Edge Of Reason by Malcolm Archibald

Author:Malcolm Archibald [Archibald, Malcolm]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Next Chapter
Published: 2021-04-06T20:00:00+00:00

15

“Form a circle,” Kennedy responded quickly. “Each man face outward.”

MacKim looked around. With the French within the shipyard reorganised and seeking revenge and an enemy force of unknown size outside, the Rangers were indeed trapped. Until Lieutenant Kennedy could analyse the situation, the Rangers could do little except sit tight and fend off any attackers.

“Can anybody see who’s out there?” Kennedy asked.

“I see Indians and Canadians,” Waite said. “No French regulars.”

“Sergeant MacKim,” Kennedy said. “Take over the rearguard. We’re going to move away from the shipyard.”

“Sir,” MacKim acknowledged. “Form a half-circle, boys, turning every five steps to face the shipyard. We’ll keep any French counter-attack away.”

“All ten of us, Sergeant?” Butler asked.

“All ten of us.” MacKim ignored the sarcasm.

The Rangers checked their muskets and stepped forward, towards the new enemy force, with MacKim’s men at the rear. Encouraged, the French within the shipyard formed a column and marched out with a tall officer and a drummer at their head. The drums tapped sonorously, showing the regulars had recovered their discipline and were as dangerous as ever.

“Dickert,” MacKim said. “Can you shoot that officer?”

“Not while I’m moving, Sergeant,” Dickert replied.

“Don’t try, then.” MacKim did not wish to stop their momentum or leave a man alone when there were Indians and Canadians around.

“I can try, Sergeant.” MacRae was always keen to prove himself better than Dickert.

“Save your ammunition, MacRae. We’ll likely need it before long.”

MacKim watched the French column march closer as other men began to fight the fire. He dragged his injured leg, hoping he did not have to move fast.

“There they are,” Kennedy said, as the second French force emerged in a semi-circle around the Rangers. “We’re surrounded; head for the artillery.” Despite the tension in his voice, he sounded calm, as though leading a small force of Rangers against unknown numbers of the enemy was just part of his day’s work.

The artillery redoubt was strongly-built, with three cannon pointing at different angles and logs and fascines in place as protection against musketry. The Rangers settled around the redoubt, each man finding a secure billet as French musket balls zipped and hummed around them. One ball struck the barrel of a cannon with a musical ping, then ricocheted high in the air.

“Our job is to watch for the French coming from the shipyard,” MacKim reminded them. “Marksmen, the same rules apply. If you see an officer or an NCO, shoot him.”

“Is that any officer or NCO, sir?” MacRae asked.

MacKim shook his head, recognising Highland humour. “No, MacRae; only if they are the enemy.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Rangers were firing without haste, only shooting when they had a definite target.

“What time is it?” Butler asked.

MacKim glanced at the sky, surprised to see that the sun was well past its zenith. “About two,” he said.

“The French will keep us pinned down until dark,” Parnell said, “and then they’ll send in the Canadians with the Indians.”

“No, they won’t,” Kennedy said. “We’re moving out at sunset. We’ll push right through the middle of them.”

MacKim nodded, hoping that his foot was up to an advance.

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