Liberty or Death by David Cook

Author:David Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, war, rebellion, historicalfiction, military action and adventure, regency adventure, self published author, ireland history fiction, ebook 2014
Publisher: David Cook

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Mullone waited in the house, hearing the rebels outside, but there were so much battle smoke that he could not see anything, even when he peered out of the window. It was like London fog, he reflected. He could hear the constant sound of musketry to the east and north and reckoned that the rebels had not completely taken the town. Even the group outside had given up and dispersed. Then, at noon as the sun burned from above, the shouting became a murmur of voices, the musketry a dull ragged tearing sound, and the smoke thinned to leave the town washed in destruction.

The rebels were exhausted. The cauldron of blood-letting had boiled over and the flames had been doused. It was then that Johnson rallied the troops who stormed back across the bridge and through the North gate, and the tired rebels could not hope to turn aside the counter-attack. A great deal had fallen where they stood from exhaustion and some had broken into cellars and quenched their thirst with hidden kegs of ale and whiskey. The fight had gone from them.

The redcoats advanced with a savagery that the general could not control, for the men wanted revenge, and would not stop until the last of the rebels were dead. The Dublin Militia, hearing that their commander Lord Mountjoy had been killed, cut a bloody path through the narrow streets in revenge. A group of redcoats found a house where wounded and exhausted rebels had taken shelter and they shot and bayoneted them all without mercy.

'When we've retaken the town, we go after Black,' Mullone said loud enough for all the men to hear. 'That is our mission.'

'Right, sir,' Cahill said and attempted to stand, but Mullone eased him back in the chair where his foot rested on a keg. Sweat beaded the sergeant's pale face and his eyes were red-rimmed.

'No, Seán,' Mullone shook his head. 'Time for you to rest. Same goes for the other four. The wounded stay here. Mister and Mrs Sawbridge will take care of you.'

Cahill reluctantly agreed and Mullone shook his hand. 'Go break some skulls, sir.'

'You need to heal up before you can make a journey so stay put. What about your wife?'

'She can take care of herself, sir,' Cahill said dismissively with a grin. 'She's got a musket and a fowling piece and a temper to match. The Croppies won't go near her, if they know what's good for them.'

Mullone edged to the door, wound throbbing. He cast a look back at his friend. 'Take care of yourself, Seán. I'll come back.'

'Make sure you do, sir,' Cahill saluted him.

Mullone led his remaining dragoons out into the streets where homes smouldered red, wounded crawled and blood dripped. There were bodies everywhere, punctured with musket ball or laid open by steel. They lay like seeds tossed to the wind. Black smoke was roiling up to the heavens. A troop of Scottish Fencibles galloped past them, eager to hunt down the insurgents, shifting tendrils of pungent smoke that stung his eyes.

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