Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (76 page)

Morgan and our army arrived near dusk, and it began to rain. It was cold and added to our misery. Men who could barely walk endeavored to run as our force hurried across the field to a collection of huts we had seen in the distance. The buildings did not contain food or Spaniards, but they were sufficiently dry inside that we could stack our weapons and powder within them and thus not be defenseless when the rain stopped. With our muskets safe and somewhat dry, we all huddled in great clusters for warmth, like misplaced coveys of soddenquailspread across the landscape.

“I amglad you no longer ail,” I whispered to my matelot in French as we clung to one another at the edge of the shivering gaggle ofthe recentlywounded.

“Oui, I would be dead if we had not spent so long on Île de la Vache.”
“The Gods do watchover us, I suppose.”
“InTheir way.”
Morgan roused everyone—if indeed any of us had slept —early on the morning of the ninth damn day, January Eighteenth. It was overcast, but it was not raining. We were pleased with the cloud cover, as we had one more mountain to climb before we finally achieved the plain of Panama. Throughout the morning’s march, we saw Spaniards watching us fromthe surrounding mountainsides, but every time we sent men

to pursue them, the Spanish disappeared into caves and tunnels

 

to pursue them, the Spanish disappeared into caves and tunnels that apparentlyhoneycombed some ofthe mountain.

Around midday, we achieved the highest point in our journey, and looking out across the vista ahead of us, we saw the endless expanse of the Southern Sea. There was much rejoicing. Thoughwe were not yet able to walk in its surf, merely seeing this fabled ocean seemed a great accomplishment. We had crossed the Isthmus ofPanama.

Then the Gods smiled upon us some more. As we came down the mountain, we entered a vale full of cattle. At first I did not believe them real, but then I heard the lowing and my heart leapt with joy. Starving, howling buccaneers flowed onto that field, and a barbaric but necessary slaughter began. Soon we were eating nearly raw gobbets of meat that had only been singed by a fire in the name of cooking them. It was delicious. If the Spanish had been able to hear the Heaven-sent delight of the men gorging themselves around those fires, they might have thought we had come for the cattle alone, and were now quite satisfied withthis treasure and could returnhome.

Morgan, of course, was not satisfied, and he did not allow his army to lie about with stuffed bellies for the remainder of the day. He wished to see Panama herself. So we were roused to march. Many men did so with great hunks of stillsmolderingbeefthrownover their shoulders.

Toward evening, we spied a large troop of Spaniards watching us from one of the hills ahead. They waved weapons and shouted things at us, but they withdrew before we reached them. When we crested the hill the Spanish had occupied, we

saw the steeple of a great cathedral and knew we were at last in

saw the steeple of a great cathedral and knew we were at last in sight of our goal. The buccaneers cheered, blew trumpets, pounded our few drums, and danced with abandon. Morgan stood there grinninglike a fool. Once againI thought anobserver would have thought we had alreadywonthe war.

We went a little further, until we could see the roofs of the buildings, and there we camped. As soon as we began to spread out and light fires, our lookouts spied a company of fifty Spanish horse riding down on us. There was some alarm, but the riders stopped well beyond our musket range and proceeded to walk back and forth as their leader gauged our number. Then they withdrew, leaving only a handful of men to watch us. Then we saw the large company of some two hundred Spaniards we had seen earlier. They took up a position behind us on the road —once again, well beyond our musket range. Morgan ordered our men to stand down and keep an eye on them, but no one was to attempt to engage the enemy or waste munitions taking useless shots at them.

Within the hour, we heard the boom of cannon in the night from the city, but nothing struck our camp. Our forward men said they heard the balls landing well ahead of us. By this time, our men did not care. Everyone was anxious for the morningand relieved we no longer had to march. The eveningair was redolent with the smell of roasting meat and the sounds of good cheer.

Gaston, Cudro, Ash, and I gathered at a fire and listened to the distant boomofthe Spanishguns.
“Why are they wasting their munitions in the dark?”Ash asked. “They surely know they cannot reach us. Or are they asked. “They surely know they cannot reach us. Or are they planningto come closer and attack us inthe night?”
“Nay,” Cudro said, “They are attempting to disrupt our sleep so that we willfight poorlyinthe morning.”
I laughed. “Nay, they have spent over a week waiting on our arrival, and theyare now bored beyond tears. Theyare firing the cannonincelebrationthat theywillat last be able to finishthis war and go onwiththeir lives.”
That night, for the first time since the march began, Gastonand I fired a few cannonofour own.
The morning air roiled with the thunder of our men clearing their weapons. Then Morgan decided we would behave like an army instead of an unruly pack of dogs. He had his captains organize us into regiments and established a marching order for the same. Then we headed off down the road with drums beating and trumpets playing. It was both impressive and ludicrous.
As we were attached to the command and not a ship, Gaston and I were spared the necessity of trying to march with our fellows. We slungthe medicine chest betweenus and walked alongat a reasonable pace behind Morgan.
Shortly, the guide from our small vanguard hurried back to speak with Morgan. I went forward and translated. The man felt that marchingdownthe road was unwise. He could see many places ahead where the Spanish were occupying fortified positions. He said there was a great field off to the side, though; and ifwe went through the forest, we could reach it and come at the Spanish positions fromthere. He sketched the matter on the ground. Morganheartilyagreed, as did his captains.
ground. Morganheartilyagreed, as did his captains.
We veered off the road and quickly became a great pack ofwild things once again as we forced our way through the woods. It was irksome and time consuming, but eventually we made it through the dense forest and emerged on the field. It had been a brilliant maneuver. We found the Spanish had abandoned their defensive works, and were now coming to meet us on the plain. We were also not inrange oftheir cannon.
Our army formed up into ranks again, and Morgan organized the four companies thus formed into a diamond pattern. We beganto marchacross the plaintoward the city. We crested a little hilland saw the army of Panama spread before us atop the next hill. My heart sank. It seemed they had fielded a great many men in our honor. It was surely double our number, and included cavalry. Doubt rippled through our ranks. This was not the type offight to whichmanyofour menwere accustomed. I recalled my own fears of such a seemingly unwise form of military engagement—to wit, standing about in a straight line and firing at other men doing the same—when we fought on the field outside Puerte Principe. Morgan stood confidently before us, though, and jested with his captains while discussing the terrain. This sight, and the knowledge we could not very well run home now, soonhad our menencouragingone another.
Morgan reorganized our forces a little, and established a troop of musketeers to be the vanguard, with the intent that they could surely outshoot the Spanish at a greater distance, and thus make a hole in the enemy ranks for our infantry. Essentially, they would be our cannon.
We then marched on the Spanish: not with great speed, but with confidence. Morgan had us go a little left, to flank the seemingly stalwart position of the Spanish foot and gain the advantage of a hill more in range of the Spanish position. Seeing what we were about, the Spanish commander sent in his horse. They appeared to be four or five hundred in number. They wheeled out and came at us through the low terrain between the hills, and quickly became mired: the lowland was apparently a bog, or at least incredibly sloppy ground. Some horses foundered, and some even fell, and on a whole, the cavalry was slowed considerably. Our musketeers advanced toward them quicklyand beganto volleyfire. Theyseldommissed.
Meanwhile, the Spanish infantry slowly began to advance on us. Now that they were closer, it could be seen that theywere not allSpaniards:there was manya dark face amongst the white. They were also not all armed with muskets. Still, they made a brave attempt to charge us. Morgan ordered our main force ofsixhundred to marchtoward this militia and fire at will.
All became the chaos of the battlefield. I stood with my musket in my hands and watched. I did not fire, and beside me, Gaston did not even set his medicine chest down to take up a weapon.
Finally, a man ran back to us carrying his wounded matelot. Gaston pulled back to the crest of the hill and began tending him. As the battle wore on, more men were brought to

us. I thought I should turn and help Gaston, but I seemed

 

unable to move. I stood there, transfixed.

The Spanishheld for a time; and the cavalrycontinued to fight for a time, despite the lowland being bathed in blood. Then there was a shout from our rearguard. I turned to see a huge herd of cattle being driven toward us. If it had been a stampede ofthe great horned beasts, we would have beenindire straits; as it was, many of the herd were frightened by the gunfire and refused to advance toward it, and others were simply not intent on going where the frantic Indians herding them wished. And then, of course, men in our rearguard shot the lead animals and put a halt to the ironic charade. I wondered if the damn fool Spanish had seen us butcher a herd of their cattle the morning before.

And thenI could think ofnothingelse except our starving men falling upon those hapless cattle and hacking themto pieces. And allI could hear was the screamingor wounded horses inthe lowland below.

The Spanish began to run. Those with weapons threw themdown and ran toward the sea. Our men pursued and killed them. The battle was no longer before me. The only men approaching were carrying a wounded man or wounded themselves.

I glanced back and saw Gaston elbow deep in blood, surrounded bybleedingmenand the rest ofour surgeons.
My eyes wandered across the field and came to rest on a great black horse struggling to rise with a wounded flank and a broken leg. I knew he was not my Goliath; but I could not look away or ignore his pained cries. I waded into the field of blood, dead and dying horses, and men, and dove atop the struggling creature’s neck. I slashed his throat with a knife. Tears filled my eyes as the light dimmed in his. And then there was another animal breathing heavily beside him: another horse that could not rise and lay in agony atop his dying rider. I slit both their throats. I saw movement to my right and found a Spaniard fumbling with a broken hand to bring a pistol to bear on me. I shot him. And thenit was onto the next horse and the next wounded man.
“Will!”
I recognized Cudro’s voice. I finished the animal I was onand looked for the next.
“Will? We’ve captured a commander. Morgan needs youto translate,”Cudro said.
I heard pained and labored breathing to my right. I looked to Cudro. He swam in my vision. I pawed blood and tears from my eyes and told him, “I am not done here. When I finishhere, I willcome.”
He appeared as appalled as I must have by the carnage. He studied me silently. I did not have time to attend him. I was sure I heard another wheezinghorse. I went to find it.
There were other men on the battlefield now, killing wounded Spaniards and searching bodies for valuables. They ignored the horses. I was glad. I did not want themcruelly killing the horses. They were pigs of men and had no respect for anythingother thantheir pockets.
“Mylove?”I heard some time later.
I looked to Gastonand found himcrying.
“It is awful,” I said. “All these poor horses.” I looked around and saw I was more than halfway across the field. We stood alone in a mire of bloody mud and dead men and animals. There were still more horse bodies ahead that I had not seen to yet. “I amnot done.”
He followed as I went to another horse. This one was thankfullydead:I closed his wildlystaringeye.
Gaston’s arms closed about me and I held himin return. “I amnot done,”I said.
“Thenlet us check themtogether,”he said.
“But youneed to be mendingmen,”I said.
“There were not many, and the other surgeons can do without me for now.”
I released himand he followed me to the next body. The poor creature was breathing. His fur was matted with blood and sweat from its struggle to escape another horse that had fallen across his legs. I held little hope for him, but Gaston helped me move the dead animal and the poor horse made one more attempt to stand. To mydelight, he succeeded. I spoke quietlyto himas he stood exhausted with his head between his legs. He let me touch him and I was able to check his legs. He seemed sound. The soft mud had saved him. The same was not true for one of the animal’s riders: he had drowned in the mud beneath his mount.
“You can now be named Lucky,” I told the horse. I stripped his saddle and bridle from him and led him from the mud. There was a group of horses I had rescued standing near a clump of trees at the edge of the field. Their riders had been shot, but the animals were not wounded. I had cut saddles and other entanglements—including dragging bodies—fromthemand sent them to stand in the shade. Now I pointed Lucky toward them and patted his rump. He needed no further urging to leave the carnage behind.
I walked back to where he had been trapped and continued checking bodies. It went faster with Gaston helping

me. When we reached the end of the field I stopped and

looked around again. The hill with the wounded seemed very far away, and I could not see our army. There seemed to be no Spaniards insight, either. The sunwas sinkingover the sea.

I felt purposeless. There had been something I was supposed to do. I remembered. “Cudro was here. He said Morganneeded me.”

“Do not worry about it,” Gaston said. “That is done.

This is done. Let us go rest.”
“Are yousure?”
“Oui. Come now,”he said gently.
I realized he was lookingat me and crying, and not at the