Rules of War (31 page)

Suddenly, Slaughter caught Steel's arm and whispered softly, ‘D'you see, sir? By the door over there.'

Steel had seen it. There, in the doorway of Marius Brouwer's little house, was a shadowy form. It stood, motionless and barely visible in the deserted town under the dim light from the horned moon. From its stature and the silhouette though Steel could tell that it was a man, and that he was armed with a sword. He was about to approach when there was a sudden commotion ahead of them. Steel pressed himself flat against the wall and the others followed. Looking down the street they saw a party of men, perhaps twenty or thirty of them, fully armed with muskets and an assortment of blades. They were running fast and the two in the lead and another pair to the rear each carried a flaming pitch-covered wooden torch. While several wore the white coats of regular French infantry, others were in civilian dress or the faded coats of other armies. And in the torchlight, even at a distance, Steel recognized several of them as Trouin's men. They were coming hard down the street now, straight towards the Grenadiers it seemed. Surely now, he thought, they must be seen. He prepared to fight, looked at Slaughter and nodded. And then, without letting up in their pace, the men turned sharply to the right down a smaller alleyway, in what Steel reckoned to be the direction of the West Gate. And as they did so the orange light from the torches carried by the last two in the group momentarily illuminated the figure in Brouwer's doorway. Then the street was returned to shadow and silence. But it had been enough and Steel was in no doubt. He would have known that profile anywhere.

As Steel tightened the grip on his sword, he heard Slaughter ease back the hammer on his gun. Steel spoke: ‘Not a word.'

The figure moved into the light. ‘Captain Steel? Is that you? Oh, thank God, sir. Thank God I've found you.'

Steel was relieved to see Fabritius, but noticed that his face wore the same mask of terror that he had seen on it as they had fled the town.

‘Mister Fabritius. Are you quite all right? This is no place for you. You should take cover. Where is your family?'

‘That's just it, Captain. I need to talk to you. I need your help. You must come with me.'

‘Calm down, man. What the devil's the matter?'

‘We need your help, Captain. My family. The French know who we are, what I have done. They know that I helped you. Please, you must save us.'

Steel weighed up the situation. If he were to help Fabritius then he might lose the chance of taking Trouin by surprise. Yet to abandon the Belgian would merely add to the weight on his own conscience over Brouwer's death. There was no contest.

‘Of course we'll come. Where are your family now? Shall I fetch more men?'

Fabritius looked at the handful of redcoats and seemed troubled. ‘No, no, Captain. I am sure you will be enough. Come with me, please.'

It took them perhaps twenty minutes to cross the town. Despite Marlborough's assurance that he would not bombard the defences, the night still crackled with the sound of gunfire, musketry mostly. Parties of French infantry could be seen running through neighbouring streets, yet still Fabritius managed to keep clear of them. He had taken Steel and his men directly across the town to the southeast, as far as they could go. At length they crossed the road which led to the monastery of the Capucins and passed a windmill which had taken several hits during the bombardment and now stood looking like some grotesque giant skeleton, its remaining two sails sticking out like paralysed, crucified arms, its windows and warehouse door acting as the empty sockets of the eyes and mouth.

At length Fabritius stopped, found Steel and spoke in a whisper: ‘Over there, Captain, sir. We are here.'

Steel looked ahead and instead of Fabritius' house as he had expected, saw the vast bulk of one of Vauban's casemates, set beneath the furthermost bastion of the fort, the Lanthorn Bastion, the last before the port and strongest of them all. They advanced towards the stout oak doors of the casemate which were firmly shut and, he presumed, locked. To his surprise, Fabritius pushed them and they swung wide. At Slaughter's command the handful of Grenadiers poured through the opening – into emptiness. The inner yard of the casemate was deserted, save for four horses tethered in the far corner. Steel froze. Something was not right.

He turned to Fabritius: ‘Where are they? Your wife and
children?' Fabritius stared back at him. Steel tried again: ‘Well, man. Where are they?'

Fabritius said nothing but pointed towards the large wooden door at the rear of the yard.

With their guns held at the ready, loaded and cocked, the redcoats, led by Steel, his sword drawn, moved gingerly across the yard towards the inner door. Steel pushed and like the outer doors it too swung open.

The interior stank of human ordure and stale wine. Broken wine bottles and opened packing cases lay strewn across the floor and in a far corner two dogs were chewing on something which might have been a rat. The room was lit by candles and in the half-light Steel saw in the centre of the room a woman and two small children huddled together. Beside them, tied to a chair, sat Lieutenant Lejeune, who was stripped to the waist. Yet it was not on Fabritius' family nor the lieutenant that Steel's gaze now fell, but on the man at the end of the room.

Duglay-Trouin was seated close to the rear wall, behind a heavy oak garrison table. Beside him sat Stringer. For a moment Steel thought that he might be too late, but then Lejeune turned his head and Steel could see that he had not yet been mutilated, but merely badly beaten. The French subaltern managed a feeble smile. Steel saw that the far end of the room was filled with Trouin's men. There were more than a score of them, heavily armed and aiming their muskets directly towards the Grenadiers. Trouin spoke, his voice echoing against the walls.

‘Captain Steel.' The privateer smiled with satisfaction, then looked down at his hands and picked at his fingernails with a pocket knife. ‘As you can see, we had not yet begun to enjoy ourselves with the lieutenant or Madame Fabritius. You have quite spoilt Ajax's fun.'

Steel looked him in the eye. ‘You're finished, Trouin. In minutes this place will be full of redcoats. We're in the walls. The town is ours, or soon enough will be.'

‘Are you quite certain of that, Captain? My sources tell me that the bulk of your force is still to enter. Even now they are fighting for their lives on the ramparts. And how many men do you have with you here? Six that I can see. Do you really propose to arrest me with six men. Captain Steel?'

‘No, Trouin. I'm going to kill you.'

Trouin laughed again, his bellow echoed by the higher snigger of Stringer. ‘I see that you have brought your sergeant with you. Your heroic rescuer.' He paused: ‘Now, drop your weapons.'

Steel glanced at Slaughter and nodded, but gave him what might have been half a wink. Reluctantly the sergeant and three of the men placed their guns on the floor.

Trouin went on: ‘You see, Captain Steel, I have the upper hand. Always. You cannot win this game. Such a clever plan, don't you think, to use Mister Fabritius to play on your sentiment. Stringer here said that you were “soft”. And do you know, Steel? I didn't believe him. But I see he was right. And soon you will die.'

Steel could see that the pirate was becoming drawn into his own rhetoric. Stringer looked uneasily at the Grenadiers, particularly those who had not yet grounded their weapons.

But Trouin continued: ‘You think that your great army, your General Malbrook, is going to win this battle. But you're wrong. Why do you suppose I was released? Major Malbec authorized it because I have two ships in the harbour, Captain Steel. Two fine ships, both armed and rigged and crewed and ready to sail. And those two ships are faster and more powerful than any vessel your precious navy can muster. I intend to sail them out of this harbour and to board
your bombketches before your sailors are even aware that I am there. Then I shall turn your own bombships on your flotilla and blow it from the water. And when that is done I shall turn them inland, on your army, whether it's in or out of this miserable town. Not that it will matter to you, because by then of course you'll be dead. You and I and Ajax have an appointment. We are going to resume where we left off when we killed that Belgian scum. Who knows, we might let you live. It would be amusing to see how long you lasted on the streets of Port Royal as a blind, impotent beggar.' He noticed the two Grenadiers who had not dropped their weapons. ‘You men there. I said drop your guns. I'll give you a chance. I'll count to five. One …'

Steel had no reason to doubt Trouin. He had seen the two ships in the harbour as they had rowed in three nights ago and although he was no sailor, they made a fine sight. One at least had looked low enough in the water to be a sloop. As to the threat, Steel had seen what Trouin was capable of. He realized that he was sweating hard beneath the thick red coat. Knowing that at all costs he must not show his fear he spoke through it.

‘You're a fool, Trouin, if you think that you'll get away with it.'

Trouin smiled and continued to count: ‘Three.'

The pirates prepared to fire. And again Steel caught Slaughter's eye, for as he had been talking he had gradually been working his right hand further behind his back, seeking a small pocket which lay just at the peak of the two tails of his coat. He had got it now and with infinite patience inched his index finger deeper inside until it rested on a hard, cold object – the small knife he always kept in the hidden pocket. Carefully, Steel closed his thumb on the knife and slowly began to draw it out. It slipped neatly into the fold of his
hand and using a fingernail he opened the blade and felt his hand close around cold steel. In a split second the knife was out and flying through the air towards the pirate closest to Trouin whose musket was pointing directly towards him. It hit the man in the centre of the forehead and he sank to his knees, stone dead. There was an instant in which time froze and Trouin gazed in disbelief at the dead man and the protruding knife.

Then all hell broke loose. Trouin shouted and six of the pirates managed to get off a shot, their balls flying for the most part over the heads of the Grenadiers, although one grazed Lejeune's right shoulder and another hit one of the redcoats. The two Grenadiers who still had their weapons fired and three of Trouin's men went down. Tom Williams dashed at another and with a swift backhanded cut, flensed away the flesh from his cheek. Steel yelled, ‘Down' and his men ducked low and reached to retrieve their grounded weapons. Fabritius pushed his wife and children, screaming now, to the floor and as two of Trouin's men knelt to fire their fusils, Steel rushed at Trouin, headlong through the smoke. And connected with … nothing. Looking around he searched in vain for the Frenchman.

And at that moment the noise of the struggle was lost in another, louder sound which rocked the room. A huge explosion and not far away, he thought. A musketball sang through the air past his cheek and thinking quickly he ran, bent double, towards where the shot had come from and found to his satisfaction that his head connected with a man's lower abdomen, winding him and knocking him over.

Steel straightened up and quickly grabbed a musket lying across the body of a dead pirate. Praying that it was loaded, he cocked it fully, before pointing it point-blank at the winded man and pulling the trigger. The man's head exploded in a
welter of blood and brains. Steel hurled the gun to the ground and looked around. To his left he saw Slaughter bayoneting another of Trouin's men, while elsewhere the Grenadiers were fighting their own battles. Six of the pirates lay dead on the floor with one of his own men. Apart from the few of Trouin's men left fighting, he could see no others in the room and of their leader too there was no trace. Fabritius' family were huddled, cowering, in a corner, and the Belgian lay spread-eagled on the stone floor. His eyes were wide open. Steel ran across and dropped down on to one knee. The man had been killed by a single shot to the head. Steel cradled his head for an instant and looked across into the accusing eyes of his wife. The room was suddenly quiet and standing, Steel saw that the remaining pirates had given up the fight. He walked over to the table and bent to retrieve his knife from the pirate's body. He wiped the blade clean on the man's coat.

‘Sarn't Slaughter, we'll need to move fast if we're to catch Trouin. It sounds as if they've a battle on their hands out there, but that won't stop him from taking the bombships. What d'you suppose that explosion was?'

‘Dunno, sir. Ammunition magazine going up most likely.'

Steel found Williams: ‘Tom, take Mackay and Mister Fabritius' family and head for the west walls. Find Lieutenant Hansam, if you can. If not, then any British officer will do. Tell him to send word to Marlborough to warn the fleet – Trouin intends to capture the bombketches and turn them on us. And tell him that I'm going to try and stop him. Oh and Tom, you might ask him to send some men if he can spare them, to the harbour.'

Steel turned to Lejeune who had found his shirt and coat and did not look too much the worse for his ordeal. ‘Lieutenant, do you suppose that you might be up to handling a sword?'

The Frenchman smiled: ‘Captain Steel, if you do not allow me to carry one then I shall take one for myself. For the moment at least it seems that your enemy is mine also.'

Cussiter approached them and handed Lejeune his thin, standard French pattern infantry sword, which he had found among the pirate's weapons. Steel drew his own heavier blade and moving towards the door, turned to address the remaining redcoats.

‘The rest of you load and prime your weapons and fix your bayonets. Keep your heads down and your senses keen. I intend to finish that heartless bastard and I'm taking you with me.'

Marlborough sat astride his grey mare in a gaggle of staff officers on the single road which led directly into the city and watched closely through his spyglass as the afternoon's events unfolded before him. He had seen the assault force go in, and had watched the struggle on the western rampart as Hansam's Grenadiers had fought hard with the reinforced Walloons before being relieved by the Dutch. His carefully aimed barrage had taken out battery after battery of enemy cannon and minutes before one of the few guns he had ordered to fire in support had scored a hit on a powder magazine, sending men and debris high into the air. Now as he looked on, the West Gate stood wide open. The Grenadiers and the Dutch had done their work and now the task of securing the place fell to the lead battalions of Argyll's brigade.

He turned to Hawkins: ‘This was a masterful plan, James. Quite masterful. Why, barely half an hour ago I could not have stood here for fear of being hit by one of the garrison's guns. There is still resistance to be sure. D'you see? There, to the south. Blue coats and white fighting along one of the
ravelins. But tell me that I am wrong when I say that the place is as good as ours.'

Hawkins shook his head sagely: ‘Take care, Your Grace. Argyll's men may be fierce enough but they're not used to the sort of fighting they'll encounter in there. Remember, the town is filled with pirates.'

‘Privateers, James. Something quite different. But do you not share my faith in Captain Steel? He is your man, after all, and he has served us well this day. I am confident that he will already have subdued the privateers.'

‘Steel has but one company of men, Your Grace, and we do not know how many Trouin may command.'