the entrenchments and clear lanes of fire.'
'What about out that way?' Railsford asked, shifting his sore behind in the saddle. It had been years since he had spent any time mounted, no matter how rural his upbringing.
'The Williamsburg road?' Chiswick frowned. 'We did not come that way on either of our marches in this area, so I am not familiar with it. Though there are some steep hills in there as we can observe. I am told there is a creek thereabouts.'
'Aye, a creek, sor.' The carpenter brightened. 'They'd be timber as thick as cat's fur along a creek, and in them little hills. Ye can see pine from here, sor.'
'That sounds like our best prospect, then,' Railsford decided.
'Your men are armed, sir?' Lieutenant Chiswick asked.
'We brought cutlasses and a few muskets, yes, sir.'
'Then if it is your intention that we proceed into those hills by the creek, off the main road, I would strongly suggest load your muskets and tell off a portion of your party for protection, sir.'
'There may be Rebels this close?' Railsford asked, reining his mare closer to the army officer to converse more softly.
'There are Virginia Militia and some few regulars about, sir under a Frenchman named Lafayette,' Chiswick told him, not without a wolfish grin of delight to have the much-vaunted Navy at his mercy in their ignorance of land fighting. 'Were I a Rebel officer, God forbid, I should be at the business of scouting the whereabouts of my foe, this very instant.'
'An' wild Indians, too, sir?' Coke asked, peering about with new fear.
'I should not be a bit surprised, sir,' Lieutenant Chiswick said, hiding his glee at the stupidity of his fellow man. Every newcomer from England expected to be scalped or skewered by painted savages as soon as he or she alighted from the ship, right in the middle of a major town. As a lowly Colonial, Chiswick was only too happy to play the game of scaring the bejeezus out of superior home-raised Englishmen.
'Surely not,' Railsford scoffed, only half convinced that Chiswick was having a jape at their expense.
'No organized bands, sir, but they still live in the Piedmont and some have sided with the Rebels as scouts and irregulars,' Chiswick assured him, pursing his lips to control his grin. 'Either way, it's best not to be too lax. We're a small and tempting morsel beyond reach of our lines.'
'Mister Lewrie?' Railsford called.
'Aye, aye, sir.'
'Tell our people to load muskets and keep a wary lookout, but no firing at anything without direct orders from either me or you.'
'Aye, aye, sir,' Alan said, turning to speak to the men in a low voice. 'Load your firelocks. Check your flints carefully. Prime, but do not carry your pieces at cock or half cock. Do not even think of taking aim unless you hear it from me first, or I'll see the man who did dancing on the gratings, hear me?'
The picnic outing mood was gone now as the men check snapped their firelocks, plied their gun tools to ram down powder cartouches and ball, primed their pans, and closed frizzens.
They were beyond the sounds of axes ringing as the army built up defenses, and they were in wild country, a lot wilder-looking country than anything they had ever seen at home. The clearings were not orderly and terraced fields full of crops, bound by stone walls or hedges, but openings in the woods laced with rank growths of weeds and high grass. The woods themselves were not picturesque nests of trees on hilltops above verdant farmland but brooding, dark forests that sloughed down almost to the dirt road, full of secondary growth and bushes where the sun did not penetrate, except in dapples here and there. Even the sounds of the native birds were different than what they were used to from their youth, making the land alien, too full of threat, and almost too large and uncivilized to be understood. It truly was not Surrey or Kent—more like the sort of place that could harbor thousands of half-naked savages intent on taking their lives from ambush at any moment.
'It is sort of ominous, isn't it?' Alan said to Burgess as he loaded his pistols.
'Definitely not a game park.' Burgess grinned. 'Are you a good shot?'
'If one can be a good shot with these Sea Pattern monstrosities,' Alan said, closing the frizzens and blowing excess powder off, 'then yes, I am. I am much better with a musket.'
'Hunt much?'
'Some. Birds, mostly,' Alan said. 'But I must warn you, I am a London man.'
'God help us,' Burgess said, 'but, if you can be successful at fowling, you may not do much harm. Don't let your sailors shoot at any of my men. We'll be out skirmishing. I have to go now. Good luck to you.'
Lieutenant Chiswick made a hand signal to his men, and his sergeants and corporals took off silently, leading a party of wary troops to either side of the road to melt into the woods, another party to advance down the road almost in the bushes on either side, well spread out so that a single volley would not strike all of them. A corporal took five men back the way they had come to back-trail the column to avoid any surprises from that direction, leaving Railsford, Lewrie, and their men alone with the artillery teams and drivers. Railsford took out his pocket watch and studied it, to follow Chiswick's last whispered instruction that he wait a full two minutes before following his advance scouts.
'I cannot hear them any longer,' Alan said, marveling at the silence with which the North Carolina Volunteers could move through the thick brush and timber.
'Backwoodsmen, I'll wager,' Railsford said. 'As good as any Indian at this sort of thing. Rather inspiriting to think so, at any rate.'
Railsford dismounted suddenly and rubbed the small of his back. 'Been a while,' he sighed, stretching a kink from his posterior.
And a mounted man is automatically a target for some Rebel sniper, Alan thought grimly.
'Care to ride for a spell?' Railsford offered, evidently thinking the same thing. To a partisan hiding behind some bush or rock, he could not appear to be anything other than an officer, even if the man did not recognize a naval uniform from an artilleryman's.
He's not intentionally trying t' get me killed! Alan thought. And I can't look that senior, even mounted, to be shot by mistake.
'Happily, sir,' Alan decided, springing into the saddle.
He was cautious enough, however, to remove his unadorned cocked hat and toss it into one of the gun caissons, believing that a bareheaded man would be even less tempting.
'Hoppy, give me your musket,' Alan ordered the nearest armed sailor.
'Sir?' the man said, quailing at the thought of being unarmed.
'Take one of my pistols in exchange,' Alan snapped, offering one of the useless damned things. 'With these wild Colonials about you in these woods you're as safe as houses anyway, and I might see something to pot for supper.'
Satisfied by Alan's innocent lie that he was intent on hunting up a deer for the men's mess, Hoppy surrendered his musket and took the pistol from him. Alan slung the musket over his neck and shoulder so that it hung across his back, muzzle up like an infantryman on the march, which would make him look even more menial to any lurking sharpshooter in the woods.
'Some venison'd go down right tasty, sir,' Hoppy said with a smile of relief, wanting to be convinced.
'I hear one deer in the Virginias will feed twenty messes,' Alan said loud enough for the rest of the men to hear, understanding what the first lieutenant meant about keeping the men in good spirits. 'Mayhap we can get one or two, even if we have to go shares with the 'lobsters.''
He turned and cantered back up to Railsford, who was still intent on his watch.
'Should have been long enough,' Railsford said, snapping the case shut. 'Off we go. Lead off, Mister Lewrie.'
'Aye, aye, sir,' Alan replied, heading down the road. The walk so far had been hell on his feet, and he was glad to get a chance to ride.
He soon caught up with Lieutenant Chiswick, who, a Ferguson rifle in his right hand, was leading his own horse. As soon as he caught sight of the red tunic, he slowed his mount to a plodding walk and tried to keep separation from the infantry officer. Chiswick, however, stopped his own roan and waited for him to catch up, cocking a wry eyebrow at him.
'Your lieutenant prefers discretion over valor, I see,' Chiswick smiled briefly as they drew even with each
