David Cook's Blog - Posts Tagged "royal-navy"
Heart of Oak - the fort
It's work in progress, but this scene is part of the 'episode' where Captain of Marines Simon Gamble must lead his force to capture the fort (the original title of the novella was called The Fort)on the island of Gozo.
Gamble stared north from the ravine to see the marines and seamen sprinting over the lip of the road, bayonet-scabbards, cartridge boxes and haversacks bouncing with each stride.
Suddenly a boom of gunfire rocked the air. Gunners stationed in the St Paul's Bastion had fired a cannon and Gamble saw one of the seamen torn to bloody gristle by the ball's terrible strike. The projectile, spattered-red, slammed into the banks of the road, churning earth high up in the air. A second gun fired sending the ball too high and Gamble saw it clip the embankment, spin, and plummet down the hill's incline.
'Come on, you bastards!' Gamble shouted at his men as the fastest reached the first stone walkway. 'Move your arses!'
The seamen were the slowest but that was because they were carrying cumbersome ladders. Ladders needed to scale the inner wall. Gamble had known there would be no way to get through the gate, so the marines had to climb over the walls and take the fort by escalade. Riding-Smyth had questioned the method and now Gamble could feel fear sniping at his confidence. Once they had climbed the walls, half the fight was done.
A third gun was awoken and had its throat blasted free, but the seamen were now clear of its shot, and the first redcoats had reached the ravine. A small volley of musketry fired ineffectively at them from the main gate.
'Sergeant Powell!' Gamble ordered. 'One platoon to form on the bridge, the other to grasp the ladders!'
'Sir!'
The seamen could not hope to bring the ladders up the stairway, so they were placed against the ravine's high walls and the marines hauled them up and over the parapets. The portcullis was still down and Gamble wondered if the French officers had ordered it. He could see a handful of officers there but wasn't sure if one was Tessier.
'Faster!' Gamble bellowed, glancing at the main gate and up at the inner wall where musket muzzles flashed leaving the embrasures ringed with flame, but the bullets caused no harm. The gunners on the emplacement were busy firing muskets at Grech's men and packing the cannons with grapeshot. Then the great guns jerked to life and the battery was instantly fogged white. The air was shattered with one percussive explosion. Gamble would scale the ladder, climb down the parapet and then silence those guns. For now, he had to think that Grech was still alive and that he had to get the Gozitan built ladders in place.
'Heave!' Rooke the Boatswain's Mate called from the ravine as the seamen pushed two ladders up for the marines to haul.
'Come on!' Gamble pushed a faltering Marine to one side and gripping the top rung, brought it down over the parapet to where Kennedy waited. 'We can't wait any longer, Harry! Get the two ladders to the gate now! The other four will have to wait.'
'Sir!' Kennedy spun on his heels. 'Platoon! Advance!' he yelled to his men.
'Fix bayonets!' Gamble ordered them to do that now as there would be little or no time to do that later. He turned and cupped a hand to his mouth. 'Lieutenant Pym! I want your pikes! Now if you please!'
'You'll be getting them soon enough, Captain Gamble!' Pym replied as more seamen reached the ravine's upper level. 'Come on! Get those bloody ladders over the wall!'
Gamble jumped the steps. 'Marines! To me!' He sprinted after the advancing men. Muskets crashed from the ramparts above which threw down a Marine. Another volley crashed from the gate to send two marines backwards, one spinning over the walkway and down into the debris-haunted moat. A bullet slashed open Corporal Forge's left cheek, exposing his back teeth.
Kennedy halted the marines thirty paces from the gate and the platoon hammered a volley into the Frenchmen.
'Advance! He ordered and they pressed on through their own powder smoke. Behind him Gamble and the remaining redcoats with two ladders were closing the gap. 'Halt!' The men were below the main gate's walls now so were safe from above. 'Load!'
The marines ran the two ladders up against the shoulders of the curtain wall and the first men began to climb. Gamble pushed past the ranks to steer the third ladder to the wall. A musket fired through the portcullis and the ball tore a rent in his sleeve. He pushed men to the rungs. The marines fired another volley and the defenders twitched and died against the metal bars. Then the first seamen arrived and they charged with boarding pikes and the wicked blades ripped into torsos, throats and legs.
'Push!' Pym was shouting. A seaman next to him was shot in the face and it seemed to him that the man's head just disappeared in an explosion of blood, bone and gore. 'Push the bastards!' He slashed his sabre at a Frenchman trying to stab him with his bayonet, and put his pistol to the man's chest and pulled the trigger. The enemy couldn't fall backwards because of the press of men, so hung against the bars. A sword sliced and another musket spat flame through the churning rill of smoke to send another seaman to his grave, but the landing party was winning this fight.
'Up! Up! Up!' Gamble shouted as some of the men started to look for cover. A Marine staggered. Sergeant Powell kicked a man who hung back. They could not falter now for it would weaken the attack, so every man must climb not knowing if the next second would be his last. The only way to survive horror was to win. Gamble saw Willoughby and Crouch at the rear and ran over to them, thrusting them towards the ladders. 'Get up there!' he snarled.
They both climbed. Men were scrambling up the rungs, but then a Marine was hit by a bullet from the flanking battery to the left. He slipped and toppled to the moat, body twisting as he screamed. More marines jostled to climb the ladders and then seamen at the rear waited with cutlasses, dirks and pistols.
'Up! Faster!' Gamble bellowed for the line seemed to be faltering. He saw Kennedy about to scale a ladder, sword in one hand which would make the climb awkward. 'Harry!' he called and his lieutenant stared up at him. 'Bring your sword to bear at the top!' Kennedy nodded, understanding, and rammed his weapon home. The marines climbed with their bayonet-tipped muskets slung over their shoulders. A redcoat slipped half-way up and knocked the five below him to the ground. They cursed him and picked themselves up to continue.
The defenders fire was continuous; a staccato drum beat of musketry, but Gamble knew the walls weren't fully manned. He expected larger volleys. Grech had declared that the French numbered perhaps three hundred, but experience told him that perhaps a hundred were defending the fort. If that was the case, then where were the rest?
His legs burned with the effort of the climb. Gun smoke roiled thick from the ramparts and shots echoed. He couldn't see the enemy; his world was a pair of dirty white legs, ladder and limestone wall. Steel crashed against steel. Bullets flayed flesh. A man screamed horribly. Suddenly Crouch, with his bandaged hand, disappeared, and Gamble knew he had reached the top. However, the French were still there and fighting back. He unsheathed his sword and then threaded through an embrasure to drop down onto the parapet. Bright blood spotted the stone. Marine Marsh lay dying next to a French Fusilier and Gamble stepped over them, slipping in glistening gore. A French grenadier was cocking his musket when Gamble pulled up his pistol and the shot dissolved the man's face in blood. To his right the defenders blasted the walls from the central St Paul's Bastion, while to the left French crowded the Notre Dame Bastion. A ragged line of French fired up from the courtyard, but their aim was put off by the group of seamen who still poured fire from the portcullis. The parapets were filling with marines and the seamen swarmed the ladders skilfully as though they were climbing ships' rigging.
Gamble pushed men aside as he went right. A hail of musketry tore scraps of stone from the stonework as he ran. A Frenchman swung his musket like a club. Gamble ducked and unceremoniously tipped him over the side of the parapet, and hearing his cries all the way down. A bayonet lunged and Gamble battered it aside with his straight-bladed cutlass. The steel clanged, sending sparks over the body of a dead defender who had been shot through an eye. The blackened wound smouldered. Gamble kicked his assailant, punched and grabbed the musket's hot barrel, turning it to the left with all his strength. His fingers burned, but the Frenchman could not bring his weapon back and gave a high pitched scream as the long cutlass split his skull open. Marine Pace shot a man less than three feet away in the face. A grenadier, with huge arms and a long flowing moustache, grabbed hold of Gamble's cutlass with both hands, blood showed at his fingers, but the man held on as Gamble tried to withdraw it. A long bayonet stabbed the air and Gamble ducked to fall backwards onto his back with the Frenchman. His hands were locked with the weight of the grenadier’s body, feeling as heavy as solid iron. The enemy tried to bite Gamble's face with crooked yellow teeth, snapping from underneath the moustache. Another two appeared above them. One went to stab down with his bayonet when a bullet drummed into his chest. The grenadier managed to get a hand free and tried to find purchase around Gamble's throat, but Gamble jerked his head and the moustached man couldn't get a grip. A Marine, shouting something incomprehensible, stabbed one of the two defenders in the throat with the spike atop an axe head and swung the axe-blade of another into the one lying on top of Gamble. The steel cleaved through black hair with a wet crack, and the Frenchman's eyes rolled up to his skull. Gamble threw off the body and Powell hauled him upright.
'Thank you, Archie,' Gamble said, face stained red. 'Now let's tear them to shreds!'
The defenders retreated, but in good order. A musket flamed and a ball shattered a Marine's collar bone. The marines screamed terrible battle-cries as they began their grim job of clearing the defenders off the parapet with quick professional close quarter work. Gamble trod on a fallen ramrod and his boots crunched on wadding. The French reached steps and began to descend.
'Charge the bastards!' Gamble screamed, blinking another man's blood from his eyes, and the marines and seamen poured down into the bastion.
Gamble stared north from the ravine to see the marines and seamen sprinting over the lip of the road, bayonet-scabbards, cartridge boxes and haversacks bouncing with each stride.
Suddenly a boom of gunfire rocked the air. Gunners stationed in the St Paul's Bastion had fired a cannon and Gamble saw one of the seamen torn to bloody gristle by the ball's terrible strike. The projectile, spattered-red, slammed into the banks of the road, churning earth high up in the air. A second gun fired sending the ball too high and Gamble saw it clip the embankment, spin, and plummet down the hill's incline.
'Come on, you bastards!' Gamble shouted at his men as the fastest reached the first stone walkway. 'Move your arses!'
The seamen were the slowest but that was because they were carrying cumbersome ladders. Ladders needed to scale the inner wall. Gamble had known there would be no way to get through the gate, so the marines had to climb over the walls and take the fort by escalade. Riding-Smyth had questioned the method and now Gamble could feel fear sniping at his confidence. Once they had climbed the walls, half the fight was done.
A third gun was awoken and had its throat blasted free, but the seamen were now clear of its shot, and the first redcoats had reached the ravine. A small volley of musketry fired ineffectively at them from the main gate.
'Sergeant Powell!' Gamble ordered. 'One platoon to form on the bridge, the other to grasp the ladders!'
'Sir!'
The seamen could not hope to bring the ladders up the stairway, so they were placed against the ravine's high walls and the marines hauled them up and over the parapets. The portcullis was still down and Gamble wondered if the French officers had ordered it. He could see a handful of officers there but wasn't sure if one was Tessier.
'Faster!' Gamble bellowed, glancing at the main gate and up at the inner wall where musket muzzles flashed leaving the embrasures ringed with flame, but the bullets caused no harm. The gunners on the emplacement were busy firing muskets at Grech's men and packing the cannons with grapeshot. Then the great guns jerked to life and the battery was instantly fogged white. The air was shattered with one percussive explosion. Gamble would scale the ladder, climb down the parapet and then silence those guns. For now, he had to think that Grech was still alive and that he had to get the Gozitan built ladders in place.
'Heave!' Rooke the Boatswain's Mate called from the ravine as the seamen pushed two ladders up for the marines to haul.
'Come on!' Gamble pushed a faltering Marine to one side and gripping the top rung, brought it down over the parapet to where Kennedy waited. 'We can't wait any longer, Harry! Get the two ladders to the gate now! The other four will have to wait.'
'Sir!' Kennedy spun on his heels. 'Platoon! Advance!' he yelled to his men.
'Fix bayonets!' Gamble ordered them to do that now as there would be little or no time to do that later. He turned and cupped a hand to his mouth. 'Lieutenant Pym! I want your pikes! Now if you please!'
'You'll be getting them soon enough, Captain Gamble!' Pym replied as more seamen reached the ravine's upper level. 'Come on! Get those bloody ladders over the wall!'
Gamble jumped the steps. 'Marines! To me!' He sprinted after the advancing men. Muskets crashed from the ramparts above which threw down a Marine. Another volley crashed from the gate to send two marines backwards, one spinning over the walkway and down into the debris-haunted moat. A bullet slashed open Corporal Forge's left cheek, exposing his back teeth.
Kennedy halted the marines thirty paces from the gate and the platoon hammered a volley into the Frenchmen.
'Advance! He ordered and they pressed on through their own powder smoke. Behind him Gamble and the remaining redcoats with two ladders were closing the gap. 'Halt!' The men were below the main gate's walls now so were safe from above. 'Load!'
The marines ran the two ladders up against the shoulders of the curtain wall and the first men began to climb. Gamble pushed past the ranks to steer the third ladder to the wall. A musket fired through the portcullis and the ball tore a rent in his sleeve. He pushed men to the rungs. The marines fired another volley and the defenders twitched and died against the metal bars. Then the first seamen arrived and they charged with boarding pikes and the wicked blades ripped into torsos, throats and legs.
'Push!' Pym was shouting. A seaman next to him was shot in the face and it seemed to him that the man's head just disappeared in an explosion of blood, bone and gore. 'Push the bastards!' He slashed his sabre at a Frenchman trying to stab him with his bayonet, and put his pistol to the man's chest and pulled the trigger. The enemy couldn't fall backwards because of the press of men, so hung against the bars. A sword sliced and another musket spat flame through the churning rill of smoke to send another seaman to his grave, but the landing party was winning this fight.
'Up! Up! Up!' Gamble shouted as some of the men started to look for cover. A Marine staggered. Sergeant Powell kicked a man who hung back. They could not falter now for it would weaken the attack, so every man must climb not knowing if the next second would be his last. The only way to survive horror was to win. Gamble saw Willoughby and Crouch at the rear and ran over to them, thrusting them towards the ladders. 'Get up there!' he snarled.
They both climbed. Men were scrambling up the rungs, but then a Marine was hit by a bullet from the flanking battery to the left. He slipped and toppled to the moat, body twisting as he screamed. More marines jostled to climb the ladders and then seamen at the rear waited with cutlasses, dirks and pistols.
'Up! Faster!' Gamble bellowed for the line seemed to be faltering. He saw Kennedy about to scale a ladder, sword in one hand which would make the climb awkward. 'Harry!' he called and his lieutenant stared up at him. 'Bring your sword to bear at the top!' Kennedy nodded, understanding, and rammed his weapon home. The marines climbed with their bayonet-tipped muskets slung over their shoulders. A redcoat slipped half-way up and knocked the five below him to the ground. They cursed him and picked themselves up to continue.
The defenders fire was continuous; a staccato drum beat of musketry, but Gamble knew the walls weren't fully manned. He expected larger volleys. Grech had declared that the French numbered perhaps three hundred, but experience told him that perhaps a hundred were defending the fort. If that was the case, then where were the rest?
His legs burned with the effort of the climb. Gun smoke roiled thick from the ramparts and shots echoed. He couldn't see the enemy; his world was a pair of dirty white legs, ladder and limestone wall. Steel crashed against steel. Bullets flayed flesh. A man screamed horribly. Suddenly Crouch, with his bandaged hand, disappeared, and Gamble knew he had reached the top. However, the French were still there and fighting back. He unsheathed his sword and then threaded through an embrasure to drop down onto the parapet. Bright blood spotted the stone. Marine Marsh lay dying next to a French Fusilier and Gamble stepped over them, slipping in glistening gore. A French grenadier was cocking his musket when Gamble pulled up his pistol and the shot dissolved the man's face in blood. To his right the defenders blasted the walls from the central St Paul's Bastion, while to the left French crowded the Notre Dame Bastion. A ragged line of French fired up from the courtyard, but their aim was put off by the group of seamen who still poured fire from the portcullis. The parapets were filling with marines and the seamen swarmed the ladders skilfully as though they were climbing ships' rigging.
Gamble pushed men aside as he went right. A hail of musketry tore scraps of stone from the stonework as he ran. A Frenchman swung his musket like a club. Gamble ducked and unceremoniously tipped him over the side of the parapet, and hearing his cries all the way down. A bayonet lunged and Gamble battered it aside with his straight-bladed cutlass. The steel clanged, sending sparks over the body of a dead defender who had been shot through an eye. The blackened wound smouldered. Gamble kicked his assailant, punched and grabbed the musket's hot barrel, turning it to the left with all his strength. His fingers burned, but the Frenchman could not bring his weapon back and gave a high pitched scream as the long cutlass split his skull open. Marine Pace shot a man less than three feet away in the face. A grenadier, with huge arms and a long flowing moustache, grabbed hold of Gamble's cutlass with both hands, blood showed at his fingers, but the man held on as Gamble tried to withdraw it. A long bayonet stabbed the air and Gamble ducked to fall backwards onto his back with the Frenchman. His hands were locked with the weight of the grenadier’s body, feeling as heavy as solid iron. The enemy tried to bite Gamble's face with crooked yellow teeth, snapping from underneath the moustache. Another two appeared above them. One went to stab down with his bayonet when a bullet drummed into his chest. The grenadier managed to get a hand free and tried to find purchase around Gamble's throat, but Gamble jerked his head and the moustached man couldn't get a grip. A Marine, shouting something incomprehensible, stabbed one of the two defenders in the throat with the spike atop an axe head and swung the axe-blade of another into the one lying on top of Gamble. The steel cleaved through black hair with a wet crack, and the Frenchman's eyes rolled up to his skull. Gamble threw off the body and Powell hauled him upright.
'Thank you, Archie,' Gamble said, face stained red. 'Now let's tear them to shreds!'
The defenders retreated, but in good order. A musket flamed and a ball shattered a Marine's collar bone. The marines screamed terrible battle-cries as they began their grim job of clearing the defenders off the parapet with quick professional close quarter work. Gamble trod on a fallen ramrod and his boots crunched on wadding. The French reached steps and began to descend.
'Charge the bastards!' Gamble screamed, blinking another man's blood from his eyes, and the marines and seamen poured down into the bastion.
HEART OF OAK 3RD EDITION
The 3rd edition of HEART OF OAK is now available to download from Amazon worldwide and Smashwords for all the ereaders out there.
If you have previously downloaded it, please update your devices to this latest edition.
http://goo.gl/Zo0hQo
If you have previously downloaded it, please update your devices to this latest edition.
http://goo.gl/Zo0hQo
