Run Them Ashore Read Online Free Page B

prow of the gig, Williams sat beside Dobson and let himself relax. The sergeant looked quickly at his thigh and then grinned.
    ‘Could have been an inch or two higher and a lot worse, sir,’ he suggested.
    ‘Thank you for that kind sentiment.’
    ‘It’s nothing, Pug. How did you get it?’
    Williams shrugged and as usual found it hard not to confess everything to the sergeant. ‘I lingered to salute a brave enemy,’ he said, trying and failing to make it sound sensible.
    ‘Ruddy officers.’ Dobson shook his head.
    The steady rhythm of the oars had already taken them some way out in spite of the tide. Williams smelled the salt air and felt at ease, but also guilty because he was leaving his friends as they went further into danger. Pringle and the others had been given a good head start and should get away. Yet the arrival ofthe hussars was one more coincidence and he liked the whole business less and less the more that he thought about it. Williams worried that he would never see his friends again.

2
     
    ‘ F ortune shines brightly upon us,’ Major Sinclair declared as they came out of the shelter of a knot of pines and into the sunlight. The mist had burned away and Billy Pringle was glad of the warmth. They were high up now, having ridden throughout the night, most of the time climbing, and morning had come with a damp and chilly fog. No doubt it would soon be oppressively hot, but for the moment it was pleasant to feel the sun on his face. Pringle ordered ten minutes of rest before they continued the ascent into the mountains. Their mules did not have saddles and he suspected that Hanley and Murphy were as sore as he was. Billy took off his hat and looked up into the sky, breathing in the rich scent of resin from the trees. It was nice to enjoy a few moments of peace.
    ‘No doubt many of my countrymen would say that it was all the luck of the Irish,’ Sinclair continued. ‘Is that not right, Sergeant Murphy?’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ the sergeant said dutifully, and then waited for a moment before smiling. ‘All of us, just born lucky. Hush! Calm yourself, you donkey,’ he added, turning to soothe one of their mules as it brayed and tried to shake off its heavy load. His own beast lashed out with its hind legs at the one behind, nearly unseating the Irishman. ‘The problem with a mule,’ he said once he regained his balance, ‘is that the beast will serve you well for ten years just so that it can get the chance to bite you.’
    Pringle was weary after a hard night, and suspected that Murphy was not only tired, but troubled by his barely healed wound. The left side of his own face was sore from the rubbingof his glasses. Pringle’s good pair had been broken during that desperate fight at the River Côa a month ago – not by the French, but by the clumsy boot of Lieutenant Williams – and he had failed to find a replacement during their brief stay in Lisbon. These were his old ones, the lenses still good, but the arms bent badly from heavy use and always pressing too hard on his skin.
    ‘Hush now, me darhling.’ Murphy had thickened his accent and started to play the part of a stage Irishman. For those who knew him, this was a clear indication of his contempt for the strange officer. The sergeant soothed the mule, stroking its muzzle, and then began to whisper into one of its long ears. ‘Calm now, me dear, there’s no sense in going on so much and saying so little.’
    Sinclair gave no sign of spotting the barb in that comment. ‘That is us to be sure, blessed with luck and the goodwill of all God’s creatures, especially the stubborn, contrary ones which so mirror our own characters.’ The major had barely stopped talking throughout the long night’s march into the Sierra, untroubled by the lack of response from his companions. It was clear that he enjoyed talking and, after so long a time with the partisans, most especially speaking in English. Nor was he short of opinions, and it was just as