Fighting Marines- Hardy's Challenge Page 3

  “Colonel Warthon is a family relation as was Samuel Nicholas,” Nichols said.

  Hardy weighted that bit of information. The family ties to the Marine Corps were deep. He asked, “And what of you, Lieutenant Nichols, do you intend a soldier’s life?”

  “Aye, and not a soft berth, I am my father’s son who is his father’s son. They instilled in me to be a man of honor, of fairness and to hold all men in high regard regardless of high birth or lowly birth until proven unworthy of that regard.” He paused then continued, “I was given my commission and I fully intend to earn it. Commandant Wharton desired me to remain in Washington as his aide but I would have none of it. I told him I would resign and enlist in the army so he assigned me to Captain Williams to serve as aide and messenger. Captain Williams understood my plight and ordered me to accompany you on this patrol to gain experience. He said you were a proper officer and that I would learn more from you in three days than I would in three years in Washington. I have found that to be true.”

  Hardy interjected, “Captain Williams is the proper officer, I’m but a jumped-up through the hawser bastard.”

  Nichols grinned and said, “I sir, but more of a proper officer than any I met at Sandhurst. I’d not say more than that.”

  Hardy’s face was stern. “Best not, not even here, for as you know all have relations across the pond. Hold your tongue when speaking with those who’ve not bled with you.”

  “Aye sir, will you not speak of this to the others?”

  “They’ve no need to know,” Hardy said and started for the river. As Nichols came along side he said, “I will give you all the aid I can. As to what you will learn on patrol, that you gain by listening and watching. It may be that at some time we come under fire, when we do stay as near Sergeant Coffin as possible. He will be your best chance of surviving. Mister Brooks has proven himself on more than one occasion, the men trust him and he they. Watch, listen and learn; do no more and take nothing upon yourself. Do you understand?”

  “Aye sir, I know what you say is for my betterment.”

  Chapter Two

  The men had crossed the river by the time Hardy and Nichols gained the bank. Hardy drew his pistols and powder before entering the inky black water and held them over his head. Nichols did likewise. The water was just over waist-deep and there was almost no current. “A good crossing,” Hardy remarked to Nichols.

  “Aye, sir,” Nichols answered and asked, “Have we far to go?”

  Hardy waded ashore and answered, “The distance is not far but the traveling may make it seem so. A soldier never knows what is around the bend or over the next rise. Perhaps nothing, perhaps an ambush and perhaps a battle. Never assume you will have your ease in a matter of hours.”

  “It was not my ease which concerned me but my feet,” Nichols answered with a hint of humor.

  Coffin and Brooks were waiting; Hardy’s boots squished on the sand. He ignored the water and the sound. “Two men a hundred paces ahead as scouts and two men are to follow at a hundred paces,” Hardy said to Brooks.

  “Aye Sir,” Brooks answered while eyeing Nichols.

  “Sergeant Coffin make sure every man is proper, I’ll not have them looking like rag-tags just from the doxies!”

  “Aye sir!” Coffin answered.

  “Mister Nichols you will walk with me,” Hardy said.

  “Aye sir,” Nichols answered and fell into step.

  Some distance from the river Nichols asked, “Sir, I see that you do not carry a sword, is there a reason?”

  “Cumbersome and noisy in the jungle. Have you noticed that the men and I carry bayonets in sheaths?”

  “Aye sir.”

  “The sheath is not standard issue and I had one made for each man. I made a recommendation to the Commandant that such be issued but I’m doubtful he will heed the recommendation. What he does not know is that a bayonet is a soldier’s most useful tool. A man can kill with it, eat with it, cut firewood with it and even shave with it. But, it can cost him his life if it be dulled or if it flash light when he’s in ambush. A man with a sword is at a disadvantage if he is facing a soldier skilled with a bayonet at the end of his rifle. The soldier has two weapons, the blade and the butt, both of which are deadly.”

  “But, a skilled swordsman, sir, he truly has the advantage!” Nichols said in a burst.

  “Aye so you were taught, but few swordsmen are skilled, most slash and parry and do so with awkwardness because of footing. A proper soldier knows his strike and his defense depend on his footing and he’ll not come near until he is sure of his footing. His reach keeps the swordsman at bay until it is time to strike. I will have Sergeant Coffin give you a lesson at nightfall.”

  “Aye sir, I would be pleased to have the lesson,” Nichols said with appreciation.

  They walked on for more than hour without conversation. The morning coolness was giving way humid heat. Occasionally, a man would drift to the rear of the column to fill a canteen from the keg tied to the ass. It would not be long before they would begin to loosen buttons.

  Hardy was aware of the growing discomfort. He called, “Lieutenant Brooks, we will rest!”

  “Marines halt!” Brooks bellowed loud enough for the men ahead to hear.

  The men halted but did not break rank. They waited for the next order.

  “Take ease!” Brooks shouted.

  The men drifted to the shade along the roadway. Hardy continued forward until he reached Vargas and Ellis. “Join the others,” he told them and continued walking. To his right and left were tall pines, ahead he could see the road dip and he decided to continue on as far as the dip. The closer he came to the dip the denser the underbrush became and the pine began giving way to oaks and other hardwoods. He caught the faint scent of smoke and realized it was drifting from his left. The scent grew stronger the closer he came to the dip and he thought he heard a shout. He stopped and stood still, listening. The shout came again; he recognized it for what it was, a farmer shouting to his mules or horses to pull. No doubt the farmer was pulling a stump. He turned and started back to where the men were lounging.

  “Mister Brooks we will advance,” he said as he passed Brooks and continued to the keg tied to the ass. He lifted the lid of the keg and saw that it was half-full. It would be enough until they came to a stream. He took the tin cup from the hook and dipped it into the keg and drank.

  Coffin drifted over and asked, “See anything?”

  “Heard a farmer pulling stumps, you’ll smell smoke soon enough.”

  “Nothing to worry the lads unless there’s a woman,” Coffin said and grinned.

  Hardy replaced the cup, “woman or no, they best look sharp. Where there’s one farmer there will be others.”

  “Aye,” Coffin agreed.

  Brooks had the men on their feet. “Ready, sir,” he announced.

  “I’ll lead Mister Brooks, we may encounter people on the road,” Hardy said and looked for Vargas. The young man had chosen to fall in at the rear of the column.

  “Vargas, to me!” Hardy ordered.

  “Aye, sir!” Vargas answered and jogged forward.

  “Lieutenant Nichols you walk beside me.”

  “Vargas fall in behind the lieutenant. If we come upon any Spaniards I want you to interpret.”

  “Aye, sir,” Vargas answered.

  “Sir, my Spanish is excellent,” Nichols inserted.

  Hardy grinned broadly, “Aye, I’ve every confidence in you but showing an enemy all your strengths is not always the best. Hold something in reserve, let them feel they have the advantage.”

  “Sergeant Coffin are the men proper?” Hardy asked.

  “Aye, sir, all proper!” Coffin answered.

  “Very well, we will advance!”

  They reached the dip in the road and coming up the other side remained under a canopy of large live oaks.

  “A good place for an ambush,” Coffin said as he came along side Hardy.

  “Aye!” Hardy agreed restin
g his right hand on the butt of a pistol.

  The road made a sharp bend to the left and to Hardy’s amazement the road opened out into fields on both sides. Smoke wafted from a small building next to a two-story home. There was also a barn and other small buildings.

  “Woman there,” Coffin whispered.

  “Aye, and likely several, slaves I’d say,” Hardy said.

  Hardy pulled his watch from his pocket. “Near noon,” he said and replaced the watch.

  Coffin looked skyward, “perhaps,” he said.

  “Sir will we inquire at the house?” Nichols asked.

  “No,” Hardy answered and turned half-round to Brooks, “Keep them from gawking Mister Brooks! They’ve seen a farm before!”

  “Aye, sir,” Brooks answered.

  The road bent toward the house and it became apparent that the house sat at the edge of it. Hardy considered what he would say if the owner came to speak. Information was always valuable but on this first patrol he would prefer not to engage in conversations with those who may well mean them harm.

  Nearing the house, Hardy was surprised to see that the architecture was French rather than English. It was made of wood and painted white, no porch but a stoop protruded from the front door with red brick steps leading up to the main floor on either side forming a half circle. The roof was flat with two chimneys on each side. He turned his attention to the windows facing the road; there was no movement.

  “By twos! Look sharp!” He commanded.

  They approached the house; it sat back from the road no more than a hundred feet. There were no trees near the house. No one came to stand on the stoop and no servants peered out from the corners. They marched by as if unseen but Hardy knew there were eyes watching.

  “No one home,” Coffin said with a hint of humor.

  Hardy did not reply. They both knew there were several reasons the occupants did not welcome them or make inquiries. It was just as well.

  The road curved away from the house and past a fenced meadow with sheep grazing. Beyond the meadow the large oaks again overshadowed the road. “Troop halt!” Hardy shouted once they were well out of sight of the house. “Take your ease!” He said and moved to sit on a fallen tree trunk. Brooks and Coffin came over to him.

  “Sergeant Coffin take Ellis and go back to the edge of the meadow. Watch the house.”

  “Aye, sir,” Coffin answered.

  “You expect something from them?” Brooks asked.

  “Best to be on our guard than be surprised. Although, I expect that if there is to be a surprise it will come at a place of their choosing that lend them the best advantage. The rest, nonetheless, will be good for the men. Have them check their weapons while we wait.”

  “Aye, sir,” Brooks said and began moving among the sitting men.

  Hardy pulled a pocket pistol from inside his tunic. It was one of two he had purchased last month from the captain of an island trader. “Right handy when boarded by pirates,” the captain had stated. Hardy was certain they would be and of more use to him in a fight than any other pistol. Each pistol had four rifled barrels and fired thirty-six caliber balls with goodly range. The walnut grips made the weapon very sturdy and durable. Altogether, the pistol was just over six inches and fit neatly in the special holsters he had made to be worn inside his tunic. He found the pocket pistols to be more accurate than the Joseph Hickin long pistols in his belt. In a fight, he would have ten shots to his opponent’s one.

  “I’ve not seen one of those before,” Nichols said staring down at the pocket pistol.

  “Nor I until last month, amazingly accurate. So much so I’d not want to be in the sights at less than fifty yards.”

  “Will it not fire all barrels at once?” Nichols asked.

  “No, it has separate touch holes, you lever here to select the barrel. It takes some practice.”

  “Is the weight not cumbersome?”

  “Aye, but still less than this long pistol and I had special holsters made for carrying them rather than wearing holes through my pockets.”

  Ellis’ stepped beside Nichols and reported, “No movement from the house, sir.”

  “Sergeant Coffin?” Hardy asked.

  “Coming sir,” he trekked through the woods a bit.”

  Hardy nodded and rose. “Mister Brooks recall the men! Column of twos!”

  “Aye, Brooks,” answered.

  “What of Sergeant Coffin?” Nichols asked.

  Hardy stretched and answered, “He will join us somewhere ahead. The sergeant must have found something worthy of investigating, perhaps a track that parallels the road. When he rejoins us we shall know.”

  There was a hint of excitement in Nichols voice when he asked, “Are you expecting an attack?”

  Hardy pursed his lips and replied, “A commander in an unknown land must always be expecting attack. Only a foolish commander goes about his duty as if there is no threat. The purpose of a patrol such as this is to ascertain threats and possibly draw out the enemy. Better to know an enemy’s strength before he comes to your door than when he arrives.”

  Nichols nodded with understanding.

  Some hundred yards from where they rested, Coffin emerged from the wood onto the road. He waited for Hardy rather than advance.

  “A good day for a brisk walk in the wood?” Hardy asked.

  “Aye, but a walk only,” Coffin answered. “There was a small track, well-used running along the field and the wood to a spring-house. Good water and a goodly amount of butter is stored there. I came along the wood after the track ended but there was no sign.”

  “And you’ve some butter?” Hardy asked.

  “Aye, sir,” Coffin said and grinned. He asked, “how much further?”

  “According to the map we’ll come to a river crossing soon and from there we will proceed due south. I intend to make camp about five miles after crossing. My reckoning is that we will reach Amelia Island by midday tomorrow.”

  “That would do me,” Coffin said.

  “Sir, do you know anything of the place?” Brooks asked.

  “Very little, I was told that it is under Spaniard rule but there are more British there than Dons. Which is the source of the troubles. Captain Williams is to meet us there and will arrive with a complement of Marines. No doubt once we arrive he will send us out again.”

  Coffin sat and pulled off a boot. “Aye, but before that, I’ll rest my feet. Gawd I must be getting old, time was this be no more than a stroll through the wood.”

  “I’ve known you before you got old and you have complained from our first meeting about your feet,” Hardy said.

  “How long have you known the Sergeant?” Brooks asked.

  “Fifteen years, give or take a year,” Coffin volunteered.

  Hardy added,” Give or take, he had not yet had his first shave or his first woman.”

  “Babes we was,” Coffin chimed in. “That is until Sergeant bloody righteous Hinshaw, ..”

  Hardy didn’t let him finish. “Old tales Sergeant Coffin, old tales best left untold.”

  Coffin grinned and said, “Aye, the bastard, broke my nose he did the first day!”

  Hardy laughed then said, “Aye, he did that and put his boot up your arse so far you didn’t sit again for a week.”

  Brooks asked, “What was the infraction?”

  “I spit!” Coffin said.

  Hardy knew there was no silencing Coffin so he answered Brooks, “On Hinshaw’s dirt, all dirt was his. Any man standing in his presence was on his dirt and no man was allowed to spit, sit or shite on his dirt.”

  There was humor in Coffin’s voice when he said, “He got his dirt, remember that, on that patrol where we got bloodied?”

  “The swamp south of El-Agamy,” Hardy said seeing it in his mind.

  “Forty against our ten,” Coffin added.

  “Slash and thrust, cut and jab,” Hardy said.

  Brooks asked, “What happened?”

  Hardy recalled the fight, “It was
in Egypt, they were waiting for us, rose up out of the brush and let loose with blunderbusses and musketoons loaded with grape. Took the lieutenant’s and the sergeant’s heads right off. The rest of us, those able to stand, beat them back with butts and bayonets. Then we started running, weren’t no shame in it. Like Sergeant Coffin said we was ten to their forty and four of our number had wounds. For some reason, they did not pursue, had they, they would have had our heads in their bags.”

  “Aye,” Coffin agreed.

  Hardy became serious, “Let us be away!”

  “Clearing ahead sir,” Coffin said.

  “Mister Brooks hold the men here, Sergeant Coffin and I will go have a look see,” Hardy said.

  The road cut through the edge of the large clearing that appeared to be a frequent camping site. Beyond the clearing and to the left stood a small house on short stilts.

  “Ferryman?” Coffin asked.

  Hardy nodded.

  A barge was tied to a stump on the bank of the river.

  “Hello in the house!” Hardy called.

  There was no answer but after a moment the door opened and a tall thin man with a bushy black and graybeard stepped out. He wore a woven straw hat but had not a shirt. His skin was leathery.

  “Want to cross?” the man asked.

  “Aye,” Hardy answered.

  “Fancy uniform, what are you?” asked the man.

  “United States Marines,” Hardy said.

  “Just you or are there more?” the bearded man inquired.

  “More, how much per man?”

  “Depends!”

  Depends on what?” Hardy asked.

  “Paper, coin or gold?

  “United States coin,” Hardy said.

  “Two cents a man, nickel for animals, fair as I can be!”

  “Fair!” Hardy said then asked, “Anybody about?”

  The man came down the steps and said, “Always somebody about, Indians mostly, thieves and bandits, farmers and once in a while a peddler. Don’t know till they come shouting at my door.”

  Hardy sensed the man was being evasive. He would wait until they were on the ferry before he asked anything more.