The Five of 1811

Five riders in 1811 find more than pleasure.

Neal Savage

The Five of 1811

It is the year of our lord, 1811. It is England. An England both at war, unknowingly on the eve of war, and unknowingly on the eve of battle. The English countryside is as beautiful as ever. Waves of green caressing other waves of green pastures, long, rolling hills with cottages, windmills and church steeples dotting the scenery. Cutting through it all is a small, babbling brook. Also cutting the wondrous sight is a small, dirt path stretching for a great distance. However, the ever-present reminder of the war with the French comes from the plumes of smoke in the distance. Despite this, as anyone who has lived through a war knows, life must continue.

A group of five gentlemen around age 40 have recognized this as well. They have plans for a pleasant ride. In the stables, the five of them, Bob the leader, Bert the talkative, Augustine the second man, Jim the very shy, and John, the one who would help Jim, saddle up their horses. Out of habit, Jim grabbed his portable ink-feather and parchment, and with a click and a kick, they set off down the long, weaving dirt path. Bob, being the type of person he is, takes up the point of the group with the others falling in behind him. The five of them set to talking. Soon, the talk turns to the British Continental War (American Revolution) that they had all fought in together. “Oh, I remember that vividly. I was not but 18 when the guns broke out. I signed up, and they gave me this dazzlingly red coat and uniform, along with a musket. A new model, too! The latest Brown Bess model. In a short few hours, we were ordered into a line, and marched onto a ship to be whisked to the 13 Colonies,” said Bert. The others chuckled. They had been in the same regiment. It was, after all, how the five of them had met. Bert didn’t care though, and told the story far too often.

Suddenly, from the front of the riders, Bob, who was in the front, in an urgent voice, called out to the others to ride off the road and into a nearby cluster of trees. Having fought with Bob for six years, they knew he wasn’t one to kid around, unless it was blatantly obvious. This wasn’t, so they followed his order, riding hard to the trees, hurriedly hiding their horses, and took up a hiding spot. Peering out to see what Bob had noticed. Inwardly, and slight outwardly too, all of them, John, Jim, Bert, and Augustine sighed out a thanks to Bob. On the small path they had just been on was now, judged by the war-hardy group, at least 11,000 French infantry marching down the dirt road. The road that was a lesser-known path to London. It wouldn’t be guarded. Knowingly, they looked at each-other, and Jim pulled out his feather and paper, and took down his, and the group’s, estimates and information that they could make out from their spot. A few minutes later, the French were out of sight.

The five came out, with their horses, mounted and rode. Hard. They rode to the nearest military outpost of the British Army. This outpost was Helenely. A good 11 miles from the outskirts of London, Helenely was 3 miles from the aged group. Easily an hour’s ride. During the mad rush to Helenely, they barely spoke, focusing on guiding their horses. Fifteen minutes from Helenely, Jim breathlessly called out an incredibly vague, “Me?” The others, having known him for 22 years now, understood what he meant. Augustine yelled back, “You wrote it down, yes, you tell it!” John looked disapprovingly at Augustine before looking back at the ground in front of his horse, focusing again on Helenely. Upon reaching Helenely, they startled the British in the guard-post by not stopping for a search, but only tearing past with a cry of, “No time!” The guards, seeing they were merely a group of five unarmed middle-aged men, shrugged, assumed the five had gone loony, and went back to their card game. Reining their horses down to a slow walk, the men dismounted, and crashed into the Officer/Recruitment Office. Panting, Jim handed over the papers of writing to the general there, tried to stammer out a few words, and then promptly passed out. John gave a short rap to Augustine’s back before stepping up. He explained what Jim and the rest of them had seen, giving every possible detail he could. The General pondered all of this new and unexpected information, then replied.

Four hours later, Officers Jim, John, Bob, Augustine, and Bert called for their quickly thrown together regiments to form their lines to march to London’s defense. 

Reviews

[Aarea]

Interesting and surprising. I think you did very well at setting the scene at the beginning. I loved that you gave each of the characters their individual defining qualities right from the get go so I knew what was going on. Perfect for a short story. My only suggestion would be to maybe slow it down, add a few more details. Other than that, this piece is great! Good job! :)