Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 ..

by Taylor, Winchcombe

  The road dropped abruptly into a void, and the enclosing trees gave place to open sky as they tumbled like green velvet to carpet a wdde valley below.

  "The way falls steep," he warned Nathan and Job. "See the bat horses don't override you." He gave his stallion free rein.

  Nathan's best for Juan, he decided. He'll make him a good body servant. Juan! Nine years since I've seen him and now he's twenty-three. Ecod, when I was his age, I was leading a horde of Marathas. But he's had small chance for action in an Irish garrison town, and this campaign can't promise him much either. Likely he'll spend years in some frontier fort.

  Glowing inwardly, he thought of the past years with Erinne. Perfect wife, devoted mother, magnificent colonist! Not for her the dubious prestige of two baronies, but pride in being mistress of Shore-acres and spouse of Colonel Anstruther.

  For he was still Ram Anstruther. When he'd brought Erinne and

  the boy from Augustine, it was James who'd advised him to keep the name and to remain in Georgia, and also, as a concession to convention, to legally adopt Juan ''Royston/' The children who'd come since were, of course, Anstruthers by birth.

  As for himself, he commanded all southern Georgia's militia, was an Assembly member and, since slavery had been permitted, owned fifty Negroes to work his cotton fields.

  Yet he thought nostalgically of the old days, with James as his closest friend and leader. But James had long since returned to England and was now a lieutenant general. Too, Georgia had become a Crown colony, with a royal governor, and grown so strong that the St. Augustine Spaniards could never dare to invade it again.

  His reverie held until he was far across the valley floor and had reached the Little Crossings over the headwaters of the Youghioheny. The ford there was guarded by a platoon of the Forty-eighth Foot— regiments were now numbered and no longer known by their colonels' names. The ensign in command said he knew "Johnny" Anstruther well, a rare fine fellow. He was certain the troops had not yet driven the French from Fort Duquesne, for the advance had been painfully slow through the interminable forests.

  "All the fault of the cursed provincials not providing us enough horses and wagons," he added pompously.

  Why, Ram fumed upon leaving him, do new men from home look down on us? If this jackanapes dares criticize us to my face, what of old Braddock? He'd ever a bitter tongue. Damme, we're as true Britons as any of 'em!

  As he was leaving next morning, a Forty-eighth private limped up. He was, he said, Tom Faucett and he'd been left behind because of a tick-infected leg. Could the "Gunnel" give him a ride to rejoin his company? Ram ordered the slaves to redistribute one bat horse's load onto the other and their own mounts, and bade the soldier mount.

  "You don't sound like a home man," he commented, as they rode.

  "Lancaster, in Pennsylvaney's whare I'm frum—one o' them pore fools what 'listed in the reg'lars. 'Most half both reg'ments was recruited up to strength from my province and Mar)'land and Virginia. Me brother 'listed with me, and right regretful we are. Reg'lars is all drill, drill." Under further questioning, Faucett said he'd been an ostler and his brother a laborer before the lure of army pay had put

  them into red coats. He'd never been away from Lancaster before, and he was highly critical of anything not Pennsylvanian. "The gin'ril couldn't git no hawses ner wagons ner nawthin' till our Dr. Ben Franklin got 'em for him," he confided. "Marylanders an' Virginians ain't wuth the powder to blow 'em away. And the home men's worse."

  At day's end they came up with the heavy baggage train as it was making camp. Its commander. Colonel Thomas Dunbar, of the Forty-eighth, was frigid till he learned Ram had once held the King's commission.

  "Damme, it seems here if a man commands half a score militia, he's a field officer and thinks he knows more than do gentlemen who've spent half their lives in the service," he grumbled.

  "I've no advice to give anyone, save my son," Ram said, nettled. "But I've found making war in Georgia and Florida's far different from what it was in Europe."

  "All provincials say that!" the other shrugged. "But I admit it's cursed slow business, hacking a road through these forests. That's why the general's up with the advance, leaving me to bring on the main stores and heavy guns. I'm not gaining four miles a day!"

  If he's an example of our present officers, they'll never learn our colonial ways. Ram felt as he left Dunbar. I must check such a tendency in Juan, lest he grow too rigid in his thinking.

  He had bivouacked well away from the troops, and soon Faucett joined him. "All the home men is awful scairy," the private chuckled. "I was a-tellin' some what Injians do to captives, an' the yaller-bellied rogues turned green. And me jist a-funnin' with 'em!"

  "Rot your soul!" Ram exploded, remembering how idlers had tried to frighten the Highlanders newly arrived in Georgia. "All are fearful, home men or provincials, till they grow used to the forest. Are you so valiant, you, who've never before left your town?"

  Next day he began overtaking a long column of wagons that carried rations for the fighting troops ahead. The twelve-foot road, bordered by raw tree stumps and with boulders still on it, was taking heavy toll of the vehicles; while the horses were gaunt from over^vork.

  As he was passing the column's head, a sallow provincial officer poked his head from the hood of a wagon.

  "Your pardon, sir!" he called to Ram. "Would I be imposing too much to request the use of one of your horses and to ride forward

  with you? I've been down with the flux. Name's Washington, sir, and I'm acting as one of the general's aides."

  Ram knew who he was; knew of how, the previous year, he'd led a Virginian force against the French but had been trapped in a half-built fort near this very spot and forced to surrender—though with honors of war. Introducing himself, therefore, Ram told Faucett to ride the rest of the way by wagon and order Job to take the private's seat on the bat horse, thereby freeing Juan's future stallion for young Colonel Washington's use.

  Young! He wasn't more than twenty-five; yet now, as he crawled down, he was as bent as an old man from his late sickness. But he straightened in the saddle at once, complimenting Ram on the fine animal.

  Ram told him about the Dalesview-Shoreacres strain and how it had provided officers' chargers for half a century. Chatting as they rode, Washington soon asked if Ram had ever met Braddock.

  "Not since he was a Guards' lieutenant." Then Ram flushed at the other's stare of surprise. Damme, does that make me a relic? he smoldered. Braddock's ten years older than I.

  But the Virginian was saying: "He speaks much of the late wars in Flanders. What battles! But in Europe the French still practice chivalry. Here they're not so nice and are like to send Indians scalping in our rear."

  "So do the Dons," Ram agreed. "These Indians must be like ours in the south and rarely fight save from cover." Ram told about Faucett, adding: "Home troops are peerless in a set battle or a siege, but I've found 'em poor in the woods. And this raw fool spreads terror tales among 'em!"

  "Yes, we've many like him," Washington agreed. "But with deference to Georgia, Colonel, I venture ye'll find no better woodsmen than our Virginia Rangers. We've four hundred fifty with us now. Had they been with me at Fort Necessity, I'd never have had to capitulate."

  Ram chuckled. "Let me send for my own rangers to add to 'em, and we'll drive every Frenchman back to Canada!"

  Soon afterward they caught up with the advanced division, which was halted while axmen hewed out a further stretch of roadway ahead. Washington indicated some mounted officers. "There's the

  general and, by his looks, he's in no good temper. May I presume to present you to him. Colonel?"

  As they approached him, Edward Braddock's florid face darkened at sight of Ram's blue coat, as if he feared more gratuitous advice from a "cursed provincial." But when he heard the name, he grinned ponderously.

  "The Nabob, egad! Damme, never thought to find you here. What've ye come for? To teach me how to fight the French, hey?" />
  "No, General. Only to see my son in the Forty-fourth. I'd like to give him some hints as to what's expected of an ensign on campaign."

  "Gentlemen, Nabob Anstruther was the gayest blade in the town," Braddock told his staff. "Rolling in lucre! Many's the wench I've had with guineas I won off him. So now you're an American, Nabob!"

  "A Georgian, sir," Ram corrected. They talked of the past.

  "Ye should have been at Fontenoy, back in '45," Braddock averred. "Duke Cumberland demanded the impossible of us and, egad, we achieved it! Discipline! Despite the cursed Dutch not taking the batteries on our flank. 'Twas a rare fine sight, our men falling like sickled wheat, yet never a one turning tail!"

  At last Ram was able to beg leave to go forward and find Ensign Anstruther. His heart pounded as he saw the astonished look on Juan's face as he rode up to him.

  "Father!" The boy almost hauled him from the saddle. "Father, what are you doing here? Have you brought Georgia troops?"

  "Wait, boy, wait!" There was a lump in Ram's throat. "I see the advance is held up, so let's sit on yonder stumps and talk. But first, here's Black Nathan to serve you, and that's Shoreacres Boy, as fine a stallion as there is in all America, and a bat horse."

  They began to talk, disjointedly at first, as men will after a long parting.

  "And Mother flourishes? Ye think Brian's ripe for Eton College, sir? Mary and young James, how do they grow?" Juan was avid for news. When Ram showed him Sue's latest letter, which told that Davie was soon to wed a peer's daughter and would later run for Parliament, he laughed. "Davie'll do well in the House. At Oxford he could debate the legs off a pack horse. And Shoreacres, Father, is all well? How I long to see it again!"

  Ram told of Joseph's death; of how he himself and Peg-Leg now

  owned half a dozen schooners, one of which had brought him up to Alexandria in Virginia this past week; of how he contemplated taking up a new grant in central Georgia. "I'll take out five hundred acres for you too, lad. Likely this frontier war will soon end, and you may wish to go on half pay. Your mother misses you greatly."

  Juan introduced him to his colonel, Sir Peter Halket, to Lieutenant Colonel Tom Gage, and other Forty-fourth officers. Their compliments about "Johnny" warmed him. Fine fellows, these redcoats. Like coming home!

  Later, when he and Juan were lying in a small shelter of boughs, he gave him a rosary and a small silver crucifix. "Your mother sent you these, lad. She fears you may have forgotten your faith among all these Protestants."

  "Father, when's it going to change?" Juan asked soberly. "I don't like sailing under false colors. No one in the regiment knows I'm a Catholic. It's stupid to think we can't be as true as heretics."

  "Patience, son," Ram counseled. "In the old land they'll not change yet. But we in the new are more sane. There's a fine Jesuit priest who comes to the plantation regularly to give the mass to your mother and the children. And no one has objected to me about him. There are many Papists in Georgia now."

  From a deerskin pouch he took a thin gold chain and an amulet. "This is from me, Juan. You know its story. The Baron wore it with honor. And its twin has brought me through many perils. Put it on, lad, and henceforth wear it always—with honor."

  The advance moved off at dawn, a screen of scouts and flank guards —among them a few Indians—protecting it and the main body following behind. It must cross the Monongahela which, where it joined the Allegheny to the north, became the Ohio. And at the forks stood Fort Duquesne, from which Braddock must drive the French. After fording the winding river, the troops must later recross it a few miles farther down; since the intervening way was impracticable for men or guns. Ram rode with Braddock and his staff. By noon the first crossing was secure.

  "I could take an army across all Europe in the time it's taken to reach this petty outpost," Braddock fretted. "But by tomorrow night, Britain's colors will fly where the French lilies now are." Dismounting,

  he walked to some rough tables that had been set up and loaded with food. "Fall to, gentlemen. When fighting's ahead, a full belly's the thing. If the French don't oppose us at the second crossing, more fools they, and I have 'em!"

  The food was good, and there were many officers to eat it. From ahead came the faint strains of "The British Grenadiers," played by fifes and drums, to show that the advance was over the second crossing.

  But soon there was a faint spatter of shots and the bark of the two six-pounders with the vanguard. Then some solid volleys.

  "At last," Braddock grunted. "Well, half the troops are over. We'll soon hem the French in in their wooden fort."

  Ram's blood began to surge. Action! How would Juan behave?

  The firing died away into a few individual shots.

  "They're driven." Braddock tucked his napkin back under his chin. "Captain Orme, ride ahead with my compliments to Colonel Gage and say the advance will continue."

  Firing broke out again, sharper this time, some shots seeming closer, as if on the flanks. Ram moved uneasily. Indian tactics! Washington, obviously also uneasy, suggested to the general that Stuart's Virginians should be sent ahead to brush hostile skirmishers from the flanks

  "Damme, no!" was the refusal. "Gage has ample men for that."

  A light horseman came galloping back, blood on his bridle arm. Gage requested reinforcements. French and Indians were on three sides of the advance, shooting from cover. Braddock at once sent Washington forward to learn the situation. Two companies of the Forty-fourth were ordered up in support.

  Ram squirmed with anxiety. Oh, for his rangers now: to dash forward, fighting from tree to tree, and outflank the outflankers!

  Men came streaming back, not all with wounds. Storming, Braddock ordered them re-formed. "Gage must push on to where we can all deploy. I don't like us cooped up, half over the crossing and half here."

  "Sir, may I join my son?" Ram demanded. " 'Tis his first action."

  "The first for all but a handful of us," Braddock shrugged. "Away then. Nabob, and run through any stragglers ye meet. This comes from having to bring the regiments up to strength with provincials."

  Ram rode forward, splashed across the ford and gained the rising ground beyond. A bullet droned past from the trees on his left. From a hill on the right smoke puffs appeared. The fresh-hewn road was jammed with halted troops, wagons and pack-animals. Faces were taut.

  He maneuvered past the mass. Bullets came from both sides now. Once he heard a screeching whoop and knew it was a scalp yell. He passed several dead and wounded on the road; passed tool wagons, one of them overturned, its civilian drivers having freed the horses and fled rearward with them.

  He began shouting Juan's name whenever he saw officers, but got no reply. He reached the six-pounders, their gunners—Navy men— lying dead around them. Bullets were spitting past his legs now,

  "Ensign Anstruther!" he yelled urgently.

  Whoops arose from both sides of the road, even from behind him. He hoped the Virginians would come up and advance extended through the trees to sweep away the Indian marksmen.

  He found Juan's company huddled without formation, its captain and many of its men dead. The lieutenant and Juan were trying to re-form the rest and make them turn outward to face the trees.

  Ram's stallion reared, screaming, and went down. He jumped clear but fell heavily and for a moment lay dazed, hearing only the animal's dying groans.

  "Father!" Juan pulled him to his feet, "Father, are you hit?"

  "Get your platoon into the wood's fringe on the left, sir!" he snapped. "No one to fire unless he sees a plain target."

  Pale but game, Juan nodded. While he took his half company into the left fringe, the lieutenant moved his into the right. The road was clear save for the casualties.

  "Steady!" Ram encouraged, "They daren't charge, if you don't falter. Don't waste powder against trees. Shoot at redskins only!"

  Braddock galloped up, "Ye lily-livered poltroons, back in company ranks!" He beat the nearest man with the
flat of his sword. "In formation, I say!"

  Seething, Ram seized his bridle. "This isn't Fontenoy! The men make too easy a target, formed in ranks. Let 'em spread out and fire from cover when they see enemies to shoot at!"

  Either Braddock didn't hear or chose to ignore such advice. "Re-

  form on the road and fire by platoons!" Then his horse was killed under him.

  Whoops came for all sides now, and from all sides came bullets. Juan's men began to break. Ram saw his son dash after a knot of runaways, clutching at their arms, beating their backs with his sword, trying to turn them around.

  "Great God, it's Bloody Marsh all over, only now we're in the Don's place!" Ram thought in cold horror. Damn all regulars in this kind of a fight!

  The lieutenant lay dead near him, so he snarled at the nearest men to pick up the wounded and follow him back to the overturned tool wagon, which gave a modicum of shelter. There he reorganized them, making them kneel behind trees. Using a discarded musket he showed them how to fire at any figure that flitted through the woods. He recognized Faucett, crouching beside another private.

  Braddock had returned on a fresh mount, seeming to have gone insane. "Bastards!" he mouthed. "Stand and fight like men!"

  The private beside Faucett fled rearward. Pivoting his horse. Brad-dock pursued him. "Back in formation!" he roared and, when the fugitive kept on, drove his sword into his back.

  "My brother!" Ram heard Faucett scream and saw him raise his musket. "Ye've murdered my brother!" He fired. Braddock jerked, sagged in his saddle and fell to the ground.

  Ram saw all, but was too occupied either to help the general or to kill Faucett. For a ball came through the wagon's exposed bed, just by his right cheek. Kneeling, he saw a figure dart from one tree to the next. The Indian's next dash wasn't fast enough. Ram's bullet knocked him down.

  Reloading, Ram looked around. He was alone. Juan! Surely he hasn't run too!