well as his.

  Never one to be downhearted for too long, John Pearce worked hard to convince himself that would be the case, and such was his nature that by the time HMS Larcher cleared the Needles he was sure that what he was heading for was, if not unbounded happiness, something very close to that estate.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  For those readers who know about the Battle of the Glorious First of June, you will recognise that my fictitious 74-gun warship, HMS Semele, replicates very closely the actions of HMS Brunswick in both engaging and sinking Vengeur du Peuple.

  So close was that action that the real captain involved, John Harvey, was killed along with forty-five of his crew, over a hundred being wounded. In using that and placing Ralph Barclay in place of Harvey, I have no intention of diminishing that gallant officer’s behaviour or any action that he took over the three days of contact with the French fleet.

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  the John Pearce series …

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  A SEA OF TROUBLES

  1794. In the wake of the Glorious First of June, an equivocal success for the British naval fleet against the French Revolutionary forces, Lieutenant John Pearce has pressing matters to attend to. He must undertake an urgent commission from Lord Hood, track down midshipman Toby Burns, and placate Emily Barclay who, estranged from her husband, is now under Pearce’s protection.

  Pearce turns the table on his enemies with the aid of his crew, conjures up a trick to free his friends and sets off for the Mediterranean with Emily Barclay. He must fight a ferocious sea battle on the way to aid an old friend, and can only hope that his troubles will end along with his mission. But are they only just beginning?

  About the Author

  DAVID DONACHIE was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as well as the Roman Republic, and under the pen-name of Jack Ludlow, has published a number of historical adventure novels. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.

  By David Donachie

  THE JOHN PEARCE SERIES

  By the Mast Divided

  A Shot Rolling Ship

  An Awkward Commission

  A Flag of Truce

  The Admirals’ Game

  An Ill Wind

  Blown Off Course

  Enemies at Every Turn

  A Sea of Troubles

  Written as Jack Ludlow

  THE REPUBLIC SERIES

  The Pillars of Rome

  The Sword of Revenge

  The Gods of War

  THE CONQUEST SERIES

  Mercenaries

  Warriors

  Conquest

  THE ROADS TO WAR SERIES

  The Burning Sky

  A Broken Land

  A Bitter Field

  THE
CRUSADES SERIES

  Son of Blood

  Soldier of Crusade

  Copyright

  Allison & Busby Limited

  12 Fitzroy Mews

  London W1T 6DW

  www.allisonandbusby.com

  First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2011.

  This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2012.

  Copyright © 2011 by DAVID DONACHIE

  The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978–0–7490–1325–7