All in Scarlet Uniform (Napoleonic War 4) (35 page)

They were a hundred yards away before the next shot came, surprisingly accurate for a musket and flicking up a little fountain of water just beside the punt. Murphy raised his own firelock and fired back, the explosion deafeningly loud and dazzlingly bright just inches from Williams’ head.

‘May worry ’em,’ said the Irishman, as he brought the musket back down, and used the butt as an oar.

‘Tells ’em where we are, though,’ Dobson hissed in reproof.

More shots came from the darkness which sheltered them, but the punt was running too fast for good aim. One ball snapped through the air over their heads, but no more came close enough to notice.

Williams looked back and there was movement on the bridge. He could not see clearly, but it took no great imagination to guess that the dragoons were mounting again, ready to come after them.

‘That was Dalmas,’ he said to Hanley.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Can’t be many cuirassiers in these parts. Do you think he was hunting for Espinosa?’

Hanley pressed his teeth against his lower lip as he thought. ‘Better not try that trick again, then.’ He tapped his jacket where it held the coded page he had taken from Velarde. ‘Probably wants this.’

‘How far can we go on the river?’ At the moment they were running at a faster pace than any horse could maintain for long.

‘A good few miles, but not far enough for safety.’

‘Thought so.’

The chase had begun.

‘
S
hameful, quite shameful.’ Captain Burgoyne of the engineers was truly angry. ‘How will the Spanish ever trust us, after breaking such a solemn promise?’

Ciudad Rodrigo was taken, and now the British were withdrawing to Almeida and so the engineer officer had just finished checking the fuses to his mines.

‘I recall the Spanish breaking a few promises to us last summer,’ Pringle said. Nothing had been heard of his friends in Ciudad Rodrigo and they were most likely captured or even dead.

‘There were not the numbers to face the French in the open,’ MacAndrews added in support.

‘But we could at least have tried.’ Burgoyne was truly agitated.

‘Aye, laddie, we could.’ The Scotsman said. ‘Not that it would have done them or us any good at all. Now are you ready?’

The engineer came back to the task in hand. ‘Yes. Time to move back while I take my sergeant in and light the fuses. Be worth warning those dragoons that they are too close.’

‘Captain Pringle, if you would be so kind.’ MacAndrews grinned. ‘Might as well enjoy the privilege of temporary rank before it and the fort are blown to ruin.’

‘Certainly, Colonel,’ Billy replied deliberately. ‘Although I have already told them once.’

He trotted over to where some of the 14th Light Dragoons had tethered their horses and lit a cooking fire.

‘Morning, Pringle.’ Major Tilney raised a chipped mug in greeting. ‘Care for a spot of tea?’

Billy Pringle concealed his shudder at the prospect. ‘Thank you for the offer, but Captain Burgoyne informs me that he is to set off his mines, and suggests that you and your men move back to a safer distance.’

‘Man is starting at shadows,’ the major replied dismissively. They were a good one hundred yards away from the low ramparts of the fort. ‘There is no danger.’

‘He was most positive in his opinion.’ Pringle could not understand the major’s stubbornness. ‘By the way, may I ask about the health of young Garland?’

‘Fine, I believe. Are you sure about the tea? My corporal makes an excellent brew.’

‘Thank you again, but I must decline, and rejoin Colonel MacAndrews.’

‘As you wish.’ Pringle thought he detected a faint hint of scorn in the light dragoon officer’s face, but decided to ignore it.

‘Bloody fools,’ MacAndrews said when Pringle repeated the exchange. ‘Typical cavalrymen.’

Captain Burgoyne was more polite when he trotted up. ‘Most unwise,’ he said, ‘indeed truly unwise. I would suggest that we retreat a little further. The fuse will burn through in about five minutes.’

Pringle was somewhat uncomfortable with the ‘about’, for he had watched engineers make enough mistakes on that long road to Corunna. He and his grenadiers had also ended up too close to one explosion and felt something of its power.

The first sound was muffled, quieter than the noise of the cannon from Ciudad Rodrigo during the siege, and then a second later the ground shook and the bastions of Fort La Concepción erupted. Pringle glimpsed tongues of flame shooting up before everything was swamped in fountains of thick black dust and smoke, which rolled out across the plain, engulfing the light dragoons and their horses. Some of the mounts broke free of their tethers, for soon the animals ran out of the cloud, obviously terrified.

It took minutes to clear, and when Pringle and the others rode forward they pressed handkerchiefs to their mouths to breathe more easily. One of the 14th was dead, his head crushed by a chunk of masonry, and two more were badly injured. Major Tilney’s right arm was broken and there was another bruise on his face. Pringle suspected the man would soon be on his way home, no doubt considered a hero after his few months on campaign. The injured privates would be less fortunate. A chunk of stone had shattered the ribcage of one man. He sobbed, his lips bubbling as he struggled for breath, and it was doubtful that he would live long.

The remains of another light dragoon lay nearer to the fort, for one of the mines had ripped open part of the glacis and with it the new grave of Colonel Talbot, flinging pieces of his corpse over a wide area. The biting stench of decay floated through the air with the dust and Pringle found himself gagging. An appalled sergeant from the RE vomited loudly.

‘Unfortunate,’ Captain Burgoyne said, choking on the word, but unable to say more.

His party of engineers helped the light dragoons rebury their colonel and the fresh body of the private.

‘Most unfortunate,’ Burgoyne repeated as he watched them. ‘One of the mines did not ignite.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Perhaps two.’

Pringle was left unsure whether he was concerned by the dead or the failure of his charge. ‘The damage appears extensive.’

‘Oh yes, the fort is slighted well enough to make it of little use to the French, but it is frustrating to leave a task incomplete.’

Before they left, MacAndrews stopped to stare back at the smoking remains of the fort. Other than Pringle, his remaining men had gone on ahead, escorting wagons carrying the powder and other provisions left in Fort La Concepción and now going to add to the reserves in Almeida. It was scarcely a task suited for such experienced NCOs, but typical of the mundane fatigues falling to any spare men placed at the disposal of the divisional staff. Most of the men had already applied to return to their own corps, and Reynolds of the 51st had gone off to a staff appointment in Lisbon.

‘Ah well, it’s back to major for me,’ MacAndrews said after a while, and turned his horse away. Pringle followed and kept silent.

Williams saw the plume of smoke rise high into the sky. They had heard the dull crump of the explosion and he had felt it worth investigating.

‘A few miles away,’ he said when he got back into the shelter of the pine grove. ‘The direction and distance are right, so my guess would be that it is Fort Conception.’

‘The French?’ Hanley asked.

‘Probably us. There would be no point leaving the place for the enemy.’

‘So we are retreating.’

Williams nodded. ‘Not far yet. They’ll want to slow the French as they go towards Almeida. There must be the best part of a division camped in the villages to the north.’ They had seen the glow of the French campfires last night, and almost walked into their picket line. Williams saw his friend look doubtful. ‘This is still the best way. The valley to the north is no more than a ravine, and I doubt we could have made it through.’

They had floated along the river at a good pace for three and a half hours, before pushing on to a stony beach where a tributary joined the Agueda. It was the last spot before the banks turned into cliffs. They used some stones to weigh the punt down, and then Williams, Dobson and Murphy had stripped and waded out, pushing the boat into the flow in the hope that it would keep going and confuse any pursuit. The officer had lost his footing in some soft sand and almost been swept away himself, but Murphy grabbed him, and then Dobson took hold and hauled the spluttering Williams from the current.

The six men headed inland, staying off the main paths. The ground was rocky, with low hills and little valleys that made it hard to keep in a straight line heading westwards. Within twenty minutes they saw the first French sentries, helped because the bored soldiers were chatting in low voices that carried a long way in the night air. They doubled back and went on a wide loop around, but soon came up against another outpost. Dawn was less than an hour away, and then Williams recognised a distinctive silhouette against the lightening sky.

‘Signal Mount,’ he said, and after a whispered conference it seemed wisest to head south and try to hide up somewhere there during the hours of daylight. It was hard walking, with another pause of ten minutes to let a patrol of a dozen French infantry pass by before they could cross a track. They stumbled on the loose stony slopes, but slowly began to climb. There was a good chance that the French would have an outpost on top of the hill, but Williams doubted that there would be more men away from the main villages and tracks. Even so there was a nervous half-hour of dawn light before they found the grove a good three-quarters of the way up the side of the big hill. Exhausted, they posted a sentry and soon fell asleep.

‘It will be hard to slip past them, even at night,’ Williams said after he had explained the French disposition to Hanley in more detail.

‘We must try.’

‘Yes.’ The Welshman lay back on the grass with a sigh. ‘Do you think Dalmas is after us?’ he asked.

‘After me,’ Hanley said. ‘And after this,’ he added, touching the papers in his pocket. ‘Perhaps we should split up?’

‘Would not do any good. If he is looking for a British officer he will be after any redcoats trying to slip through the lines. Like it or not, we are all at equal risk whatever we do.’

Hanley put his palm to his chest and gave a little bow. ‘Thank you anyway.’

‘Delighted, of course!’ Williams pondered the problem. ‘I do not believe he will find it easy to track us.’

Corporal Rose came through the trees and slid to a crouch beside the officers.

‘French cavalry, sir!’ he reported.

Williams shrugged. ‘I suspect my belief is about to be tested.’ He followed Rose back out of the trees to a little knoll where Rodriguez lay, searching ahead of him with Hanley’s glass. Williams got down beside him.

There were French dragoons down on the track where they had seen the French patrol the night before. It was more than a mile away, and even with the magnification of his own glass Williams could barely make out the individual men and horses, but the gleam of brass helmets was clear.

After a few minutes he half jogged, half slid back down the little slope into the trees.

‘Dragoons. A dozen at least, and probably more.’

‘Dalmas?’

‘Didn’t see him, but it’s too far to see anything with certainty. It may just be a patrol or foraging party.’ Williams did not sound convinced. ‘I doubt it, though. Don’t think we can afford to assume that they are not searching for us. We may have left more of a trail than I hoped. Perhaps they have even followed us from the river. He knew we left that way, after all, and there are not too many places where you can land safely.’

‘Should we move?’

Williams rubbed his chin. ‘They are still a long way away, and it will be hard for dragoons to follow us quickly up these slopes.’

‘There may be infantry as well.’

‘Yes. And this may be one patrol of many. If we move now then they have more chance of spotting us. Hard to walk up here without kicking stones and throwing up dust. Best to keep a close watch, of course, but we will be better off moving at night.’

They waited. Three weeks into July the days were just a little shorter, but it was still a long wait until the sun began to sink beneath the horizon and the six men set out. For a while they made as good progress as the rocky slopes of the hills allowed. Below them they could see lights from the village of Gallegos, and the twinkling cooking fires of the French infantry camping around the straggle of low stone houses. Soon they found their path blocked by a line of pickets at half-company strength.

Williams took them south, helped by the NCOs, who had all led training marches through the area. The French outposts all had fires. Rodriguez said that the enemy liked light as they felt it made it harder for the guerrillas to creep up on them. It was certainly useful, and made it easier to avoid their pickets, but all the time they were forced to loop back on themselves and go round. After three hours they came to the well-churned mud road leading to Fuentes de Oñoro and wondered about heading in that direction in the hope of finding the British lines. Williams was dubious.

‘If they’ve blown up Conception then I cannot see them staying this far forward.’

They crossed the road and kept going across country, heading into the maze of little hills and valleys near the source of another of the Agueda’s tributaries. Williams took them deliberately further south, as he doubted that it would be safe to use any of the bridges lower down. Even so they lost their way, and found themselves faced with the little stream tumbling down a steep valley. The water was fairly shallow, but when they found a spot where the banks dipped down, they still took great care as they crossed. Williams felt the water pushing hard at his boots, and once again was amazed at the force in even so small a stream.

The River de Dos Casas and then the River Turones still lay ahead of them, and both were much bigger affairs than this. There was a bridge on the road to Fort La Concepción, several miles to the north, and another somewhat closer, and they began to march towards them.