Honour Redeemed Read Online Free Page B

threatening him. But he did snort and spit before he started to dig, a long streak of dirty saliva, aiming it close enough to Bellamy so that the black man would know who it was intended for.
    Rannoch’s voice was in Markham’s ear, earnest, but in no way anxious. ‘They will not sit still, sir, when they see the first spade full of sand.’
    ‘I never thought they would, Sergeant.’ Markham called for his Hebes to gather round, then pointed towards the steep slope of the dune. ‘Dornan, lie back on the slope. Tully, you climb up him and do the same. We’ll make a human ladder to the top. If you get near the rim keep your musket out of sight. Everyone else on your knees, aiming for the fringes of sea grass on either side. If you see so much as a sandfly, shoot it.’
    Pushing past the digging marines, Markham poked his nose round the side of the dune. He immediately drew fire, forcing him to pull back quickly. ‘Halsey, get your muskets trained on the opposite side of the gully, and put one round through the grass. Reload at the double. From where you are you’ll have a better view of the rim. Bellamy, any man not digging to do the same to the grass above Halsey.’
    ‘They won’t obey me, sir, if I tell them.’
    ‘They will if you learn to shout,’ Markham snapped. ‘Rannoch, a couple of grenades, if you please.’
    Dornan had Tully’s feet on his shoulders. Hollick had clambered up them both, followed by Leech and one of the Seahorses, who was now very near to the top. Rannoch laid the fuse on one grenade in the firing pan of his musket, and fired, setting it alight. He waited until it burnt down a fraction, and, holding his arm out wide, lobbed it at the piles of gorse, some thirty feet away, before throwing himself back to avoid the blast. He was halfway through reloading his musket when the grenade went off, the thud of the explosion dulled by the effect of the soft ground.
    ‘Keep that up, Bellamy, in exactly the same way as Sergeant Rannoch. You might, if you can get it in the bush, be able to set the wood alight.’ Easing his pistols from his belt, Markham put one foot in the outstretched hands of Private Dornan. ‘Ready, Sergeant Rannoch?’
    ‘You cannot leave that black man in charge down here, sir,’ said Rannoch, softly but insistently, into his officer’s ear.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Well, first it is not right, and second they will likely shoot him before they ever aim a gun at a Frenchman.’
    ‘Take a close look. Bellamy is no fool. Look where he’s sitting.’
    The Negro was at the rear of the digging Seahorses, his own musket resting on his knees, levelled at the straining backs of the party shovelling for damp sand. While he worked to set a grenade alight with Sharland’s weapon, his eyes were fixed on the men aiming their muskets at the dune above Halsey’s head. Even when he stood up to throw, he hardly took his eyes off his fellow Seahorses. Markham’s voice, hitherto friendly, suddenly became harsh as he responded to Rannoch, which had been a rare thing since the shared danger of Toulon.
    ‘And Sergeant, I will decide what is right, not you.’
    ‘Sir.’
    The blue eyes had gone blank, and a look of dumb insolence spread across the Highlander’s face. This, from a man who had saved his life, made Markham feel ashamed.
    ‘You may stay here if you think it best,’ he added, though given that he was not one to apologise, he did so through gritted teeth. ‘As soon as I secure the rim, get the rest to follow me, and bring up the rear.’
    ‘What about the breastwork?’ asked Rannoch.
    ‘Bluff, just like the grenades. I want them to think we’re coming in the front door. But we’re not!’

Chapter three
    It was impossible to clamber up without stepping on some sensitive part of the men who made up the human ladder, so Markham heard a goodly number of the curses usually only employed when officers were out of earshot. And he kept his eyes fixed firmly on his destination,