mark this, the fort is on a slight hill, and reconnaissance
tells us that the brush has been cleared around to give a good field of fire.
Therefore — and I cannot emphasise this too strongly - we will be bloodily
repulsed if they are waiting for us. The advance must take place in complete
silence. Total silence! Do I make myself clear?'
All
traces of weariness and aching fell away as Kydd took in the words.
‘For
that reason, the first numbered sections will be armed with cold steel only -
this will ensure that there are no accidental discharges of musketry. And, do
you bear in mind always, you are not to leave cover and advance over the open
ground until the trumpet sounds. Then move very quickly, if you please,' Calley
added drily.
Kydd
took his cutlass, the blackened steel and grey oily blade sinister in the last of
the firelight. He remembered the first time he had used one with deadly force.
Then it had saved his life, but at the cost of the enduring memory of a young
man's face sagging under the recognition of his coming death.
He
fitted the scabbard to its frog, and slid it on to his wide seaman's belt.
Experimentally, he drew the heavy weapon's greased length - it fell to hand
easily, and Kydd noted that the blade had been ground to a good point: it could
be relied on to sink through clothing and leather to the heart.
'Form
up!' he growled at his section. Renzi was present, although Kydd was none the
wiser about his action in joining his party. He had been too tired the previous
evening to do more than grunt at Renzi's solicitudes; there had been no
comfortable conversation.
They
moved off. In the lead were other sections. They paced on rapidly, Kydd
grateful for the easy going afforded by a road instead of clinging undergrowth.
The road forked. Kydd's section took the lead to the right. The road sank lower
and its sides reared as they passed into a defile cut into a rise in the coral
rock, until even the least military of them realised that, trapped as they were
by the vertical sides of the road, they were easy meat for any ambush.
Kydd
paced on, his ears pricking, his eyes staring-wide. His men followed behind in
file. It was no use trying to listen for strange sounds - the tropical night
was alive with unknown stridulations, barks, squeaks and grunts. The road
emerged from the defile, and began to trend upward. They must be approaching
the prominence with the fort astride it, he reasoned. Sure enough, a curve in
the road led out of the wooded fringing area and somewhere shortly ahead must
lie the open ground — and Fort d'Epee.
'Dead
silence!' whispered Kydd, 'Or - or ...' It seemed thin and pathetic against the reality of their situation, but the men
nodded, and plunged after him off the road and into the woods. It wasn't long
before they came to the edge: the crudely felled and levelled area ahead gave
no cover, open ground all the way up to the drab cluster of low buildings
inside stout palisades. It was still too overcast and murky to make out much.
'Back
— we wait f'r the call,' Kydd whispered. It were best they were not at the very
edge of the clearing in case a pale face in the night was seen from the fort.
They moved inward a few yards and settled to wait.
'I
c'n hear ...' began Larcomb. There
was a rustle.
Renzi
moved up and looked around questioningly. 'There!' he hissed.
It
was a footfall. Kydd held up his hand for silence. His heart thudded. Another
footfall, a rustling of foliage. Someone was entering the woods, and heading
towards them.
At
the edge of action Kydd teetered. The movement stopped and Kydd took a deep
breath — but then came the tinkle of urine on the ground.
In
a dizzying moment of relief, he touched the arms of Larcomb and another seaman
then pointed. They nodded and rose soundlessly. In a swift flurry they brought
the man crashing down. He was a young sentry, who had laid down his musket to
relieve himself out of sight of the fort. He struggled hard, but was
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley