town to him immediately—I can do without these distractions.' He turned to Kydd. 'Now, pray tell me, sir, what the devil happened?'
Kydd swallowed. 'Sir, there was no sign o' the enemy—he must've lay down atop the quay.'
'No doubt. In the event you couldn't be sure, perhaps you should have first thought of sending a man to peer over the top?' Kydd held his tongue. 'And your retreat. Whatever possessed you to go to ground in a warehouse? Why did you not put about immediately and return?' he added in disdain.
'I lost five men, just in making f'r the barges,' Kydd said. 'The firing coming fr'm behind, I would've lost far more going against 'em until I got t' open water.' He felt Smith's scorn at his words and added forcefully, 'Someone tipped 'em off. An' that can only be y'r precious source of intelligence.'
'That's as may be, Lieutenant, but I'll trouble you to keep your temper in my presence,' Smith said acidly.
'Sir.'
'In war, casualties are inevitable. I'll have your written report before sundown, if you please. I imagine you'll want to get back to your ship now?'
'No—sir. If you will oblige me, I should want t' go back ashore an' finish the job.'
'Very well,' Smith said, with a slight smile. 'Let it be on your own head, sir.'
Hewitt looked up from some Arab dish he was eating off a chipped plate. 'Well, I can't say that I find your good self unwelcome.' He went to the window. 'See there?' He indicated to the north-east. Just out of range a city of grey tents in three main blocks, regular as a chessboard, was springing up row by row and covering the terrain facing them. 'I've been watching 'em. And I believe we are looking at General Buonaparte's headquarters in the centre, with the engineers to the left and artillery to the right.'
Kydd took his telescope and slowly traversed the ridges. 'I can see 'em,' he said, in a hard voice. 'Any word on th' relief army?'
'Smith heard that the Turks are taking time to mass a huge force, one that'll outnumber Buonaparte's by far. We just have to resist until it arrives.'
Kydd lowered the glass. 'Do ye know what we c'n expect next?'
'According to the Count, they'll establish their advance lines within range of us first. Then they'll push forward and start their parallels—that is, trenches matching the line of our walls—and it's from these that they'll begin digging saps, deep tunnels, direct towards us. The idea is to bring up guns near enough to pound a breach in the walls.'
His expression hardened. 'If a practicable breach is made, it's customary for the defenders to seek terms. If they insist on fighting, it's equally customary for the attackers to put the entire population to the sword without mercy.'
'What does he say are our chances?'
Hewitt shrugged.
'I'm going t' see my gun,' Kydd said, and left him to finish his meal.
The experience of being captured, possessed by the enemy, had shaken Kydd's confidence. And although Smith had not directly criticised his conduct, how could he be sure he had done everything possible in that situation? In a black mood he made his way through the malodorous alley to the corner of the wall where the
Dobbie stood to greet him and touched his forehead. 'Good ter see you again, sir. An' Black Bess 'ere's all ready 'n' correct fer your inspection.' He slapped the long muzzle of the big gun affectionately. Some seaman artist had embellished the sides of the carriage with an heraldic ribbon bearing the name.
Kydd looked at Dobbie closely. He had not been on the cutting-out expedition but would know about it. However, his face showed only honest satisfaction at his return. 'It's going t' be a hard fight before it's over,' Kydd said, then felt uncomfortable that he had perhaps sounded pompous and affected.
'Aye, sir, but we'm ready f'r when the beggar shows 'imself at last.' Dobbie's gun crew had prepared faultlessly, handspikes and rammers neatly against the inner parapet, powder cartridges stowed in a case out of sight below.
'When it starts I want every man t' wear a cutlass even when working th' gun,' Kydd said. 'I'll see about pistols.' He looked out over the broken ground. 'They'll be moving t' their advance lines afore long—then you'll have work t' do.'
There was no point in waiting about so he walked back slowly to the headquarters. 'Don't much fancy kicking my heels here,'
Hewitt said. 'Shall we go to the Cursed Tower and see what there is to see?'
The antique square tower stood at the corner of the wall: they climbed the old stairs to the top room and Hewitt trained his telescope towards the French encampment. 'Busy enough,' he grunted, and brought it further round. 'Ah, what do we have here? Well, well—I do declare!' He passed the glass to Kydd. 'Do you mark the mound to the nor'-east? That is Richard Coeur de Lion's mound. Now, tell me what you can see.'
There was general activity around the mound but at the highest point a solitary group was looking directly towards the tower. In the centre, in plain dress contrasting with those on each side, stood a single figure. Even at that distance Kydd could sense a presence, a maleficent will. 'General Buonaparte,' he said, in a low voice, and handed back the glass. In the same view he had seen a dozen or so big field-pieces being hauled forward across the uneven ground. On all sides there were ominous signs of encirclement, entrapment. In its slow but certain progress, it held a deadly fascination.
That night Kydd paced along the walls. This ancient, foreign land was not the right place for a sea officer—he was completely out of his element. But he had accepted this duty, and it was here that he would prove himself. Or ...
Dobbie and his gun crew lay about their post. Some were sleeping, others spun yarns, much as they would in a night watch aboard
The Turkish and Arab troops chattered noisily together within the wall. The seamen were there only as gunners
