Jack Windrush Collection - Books 1-4

Chapter 5-3

RattlerFox"We"re giving them a hell of a l*****g," a grinning powder monkey screeched, his voice high pitched with excitement. He immersed his head in a bucket of water on the deck and came up dripping wet and still smiling. "There"s no need for you redcoats to be here; the Navy will do all the work!"

Jack said nothing. Rangoon is on fire, we"ve destroyed their outer defences, and only the Golden Pagoda is standing. This war may be over in one day.

Rangoon is on fire, we"ve destroyed their outer defences, and only the Golden Pagoda is standing. This war may be over in one day."Can we at least fire at them, Sergeant?" Coleman asked again. He tapped the butt of his musket. "We are meant to be soldiers."

"Stand firm," Jack ordered. "And do the 113th proud. We"ll get our chance, never fear!"

We"ll get our chance if the Navy leaves us anything. How can I better the regiment"s reputation by merely watching? More importantly, how can I distinguish myself and get into the Royals, where I belong?

We"ll get our chance if the Navy leaves us anything. How can I better the regiment"s reputation by merely watching? More importantly, how can I distinguish myself and get into the Royals, where I belong?Around two in the afternoon an order from Commodore Lambert stopped the cannonade. A slight breeze shifted the smoke, pushing it away as if it was a sliding door. Visibility increased. Sunlight reflected from the pagoda and, faint on the wind, the musical tinkle of temple bells mocked the British fleet.

"They only have twelve-pounders," a naval lieutenant"s voice sounded through a lull in the firing. "They can see us, but they don"t have the range." He slapped a hand on the barrel of his cannon. "But neither have we. That temple will stand there until doomsday."

"Over there, sir." Wells nodded to the banks of the river. "There"s a group of men."

Jack nodded. "So I see." At this point, the river was no wider than the Thames, muddy and green and turgid, with dismal rice fields or ugly green jungle on either side of Rangoon. There were a few dozen small Burmese boats along the bank, with a larger war-boat peeping out of a sheltered bend. Jack saw warriors in light clothes and carrying long muskets and the ubiquitous Burmese dha – the long, viciously sharp knife - – clustered around the boats, gesturing towards the British ships and firing the occasional shot.

dha"Load your muskets, men." That was the first time Jack had ever given that order in the face of the enemy. He felt a thrill of mingled excitement and apprehension. Are these Burmese going to try and board us? Will this end up hand-to to-hand, bayonet against these terrible dhas?

Are these Burmese going to try and board us? Will this end up hand-to to-hand, bayonet against these terrible dhas?This is it. I"m a real soldier now; we are under fire and preparing to fight back.

This is it. I"m a real soldier now; we are under fire and preparing to fight back."Get ready to defend the ship if the Burmese attack."

Somebody swore softly as the eleven remaining men loaded their long Brown Bess muskets much as their forefathers had done at Waterloo and Albuera, Long Island and Quebec. The weapon was the same and the uniforms very similar. Jack realised he was witnessing the same scene as his father and grandfather had seen.

He watched the Burmese moving around the boats, some waving their dhas in anger, or defiance, or both. The sound of gongs joined the sweet tinkle of the bells. There were drums as well, insistent, martial, strangely unsettling. "If the Burmese board," Jack said, "fix bayonets." He nearly felt the shiver which ran through them, but whether of fear or anticipation, he could not tell.

"Message from the Commodore," a lieutenant called. "Recommence firing at the pagoda."

The next broadside sent the Burmese scurrying back to find whatever cover they could.

By late afternoon orange flames licked through the dense smoke that rolled across Rangoon. Rattler continued to fire until the liquid notes of a bugle sounded, and the guns fell silent. Men looked across at the wreckage which had been a bustling, vibrant town only that morning, grinned at the relief that they were unharmed and wondered what the future would bring. A seaman commented on their smoke-blackened appearance, and others laughed nervously.

Rattler"That was easy enough," Wells said. "The Burmese hardly put up any resistance."

Jack glanced along the spar deck of the ship. He could see no casualties on Rattler; for all the fire and fury of the Burmese defence, not a single shot had hit the ship.

RattlerLeigh is dead. He is lying below.

Leigh is dead. He is lying below."At least the b****y smoke keeps the mosquitoes away," Coleman said.

"Mr. Windrush!" A midshipman ran up. He was about sixteen and looked like a mischievous schoolboy with black powder smoke around his eyes and dirtying his white uniform. "The Captain sends his compliments, and would you care to support our boats with your men?”

It was not the Navy"s way to stand idly by while there was work to be done. Rattler"s officers were already organising a landing party. A burly petty officer was handing out muskets to sailors who handled them with casual familiarity. Other seamen were sharpening their cutlasses on a circular whetstone while still more lowered three boats over the side into the river.

Rattler"Please inform the captain that I will be delighted," Jack said. He raised his voice. "Come on the 113th! It"s time to show these sailor men how to fight."

A seaman stood in the bow of the small boat, holding a boathook to attach it to Rattler. "Down you come lads," he invited. "Don"t mind the rocking!" His grin was more amused than mocking as the soldiers dropped clumsily into the boat, tripping over the thwarts as they jostled for seats.

Rattler"Sit still," Jack ordered. "Keep your rifles upright between your knees and for God"s sake, keep your bayonets in the scabbard. I don"t want anybody spitted."

They look nervous. Thorpe is white-faced, and Coleman seems sick. There is no bluster now.

They look nervous. Thorpe is white-faced, and Coleman seems sick. There is no bluster now.Jack glanced at the river bank. The Burmese were waiting, waving their wicked-looking dhas and loading their muskets in readiness for the landing. Despite the severe cannonade they had endured, they did not appear cowed. With small turbans on their heads, dark quilted jackets and mostly bare legs they looked alien and somehow all the more dangerous for that.

Four more seamen boarded the boat, their nimbleness a contrast to the lumbering soldiers. They grabbed oars and even as the soldiers settled, began to pull toward the shore. The young midshipman sat in the stern, giving crisp orders.

"These Burmese lads look right handy," Thorpe sounded nervous. "I don"t like the look of their swords."

"They"re called dhas," Wells said, "and they don"t like the look of our muskets either. Now stop grousing and earn your pay."

"We don"t like the look of you, Thorpey," Coleman added and looked over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching land. "Oh, Thorpey, there"s thousands of them all waiting to cut your goolies off. Can you hear them? They"re chanting, “give us Thorpey; we want Thorpey”." Some of the other soldiers echoed his laugh, but most fidgeted uncomfortably on the wooden seats. Smoke drifted from the burning stockades, and the sounds of drums reached them, loud now, mingled with the wailing of women and the hoarse shouts of men. A gong clattered brassily from the wreckage of the nearest stockade.

"Jesus," Thorpe said. "They"re going to m******e us." He glanced back toward Rattler. "Get back to the ship, boys, for God"s sake."

Rattler"Sit tight!" Jack yelled as Coleman began to rise. "We have a job to do!"

Others of the 113th were looking nervous and following Thorpe"s lead in staring at the Burmese soldiers who waited for them. The sound of drums increased, filling the air and making speech difficult.

It"s going to be Chillianwala all over again; that"s another disgrace for the regiment.

It"s going to be Chillianwala all over again; that"s another disgrace for the regiment."Sit back down!" Jack reached forward and pushed at the shoulders of Coleman, shoving him hard back onto his seat. "You took the Queen"s Shilling to be a soldier, and by God, you will act like one or I"ll shoot you dead here and now!"

To their right, the second of Rattler"s boats surged past with the seamen on board cheering as they neared the shore. Men from the Madras Fusiliers looked curiously at the upheaval among the 113th.

Rattler"Right lads!" Jack shouted above the noise of drums. "Now is our chance to show the bluejackets what the 113th can do! Let"s make our children proud of us!"

There was a scattering of musketry, and a ball thumped into the boat, raising chips of timber and leaving a raw scar on the wood. Thorpe screamed, and Coleman ducked, cowering beside the men around him for shelter.

"Sit to attention!" Jack ordered. "Don"t bob!" He looked astern. The young midshipman was standing by the tiller as he concentrated on steering the boat. Jack took a deep breath and stood up, balancing against the movement and hoping the Burmese did not use him as a target. They were within twenty yards of the river banks, and he could make out the facial features of the waiting enemy. He shivered; they were watching him out of expressionless eyes in flat faces, waiting.

"Ready lads!" Jack reached for the pistol at his belt. He had bought an Adams pepper-pot revolver because of the firepower, and now he was glad of the six chambers. He touched his sword hilt; it was the 1845 pattern Wilkinson sword, designed by John Latham, with a thirty-two and a half inches long, slightly curved blade and a sharkskin grip, yet it seemed insufficient and fragile compared to the lethal dhas of the Burmese. Suddenly Jack"s force of one sergeant and eleven British private soldiers seemed very inadequate compared to the number of Burmese that was waiting for them. He heard the harsh breathing of his men, and then the bow of the boat slithered onto soft mud, and the bluejackets were leaping over the side, drawing their cutlasses and yelling at the enemy.

There is no fear in these seamen.

There is no fear in these seamen."Fire a volley!" Jack ordered, "then charge!"

His doubts had all vanished. Instead, he felt a wild elation as he gave the order, fired his revolver at the gesticulating Burmese, rode the kick that jolted his forearm, and ran forward hoping his men were at his back. He remembered one of the few occasions that his father had spent time with him.

"There are two types of officers," his father had said. "Those that say: “go on” and those that say: “come - on”. In the Royals, we only have room for the come-ons."

Now Jack was a come-on officer, leading his men from the front. This was not how he imagined his first action, jumping into muddy water against a bunch of turbaned men in some obscure eastern town; he"d thought of leading the Royals against the French in some glorious European battle with a cast of tens of thousands.

Jack fired again, but the Burmese didn"t rush to meet him, as he thought all soldiers would do. Instead, they turned and fled before the two sides came within bayonet distance.

"They"re running!" Wells didn"t sound surprised. "We"ve sent them running!" He knelt and fired his musket at the retreating Burmese. "Come back and fight, you bastards!"

Belatedly, Jack checked his men. They were all with him, panting in the heat, white of face and more scared than war-like, but they had followed him. His twelve men of the 113th had proven they were not cowards. To that extent, they had lightened the shadow of Chillianwala. Even Coleman had kept up and now shouted a***e as the Burmese disappeared into the thick scrub that reached nearly to the walls of Rangoon.

Was that it? Was that my first battle? It was over in seconds.

Was that it? Was that my first battle? It was over in seconds."Follow them!" O"Neill lifted his voice in some Gaelic slogan that raised the hairs on Jack"s scalp. He grabbed hold of O"Neill"s arm.

"No! They know the jungle. They will cut us to pieces in there." He dragged O"Neill back. "Stop here!"

"Cowards!" Coleman pushed to the front of the redcoats and waved a closed fist. "Come back and fight!"

"You"re very brave now they"re running,." Wells was not smiling.

"More to the point, Sergeant Wells, is that none of our men ran." Jack raised his voice. "Well done, men. We chased the enemy away."

"Sir," Wells nodded to the jungle. "The Burmese haven"t run far."

Jack was aware of the Burmese warriors gathering at the edge of the bush but more mindful of the circle of bluejackets who listened to every word he said. I"ve led my men to a minor victory. We haven"t spilt any enemy blood, but we faced them, and nobody ran away. That is an excellent way to end the day.

I"ve led my men to a minor victory. We haven"t spilt any enemy blood, but we faced them, and nobody ran away. That is an excellent way to end the day.