Seaflower by Julian Stockwin Read Free Book Online Page B

pinioned
securely, Larcomb's hand clamped over his mouth. The struggles spent
themselves, and the hapless man stared up.
    Kydd
knew that Renzi spoke French, and-whispered to him harshly, 'Tell him he's our
prisoner.'
    'I
rather think not,' Renzi replied.
    'Damn
it! Do as I—'
    'We
have no men to spare to look after prisoners.' To give point to Renzi's words,
the youth struggled again. Three men were holding him down — three effectives
who would be greatly missed later.
    'You
can't just . . .'
    Renzi
said nothing. The young man's eyes bulged: he seemed to sense what was being
discussed, and tried desperately to reach out to them.
    'Bugger
wants ter talk,' Larcomb muttered hoarsely, and looked up.
    Hesitating,
Kydd shook his head - there was too much risk. Renzi's logic led one way, pity
and humanity another. He gazed at Renzi in despair.
    Renzi
leaned across, and extracted the bayonet in a steely slither from Larcomb's
scabbard.
    'No!'
breathed Kydd, held powerless in horror as the nightmare face returned.
    The
youth heaved and floundered, his eyes frozen on the blade. A rank, unmistakable
odour arose. 'He's shit hisself,' Larcomb croaked, his voice thick with
compassion.
    'Make
room,' Renzi said.
    Kydd
realised he meant Larcomb to move aside enough to enable the bayonet to do its
work. Larcomb did so, his eyes down. The boy ceased his struggle, lay petrified
and rigid. Renzi crawled over to him and raised the bayonet. There was an
inhuman squeal of such intensity that it sounded through Larcomb's tight grip -
then Renzi thrust the bayonet firmly into the chest to the heart. A dextrous
half-twist, and the blade was withdrawn, the gout of bright life-blood
hopeless and final.
    Renzi
wiped the weapon on the ground and handed it back to Larcomb. He looked up at
the anguish on Kydd's face. 'Duty can often take a harsh disguise, my friend,'
he said, in a low voice.
    Kydd
tore himself away from the sight of the fresh corpse, his mind a whirl of
confusion. Nobody came to where he crouched, and there was no relief to his
emotions. Away to the left, far in the distance, a trumpet bayed, its sound
taken up by another, nearer. 'Tom!' said Renzi softly.
    Kydd
pulled himself together. 'With me!' he croaked. He cleared his throat. 'Let's
give 'em a quiltin', then.' He broke out of the wood and stumbled up the rise
towards the fort, hearing his men follow. Others emerged all along the fringe
of wood. It seemed incredible that their drama could have taken place in such
isolation.
    They
moved up the hill. The fort's palisades were topped with continuous gunsmoke in
the soft dawn light, and attackers began to drop. The fusillade died away —
they had succeeded in their surprise: there were not enough men on watch to
maintain the reloading cycle for full defence.
    Something
seized Kydd's mind in a fierce, uncaring rage — a point of concentration for
his incoherent feelings. His legs burned as he pounded on towards the focus of
his madness. Behind him panted Larcomb — then Kydd realised he had gone. Renzi
was away to his right and all the others he assumed were somewhere close. All
the time the weakened enemy fire found victims.
    The
palisades rose up suddenly. Renzi appeared beside him. He carried a rolled
Jacob's ladder, and coolly hurled it up, hooking it to the jagged top of the
barrier. Faces appeared above, then quickly disappeared. Musket smoke came in
gusts, the sound of the shots this time from behind him. Kydd seized the ladder
and swarmed up. Other seamen had boarding axes and they were using them in the
same way as they would to storm the side of an enemy ship. The seamen's agility
told: they were quickly into the inner square and throwing wide the gates for
the soldiers before the confused enemy could group.
    Panting,
hot and aching, Kydd stood watching the fluttering French flag jerk down, then
rise again, surmounted by a Union Flag. A disconsolate group of
    French
prisoners flanked by marines began their march into exile.