rogue and a schemer. What’s happened to you?’
‘Age, General.’
Burgoyne glanced at the screen and smiled. ‘Don’t know what you are talking about. Well, never mind, my boy. The lovely Miss
Reardon travels with the army. I will watch over her as a second father and you will see her in Albany, if not before. Should
goad you to keep St Leger pushing swiftly forward, eh?’
‘Aye, sir.’
Briskly, his sash was tied, his gorget affixed, his high black leathern boots slipped on. Burgoyne paused briefly to whisper
behind the screen, then he strapped on his sword, picked up his gloves and hat, and beckoned Jack towards the door.
‘Follow me, Captain Absolute. Let us take the first step together on to the land we shall soon rule completely once more.’
He swept out. Jack hesitated a moment, then turned back to the table, gathering up the maps there, putting them into their
case. He suspected the woman behind the screen was Hannah Foy, wife of a commissary officer, Burgoyne’smistress from the previous year’s campaign and too dim to be a danger. Or the reverse, dim enough to blurt out all she had
heard in the cabin that morning to some willing ear. There was no need to leave her with maps as well.
Jack paused in the doorway, listening to this woman’s light breathing, thinking of another. The General had judged the Captain
by his own standards and, he had to admit, some examples from Jack’s youth. He assumed that Jack had been taking the same
pleasure from Miss Reardon as he just had from Mrs Foy. It may just have been possible, despite the restrictions of shipboard
life. There was indeed a time when such obstacles would have held him up not a jot. But Jack had wanted something less transient,
and Louisa had seemed to want that too. It was one of the things that intrigued, this holding off. Quite unlike Lizzie Farren
in London and a host of other liaisons he could name – along with many he could not.
Suddenly, with the scent of a woman in a cabin in his nostrils, Jack began to wish away those wasted weeks. He was going to
war and there were dozens of ways he could die in it. Burgoyne was right, he
had
become a sentimental dog. As he climbed the stairs, to the music of ship’s whistles and the percussion of Quebec’s cannons
saluting the new Commander-in-Chief, Jack knew that in the months ahead, he would spend many nights cursing this change in
his character.
– SIX –
The Fort
‘Fire
!’
The order was roared with a martial ardour of which Jack could only approve. If the young ensign’s vocal enthusiasm at his
first command of an artillery battery had been enough, the log walls of Fort Stanwix would long ago have sundered and split,
Grenadiers would even now be forcing the breach, the Rebels choosing to yield or die. And the strange new flag that floated
over the ramparts – unseen till that day, concocted of stars and stripes obviously ripped from spare cloaks and petticoats
– would soon be replaced by the Union Standard of Great Britain.
Unfortunately for the besiegers, the officer’s command was the loudest noise made. Jack didn’t even bother to plug his ears
as the British artillery whispered its shot towards the walls. The small balls from the two six-pounders, the two three-pounders,
and the four coehorns went the same way as all the previous ones. They either bounced off the solid pine trunks leaving barely
a mark, or buried themselves with harmless thuds in the sod and earth piled around the fort.
Ignoring the jeers of the defenders, the ensign commanded his troops to swab down and reload. He would keep firing until ordered
to stop, despite the negligible results. Shaking his head, Jack began to step through the ranks of Indiansgathered there for the show. He could at least try to get the order to desist, though he doubted his success. So far, Colonel
Barry St Leger, Commander of the British forces at the siege, had neither sought Jack’s
‘Age, General.’
Burgoyne glanced at the screen and smiled. ‘Don’t know what you are talking about. Well, never mind, my boy. The lovely Miss
Reardon travels with the army. I will watch over her as a second father and you will see her in Albany, if not before. Should
goad you to keep St Leger pushing swiftly forward, eh?’
‘Aye, sir.’
Briskly, his sash was tied, his gorget affixed, his high black leathern boots slipped on. Burgoyne paused briefly to whisper
behind the screen, then he strapped on his sword, picked up his gloves and hat, and beckoned Jack towards the door.
‘Follow me, Captain Absolute. Let us take the first step together on to the land we shall soon rule completely once more.’
He swept out. Jack hesitated a moment, then turned back to the table, gathering up the maps there, putting them into their
case. He suspected the woman behind the screen was Hannah Foy, wife of a commissary officer, Burgoyne’smistress from the previous year’s campaign and too dim to be a danger. Or the reverse, dim enough to blurt out all she had
heard in the cabin that morning to some willing ear. There was no need to leave her with maps as well.
Jack paused in the doorway, listening to this woman’s light breathing, thinking of another. The General had judged the Captain
by his own standards and, he had to admit, some examples from Jack’s youth. He assumed that Jack had been taking the same
pleasure from Miss Reardon as he just had from Mrs Foy. It may just have been possible, despite the restrictions of shipboard
life. There was indeed a time when such obstacles would have held him up not a jot. But Jack had wanted something less transient,
and Louisa had seemed to want that too. It was one of the things that intrigued, this holding off. Quite unlike Lizzie Farren
in London and a host of other liaisons he could name – along with many he could not.
Suddenly, with the scent of a woman in a cabin in his nostrils, Jack began to wish away those wasted weeks. He was going to
war and there were dozens of ways he could die in it. Burgoyne was right, he
had
become a sentimental dog. As he climbed the stairs, to the music of ship’s whistles and the percussion of Quebec’s cannons
saluting the new Commander-in-Chief, Jack knew that in the months ahead, he would spend many nights cursing this change in
his character.
– SIX –
The Fort
‘Fire
!’
The order was roared with a martial ardour of which Jack could only approve. If the young ensign’s vocal enthusiasm at his
first command of an artillery battery had been enough, the log walls of Fort Stanwix would long ago have sundered and split,
Grenadiers would even now be forcing the breach, the Rebels choosing to yield or die. And the strange new flag that floated
over the ramparts – unseen till that day, concocted of stars and stripes obviously ripped from spare cloaks and petticoats
– would soon be replaced by the Union Standard of Great Britain.
Unfortunately for the besiegers, the officer’s command was the loudest noise made. Jack didn’t even bother to plug his ears
as the British artillery whispered its shot towards the walls. The small balls from the two six-pounders, the two three-pounders,
and the four coehorns went the same way as all the previous ones. They either bounced off the solid pine trunks leaving barely
a mark, or buried themselves with harmless thuds in the sod and earth piled around the fort.
Ignoring the jeers of the defenders, the ensign commanded his troops to swab down and reload. He would keep firing until ordered
to stop, despite the negligible results. Shaking his head, Jack began to step through the ranks of Indiansgathered there for the show. He could at least try to get the order to desist, though he doubted his success. So far, Colonel
Barry St Leger, Commander of the British forces at the siege, had neither sought Jack’s
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