by Smith, Skye
Daniel went thoughtful while he imagined the battlefield use of such a spit once attached to a musket. It would give a musketeer an immediate blade that was long enough to reach and do damage to a mounted man or to his horse. He could fire his last ball at a charging horse and then, whether the ball did damage or not, he could step into the rider with this spit, rather than dodging or running. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked,” Jack repeated, "what brings you looking for the likes o' me?"
"I'm in need of a patrol of men with steady nerves and steady hands, so young hands are not good enough. I need seasoned veterans."
"What for?” Jack asked suspiciously.
"You know the bricked up section of city wall across from this church?"
"Aye."
"I want to place powder charges against it,” Daniel continued, "so that when the siege begins at the gates, I can blow the brick open and create a new gate."
"Ye'r a fool, mate. Ride out of this camp and go home before Waller gets yee killed. There is a bastion beside the brick section, with musketeers on it. The river that runs along the wall means you that you will have no cover. Be gone before yee get us all killed."
"I'll do all the close up work of setting and lighting the charges. All I need is solid men to cover me so that the musketeers on the wall don't have time enough to take careful aim."
"Any company of musketeers can do that,” Jack replied. "What yer truly afraid of is that their cavalry will sally forth from the west gate to see what you're about."
"That too,” Daniel admitted. He couldn't meet the long hard stare of the disfigured eyes so he asked. "Were you there at Magdeburg?"
"As I said already,” Jack grumbled. "That is why we lot came to help Waller. We heard about how the king's nobs did a Magdeburg on Brentford. We came to help Waller in hopes of cripplin' a few of the bugger nobs. Yee didn't think we cam to charge a breach in a wall did ya? Nay, we've too much savvy for that. Besides, we don't have the guns for what you need. Our muskets are old match locks, and our chest plates are nearly rusted through."
"What if I can get you rifled carbines?"
Jack laughed but immediately covered his face. "You get us the carbines, and then we'll talk again."
Daniel took a letter from his vest and laid it out in front of Jack. "This is a request from Waller that all his officers must assist me to the best of their ability. A shipment of muskets has just arrived, including a score of brand new carbines. They are mine for the asking, that is, if you will help me to collect them."
"If you've got that letter from Waller, then what do yee need us for?"
"The carbines were ordered and paid for by a cavalry company,” Daniel replied. "Those gents won't take kindly to me claiming them for some peasants in the infantry. I may need to persuade them that my need is greater than theirs.” He looked around at some of the men looking on. "Why not call your comrades together and put it to a vote?"
Jack put two fingers to his misshapen mouth and let out a whistle, and men began to rise from their sleeping pews and amble towards him. They were a motley crew wrapped in every spare blanket they could find. None of them were young, but neither were they old. All of them wore a different badge of courage ... a scarred face, a missing ear, the brand of a galley slave, hacked fingers. There were a dozen in all and it would have been more fitting to come across any of them in a dark alley than in a church.
"Don't let their rough looks put you off,” Jack said. "At one time or another, I've stood shoulder to shoulder with each of these men in a pike square. I trust them with my life.” He turned to the men and swung his thumb towards Daniel. "The captain, here, says that if we join his company that he'll equip us with new carbines."
"So dangerous work then?” replied a man with one-ear. Jack introduced him as Early. "Not much good standin' with a new carbine if I'm dropped by a ball before I gets a chance to fire it. We need new chest armour more than we need carbines."
"Then you'll have both,” Daniel told them, "and every man will have a flinter dragon and a pistol. What needs to be done is vital to the outcome of this siege, so the Colonel will not begrudge you any gear that will assure our success."
"What's the job?"
"To keep me alive long enough to do my job."
"When do we start?"
"Right now,” Daniel told them. "Let's first see if you can keep me alive long enough to take your new guns and armour from a troop of cavalry nobs."
"Are we allowed to kill them?” the man with the G branded into his forehead asked, eagerly. The G marked him as once having had the pleasure of serving the King of France as a galley slave. His mates called him Gal.
"Bruise them, yes. Hurt them, no. Those who are game to keep my company, come forward and shake on it.” A dozen men shook his arm in the way of warriors. The last man to shake was Jack, for he had lingered back so his vote would not sway the others.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Invasion by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-15
Chapter 7 - The Wrecking Crew at Chichester in December 1642
Colonel Waller's armoury was in an old tithe barn to the east of the almshouse where his headquarters were. Jack's men who were following Daniel towards it were no longer swathed in blankets but homespun woolen cloaks. Bulky heavy cloaks. Their clothing may have been threadbare, but a man would have to be a fool to march with a winter army without a long warm cloak. The guards at the door saluted Daniel. He had introduced himself earlier in the day when he had dropped by to see what kind of weapons were available.
By the number of fine horses that were tied up outside the barn, the cavalry troop was already here to collect their new and expensive gear. Daniel told Jack's men to stay outside but to keep their ears cocked for any sounds of trouble within. The men looked to the right of him where Jack was standing, and Jack must have given them the nod, for every man nodded to Daniel at the same time. He went into the great old barn alone, but with his pistols primed.
He allowed his eyes to get used to the gloom before he stepped towards the quartermaster's desk. The desk was nothing more than two planks laid over two large apple barrels, but it was stacked high with paperwork. He had to push through a ring of cavalryers to reach the quartermaster and his scribe, but once he was close enough he handed Waller's letter to the scribe. The scribe read it in one glance and then tugged on the quartermaster's sleeve to interrupt the bargaining that was going on with a cavalry officer, a major.
"Be with you in a moment,” the quartermaster growled and then continued talking in pounds and shillings.
Daniel couldn't afford to wait. These cavalryers would be after the same gear that he wanted, so he had to secure it before the officer could strike a deal. "Not in a moment. Right now. Waller's in a hurry."
The cavalry office, a portly man of perhaps fifty years, looked down his nose at the tall fair man, or rather up his nose, for the man stood a half a foot taller than he. "I see no insignia of rank, so I doubt you are an officer,” he told Daniel. "I am a major, and I will have you flogged if you interrupt me again.” He would have said more, except that the quartermaster had shoved the letter he had been reading into the man's hands. The major read it somewhat more slowly than either the scribe or the quartermaster, and then harrumphed and stepped backwards to show it to his men. The harrumph was as close to an apology as he would ever give to a commoner.
"How can I help yee, Cap'n?” the quartermaster asked obsequiously in a tone well practiced to not give offence, even as he stabbed you in the back. He was handed the shopping list that Daniel had written up before leaving the church. "But this is impossible. Not all of it mind, but the major is here to pick up the rifled carbines, and also the mated chest and back plates."
"I need but a dozen of each,” Daniel pointed out.
The major stepped forward and growled, "What's this?” as he snatched the list from the quartermaster. "I was expecting forty of each, and only twenty arrive
d, and now this, er, captain is claiming a dozen of them."
"Waller is claiming a dozen,” Daniel pointed out. "I am just here to collect them."
"The devil you say,” the major roared. He motioned to the half dozen men behind him and told them, "Fetch the cart in and begin loading our supplies.” He turned back to the quartermaster and held forth a heavy purse, "I accept your last price. Have the ledger marked paid in full."
"They are no longer for sale,” Daniel told him as he pushed the purse hand back down to the major's side. "The colonel needs them."
"We'll see about that,” the major fumed. "Possession is three tenths of the law."
"Four tenths,” the scribe corrected.
They all turned to face the horrific screech from behind them, and a blast of icy wind chilled their cheeks. It was the heavy cart door being opened on an unwaxed pivot. A horse cart came through the door and towards them, led by some of the major's men. The cart was being followed by a dozen men in homespun cloaks with their deep hoods pulled up against the chill. The last hooded men through the great door, closed it again with the same horrific screech, and the icy dust ceased to swirl across the floor.
The major's men began to load the cart with the items from their own shopping list. Twenty carbines and their kits, Twenty four light steel chest plates with matching back plates, a dozen dragon pistols, twenty horse pistols, five kegs of fine grind powder, a hundred weight of balls, two pounds of shaped flints. It was more or less the same list that Daniel had written, but for slightly differing numbers. He waited patiently to see how Jack and his men would handle this. And then not so patiently. And then impatiently. What was Jack waiting for?
The carter climbed back up onto the cart, so the major took some steps towards the quartermaster and tossed him the purse. The cart nag was being turned towards the door by the cavalryer with a hold on its bridle. The major began to stride towards the door. A dark shadow came out from behind a stack of wooden crates, and suddenly the major was moving, limping, sideways towards those crates. The shadow was moving him and the shadow's cloak had parted to allow one hand to grip the major's arm and to allow the other hand to hold a knife to the major's throat.
With a strong nod of his head, Jack shook off his hood and his big, ugly, disfigured face stared out at the major's men. "The major is under arrest for thwarting the colonel's siege plan,” he told them. "Keep your sabres sheathed and no one will get hurt."
The half dozen cavalryers ignored the warning and immediately drew their sabres, but they were not quick enough. More dark flowing shadows came out from behind the stacks of packing crates and each shadow was pointing a pistol at the sabre men. "Hold your fire,” Jack called out loudly enough to have every sabre man look his way. He smiled and his face changed from pitifully disfigured to horrifically grotesque. "Sheath your sabres carefully lads. Don't give them an excuse to shoot you. It would be silly to die over a misunderstanding, now wouldn't it?” He could see the sabre points wavering and dropping. He was winning. "My men know how good you are with them sabres of your'n. They'll have no choice but to shoot to kill.” The sabre points drooped to the ground.
Jack's hold on the major had slipped and the major took advantage of his new found inch to call out. "They are bluffing. They daren't kill you. You are gentlemen of quality, while they are just gutter louts.” That was all he said before a heavy fist slammed into his stomach just below the v in his ribcage and that fist completely stole away the breath for his next words.
On hearing the major's words, and seeing him pummeled by a sneaky fist, the cavalryers again raised their sabres, but they were too late. The shadows had moved in close, so close as to be inside the swing of a sabre, so the sabres were useless. The cavalryers were pummeled by the barrels of pistols and by gloved fists and they all sank to the ground, groaning. Jack frog marched the winded major over to sit with his men on the dusty ground. "Bind them, but go gently, as a gentleman deserves."
"You've just struck a major,” the scribe called out. "They'll hang you.” The man with the ghastly grin walked towards him and gestured rudely with two fingers.
"What happened here will remain here,” Daniel told them all. "The truth of it is that the major has conceded gracefully to the colonel's wishes, and his guards saw fit not to press the advantage of their swordsmanship without a direct order. Does anyone here question this version of the truth?” While the question hung in the air, Daniel snatched the heavy purse from the quartermaster's hands and carried it over to where the major was sitting on the cold, dusty floor and dropped it beside him. "How about you, major? Do you gracefully concede that I have a greater need of the carbines than thee."
The major stared up at him and nodded and tried to rise. "I agree, damn thee. Now tell them not to bind me. I won't be trussed up like a common thief.” He was still winded and hurting so he stumbled half way up and would have fallen to the ground again if the tall captain hadn't steadied him and pulled him to his feet. "You there,” he pointed to a one eared man, "sit my men down on that crate. I will not have them groveling in the dirt.” The man gave him a mock salute and then signaled his mates to do just that.
The major stooped to pick up his purse and then followed the tall captain who was now walking over to speak with the quartermaster. He hissed to the captain's back. "You've not heard the last of this Vanderus. You are a troublemaker; a commoner commissioned in battle; an abomination to the good Lord's order of things. I will have you stripped of your commission. You see if I don't."
Daniel didn't waste words arguing the point. Instead he called Jack and some of his men over to where he now stood with the quartermaster. "I'm swapping the pistols and dragons the major has chosen for the older versions of the same make. Twenty of each."
The quartermaster shrugged a shoulder, and then told Jack where he could find the other pistols. As Jack and his men walked off into the gloom to find them, the quartermaster asked "Why? Why would you want the older guns when the locks of the new ones have a half cocked position for loading the flash pan?"
"Because the locks on the older pistols are the same as the locks on the carbines,” Daniel replied. "I know the gunsmith in Rotterdam who designed those locks. He contracts the making of the various parts to other gunsmiths.” When Daniel saw that the quartermaster was still not understanding, he added. "It means that all of the parts are interchangeable between guns. It means that we need carry less spares, and we can fix one by scavenging another."
A shadowy figure with a brand on his forehead came towards them carrying what looked like a short-spiked halberd head mounted on an axe handle. "Look what I found in the back,” Gal called out as he held the strange looking axe up high.
"Great,” Daniel called back, "grab us up twenty of 'em.” He then turned to back to the quartermaster and asked, "Do you have any long fuses? Good ones? Weather proof? Oh, and two twenty weight kegs of coarse powder."
Jack's men worked continuously at unloading and reloading the cart, but finally they were finished and the cart was ready to go. Daniel signed off the bill of lading for the scribe, and that done, they all moved towards the great door.
"You, the ugly one,” the major called after Jack. "You put a knife to my throat and punched me, so I demand to know your name."
Daniel shook his head 'no' to Jack, but Jack just returned an ugly grin and called back. "You may call me Jack Lantern, sir."
As they followed the cart out of the great doorway, Jack asked, "Why the extra gear?"
"I need to recruit some more men, different kinds of men,” Daniel replied. "Tradesmen who know how to work with stone and brick and mortar. They may as well be armed the same as the rest of you, so we look like one company.” He was silent for a few more paces and then asked, "Back in the barn, why did you wait so long before disarming the major and his men?"
"I wanted them to do the work of loading the cart."
"Why did you tell them to keep their sabres sheathed? Your very words caused them to dra
w the blades."
Jack laughed. "I wanted them to draw their sabres, and therefore not their pistols. If they'd drawn their pistols someone would have gotten shot. You told us not to hurt them, just bruise them, remember?” His laughter stopped. "You've made an enemy of that major. Tomorrow you'll likely be busted down from captain to ordinary trooper, or perhaps all the way down to latrine digger."
"He'll have a job doing that, since I never was an army captain."
"What'say?” Jack said and whistled. "When the major finds that out, he'll hang you for pretending to be one."
"Oh I'm a captain right enough, but a ship's captain. In the navy that is the same rank as the major.” Daniel purposefully left out that he wasn't actually in the navy and so in truth he was a ship's master or commander, and that in the navy he'd likely never rise above a bo'sun because he wasn't from the right family.
They continued to follow the cart through the armoury guards, who gave Daniel an informal salute. Daniel was amazed that the guards were standing easy, and more amazed that Jack's lads hadn't trussed them up. "How did you get into the armoury past these guards?” he asked of Jack in a soft voice.
"Told 'em that we had to go in with the cart to do the liftin' and carryin' for the young nobs so they wouldn't get their hands dirty. They just waved us through.” Jack then raised his voice and called out to his men. "It's a valuable cargo lads. I want four on the cart with cocked pistols, two in front of the horse as scouts, and the rest as a rear guard.” He may as well have saved his breath, for the men were already forming up on their own.
"I understand that at one time or another you fought alongside each of these men over on the continent,” Daniel asked, "but how is it you are all here together in England? Surely you were not all from the same village?"