Send Me Safely Back Again by Adrian Goldsworthy Read Free Book Online Page B

sleeve, but there was no pain and he ran on. One of the French dragoons had vivid red blood spreading over the pink front of his green jacket from a great cross-bodied slash. His companion cut suddenly, slicing the fingers off the left hand of one of the Spanish officers. The man hissed in pain, and his horse reared, thrashing its hoofs and forcing the group apart, as he let go of his sabre and grabbed the reins with his right hand. There was time and space for the dragoons to turn and break away, following their sergeant, who could now be sure that his trophy was safe.
    Dobson beat aside the thrust of one of the skirmishers and then flicked his bayonet back to jab under the man’s ribs, twisting the blade to free it as the man yelled and fell. Williams came against the greenjacket with the short sabre, and brought his musket across his body to parry the slash which carved a notch in the wood. The officer’s instincts took over and he kicked the man in the groin before the skirmisher could raise his short sword foranother attack. Then Williams reversed his firelock and slammed the butt into the face of the doubled-up greencoat.
    Williams ran on. The uninjured Spanish officer cut down at one of the green-uniformed men, but the blow was stopped by his shako and the man simply sagged before pushing away from the ground to run off. Dobson was standing over the general, his bayonet ready, and none of the enemy chose to challenge the large, grim-faced man. The skirmishers retreated, for there would be other bodies to loot. Two of them took the arms of the man wounded in the leg and supported him as they went back.
    The man Williams had knocked down rose up on all fours. Blood was streaming from his nose, broken by the blow to his face. The officer slung his musket and lifted the man, giving him a shove in the direction of his friends. ‘Clear off,’ he said, and then felt a fool for saying such a ridiculous thing.
    Thankfully none of the enemy was still loaded and they seemed willing to escape. There were no other enemy infantrymen near by, and he guessed that this file of men had gone far from their supports.
    The wounded Spanish officer walked his horse to stand guard facing the French. He hid his pain, and from a distance no one would know that he was incapable of fighting. The other Spaniard dismounted and was crouched down beside the general. Williams joined him as Dobson began reloading.
    Don Gregorio de la Cuesta was conscious, but he said nothing and his eyes stared blankly. He was badly bruised, and his almost bald head shone, as his wig had fallen to the ground, but as the Spanish officer gently ran his hand over the general’s limbs it seemed that no bones were broken.
    ‘Canteen, Dob,’ said Williams, and the veteran looped the strap of his wooden canteen off his shoulder and passed it down. The general managed to swallow a little of the water.
    There was a drumming of hoofs and Williams looked up, fearing a new threat, but instead it was a handful of Spanish officers and three troopers from the general’s escort. ColonelD’Urban was with them and nodded cheerfully when he saw the redcoats.
    ‘Well done, Williams, well done indeed. And you too, Corporal Dobson. Now we must get him away.’
    ‘What about the French?’ asked Williams.
    D’Urban’s face became grim. ‘They are fully occupied killing an army.’
    There was one spare horse, and the general was lifted into the saddle, one of the troopers holding him around the waist. Dobson and Williams jogged either side to help support him.
    They saw no French for five minutes as they followed the riverbank and the low hollow cutting on the side of the ridge where Hanley had sketched and Williams had slept a few hours ago. A couple of hussars joined them, and as they climbed on to the hill they were amazed to see a few grooms and servants still waiting in place for their masters. The two redcoats were given horses.
    Williams turned to look back across the