Boarders Away (Fox Book 10) by Adam Hardy

Author:Adam Hardy [Hardy, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Nautical Fiction, Historical Fiction
Publisher: Thunderchild Publishing
Published: 2016-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

That was not like Fox at all.

Fun?

What! Didn’t he know only too well by now what the horror of fighting was like? Didn’t he know the blood and the agony, the filth and the stench of it? Why the hell was he sounding like some schoolboy hero, idiotically prating of the fun of battle? Because Etienne was going, and Marianne stood at his side? Was that it?

He’d left Grey with enough men to man the starboard carronades and the sweeps. A few sail trimmers had been left, also, and those not fit to go. The rest he crammed into the two ship’s boats and they pulled silently for the cove where they had landed previously.

The boats grounded with that sobbing suck of mud and the men sprang out. The marines under Sergeant Dunn, acting under orders, made no attempt to form up. Everyone moved along the path soundlessly, going one behind the other in Indian file. And in each one of those heads Fox had instilled the terror of his wrath and the horror of what would happen if they made the slightest sound.

So many old slops had been torn up to muffle equipment the purser would have a field day later on.

This kind of skylarking about, creeping stealthily along in enemy countryside, pressing on to attack a fort, this kind of calculated insanity always made the breath come fast in the throat, the heart beat quicker. Fox knew that plenty of those men behind him would have the tremble in their calves, and their fingers would grip their cutlasses or muskets or tomahawks with a more tenacious grasp so as to still the shakes.

As for him, well he’d done this before. It was what he was paid to do. It was a living.

The fort was garrisoned by about a company. Given that Boney was thinning everything down, two hundred men would be an overestimate. There were also the gunners, perhaps another hundred. Huge odds? Oh, yes, huge odds. About three hundred men, or, to be optimistic, two hundred and fifty, against Minion’s landing party of sixty. But, then, those of the British navy were so accustomed to fighting huge odds and winning that no thought of defeat could enter their thick heads. Handfuls of men had rushed defences thickly manned with enemy troops, and had carried them. Incredible feats had been performed when English ships had taken French or Spanish ships. Tiny groups of men had overcome large crews. It always seemed the same. So Fox had no qualms about the odds.

He did have qualms about the damned moon.

If she got up before he could get in his first whack, she might betray the enterprise.

He set a cracking pace, marching on the fort, and he listened for any gasps of effort from behind in case his men were not fit. But life at sea gave a man that special brand of fitness and toughness to endure frightful rigours. The hands stumbled on after him. And, he had to admit, all in all, they did not make overmuch noise.

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