The Thistle against the Crown: Chapter 10

The men of Berwick continue to train and Horatio prepares a handful for their first real action of the American Revolution.

30 May 1775

Three miles outside Kittery

Six-and-a-half miles from Camp

     Horatio and Dougal had pressed the straggling group of fifteen recruits hard to get out of Kittery before the two men from the docks reported them to any sort of law enforcement or the British troops. However, with the town now three miles behind them Horatio stopped and turned on his horse to look at the men. They came from all walks of life and their age varied from seventeen to forty-four. They were Irish, Scottish, and a few English.

     "Men." Horatio began, "My apologies for the haste with which we were forced to leave Kittery, but it was best that we not draw undue attention to ourselves. I'm afraid I must clear up a falsehood that we conjured up to encourage you to join us. This is not a land speculating expedition into the northern regions of this colony." Several of the men began to grumble as Horatio continued, "We are from the Berwick militia, and it is our intention to march to Exeter New Hampshire, just across the border, and offer our services to a regiment now being formed there. That regiment's intention is to join the force now gathering around the city of Boston and oppose the illegal occupation by the Crown forces." The grumbles grew worse.

     "You intend open war against the redcoats?!" one of the older men said, "That's treason!"

     "Aye, it is." Horatio said, "There's no way around it. But I will not force a man to fight in something he does not believe in. You are free to go, no one will stop you." He looked as a few men began to gather their things to head back to Kittery, "But know that if you do, you'll be at the mercy of men like the ones we encountered on the docks. You were enticed here with promises of freedom, and land, and a new world. I can assure you that it's the same as the old. Nothing has changed. For you Scots, and Irish, they will look down on you as they always have. You will have trouble finding suitable work and in the end will likely be forced to take a manual labor job for less pay. They will ridicule you. If you are Catholic they will force you to be registered as such so you can further be degraded as a second class citizen." He paused, and no one moved, their eyes all focused on him, "But if you come with us all that could change. You could do your part and help fight for a better world, a truly new world with an established law based on equality for all men. Would you fight for that cause?"

     "And what about our families back home? What happens to them?" One of the men asked.

     "I never said that this would be easy. For those of you with families back in the old country, you will likely loose touch with them." Horatio replied, "But sacrifices must be made so that future generations can live in peace and freedom. Just as our forefathers marched to Culloden on that cold April morning and fought in the face of overwhelming odds, so we will face the British Empire and win or loose we will fight for the world that we believe in, not the one that they dictate to us from three thousand miles away."

     "I'm not risking my neck for a lost cause. You men do what you want, but I won't have it." The older man said as he turned and started walking back towards Kittery.

     Horatio sat on his horse. There was nothing left to say to these men to convince them one way or another that they should join the cause. The choice was now up to them, just as he had left the choice to the men of Berwick. War was too ugly a matter for a man to order another man to fight for something he didn't believe in. Horatio only hoped that these men fresh from the old world, would see the truth in his words and realize that this "new world" of splendor and opportunity didn't really exist and would only have a chance of taking shape if they fought for it.

     Several of the men grumbled and started walking back down the track they had just walked up to get back to Berwick. Horatio silently counted them as they went, first the one older man, then another man, then two more, and one last one reluctantly followed them. Five in total had left and gone back towards Kittery. The rest stood, waiting to see what Horatio would say to them next.

     "If you men are willing to stay with us and join us, then we march onto our camp. But know that if you sign up with us, you are signing onto a soldier's life. To eat, sleep, march, drill, and fight when we tell you." Horatio warned them. He wanted them to know everything before they really committed, "You will be trained to the best of our ability, and given proper weapons with which to fight the enemy. We will give you the best chance we can to ensure your survival. You will not be permitted to leave. If you are caught leaving, you will be treated as a deserter and punished accordingly." He looked at each of them, "So if you are willing to accept that life, then I welcome you with a grateful heart." He nodded as none of the men turned to leave. Some of them, like Dougal Ross, Horatio knew would stay, as he had already understood what it was that Horatio was really recruiting for, but as he looked at the other men that had joined them, he realized that most were Scottish or Irish and had obvious reasons for disliking the British crown. That was reason enough for him to trust them and he knew that they were a hearty folk who could take the hardship of campaigning and endure.

     Horatio turned to Dougal, "Bring these men back to camp and get them on strength. I'm going to ride ahead and gather some of the men to pay our friends on that supply convoy a visit."

     "Very good, sir." Dougal said offering him a salute.

     Horatio returned the salute before turning his horse and galloping up the road to get back to the camp in a hurry. He knew that time was ticking and every moment they waited, the British would be further away. He was not sure where the supplies were going, so he would have to set up the ambush on the road coming out of Kittery. The clock was ticking.

 

     "I said halt you gaggle of mules!" Argyle shouted at his platoon that staggered slightly instead of stopping sharply.

     Overall the company from Berwick was doing much better than they had ben the day before. The constant drilling and hard work of both Argyle and Mackenzie were starting to pay off. They were beginning to move as one body, instead of a ragged formation of individuals. The musket drill of the men was generally getting much better, and crisper. They had even graduated to being able to actually fire their muskets with the assurance from both their Sergeant and Corporal, that they would be responsible for cleaning the weapons after they were dismissed for the day.

     "To the right, wheel on center, march." Argyle shouted and the men all looked towards the center of their line. From there the men started to move as though they were a door with a hinge in the middle of it. It was not a sharp line, and it tended to wiggle slightly towards the ends, but the formation was staying together much better than it had in the past.

     "Halt!" Argyle shouted, "Dress to the center!" he shouted and the men began to adjust their positions based on where they men in the center were so they were once again one close line.

     "Take care to fix bayonets!" Argyle gave the preparatory command, "Cast about!" The men lowered their muskets from their shoulders down to a hanging position beside them and under their left arm. "Fix," Argyle paused, "Bayonets!" The men pulled the sixteen inch triangular piece of steel from the leather scabbards they had stuffed in their belts and attached them to the end of their muskets. It was not as synchronized as the British Army could do it, but no one dropped them, which was a blessing in its self.

     "Shoulder," Argyle shouted, "Arms!" The men brought the muskets, now tipped with the shiny bayonets up into their shoulders as they had been before.

     "Poise," Argyle shouted, "Arms!" His men brought their muskets from their left shoulders and held them so they were straight up and down and the lock was level with their eyes.

     "Charge your," Argyle shouted, "Bayonets!"

     "Huzzah!" The men shouted as they dropped their muskets down to waist level and held them so they bayonets were pointed away from them. The steel shined in the sun and their voices carried with such ferocity that even the women working over the fires paused and looked at them, admiring how smartly their men seemed to have learned their military lessons.

     "To the front," Argyle shouted, "March!" The men proceeded forward at the regular pace of march, shouting "huzzah" with each step with their left foot. They kept their line, but excitement was starting to get the better of them as they quickened their step.

     "Keep your line!" Argyle barked at them as they continued to march forward.

     "Quick, march!" Argyle shouted and the men continued to move forward at more of a brisk step. After a moment he increased the speed again, "Double Quick, march!" The men entered into a slow jog as they neared their targets. A full line of sticks tied together as though they were the enemy sat in front of them. "Charge!" Argyle shouted as the men broke into a full run within five steps of the position of the wooden targets. The idea was that the call to charge so close would allow the full weight of the line to slam into an enemy formation and puncture it. It was the basic principle behind the British bayonet charge.

     "Halt!" Argyle shouted, "HALT!" He continued to move up and down the line, "Reform your line!" He shouted pulling and pushing men back into formation, "Get ahold of yourselves!" He walked in front of the formation, "Don't loose yourselves in this, lads! It only takes one moment of being carried away like this to ruin everything. We may need to reform and move quickly to avoid being cut off. They may bring other troops into our flank to try and break our charge! We need to be able to respond to this, and carrying on like a bunch of bloody savages will not do!" The men said nothing, merely stood with their muskets in the "shoulder arms" position.

     Horatio entered the clearing where his men were camped and saw the small fires burning where the women were working on making twice baked break, and whatever soup they were re-heating for dinner. He looked to his left and saw Argyle's platoon working on their bayonet drill. He was impressed with how well they kept their order, but noticed that they seemed to let their excitement get the better of them as they advanced. This would have to be worked on.

     To his right, Horatio saw Mackenzie's men working on the marching, and wheeling. They were becoming much cleaner than they had been the day before. On the outside the men of Berwick still looked like a loose group of militiamen, but they were starting to move like a real military company.

     Horatio moved his horse forward and rode over to where Argyle's men had done an about face and were moving back where they started.

     "Sergeant, a word." Horatio said before dismounting his horse.

     "Sir." Argyle turned back to his platoon, "Take care, halt!" He shouted, "Order, arms!" The men brought their muskets down from their shoulders and set them by their right foot, still holding onto them by the top of the muzzle. "Ease, arms!" The men leaned the muskets against their right shoulders, "Clasp hands." They crossed their hands, one on top of the other against the swell of their muskets, "Rest." They stepped back with their right foot and felt the relief of not having to be as ridged as they had been the entire day.

     "I need about fifteen men for an ambush mission." Horatio explained, "I want you, Robert Stewart, O'Sullivan, Christian Reid, and anyone else you feel is ready. We need them inside of ten minutes."

     "As you say, sir." Argyle said saluting Horatio. He had no idea what this mission was that his officer required the fifteen men for, but he knew better than to ask questions. All would be answered in time, and as a Sergeant, it was not his place to question his officer's orders.

     Argyle quickly went off to gather the men that Horatio had requested. Some, like Christian Reid and Robert Stewart were part of Mackenzie's platoon, but the rest came from his own. He knew who would work well and who would not. After twenty-four hours of working with them, Argyle knew what everyone's strengths and weaknesses were. He knew, for example, that Angus Fraser, an experienced hunter would be very helpful to this mission, but Jamie Cameron, a young boy who still could hardly remember his manual of arms, would not be useful at all.

     Horatio walked back towards the camp to gather the gear that he had not brought with him to Kittery. As he pulled his belt mounted cartridge box onto his belt next to his dirk, Sinéad walked over wiping her hands.

     "How did you fare in Kittery, then? I don't see any smiling faces."

     "Dougal will be bringing them along, presently." Horatio said a bit rushed.

     "So where are you off to in such a rush?" Sinéad asked, folding her arms across her chest.

     "British supply column is moving out from Kittery. Not sure what's in it, but I'm sure we'll have more use for those supplies than the damned redcoats." Horatio said with a slight smile.

     Sinéad smiled back, "Well then, go and get what's rightfully ours."

     "I will. I'll see you after." Horatio nodded to her as he grabbed his fowling piece and walked back over to where Argyle had gathered the fifteen men he'd requested. "Corporal Mackenzie." Horatio shouted out to where Mackenzie was still drilling his men.

     Mackenzie stopped quickly and rushed over to where Horatio was standing, "Sir."

     "You have the camp while we're gone, Corporal." Horatio said, "Bring the company together, drill them as one unit, and then put them to weapons cleaning. Sergeant Major Cameron will be along within the hour bringing ten men from Kittery with him. These men are fresh off the boat from the old country and have very little with them. Assist Dougal in whatever he needs. We should be back before nightfall."

     "As you say, sir." Mackenzie said with a salute. He was slightly disappointed that he was being left behind, but he knew that Horatio couldn't take everyone with him on this venture. Someone had to stay and maintain order and with Dougal gone, and Horatio taking Argyle with him, that left the camp in his charge and it was a duty he would take seriously.

     Horatio turned back to Argyle, "Double files behind us and we'll be moving fast. We're going to intercept a small supply shipment coming from Kittery. Guarded by a platoon of Marines."

     "Aye, sir." Argyle said, "Double files!" Argyle shouted, "At the trail." The men all carried their muskets in their right hand, hanging at the balance point of each as they prepared to step off. "Quick, March."

     The men stepped off at a brisk pace, ready to pick up the pace if they needed. Horatio just hoped that it wasn't too late. They had to intercept that supply shipment soon or it would be lost in the wilderness of North Eastern Massachusetts until it reached its destination, wherever that was. This was certainly a gamble, but it was one Horatio knew would be worth it if it worked.

Author's Note

The story is starting to heat up and changes are coming. Soon the men of Berwick (and Kittery) will truly join the war and before the end they will be fighting in one of the first major battles of the American Revolution. Exciting stuff. As always this is just a draft so please be gentle in critiquing it.