Young bloods - Scarrow Simon (библиотека электронных книг txt) 📗

'That's a bracketing shot,' Napoleon said quietly.'The next one will be close.'

'Yes, sir,' Junot replied as he rose to his feet and tucked his notebook into his haversack.

They stood still for a moment, before Napoleon risked a glimpse over his shoulder. The tail end of the group of staff officers was disappearing back into the communication trench. A dull thud drew his attention back just in time to see the earth erupt from the ground a short distance from his boots.

'Time, I think, to take cover.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Come on then.' Napoleon turned and hopped down into the battery, quietly pleased with the little display he had put on for Carteaux, and more importantly, Freron and Saliceti. When they had recovered from their shock they would be sure to recall his courage and imperturbability in the face of enemy fire. That was the kind of stuff reputations were made of. Napoleon looked round at Junot and mimicked. 'At least I won't need any sand to blot the ink. Lieutenant, you must have balls of iron.'

Junot grinned, and Napoleon punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'Just as well; you're going to need them.'

Chapter 77

As November began the weather turned. Cold rain fell, and the men were soaked through as they worked on two more batteries in front of Fort Mulgrave. The ground turned to mud and the work slowed as men waded through slick and churned muck to dig out drainage ditches and attempted to prop up the walls of the partially completed batteries. Then, at last, on the fifteenth day of the month, the rain stopped, the skies cleared and Napoleon gave orders for fresh ammunition to be brought up from the stockpile in Ollioules. But when the first keg was opened, it was at once apparent that the powder was damp, ruined by being left out in the rain of the previous week.

Napoleon scooped up a handful of the useless gunpowder. He rubbed some between his fingers and cursed as he sensed its stickiness. Looking up at Junot he muttered, 'When I find out which one of those incompetent bastards of Carteaux's is responsible for this, I swear I'll kill him.'

Junot remained silent, not wishing to worsen his commander's foul temper. Napoleon stared at the powder for a moment before he suddenly flung it back into the keg and kicked it over. As he wiped the residue from his hands on to his coat he forced himself to try to calm down. 'Send for some more. Make sure it's sound before they bring any down to the guns.'

'Yes, sir. Any orders for the men?'

'Orders?'

Junot nodded at the useless kegs of gunpowder. 'We can't continue the bombardment until that's replaced, sir.'

'No,' Napoleon responded sourly. 'Tell the men to stand down until further orders.'

'Stand down.Yes, sir.'

'I'm returning to camp. Send word as soon as the replacement powder turns up.'

'Yes, sir.'

Back in his tent Napoleon sat at his map table and examined his plans for the deployment of further batteries. It had been less than two months since he had been placed in command of the artillery and already he had constructed nine batteries to the west of Toulon, with plans for another four. His original force of three hundred men had swelled to nearly fifteen hundred, still hardly enough to service more than a hundred artillery pieces surrounding Toulon. As a result Saliceti had recommended his promotion to acting lieutenant colonel, and Napoleon was awaiting official confirmation before he had the epaulettes sewn on to his coat. It had been a meteoric rise, Napoleon prided himself, but the army was still little closer to taking the port. The slow process of breaking down the defences of Fort Mulgrave gnawed at his impatience. As did the refusal of General Carteaux to make the fort his priority. Even now, only two battalions of infantry were entrenched alongside Napoleon's guns. They were only there to protect the batteries, not to spearhead any assault on the fort when the time came.

Having pushed his plan to the representatives at every opportunity, Napoleon had recently resorted to sending a confidential letter to the War Ministry in Paris, complaining in bitter terms about the incompetence of General Carteaux, and the urgent need for his own plan to be adopted if Toulon was to fall before the end of the year. The letter had been sent off in a moment of rashness and now Napoleon feared that he had overstepped the mark. Carteaux had powerful patrons amongst the Jacobins, and the general would not be likely to forgive such a slight, if he discovered it.

As he leaned over the table and ran his hands through his hair, Napoleon became aware of a commotion outside his tent. Men were shouting to each other and in the distance came the faint pop of musket fire. With a sigh, Napoleon rose up wearily and made his way outside. The men were taking full advantage of the change in weather and had rigged clothes lines from tent pole to tent pole to dry their sodden uniforms and bedding. Faint wisps of steam rose above the camp as Napoleon made his way across to look down the slope towards Fort Mulgrave. Just beyond the outer ditch he could see a small cluster of men, some in French uniforms, the rest in scarlet. Napoleon glanced round and caught sight of Captain Marmont watching the incident through a telescope.

Hurrying over to him Napoleon called out, 'What the hell's going on?'

Marmont turned and saluted his colonel. 'Seems some of our pickets got a bit carried away and went too close to the fort. The British sortied out to capture them. Now they're giving them a good hiding.'

'Let me see.'

Napoleon took the proffered telescope and trained it down towards the fort. In the magnified circle of the eyepiece he clearly saw the French soldiers on their knees being kicked and struck with the butts of muskets by their captors.

'What's that all about?'

'I can guess.The pickets are close enough to swap insults with the British. One thing leads to another and that's the result. But it's not going down well with our men, look.'

Marmont indicated the trenches facing the fort. Soldiers were climbing up, with muskets in hand and gesturing angrily towards the enemy. The cries of their rage carried up the slope and, as the two officers watched, more and more men emerged from cover and began to edge across the open ground towards the fort. Napoleon shifted the telescope back towards the British. He could see them stop their beating and look round at the Frenchmen moving towards them. Then a redcoat sergeant lowered his pike and drove it into the chest of one of his prisoners.

'Bastard!' Napoleon breathed in sharply, then looked on in horror as the sergeant gestured to his men and they began to bayonet the rest of their captives. 'The bastards are murdering our men!'

A great cry of outrage rose up from the surrounding French soldiers and all at once a tide of blue uniformed men charged towards the enemy position.

'Oh shit!' Marmont smacked a fist against his thigh.'The fools! What do they think they're doing? We must stop them.'

'No.' Napoleon's mind was racing. He felt the thrill of opportunity coursing through his veins. 'No. This is it.This is our chance. Come on!'

He grabbed Marmont's arm and pulled the captain after him as he ran headlong down the slope. As they passed by clusters of tents Napoleon shouted at the men to grab their weapons and follow him.

Ahead, the first wave of French soldiers had reached the outer ditch and were swarming through the obstacles, angrily wrenching them aside as they went after the redcoats who had killed their friends. His heart pounding, Napoleon urged himself on as fast as his legs could go. If only enough men would go forward while their fighting blood was up. If a senior officer could get there fast enough to take advantage of the situation, then anything was possible. He reached the Battery of Men-Without-Fear and paused on the breastwork to shout at the gunners still inside.