The Evening Gun: Volume three in War of 1812 Trilogy Read online

  To nothing, damn it. Ain’t no one out there and here I sit lettin’ Isaac and them get further and further away while I’m gettin’ my own self chewed up by these damn flies. If these woods are full of Royal Marines, they’re quieter than I figgered they could be – or they ain’t here. Tate had started to stand when he heard – or rather didn’t hear the sound. The birds had stopped their constant warbling. He listened harder and then he had it; faint to be certain, but there it was – the sound of men moving none too carefully through the scrub and undergrowth. But it seemed they were some distance inland. He figured there would be little risk in having a look.

  I cain’t see nothin’ from here. Gotta move some. He stood and as silently as he could, made his way inland from his stand along the river. The sound he had heard grew louder. Then through the scrub and trees he caught a flash of light – a reflection off something shiny, perhaps a bayonet or buckle. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t anything that grew in the woods. He stopped and waited.

  His patience was rewarded when, through a break in the trees a long musket shot away, he saw the column of Royal Marines. They carried huge packs and muskets with fixed bayonets. Their tall hats, red jackets, and white trousers offered them no camouflage, and he could see quite clearly each individual as he passed. They weren’t close enough to make out their faces but, from the way they marched and from the look of their uniforms, the heat had and would continue to take its toll on them. Many seemed to stagger, and most showed dark stains on their red jackets where the sweat had soaked through. All walked stooped over and were quite obviously exhausted. From their direction of march, Jake realized they weren’t after the flotillamen at all; they were heading for Washington. And at a pace quite extraordinary in this strength-sapping heat.

  He waited, watching silently as the haggard, exhausted soldiers went past. Then he melted back into the forest and made for the river bank and the path to catch up with Isaac.

  He moved quietly, as much to avoid attracting the attention of the British – even though they were probably further away than when he first had seen them – as to see if he could sneak up on the rear of the flotillamen without being caught. Without warning, he saw the familiar blue jacket of one of Barney’s sailors through the trees ahead; they had not been crashing through the underbrush as he had thought, but then, neither was he and he knew they had not heard his approach.

  He stepped along a little faster and got to within an arm’s length of the last man in the column. Either the man was deaf, daydreaming as he marched, or too busy dealing with the flies and the August heat but, no matter the distraction, he very nearly came out of his shoes so startled was he when Jake touched his shoulder.

  “You damn fool! I coulda shot you easy as kiss my hand.” The sailor hissed at his “attacker.” He was edgy – not surprisingly – and Jake just smiled at him, put his finger to his lips and moved further up the line of men. The next several got the same treatment with much the same result, excepting that the final one – the one who ended Jake’s little game – cried out and wheeled with a cutlass at his presumed enemy. Jake ducked the blow and his smile remained in place.

  Now the others in the rear of the column were aware that he had returned and was having sport at their expense. Isaac called quietly from the front of the line.

  “Whatever is goin’ on back there, stop. Silence fore ‘n’ aft, you men. You’re makin’ noise enough to wake the dead, let alone tell the enemy where we’re at.”

  Jake stepped along to the front and when he reached Isaac’s side, he was laughing silently.

  “You shoulda seen them poor coves jump when I come up behind ‘em, Isaac. They like as not come right outta they’s shoes!”

  “Aye, I reckon you likely made few friends back there. What did you discover?” Isaac was not amused. He was perhaps even more edgy than his men, equally out of his element marching like a militiaman through the forest, and concerned about finding Barney and the rest of the flotillamen before another day had passed. There was also the matter of a column of Royal Marines coming up astern. He looked back down the line behind Tate as he waited for Jake’s answer, as if expecting to see his men in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy at any instant.

  “They’s not comin’ this way, Isaac. Reckon they’s headin’ for Washington, just like the commodore said they was. I seen ‘em and they’s bore off some from our track and headin’ inland some. They’s totin’ full packs and more on top of it and some’re draggin’ cannon – three I seen, but mighta been more. Little ones, though, not more ‘an three- or six-pounders. They’re movin’ at a pace that’ll likely put ‘em in Washington sooner than later, I’d warrant, but from the look of ‘em, I wouldn’t worry too much about them bein’ ready to fight; they looked some wore out. Them heavy uniforms and carrying the packs they got in this heat gonna do ‘em in faster than anything we could do to ‘em. If they’s headin’ off to take the Capital…well, I reckon a bunch o’ women could turn ‘em around the way they looked when I seen ‘em.”

  “Jake, one of the things I learned – in fact I learned it from the Royal Navy – is never to underestimate your enemy. Just ‘cause they don’t look like they want to fight don’t mean they can’t – or won’t. Be a dangerous mistake to make. But I’m right glad they ain’t comin’ this way. Even with ‘em wore down, I doubt we could take ‘em if we got into a scrap. Ain’t none of us here know anything ‘bout fightin’ on land. Hope the commodore’s got a plan on what we’re s’posed to do, ‘cause I surely don’t.” The furrows in Isaac’s brow deepened and tiny rivulets of sweat poured out of his hair line and down his face. He wiped the salty moisture out of his eyes with his already soaked sleeve and trudged on, not willing to take a break or slow the pace.

  By what, under normal circumstances, would have been supper time for the sweat-soaked, drained and now foot-sore Americans, Isaac noticed that the trees were thinning and beyond them to their left, cultivated fields were visible. He called to Jake Tate.

  “How about you have a look ‘bout a cannon shot to larboard, Jake. Mayhaps some ahead of us ‘s well. I’d reckon we’re comin’ to that town the commodore told me he’d meet us up in…Upper Marlboro, I recollect he said it were. Looks like we’re gettin’ into a more settled area here. Don’t tarry in gettin’ back, neither. The lads are likely real sharp set, bein’s how none of us got any dinner and I’d warrant it’s past supper time by now ‘s well. If’n that’s the town comin’ up, we’ll lay up there and get us some vittles.” Isaac patted the young Marylander on his shoulder and handed him his pistol, which Tate stuck into the top of his trousers as he moved to carry out Isaac’s orders.

  As an afterthought, Isaac called after the departing sailor, “And no skylarkin’ when you come back. I’d warrant the men wouldn’t likely take too kindly to any more of your humor!”

  Tate waved his hand without looking back, but Isaac knew his one-armed friend was smiling.

  Within one turn of the glass, Jake was back, sweating even harder than the others, and out of breath. He matched Isaac’s pace while he caught his wind and then smiled at his captain.

  “You done right good, Isaac. I saw the wheel marks of them cannon the commodore’s draggin’ and mebbe a league ahead us of they’s what looks like it oughta be a town. Cannon tracks lead right toward it. He musta been inland of us some and…”

  Craack! A shot rang out on the flotillamen’s back trail. It was immediately answered by another and then another. Isaac and his men moved into thicker bushes toward the river – now barely a stream – and crouched down, listening.

  “That didn’t sound all that close, Isaac. And I’d bet a pretty good distance astern. Might be them Redcoats I was watchin’ earlier. Wonder what’s actin’.”

  “I ain’t got no idea, Jake. But I can tell you I ain’t interested one bit in gettin’ into a scrap with ‘em now or even later, for that matter.” He stopped, listening, then stood up. He peered intently through the underbrush and scrub t
rees, a scowl across his face. “Whatever it were, sounds like it’s done with. You hear anything?” He looked questioningly at his second in command, who was now standing as well.

  “Not a thing, Isaac. And sounds like the birds’re chirping again too. They wouldn’t be if’n they was something out there.” Jake cocked his head, and looked into the forest. After a moment he spoke again. “Wish ol’ Carronade was with us ‘stead of Jack and the commodore. He’d let us know right quick what was goin’ on yonder. Leastways if’n it was the British.”

  “Well, he ain’t and it sounds quiet enough out there now. Let’s get movin’ and hope that’ll be Upper Marlboro ahead of us’n – and that the rest of the men’re there.” Isaac wiped a grimy hand across his sweat-streaked face and made up his mind. Jake saw his friend’s jaw muscles clenching and then he turned away. Without a look back, Biggs stepped off and angled his course inland and further up the river.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dear Sarah:

  I hope this letter finds you safe and unharmed. You have barely been out of my thoughts since you rode off on your horse from Nottingham a week and some back and I have been praying you did what you said you would and stayed away from the British soldiers. After what they done at Hampton to the folks – and the women – I have been miserable just thinking they might be doing the same at Benedict.

  I guess you must have heard by now – or at least you will by the time this finds you – that the British got into to the Capital without no hardship save the heat and set fire to most of the buildings there. All I can say is that I am right glad I am not a soldier. Going everywhere on foot and fighting on the land is not my pleasure and I hope I can get back to sea before too long. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. So much has happened I got to start at the beginning to tell you about it.

  When the flotilla left Nottingham – it seems a long time back, but it wasn’t but a week – the commodore had us sail as far up the river as we could float the vessels and then he took most of the men and a few cannon and marched off to Washington. I reckon it was on the orders of Mr. Jones. He’s the Secretary of the Navy, as you might know. Anyway, he left me and some others on the boats with orders to burn them should the British show up, which they did the same day he left. I can tell you, it was some hard setting fires and powder kegs on that fine black sloop you remember. But we did and on all the other vessels as well and so I guess we kept the British from getting them. Admiral Cockburn his own self come up in a cutter and seen them burning. Reckon he rowed all the way back to Nottingham right quick after that.

  We marched – about forty or fifty of us it was – further up the river and caught up with the commodore just after dark the same day. Jack Clements – you remember him, I reckon; he’s the one owns that dog what took to you, Carronade – was there with the men and Luke Cooper and the cannons. Commodore Barney had already rode out to Washington on a borrowed horse and we was supposed to follow quick as ever we might. Which was that same night after we got us some vittles. A long few days it were, I can tell you. We was bone tired by the time we fetched up at the marine barracks right at the Navy yard by the bridge across the Eastern Branch of the Potomac River. And the commodore was there too.

  He had us set the guns we brought and some others he found there along the shore to defend the bridge since, he told us, the enemy was coming that way and would likely try to get into Washington by that route. That was according to General Winder who I met not long ago in Nottingham.

  We was waiting there when who but President Madison himself, along with a cove Jack said was called Jim Monroe and some others, come along and told the commodore to get us moved, guns and all, to Bladensburg. Which we done quick as ever you please.

  It was some march; I can never remember being that hot, even in the Indies. Men was dropping from the heat and even the horses was falling down – dead when they hit the ground. The lads was some tired already and that march like enough broke us completely. We was still a mile and more off when some Marine officer what was sent by the commodore rode up and told us to hurry, that we was needed now. We could hear the firing so we knew pretty well what was acting. Sarah, I’m telling you, we had to run the last mile and more dragging the cannons. It was killing us all faster than any enemy action I ever faced. But we made it and set up where we was told by the commodore who had rode ahead of us to see where was the enemy. Turns out the British was already coming in from the other side and headed right for us. Right down the main road into Bladensburg. We could hear the shooting right easy – cannons and muskets – and not real far off.

  There was a bridge right in front of us and we knew the British would be coming over it. Commodore Barney told us we was all that was between them and the Capital if the militia units didn’t hold them. Well, it was looking like the militia wasn’t doing nothing but backing up. Must have been hundreds of them what come over that bridge and another further up the river. They didn’t look like they’d been in a fight. Wasn’t none of them even scratched that we could see as they run by us. And running they was.

  Pretty soon, the commodore, who’s on the far side of the bridge on his horse, waved his sword and hollered, “Here they come, boys. Hold your fire ‘til I tell you.” It got real quiet on our side of the bridge and we waited. We couldn’t see them yet, but we could hear them marching right down the main road there just like they was on parade. Drums beating and all. Cannons and the artillery pieces we had was loaded with grape and canister shot and the matches was lit. Then Barney come charging across that bridge like the devil hisself was on his heels. He wheeled his horse around and told us to get ready. Well Sarah, I can tell you, we was already ready – had been for a while. Then around the corner on the far side comes the first Redcoats. Marched almost up to the bridge and halted. Stood there looking at us like they seen something they don’t expect. I reckon they could see our guns aimed right down the bridge and set up on the banks of the river right across in front of them. Commodore talked real quiet to us; I was in charge of a eighteen-pounder right along side of him and a Captain Miller of the Marines had a crew manning another piece on his other side. Jack was next to me. That dog of his was growling and snarling for all he was worth. You likely recall he don’t much take to the British. I don’t reckon the dog was scared – seemed more like he was just mad – but I can tell you, I sure was. And hot. Well, we all was hot.

  After a minute and more, the enemy started to move and head for the bridge. “Fire, lads!” cried the commodore and we did. Give them two barrels of grape right into they’s faces. And some of Captain Miller’s riflemen opened fire right along side of us. Their commander had his horse shot out from under him and some of the sailors who wasn’t manning cannon run after the enemy soldiers what turned tail. They was shouting “Board them!” to each other. Reckon it was all they knew, being seamen.

  Well, I can tell you, we cleared that bridge quick as ever you please. Wasn’t a red coat to be seen, ‘cepting the ones on the dead Royal Marines. Then they formed up again and tried to get across again and we give it to them again, same as the first time, and again, they fell back. Of course, they was shooting back each time and we had a dozen or so men killed or wounded – some cruel. Captain Miller lost a fair number of his Marines as well. Three times they done it afore they quit and moved over to our right. Commodore called it ‘flanking’ us. But Luke Copper was there with a couple of twelve-pounders and beat them back same as we did. They lost a passel of they’s soldiers, dead and wounded. There was some army men – not militia I was told – up on a rise beyond Luke’s battery, and we figured they’d be a big help if the British tried to get through on that end.

  The British had some sharp-shooters – Marines, I’d warrant, same as they use in the fighting tops of they’s ships at sea – laying in the grass and hiding in the trees shooting at us. Shot Commodore Barney’s horse dead right with him still aboard. But the senior British commander got his horse shot right quick after that. Then they s
tarted coming across hard on the right end. Luke couldn’t fire his guns fast enough to hold them off and over they come. We figured the Army coves up on the hill would bear a hand when they seen we wasn’t holding them, but they fired a few rounds of musket and run off. And our teamsters – the ones driving our ammunition wagons – run right with them. Left us holding a sack full of nothing, they did. Close enough to out of shot and powder as to not matter and none in sight. Nothing but Redcoats cutting right through us. Luke got hisself shot dead and some of his men. A fair number of them manning the guns got sore wounded or killed, but the sailors what had been acting like soldiers took over they’s places on the guns to keep them firing ‘til they run out of powder. Then Barney caught a ball in his thigh. Cruel hurt, he was, and losing blood quick as I ever saw. Reckon he saw we was done for, cause he ordered us to retire after spiking our guns. Some of us tried to help him, but he made us leave him under a tree and get away so as not to be taken by the British. It was real hard leaving him there, but he told us the British would take care of him and their doctor would fix him up fine. We headed back towards Washington right ahead of the British soldiers. We was still some scared with them chasing after us, but I reckon most of us was angry on top of it. Oh, Sarah, if only them soldiers hadn’t run off like they done.

  Jack and I watched from a distance off and seen Admiral Cockburn, the same one what watched the gunboats burn, talking to the commodore along with some other cove with gold braid and high rank. We found out later it was none other than General Ross, the head of the whole British army!

  Well, Sarah, the ones of us what was left from the flotilla marched – well, maybe marching don’t answer, but we moved right quick-like – back the way we’d just come, back into Washington. The Redcoats chased us for a while, but then I reckon the heat got to them same as us. We had men dropping from it all through our ranks – some of them dead on the spot. After a few miles, the lads in the rear passed the word up the enemy wasn’t in sight no more and we slowed down some. Even rested for a bit afore we got into the city.