British Light Dragoon (Napoleonic Horseman Book 3)

by Griff Hosker

  I nodded. “I know but I think we should do something about them.”

  Sharp’s face fell. “What do you mean sir?”

  “I mean let’s try to destroy them.”

  “But there are a company of engineers there.”

  I could see that I was being unreasonable. I was asking Sharp to risk his life and it was not necessary. “You are right.” He looked relieved, “I will go with you to the rendezvous point and you can take the information back to Colonel Selkirk.”

  His face became angry, “That’s not what I meant sir. I am not afraid! I am not deserting you but why should you put your life at risk?”

  “Because I wear the uniform and there is no one else. It’s just us.”

  “Then we will both do it.”

  Later that night we finalised our plans. We would borrow the horses the following day but we would take with us spare clothes. Our luggage we would leave. Once we had destroyed the skins- I still had to work out how- we would head for the second rendezvous point. It would mean risking Calais again, for our second point was close to Dunkerque. The hotel would raise the alarm but not until the evening of the following day.

  As we rode down the road I was busy trying to work out how to get past the guards and then destroy the skins. It was Sharp who had the idea. “It strikes me sir, that the building is made of wood and it should burn.”

  “I can see that and there would be plenty of inflammable material close to hand but how do we get the soldiers far enough away so that we could start the fire?”

  “Sir, when you were in the balloon what made it rise?”

  “We put wood into the stove and it inflated.”

  “So if we could make the balloon rise, without anyone in it they would try to get it back.”

  “We still have the guards on the balloon to worry about and we have to hope that the fire is sill lit.”

  He laughed, “Well we can think of something else then, can’t we sir?”

  He was right. We had to improvise and think on our feet. We hid the horses north of the site for we would be travelling back through the night to reach our rendezvous. I realised that I could have guaranteed success by waiting until the small hours of the night when everyone would be asleep but that would have meant us missing our boat. I had no doubt that once we fired the workshop the French would not rest until we were captured.

  We found a place, close to the cliff, where we could observe them. I had left my sword on the horse as it might trip me up and we would not need such weapons. We both had our two pistols and that, along with my stiletto, would have to suffice.

  “Let’s count the guards and watch their routine.”

  “You know they will have a relief at some point. If it is like our army it will be every four hours.”

  He was right of course. We had a good point from which to view. The cliff we used overlooked the camp, not by much, but enough. We counted the men and there appeared to be sixty of them. Assuming that they had some who worked inside that would give us, perhaps, seventy men. We were both dressed in dark clothes and, if we fled at night they would have to spread out to find us. It was not much but it was all that we had. We discovered that they changed guards at four hourly intervals. If they relieved them at eight then we had our pattern. There were two guards at the balloon which was still inflated although it was deflating. There were four at the main gate and, annoyingly, another two who seemed to patrol the perimeter. They would be the wild cards.

  We had brought bread, cheese and wine. We ate at six. It was mainly to fill the time before darkness fell. It would be dark at about nine thirty; by ten thirty the guards would be relaxed enough for us to strike.

  “Sharp have you ever killed a man with a knife?” He shook his head. “It is not as easy as it sounds. You have to be ruthless. Here I will show you.” I demonstrated with him. “You put your hand over their mouth to stop them screaming and pull the head back with your knee in the small of their back. It exposes the throat and stops them elbowing you in the stomach. You have to watch for them pushing you backwards or head butting you. You have to strike quickly. You slice hard across the throat. The warm blood can be off putting but it is your life or theirs. Just make sure you follow through with it.”

  “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.” He was like a puppy trying to please his master. I began to feel guilty about putting him in this position.

  When the guards changed at eight I felt much better. I felt even happier when, at ten past eight, ten of them, mainly officers, mounted their horses and left the camp and headed north. The whole camp took on a deserted feel and I could see lights in two of the mess tents. The third was obviously the officers and they had left the camp. We gradually edged our way down the gentle slope. We knew the route the two patrolling guards took; our problem was that we could not predict when they would arrive. Our first job was to take them out of commission.

  They obliged us by talking as they wandered along. I did not enjoy the prospect of killing the two of them but we risked capture and death if we merely knocked them out. With Sharp on one side of their path and me on the other we waited until they were close. We rose like two wraiths. Mine died silently as the knife ripped though his jugular vein. Sharp’s victim gave the slightest of moans before he too fell dead.

  We took their powder with us as it would help to start the fire. We now knew that there were just two guards on the balloon and four on the gate. We had not been able to see the workshop and we didn’t know how many guards were there. That would be our next problem.

  To my amazement there were none. It struck me as bizarre that they guarded the small balloon but not their secret weapons. Later I decided that they feared theft and not sabotage. The door was, miraculously, unlocked and we slipped inside. We found a great deal of material which would burn and we made a mound of it in the middle of the workshop. Then we dragged the three skins over. That was a harder task than we imagined; they were not light. Eventually we managed it. We poured the black powder all around the skins and Sharp emptied the oil from two oil lamps he found to soak the envelopes.

  “Go and open the rear doors a little. That way we can escape across the cliff tops to our horses.” As he went to do that I began to use my flint to make a spark. Perhaps I had used too much powder or maybe the oil aided the flames but whatever the reason, when the spark came the whole pile erupted into flame which almost singed my hair. We didn’t need to worry about being able to start a fire. We had done that successfully, too successfully.

  I ran for the door. Unfortunately the fire showed us up quite clearly in its light and the two sentries from the small balloon both opened fire. They would have been better to have waited for a better shot but, thankfully, they missed us. The alarm was now raised and we ran up the slope towards our hidden horses. So much for escaping in the dark!

  I did not bother glancing over my shoulder. It would only slow us up and I was certain that they would not be able to hit us in the dark while running. As long as we could reach our horses we had a chance. The two animals were chewing grass as we raced up. We untied them and threw ourselves on their backs. I felt confident that we could out run engineers on foot and we gradually pulled away from our pursuers as we headed north towards the road. We only had to reach the rendezvous and we would be safe and we would have succeeded.

  I have found that sometimes fate plays tricks with you. We had just reached the road when we ran into the ten men who had ridden out of the camp some time earlier. Perhaps they had heard the noise, or seen the flames and returned. I will never know. We crashed into them. I drew my pistol and fired at one officer. He disappeared from his horse. I drew my sword and stabbed another. I heard a pistol, I think it was Sharp’s and a third trooper fell. I began to think we might escape when I heard a scream as Sharp was slashed by a sabre.

  “Ride south!” I turned to face the remaining engineers and galloped at them, slashing wildly with my sword. They did not expect that and fell back. I managed
to cut one of the men and caught a horse with the edge of my sword, causing it to buck its rider. I remembered my second pistol and I drew and fired at the four men who faced me. The flash and the crash made a couple of their horses rear up while my ball hit one of the engineers squarely in the face. I did not wish to push my luck and I wheeled my horse around and galloped off into the dark.

  I dreaded finding Sharp’s empty saddle and I was happy when I caught up with him still mounted. I heard the sound of pursuit. We were not out of the woods yet. We had to pass the front of the camp and there were four guards there. I just prayed that their attention was elsewhere. “Sharp! Can you ride?”

  His voice was weak but full of determination, “I’ll hang on, sir. It’s my left arm.”

  I could see the blood dripping from his arm. We would have to stop as soon as we could. My plans were now in tatters. We could no longer head north. The pursuit meant we had to head south and that in turn limited our escape to the boat from Etaples but that would be in eight day’s time! We would have to hide out for eight days! I put that thought to the back of my mind. First we had to escape our pursuers and then see to Sharp. The guards at the gate were too busy looking at the workshop which was now an inferno to be able to react to us. By the time they heard our hooves and turned we were beyond them and they wasted powder and ball firing at us. I think what saved us was that the horses of the engineers had ridden more than ours had and they began to fall back. After half an hour I halted and could hear nothing.

  I rode next to a white faced Sharp and grabbed a belt from my saddlebags. I tightened it around his upper arm and was thankful when the bleeding stopped. I saw then that the sword had raked his face as well. It was a superficial wound but one which would leave him scarred for life. My arrogance had left him disfigured. We could have been on the sloop now, heading for England with all of the information if I hadn’t wanted to go back covered in glory.

  I took the bottle from Sharp’s saddlebag. “Here Alan, have a drink of brandy.”

  “Sorry about this sir.”

  “Don’t be a fool it was my fault. We’ll get out of this.”

  “How sir? They’ll be scouring the country for us and we have nowhere to hide.”

  “You concentrate on staying in your saddle and I will get us out of this.” I sounded far more confident than I actually was. How would we get out of this predicament? Then it came to me. Pierre. I knew I was only about eighty miles from Breteuil. If we stopped somewhere in between we might be able to reach it before we were caught. Would they expect us to take the Amiens road? I didn’t think so. We would have to take that chance.

  We rode until dawn. I stopped every hour to loosen the belt and allow blood to flow. Trooper Sharp needed food and rest, as well as the wound cleaning. He never complained but I worried as he swayed in his saddle. I found an abandoned barn just outside Amiens. I counted on the fact that we had outrun our pursuit. For the next few hours we were safe. I laid him down on the ground and tied his horse up. “I will go and get us some food. Rest while you can.”

  As soon as I laid him on the ground he fell asleep. He had been exhausted. I took out the brandy and cleaned up the wound. It was deep and would need stitching. I rode into Amiens just as the city was coming to life. I found one of those shops which appear to be open all the time and which sell almost everything. I managed to buy some needles and some cat gut. They also pointed me in the direction of a small tavern which was open.

  I was the only customer. “Have you any hot food?”

  “Yes sir. We have some soup from yesterday. We can heat it up.”

  “Good. Have you bread?”

  “No , but the bakers is three doors down. “

  “Heat up the soup I will buy it all and the pot.”

  “And the pot?”

  I flashed a handful of coins. “And the pot.” They nodded and smiled.

  By the time I returned the soup was hot and I handed over far too many coins and took the hot soup and the bread. I did not go directly back to the barn. I was not certain that I hadn’t aroused interest. I went by a circuitous route and made sure that I was not being followed. Eventually I reached the barn. I checked that no-one was around and then entered. Before I saw to the sleeping Sharp I led the horses to a patch of grass and let them graze. They would need water but that would have to wait. As Trooper Sharp was still asleep I decided to have a go at stitching his wound. It was vital I stopped him losing blood. I might not be very good with a needle but it would be better than nothing.

  I poured some brandy into a mug and dropped the needle and the cat gut into it. I then ripped a piece of shirt and used the brandy to clean the wound on Sharp’s face. He murmured a little but did not wake. I remembered the old housekeeper at Breteuil telling me that sleep was always the best medicine. I hoped so. I could not put it off any longer and I threaded the cat gut into the eye of the needle. It was only then I realised what a big needle it was. It was too late to change now and I began to stitch the savage wound. I tried to make the stitches as small as possible. Halfway through he woke up and I thought he was going to shout. I clamped my hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide with terror.

  “Don’t worry Alan. It’s almost over. Be brave. I have nearly done.” When I had finished I gave him another mouthful of brandy. “Let’s see if it has done the trick.” I loosened the belt. A few droplets of blood dripped from the wound but they soon stopped. “Thank God for that. Now sit up.” I brought the small pot of soup over and gave him the bread. “Eat. I am going to water the horses. When I come back I want that pot emptied and the loaf eaten.”

  “But what about you sir?”

  “I had my soup already and there is a loaf for me.” I hated lying to him but I knew he would want to share the food with me and I needed him to be stronger quickly. We would have to travel in daylight and travel soon. He had to be as alert as possible. He did, thankfully, obey me and the pot was empty by the time I returned from seeing to the horses’ welfare. He had colour in his cheeks too.

  “Thank God for that.” I began to wolf down the second baguette I had bought.

  “What now sir?”

  “Now we ride to a place called Breteuil. It is close to where I was brought up and an old friend of mine has an inn there. Well, at least, I hope he does. We will rest up and then head back to Etaples in seven days.”

  “Sir, if you left now you could make the third rendezvous point.”

  I shook my head, “No, we couldn’t. It is too far to the north for us to reach it in time. We would have to pass close by Boulogne and they would be looking for us. I have made my mind up, we shall head for Etaples and by then the hue and cry should have died down and the roads empty.” I had almost convinced myself that that would be true but I did not think they would. Bonaparte was a vengeful man. He would have his men hunt us down. We had thwarted him and that made us his enemies. The roads would be filled with men searching for us for months.

  We rode along the back roads for safety. Had Sharp not been wounded I would have sought out the Amiens lawyer, Francois, who had helped me to buy the inn for Julian. As it was I owed it to the trooper to help him first. We rode through Ailly-sur-Noye; it was a tiny town and we passed through it without a problem.

  The inn was called ‘The Chasseur’. Julian had named it in honour of my old regiment. I saw the sign, newly painted, swinging jauntily in the sun. It felt welcoming. I hoped that I would receive a welcome from Pierre and Julian but both had fought for France and might now view me as an enemy. If they turned me away I would understand but it would probably result in my capture and, ultimately, death. There was a yard and a stable. We ducked under the roof and dismounted in the cobbled courtyard. I heard someone in the stables.

  “I’ll be with you gentlemen in a moment. Some of these horses seem to be having a shitting contest at the moment.”

  I recognised the voice, it was Pierre. “Well Lieutenant Boucher as a Chasseur you should be used to being in the shit!”r />
  He suddenly erupted from the stables and picked me bodily up. “Robbie! We heard you were dead!” He cupped his hands and shouted towards the inn, “Julian, it’s Robbie!”

  Julian had lost a leg in Italy so I was surprised when he walked out grinning from ear to ear. He had a peg leg! “Good to see you again, Captain!”

  They crowded around me and I was aware that Sharp was still standing close by and looking like death warmed up. “Listen my friends, I am in trouble and my friend here is wounded.”

  Both had been good soldiers and like all good soldiers knew when to be decisive. “Julian, take them inside and I will get these horses out of sight.” He grinned at me. “They are stolen aren’t they?”

  I nodded, “Technically just since midnight, but yes, stolen.”

  He laughed, “I have missed you Robbie. Life is never dull around you is it?”

  The inn was, thankfully, empty apart from Monique, Julian’s wife who was nursing a baby. Her face beamed as she saw me. “Captain Macgregor, we heard you were dead.”

  “No, I am afraid that I am alive and bringing you trouble once again.”

  She put the baby into its cot and pulled her dress up. “You can never be trouble sir. Without you, who knows where the three of us would be.” She noticed that Sharp was in danger of swooning. “He is hurt. Please, sit.”

  I helped Sharp down into a chair and took off his jacket. Monique shook her head when she saw the wound. “That is not good, captain.” She poured a large glass of brandy for Sharp and made him drink it.

  He said, in English, “Thank you.” Then he passed out.

  They both looked at me. I nodded. “As I said I bring you trouble. He is English and a soldier.”

  Julian smiled, “It matters not. If you could carry him upstairs to one of the rooms. He needs rest and the good offices of my wife.”

  I hefted the injured man and, trying not to aggravate the wound, I carried him, somewhat awkwardly up the stairs. Monique was at the top of the stairs and she gestured to the bedroom. “Put him there and I will clean his wound and see to him.”