8
The sound of French drumming increased throughout the fading night. MacKim had always thought that drumming was the most sinister of military sounds, a rhythmic tapping that sent shivers through the enemy and stirred men to deeds of valour.
“Lieutenant Kennedy!” A young ensign appeared from the rear. “I’m looking for Lieutenant Kennedy of the Rangers!”
“That’s me.” Kennedy lifted an arm while still concentrating on the French approaching from the front.
“I’m Ensign Mowat, sir. Colonel Scott sends his compliments, sir.” Mowat spoke as if he had been repeating the words on his journey from the colonel to the Rangers. He started from the beginning again. “Colonel Scott sends his compliments, sir, and would you do him the honour of discovering the number of French opposing us?”
Kennedy
