The Fort by Bernard Cornwell Page B

said.
    “Two hundred and twenty-seven marines, sir, fit for duty. Good men, sir.”
    “I’ve no doubt.”
    “Well-trained,” Welch went on, his unblinking gaze fixed on Lovell’s eyes, “and well-disciplined.”
    “A most valuable addition to our force,” Lovell said, unsure what else he could say.
    “I want to fight, sir,” Welch said, as if he suspected Lovell might not use his marines.
    “I am confident the opportunity will come,” Lovell said uneasily.
    “I hope so, sir,” Welch said, then at last turned his gaze away from the general and nodded towards a fine-looking ship, the General Putnam , one of four privateers that had been commandeered by the Massachusetts Navy because their owners had balked at volunteering their craft. The General Putnam carried twenty cannons, all of them nine-pounders, and she was reckoned one of the finest ships on the New England coast. “We put a score of marines on the Putnam , sir,” Welch said, “and they’re led by Captain Carnes. You know him, sir?”
    “I know John Carnes,” Lovell said, “he captains the Hector .”
    “This is his brother, sir, and a fine officer. He served under General Washington as a captain of artillery.”
    “A fine posting,” Lovell said, “yet he left it for the marines?”
    “Captain Carnes prefers to see men up close as he kills them, sir,” Welch said evenly, “but he knows his artillery, sir. He’s a very competent gunner.”
    Lovell understood immediately that Saltonstall had despatched Welch with the news, implicitly suggesting that Colonel Revere could be left behind and replaced by Captain Carnes, and Lovell bristled at the suggestion. “We need Colonel Revere and his officers,” he said.
    “I never suggested otherwise, sir,” Welch said, “merely that Captain Carnes has an expertise that might be useful to you.”
    Lovell felt acutely uncomfortable. He sensed that Welch had little faith in the militia and was trying to stiffen Lovell’s force with the professionalism of his marines, but Lovell was determined that Massachusetts should reap the credit for the expulsion of the British. “I’m sure Colonel Revere knows his business,” Lovell said stoutly. Welch did not reply to that, but stared at Lovell who again felt disconcerted by the intensity of the gaze. “Of course, any advice Captain Carnes has . . .” Lovell said, and let his voice trail away.
    “I just wanted you to know we have an artilleryman in the marines, sir,” Welch said, then stepped a pace back and offered Lovell a salute.
    “Thank you, Captain,” Lovell said, and felt relieved when the huge marine strode away.
    The minutes passed. The church clocks in Boston struck the hour, the quarters, and then the hour again. Major William Todd, one of the expedition’s two brigade majors, brought the general a mug of tea. “Newly made in the galley, sir.”
    “Thank you.”
    “The leaves captured by the brig King-Killer , sir,” Todd said, sipping his own tea.
    “It’s kind of the enemy to supply us with tea,” Lovell said lightly.
    “Indeed it is, sir,” Todd said and then, after a pause, “So Mister Revere is delaying us?”
    Lovell knew of the antipathy between Todd and Revere and did his best to defuse whatever was in the major’s mind. Todd was a good man, meticulous and hardworking, but somewhat unbending. “I’m sure Lieutenant-Colonel Revere has very good cause to be absent,” he said firmly.
    “He always does,” Todd said. “In all the time he commanded Castle Island I doubt he spent a single night there. Mister Revere, sir, likes the comfort of his wife’s bed.”
    “Don’t we all?”
    Todd brushed a speck of lint from his blue uniform coat. “He told General Wadsworth that he supplied rations for Major Fellows’ men.”
    “I’m certain he had cause for that.”
    “Fellows died of the fever last August,” Todd then stepped a pace back in deference to the approach of the commodore.
    Saltonstall glowered again at