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

He ran forward, pushed his way through the line and called out to his men, 'Carteaux is coming! We have to charge! Charge now, before they can fire again.'

They looked back at him in astonishment.

'What are you waiting for?' he cried. 'To be shot down like dogs? Charge! It's your only hope!'

Lieutenant Junot took up the cry and some of the sergeants and corporals and the braver of the men joined in. The French line rolled forward in a ragged wave, the men screaming in battle frenzy as they rushed forward towards the silent ranks of the redcoats. In amongst them Napoleon shouted too, feeling his lungs strain with the effort as he was carried on by the men around him. They were almost upon the British when the third volley crashed out, right in their faces and many more Frenchmen were cut down in the billowing bank of smoke that filled the air. The survivors rushed on to the bayonets of the enemy and Napoleon found himself face to face with the grizzled face of a veteran, teeth bared, as he thrust at the lithe shape of the French officer. Napoleon ducked down as the bayonet stabbed over his head. When he glanced up the redcoat was stumbling back, with a pioneer's axe buried in his neck. A huge figure in blue thrust past Napoleon, yanking back on the haft of the axe before turning to look for another opponent.

In the bank of smoke, men hacked and stabbed and clubbed at each other with feral fury. Napoleon backed away and looked towards the rampart, willing the reinforcements on. As long as the redcoats were forced to fight hand to hand they could not unleash any more of their terrible volleys.

'Forwards!' Napoleon shouted over the din. 'Carteaux is coming!'

Then he heard the familiar call of trumpets and his heart soared for an instant, before he knew something was wrong. Something he would never have expected. He strained his ears, and then the sound came again, carrying across the melee with unmistakable clarity.

'The recall!' a voice cried out close by. 'They're sounding the recall!'

'No!' Napoleon screamed, his heart clenching up in a knot of pure rage. 'No!'

'The recall! Fall back! Fall back!'

Already it was too late to stop them.The silhouettes of men in the smoke swept past Napoleon, running back towards the rampart.Then they were all fleeing and there was Junot at his side, grasping his sleeve.

'Sir, come on!'

'No.'

'There's nothing you can do. Come on!' Junot pulled him away and thrust him towards the rampart. At first Napoleon responded woodenly, every instinct telling him to turn and face the enemy, even as his legs carried him along with the others. Then he was at the embrasure, and Junot pushed him through so that he half fell, half slithered down the slope into the ditch. All around him, splashing through the mud, men were fleeing for their lives. Then he was through the obstacles, climbing the far slope and running back across the open ground towards the shelter of the battery. His breathing was laboured and he paused a moment to grab a few deep breaths and looked back towards the fort. The rampart was back in the hands of the redcoats and now they were hurriedly loading and firing their weapons after the scattered Frenchmen. Inside Napoleon felt sick at the opportunity that had been lost and the strident notes of the recall signal seemed to mock him as he shrugged his coat straight and forced himself to march back to his own lines.

When he reached the battery he brushed Junot aside and continued marching up the hill, past the artillery camp and on to the general's headquarters outside Ollioules. As he approached a staff officer stood up and blocked the entrance to the tent.

'Let me pass,' Napoleon hissed, breathing hard. 'I want to see the fucker who ordered the recall!'

'You can't go in, sir,' the staff officer replied with an anxious glance over his shoulder. 'The general's busy.'

'Busy?' Napoleon stared at him, and shook his head in outraged astonishment. 'I'll bet he's busy. Better be writing his will.'

The tent flap opened behind the staff officer and Saliceti stuck his head through the gap.'What's going on? Buona Parte?' Saliceti frowned as he stared at the blood spattered across Napoleon's face. 'Good God, man, are you all right?'

'Yes, citizen,' Napoleon replied through gritted teeth, and gestured wearily towards the fort. 'More than I can say for hundreds of men out there… I want to see the general. I want to see the coward who called off the attack. The coward who robbed us of the chance to take the fort. I want to see the general.'

'You can't see the general,' Saliceti replied.'There is no general here.'

'What do you mean?' Napoleon asked, as he stepped closer and stared through the tent flap. Inside he could see Carteaux leaning back in his chair, his head bowed. Napoleon felt a renewed surge of anger and started forward, until Saliceti placed a hand on his chest and held him back.

'As I said, there is no general here,' Saliceti repeated.'I have just dismissed Carteaux from his post as commander of the army. He's failed us too many times. And now Citizen Carteaux is under arrest.'

Chapter 78

Major-General Dugommier stared hard at his assembled officers. 'There will be no more mistakes, gentlemen. We will have Toulon back in our hands before the end of the year. I want to make that quite clear. I will not tolerate incompetence, nor cowardice.'

He paused to let his words settle firmly in the minds of his audience and then stood up and crossed over to the map that hung on the wall of the inn he had chosen for his headquarters. At first Napoleon had not been inspired by the choice of Dugommier as the new commander of the army surrounding Toulon. Dugommier was from a noble family and, in his late fifties with grey hair and heavily lined face, was reaching an age when he would be better employed in an administrative role, rather than as a field officer. But the new general had quickly proved to be a professional of the old school and had personally inspected every unit under his command and rectified a number of supply and equipment problems that his predecessor had simply ignored. Despite his noble blood he seemed to enjoy the complete confidence of the representatives of the Committee of Public Safety, and within days of his arrival he had reinvigorated the spirit of his officers and men. Even Napoleon, grudgingly at first, recognised the superior quality of the man. All the more so when Dugommier adopted the plan of attack that had been drafted by Napoleon.

Dugommier tapped a stubby finger on the map. 'Everything hinges on L'Eguillette, as the more tactically minded of you have already come to realise. Of course, the enemy is of the same mind, hence the powerful defences that they have built at Fort Mulgrave. Over the last week I have been encouraging our opponents to believe that we are shifting the focus of our attacks to Mount Faron. Hence the increased patrols, probing attacks and limited bombardments in that area. It seems that my approach has paid off, since our spies tell us that the enemy has shifted two battalions and twelve guns from L'Eguillette to the other side of the harbour over the last two nights.' Dugommier paused and turned to his senior officers with a faint smile.'The time to attack is almost upon us, gentlemen.'

Around the long table the officers exchanged excited glances. Their chance had come at last. After all the piecemeal failures of General Carteaux they were still somewhat sceptical of any plan of attack, and waited for the new commander to elaborate. Instead, Dugommier returned to the table and sat down, before nodding in Napoleon's direction.

'Colonel Buona Parte, if you would be so good as to explain the plan to us?'

'Yes, sir.' Napoleon had a pile of notes in a leather case on the table in front of him, but he had read over the plan enough times to have memorised every important detail, so he left the case where it was and rose from his bench and stood to one side of the map. Most of the other officers looked on in poorly concealed surprise that Dugommier had ceded centre stage to this freshly promoted commander of the army's artillery. Napoleon cleared his throat and mentally rehearsed the sequence of his plan.