The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald

furlongs from the fort and ran away into the distance along the coastline northwards. That’s one thing about a sound cowardly instinct – it turns you directly to cover, however poor and useless it may be. They’d find us there in no time, but if we could reach the trees undetected from the fort, we might at least be able to flee north – to what? There was nothing for us yonder except blind flight until we dropped from exhaustion, or our horses foundered, or those black hounds came up with us, and I knew it, but it was better than stopping where we were to be run down like sheep.

      “Oh, Harry!” Elspeth was wailing in my rear as we thundered down the slope, but I didn’t check; another minute would have us in the shelter of the grove, if no one in the fort saw us first. Crouched over my beast’s neck, I stole a look down towards the stone battlements at the foot of the hill – Elspeth’s voice behind me rose in a sudden scream, I whirled in my seat, and to my amazement saw that she was hauling in her mount by the mane. I yelled to her to ride, cursing her for an idiot, but she was pointing seaward, crying out, and I wrestled my brute to a slithering halt, staring where she pointed – and, d’you know, I couldn’t blame her.

      Out in the roads something was moving in that rolling bank of mist. At first it was just a shadow, towering in the downy radiance of the fog; then a long black spar was jutting out, and behind it masts and rigging were taking shape. In disbelief I heard the faint, unmistakable squeal of sheaves as she came into view, a tall, slim ship under topsails, drifting slowly out of the mist, turning before my eyes, showing her broad, white-striped side – her ports were up, there were guns out, men moving on the decks, and from her mizzen trailed a flag – blue, white, red – dear G-d, she was a Frog warship – and there, to her right, another shadow was breaking clear, another ship, turning as the first had done, another Frenchie, guns, colours and all!

      Elspeth was beside me, I was hugging her almost out of her seat as we watched them spellbound, our flight, the fort, pursuit all forgotten – she yelped in my ear as a third shadow loomed up in the wake of the ships, and this time it was the real thing, no error, and I found myself choking tears of joy, for that was the dear old Union Jack at the truck of the frigate which came gliding out on to the blue water.

I was shouting, G-d knows what, and Elsepth was clapping her hands, and then a gun boomed suddenly from the fort, only a few hundred yards away, and a white plume of smoke billowed up from the battlements. The three ships were standing in towards the fort; the leading Frog tacked with a cracking of canvas, and suddenly its whole side exploded in a thunder of flame and smoke, there was a series of tremendous crashes from the fort as the broadsides struck home – and here came her two consorts, each in turn letting fly while sea and sky echoed to the roar of their cannonade, a mighty pall of grey smoke eddying around them as they put about and came running in again.⁴⁴

      It was a badly-aimed shot screaming overhead that reminded me we were in the direct line of fire. I yelled to Elspeth, and we careered down to the trees, crashing into the thickets and sliding from our mounts to stare at the extraordinary scene being played out in the bay.

      “Harry – why are they shooting? Do you suppose they are come to rescue us?” She was clutching my hand, all agog. “Will they know we are here? Should we not wave, or light a fire, or some such thing? Will you not call to them, my love?”

      This, with forty guns blazing away not a quarter of a mile off, for the fort was firing back as well; the leading Frog was almost at point-blank range. Clouds of dust and smoke surged up from the fort wall; the Frog seemed to stagger in the water, and Elspeth shrieked as his foretop sagged and then fell slowly into the smoke, with a wreckage of sail and cordage. In came the second ship, letting off her broadside any old how in lubberly, garlic-eating fashion, and the fort thumped her handsomely in reply, serve her right. My G-d, thinks I, are the Crapauds going to be beat? For the second Frog lost her mizzen top and sheered away blind with the spars littering her poop – and then in came the British frigate, and while I ain’t got much use for our navy people, as a rule, I’ll allow that she showed up well in front of the foreigners, for she ran in steady and silent, biding her time, while the fort hammered at her and the splinters flew from her bulwarks.

      Through the clear air we could see every detail – the leadsman in the chains swinging away, the white-shirted tars on her decks, the blue-coated officers on the quarterdeck, even a little midshipman in the rigging with his telescope trained on the fort. Silently she bore in until I was sure she must run aground, and then a voice called from the poop, there was a rush of men and a flapping of canvas, she wore round, and every gun crashed out as one in a deafening inferno of sound. The wave of the broadside hit us in a blast of air, the fort battlements seemed to vanish in smoke and dust and flying fragments – but when all cleared, there the fort still stood, and her guns banging irregularly in reply.

      The frigate was tacking away neatly, but neither she nor the injured Frogs looked like coming in again – the appalling thought struck me that they might be sheering off, and I couldn’t restrain myself at such cowardly behaviour.

      “Come back, you sons of b-----s!” I roared, fairly dancing up and down. “D--nation, they’re only a parcel of niggers! Lay into them, rot you! It’s what you’re paid for!” “But, see, Harry!” squeaks Elspeth, pointing. “Look, my love, they are coming! See – the boats!”

      Sure enough, there were longboats creeping out from behind the Frogs, and another from the British ship. As the three vessels stood to again, firing at the fort, the smaller boats came heading in for the shore, packed with men – they were going to storm the fort, under the covering guns of the squadron. I found I was dancing and blaspheming with excitement – for this must be our chance! We must run to them when they got ashore – I ploughed back through the fronds, staring at the hill behind, to see how our Hova friends were doing – and there they were, dropping down from the crest beind us, making for the landward side of the fort. They were running any old how, but an under-officer was shouting in the rear, and it seemed to me he was pointing towards our grove. Yes, some of the Hovas were checking – he was sending them in our direction – d--n the black villain, didn’t he know where his duty lay, with foreign vessels attacking his b----y island?

      “What shall we do, Harry?” Elspeth was at my elbow. “Should we not hasten to the beach? It may be dangerous to linger.”

      She ain’t quite the fool she looks, you know – but fortunately neither am I. The boats were into the surf, only a moment from the shore; the temptation to run towards them was almost more than a respectable poltroon could bear – but if we broke cover too soon, with three hundred yards of naked sand between us and the spot where the nearest Frog boat would touch, we’d be within easy musket-shot from the fort to our right. We must lie up in the grove until the landing-party had got up the beach and rushed the fort – that would keep the black musketeers busy, and it would be safe to race for the boats, waving a white flag – I was tearing away at Elspeth’s petticoat, hushing her squeals of protest, peering back through the undergrowth at the approaching Hovas. There were three of ’em, trotting towards the grove, with their officer far behind waving them on; the leading one was almost into the trees, looking stupid, turning to seek instructions from his fellows; then the flat, brutal face turned in our direction, and he began to pick his way into the grove, his spear balanced, his face turning this way and that.

      I hissed to Elspeth and drew her towards the seaward side of the grove, under a thicket, listening for everything at once – the steady boom and crash of gunfire, the faint shouts from the fort walls, the slow crunch of the Hova’s feet on the floor of the grove. He seemed to be moving away north behind us – and then Elspeth put her lips to my ear and whispered:

      “Oh, Harry, do not move, I pray! There is another of those natives quite close!”

      I turned my head, and almost gave birth. On the other side of our thicket, visible through the fronds, was a black shape, not ten yards away – and at that moment the first Hova gave a startled yell, there was a frantic neighing – J---s, I’d forgotten our horses, and the brute must have walked into them! The black shape through the thicket began to run – away from us, mercifully, a crackle of musketry sounded from the beach, and I remembered my dear little woman’s timely suggestion, and decided we should linger no longer.