The Trojan Horse

by Christopher C Tubbs

  Before he knew it, they were alongside, and the lead men were shinning up the bow chains, a soft twang and a grunt as a guard was brought down with a crossbow. He leapt from the gunnel and pulled himself up the side, dropped quietly over the rail, and made his way aft, almost tripping over the body of the guard on his way.

  The men spread out across the deck and soon he was told that it was secure. Now, he had to take care of business below. He led five men down the stairs and once below, they un-shuttered a lantern that they had brought with them. By its dim light, they worked their way to the captain’s cabin where they found a sleeping guard propped against the door. A thrust through the heart ended his vigil, and Eric quietly opened the door after the body was moved out of the way.

  Snoring came from a compartment off to the larboard side. Eric pulled the curtain that closed it off from the main cabin aside and shone the lantern on the face of the man lying in the bed.

  “Can’t you let a man sleep in peace, you whore son,” he cursed. “It’s not as if I can go anywhere!”

  “Captain, I’m Midshipman Eric Longstaff, Royal Navy. We are here to rescue you,” Eric announced and smiled at the look of surprise on his face.

  “Navy? You have recaptured my ship?” the captain asked, then added as he realised he was being rude, “Stenson, Alan Stenson at your service.”

  “Almost. Can you tell me how many guards are on board and where they sleep?”

  “Ten in all and the cheeky bastards have taken the state rooms,” he replied and when Eric asked, he added, “Down the corridor the first four cabins either side.”

  “We took three out up top and one outside the door, so we have six to deal with. Please take care of it, Crabtree,” he ordered to the senior hand and then asked the captain,

  “Did you have passengers?”

  “Yes, the men are being held with the crew. The women are in the next cabin on the larboard side after the French.”

  “If you would kindly get dressed, we can go and tell them they are free, and you can get your ship ready to make sail.”

  “What? It’s the middle of the night!”

  “Exactly, you wouldn’t want to be trying to sail out in broad daylight with those French country ships in attendance and the barrage at the entrance, would you.” Eric stated flatly just the way his captain would have done. He looked at his watch.

  “We have about fifteen minutes, so I think we should get a move on.”

  The captain dragged on a pair of trousers and shoved his feet into a pair of shoes. In the background, they heard a number of screams and several thuds. He didn’t look into the cabins, which were now lit by lamps, after seeing the Formidiables carrying out bodies.

  Minutes later, his crew were freed and racing up the ratlines to make sail. Eric had a couple of his men with axes ready to cut the anchor cable after the captain bemoaned the loss and wanted to raise it with the capstan.

  Some damn people get their priorities all wrong! Eric cursed silently.

  “How do you know when to move?” Captain Stenson asked.

  Eric pointed East along the bay where the first signs of the fires Marty and Sam had set were showing.

  “Set the fore courses and topsails!” Stenson bellowed and as the sails started to fill, the sound of chopping came from the bow.

  The East Indiamen were all moored stern to shore, so they swung in turn to catch the wind as the anchor cables parted. Eric’s moved first and as she moved away, so Stanley Hart got his moving, and lastly, Phillip Trenchard.

  The bells were ringing in the church in the town to sound the alarm that there were buildings on fire and seemed to Eric to bid them farewell.

  Marty and Sam ran along the beach past the powder store and on up towards the battery. They passed several shapes they knew would be dead sentries and ignored them. They had a deadline to meet.

  Marty expected to rendezvous with the rest of the shadows at the battery then to meet up with their boat, which would be pulled up on the beach as planned. A whistle like a corncrake call sounded, Marty slowed to a walk, and responded in kind. A shape separated from the shadows and beckoned them forward.

  “The battery gunners are berthed in a barracks set back from the battery and the magazine is in an underground store well away from both the guns and the barracks,” Antton reported in a whisper.

  “Can we blow the magazine?” Marty asked.

  “That’s no problem. We have several pipe bombs left. What do you want to do with the rest?”

  “Put a couple at the door of the barracks and scatter the rest through the battery around the guns.”

  Antton grinned at him,

  “That should cause some mayhem.”

  They joined the rest of the team and John and Garai were sent off to mine the magazine. Chin Lee and Matai went to the battery, which left Marty, Sam, and Antton to set the bombs at the barracks.

  Hoods up, the three of them slunk down the path to the barracks. They planned to place the two bombs just outside the door set to go off after the magazine went up.

  They were placing the first bomb when the door opened, and a sleepy soldier looked out in surprise. To give him his due, he didn’t hesitate,

  “ALARM, ALARM!” he shouted at the top of his voice before one of Marty’s throwing knives took him in the throat, but it was too late! The gunners were awake, and the alarm was being shouted as they grabbed their weapons.

  Marty had a primed bomb in his hand and threw it through the door, hoping the wheel-lock would trigger when it hit something, but it just clattered across the floor and did nothing.

  “Run!” he yelled and matched the order with action. Shots rang out and Sam, who was right behind him, grunted and stumbled. Marty looked around to see him fall to the ground and slowed to turn around and help him. Bullets fizzed past his ears as the gunners flooded out of the doors. Antton grabbed his arm and pulled him away into the dark. The last he saw in the light spilling from the barracks door was Sam surrounded by the French, who had their bayonets pressed to his body.

  They ran for the beach where they should meet up with the rest of the team. There was an explosion behind them, which they thought must have been the pipe bomb in the barracks. Across the bay, they could see that the shops were on fire and by the light of the flames, he could just make out the three East Indiamen sailing out of the bay.

  They almost stumbled into the rest of the team in their headlong flight. The shouts of officers getting the gunners organised echoed behind them.

  That was when the next problem came up- the boat wasn’t at the rendezvous. Marty’s first thought was they were in the wrong place, but then the powder store exploded, and the bay lit up. He could see the East Indiamen and the Bonne Marie, but no boat.

  The blast wave from the powder store reached them, and a wave of hot air washed over them. A second huge, much closer explosion deafened them as the battery magazine went up.

  “We need to get out of here. The boat is nowhere to be seen and this beach will be awash with soldiers soon.”

  There was only one thing to do- head inland then try and get to Grande Porte and the blockading force, after they rescued Sam, that is.

  Chapter 17: Run Rabbits Run

  The Shadows melted into the countryside as the bombs around the battery started going off. They needed to get off the point as the number of soldiers prowling around and shooting at anything that moved made it an especially unhealthy place. They also knew that as soon as the sun came up, the military would sweep the area.

  The land behind the bay was a coastal plain that stretched back some ten miles to the central mountains. There were areas of forest and streams, so they had cover to hide in and water to drink.

  Marty had no doubts about their ability to hide but he was very worried about Sam. He must have been wounded, but where? Would he get any care from the French or would they just torture him for any information they could get out of him? Where would they hold him?

  Whatever
the answers were, they would have to wait for later. They needed to get away first and figure out what they could do about Sam after.

  He steered them South across farmland, hoping to run into a wooded area where they could hide but as false dawn came. They were still in open country.

  They kept going, using whatever cover they could find and eventually spotted a column of smoke, which looked like it might come from a farm. They made their way to it and were lucky; it was a farmhouse and there were outbuildings.

  They chose one that looked less used than the others and slipped inside. It was a cowshed, and it was occupied by a solitary heifer and her muscular bull calf. They needed something to drink and took it in turns, squirting a few mouthfuls of milk from her full udder while the others kept the calf at bay. The warm milk reminded Marty that they needed to sleep. There were several stalls in the bier and only one was occupied, so they took the furthest one, which was being used to store hay, burrowed into the pile, and settled down for the day.

  Come dawn, the farmer led the cow and calf out to pasture then mucked out the stall. They all held their breath as none of them wanted to have to kill a man who was just going innocently about his daily business. Much to their relief, he took some fresh bedding from another stall, spread it around, and left the barn.

  Marty slept, their standard practice was to run two-hour watches so everyone could get as much rest as possible, and John Smith woke him after around six hours when it was his turn. He felt refreshed but hungry and decided he needed to do something about that.

  He removed his black jacket to reveal a simple cotton shirt underneath and slipped out of the briar. A quick look showed that there was a track that ran past the farm, and he made his way to it, staying out of sight of the farmhouse.

  Acting the innocent traveller, he sauntered along the track into view of the house as if he had just been passing by. Then, as if on a whim, he walked up to the farmhouse and knocked on the door.

  A middle-aged woman with a sharp face opened the door and greeted him,

  “What do you want?”

  Marty wasn’t bothered by her sharp tone and smiled his best smile.

  “I am a traveller and I was hoping that I could buy some food from you as your farm looks to be well kept and prosperous.”

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

  “You can pay?”

  Marty feigned surprise and said,

  “Oh, of course.” He pulled out a pouch and tipped a few silver coins into his hand. She took one and bit it. Satisfied it was real, she invited him in.

  “You just walked up to the door and bought it?” John asked incredulously as he tucked into his portion of bread cheese and some ham. It wasn’t much as Marty had only been able to buy food for one, but he had gotten the old girl to give him generous portions.

  “Why not? They are looking for a number of men dressed in black and I was just a wanderer on my own. Besides, it didn’t seem that the farmer or his wife heard anything from the military and were asking me if I knew anything about the explosions.”

  “Well, thanks for the grub. What do we do now?” John asked.

  “Find out where they are holding Sam and establish whether we can get him back before we leave the island. We will stay hidden for a couple of days then, when they give up searching for us, we head back to Grande Baye and see if we can find him.”

  Because Marty was the only one the French captain and his lieutenant saw close up, and John Smith and Chin Lee didn’t speak French, it fell on the Basques to go into the town and find out what they could.

  “He is being held on the Fore. She’s a forty-four. According to one of their crew who likes to gossip, he was shot in the thigh and the ball passed clean through. Their doctor was going to take his leg off, but Sam threatened to bite out his throat if he so much as touched him. He asked for some herbs, garlic, and ginger, made a poultice, and is treating himself,” Garai reported.

  “Did he say what they plan to do with him?” Marty asked.

  “Yes, as he doesn’t speak French and no one in Grande Baye speaks English, they are planning to move him to Íle Bonaparte where there is an office of the Department of Internal Affairs,” Antton added.

  “Why not Grande Porte?” Marty wondered out loud.

  “That’s simple. They don’t want to run the blockade,” Garai clarified. “Oh, and the captain of the Fore is the one who came aboard the Marie.”

  “Did you get a look at that ship?”

  “Oh yes, pretty as a picture and shines like a new pin. I would put money on her captain being more interested in her looks than her fighting ability,” Matai chipped in.

  “Is he really,” Marty replied thoughtfully. “Any mention of them looking for us?”

  “They assume we were picked up by the Marie, they don’t have anyone who can read tracks by the sound of what we heard and think we left by the beach.” Garai replied with a grin.

  The boys went shopping while they were in the town. Prices were extortionate due to them having burned down half the shops, but they managed to get some clothes, food, bags to carry it in, and most important, a basic map of the island.

  They headed to the Pointe de Flac, a fishing village about ten miles to the East of where they were hidden and where they hoped to be able to acquire a boat of some type. The other advantage of heading there was they wouldn’t have to make their way through the mountains that covered the centre of the island.

  Traveling overnight took longer but was safer, and they arrived at the village just as dawn broke the next day. As luck would have it, the fishing fleet was out and there wasn’t a boat to be had anywhere. All they could do was wait. The people in the village were all natives and had as little contact with the occupying French as they could. Most spoke Creole and Marty thought he could make himself understood.

  As all the men were out fishing, he cautiously approached an old woman who was mending a net by gripping it with her toes to keep it taut, then using what looked like a kind of bobbin with the twine wrapped around it, tied new mesh into the tear. Her hands moved so fast he couldn’t really see what she was doing. She had a burning pipe clenched between her teeth.

  “Hello mother, can I ask where a man can buy or hire a boat?” Marty asked in his worst French accent.

  She didn’t stop what she was doing or take the pipe out of her mouth but replied in barely understandable Creole,

  “That depends on where you want to go, now doesn’t it?”

  Marty decided on a hunch to take a risk.

  “I want to get me and my men to the British ships.”

  She stopped knotting, took the pipe from her mouth, and pointed at him with the stem.

  “And why would you want to go there?”

  “The French are looking for us. We did something to upset them a lot and they have one of my men captive. I want to get him back and to do that, I need to get to the British.”

  She cackled a laugh, showing more gums than teeth.

  “Boom!”

  Marty smiled and shrugged modestly.

  “My son has a boat big enough for all of you, and he trades fish with the British ships. They pay well for it, not like the damn French,” she hawked and spat, hitting a seagull on the back of the head. It flew off squawking. “He will be back in the morning and I will talk to him. What will you pay?”

  “Thank you, mother. I will pay whatever he asks,” Marty promised.

  “He will take you for free, but you must do something for me in return,” she said, suddenly getting serious.

  Oh, oh. What’s coming? Marty thought, but nodded anyway.

  “My son’s wife is very pretty and when he is away, there is a French officer who keeps coming to the village and pestering her to have sex with him. She has resisted so far, but it won’t be long before he loses patience and just takes her, and that would break my poor Jean’s heart. He will come again today on his fine horse. You must make him stop. I don’t care how as long as it ca
nnot be linked to my Jean.”

  Marty agreed, relieved that all he had to do was kill a French officer and make it look like an accident. The old lady, he refused to think of her as a crone, invited them to the house she shared with her son and daughter in law for a morning meal.

  Her son’s wife was as pretty as she said, a dusky beauty with large brown eyes and luxuriant hair that hung almost to her very pert backside. Her name was Gabrielle.

  “Where does the Frenchman come from?” Marty asked

  “Laventure, it’s about five kilometres from here,” Gabrielle answered in quite good French and pointed to the Northwest. “There is a track that leads here, which he rides down. He found me when I visited the market.”

  “What would Jean do if he knew this man was forcing himself on you?”

  Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip before she answered,

  “He would challenge him and would be killed; he is not a fighter.”

  “Don’t worry, we will take care of it,” Marty assured her. They left as soon as they finished the meal.

  There were only two dirt roads leading into the village, and they made their way up the one that headed Northwest until they found a place where it passed through a copse of trees. There was ample cover to hide, and John climbed a tree to watch for the over amorous Frenchman.

  It was around eleven o’clock in the morning when he dropped out of the tree.

  “There’s a horseman coming. Looks like he’s a grenadier from his uniform. He ain’t payin’ much attention to what’s goin’ on.”

  “You all know what to do. Chin, are you ready?”

  The Chinaman nodded and rolled his shoulders.

  “Let’s do it.”

  They hid behind trees and waited. The Grenadier came into view around the corner thirty yards before the trees. He was whistling a merry tune and his horse was at the trot.

  As he got to the middle of the copse, the shadows leapt out from cover and surrounded the horse, yelling and waving their arms. The horse reared, and the rider tried simultaneously to control it and draw his sabre, but Chin leapt up behind him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him out of the saddle. He landed flat on his back and had the wind knocked out of him. As he struggled to sit up, Chin knelt behind him, and using a similar technique that Marty saw Sam use, broke his neck. One of the boys managed to grab the horse’s reins, and Matai was doing his thing and calming it.