Ram; being the tale of one Ramillies Anstruther, 1704-55 .. (67 page)

"A Georgian, sir," Ram corrected. They talked of the past.

"Ye should have been at Fontenoy, back in '45," Braddock averred. "Duke Cumberland demanded the impossible of us and, egad, we achieved it! Discipline! Despite the cursed Dutch not taking the batteries on our flank. 'Twas a rare fine sight, our men falling like sickled wheat, yet never a one turning tail!"

At last Ram was able to beg leave to go forward and find Ensign Anstruther. His heart pounded as he saw the astonished look on Juan's face as he rode up to him.

"Father!" The boy almost hauled him from the saddle. "Father, what are you doing here? Have you brought Georgia troops?"

"Wait, boy, wait!" There was a lump in Ram's throat. "I see the advance is held up, so let's sit on yonder stumps and talk. But first, here's Black Nathan to serve you, and that's Shoreacres Boy, as fine a stallion as there is in all America, and a bat horse."

They began to talk, disjointedly at first, as men will after a long parting.

"And Mother flourishes? Ye think Brian's ripe for Eton College, sir? Mary and young James, how do they grow?" Juan was avid for news. When Ram showed him Sue's latest letter, which told that Davie was soon to wed a peer's daughter and would later run for Parliament, he laughed. "Davie'll do well in the House. At Oxford he could debate the legs off a pack horse. And Shoreacres, Father, is all well? How I long to see it again!"

Ram told of Joseph's death; of how he himself and Peg-Leg now

owned half a dozen schooners, one of which had brought him up to Alexandria in Virginia this past week; of how he contemplated taking up a new grant in central Georgia. "I'll take out five hundred acres for you too, lad. Likely this frontier war will soon end, and you may wish to go on half pay. Your mother misses you greatly."

Juan introduced him to his colonel, Sir Peter Halket, to Lieutenant Colonel Tom Gage, and other Forty-fourth officers. Their compliments about "Johnny" warmed him. Fine fellows, these redcoats. Like coming home!

Later, when he and Juan were lying in a small shelter of boughs, he gave him a rosary and a small silver crucifix. "Your mother sent you these, lad. She fears you may have forgotten your faith among all these Protestants."

"Father, when's it going to change?" Juan asked soberly. "I don't like sailing under false colors. No one in the regiment knows I'm a Catholic. It's stupid to think we can't be as true as heretics."

"Patience, son," Ram counseled. "In the old land they'll not change yet. But we in the new are more sane. There's a fine Jesuit priest who comes to the plantation regularly to give the mass to your mother and the children. And no one has objected to me about him. There are many Papists in Georgia now."

From a deerskin pouch he took a thin gold chain and an amulet. "This is from me, Juan. You know its story. The Baron wore it with honor. And its twin has brought me through many perils. Put it on, lad, and henceforth wear it always—with honor."

The advance moved off at dawn, a screen of scouts and flank guards —among them a few Indians—protecting it and the main body following behind. It must cross the Monongahela which, where it joined the Allegheny to the north, became the Ohio. And at the forks stood Fort Duquesne, from which Braddock must drive the French. After fording the winding river, the troops must later recross it a few miles farther down; since the intervening way was impracticable for men or guns. Ram rode with Braddock and his staff. By noon the first crossing was secure.

"I could take an army across all Europe in the time it's taken to reach this petty outpost," Braddock fretted. "But by tomorrow night, Britain's colors will fly where the French lilies now are." Dismounting,

he walked to some rough tables that had been set up and loaded with food. "Fall to, gentlemen. When fighting's ahead, a full belly's the thing. If the French don't oppose us at the second crossing, more fools they, and I have 'em!"

The food was good, and there were many officers to eat it. From ahead came the faint strains of "The British Grenadiers," played by fifes and drums, to show that the advance was over the second crossing.

But soon there was a faint spatter of shots and the bark of the two six-pounders with the vanguard. Then some solid volleys.

"At last," Braddock grunted. "Well, half the troops are over. We'll soon hem the French in in their wooden fort."

Ram's blood began to surge. Action! How would Juan behave?

The firing died away into a few individual shots.

"They're driven." Braddock tucked his napkin back under his chin. "Captain Orme, ride ahead with my compliments to Colonel Gage and say the advance will continue."

Firing broke out again, sharper this time, some shots seeming closer, as if on the flanks. Ram moved uneasily. Indian tactics! Washington, obviously also uneasy, suggested to the general that Stuart's Virginians should be sent ahead to brush hostile skirmishers from the flanks

"Damme, no!" was the refusal. "Gage has ample men for that."

A light horseman came galloping back, blood on his bridle arm. Gage requested reinforcements. French and Indians were on three sides of the advance, shooting from cover. Braddock at once sent Washington forward to learn the situation. Two companies of the Forty-fourth were ordered up in support.

Ram squirmed with anxiety. Oh, for his rangers now: to dash forward, fighting from tree to tree, and outflank the outflankers!

Men came streaming back, not all with wounds. Storming, Braddock ordered them re-formed. "Gage must push on to where we can all deploy. I don't like us cooped up, half over the crossing and half here."

"Sir, may I join my son?" Ram demanded. " 'Tis his first action."

"The first for all but a handful of us," Braddock shrugged. "Away then. Nabob, and run through any stragglers ye meet. This comes from having to bring the regiments up to strength with provincials."

Ram rode forward, splashed across the ford and gained the rising ground beyond. A bullet droned past from the trees on his left. From a hill on the right smoke puffs appeared. The fresh-hewn road was jammed with halted troops, wagons and pack-animals. Faces were taut.

He maneuvered past the mass. Bullets came from both sides now. Once he heard a screeching whoop and knew it was a scalp yell. He passed several dead and wounded on the road; passed tool wagons, one of them overturned, its civilian drivers having freed the horses and fled rearward with them.

He began shouting Juan's name whenever he saw officers, but got no reply. He reached the six-pounders, their gunners—Navy men— lying dead around them. Bullets were spitting past his legs now,

"Ensign Anstruther!" he yelled urgently.

Whoops arose from both sides of the road, even from behind him. He hoped the Virginians would come up and advance extended through the trees to sweep away the Indian marksmen.

He found Juan's company huddled without formation, its captain and many of its men dead. The lieutenant and Juan were trying to re-form the rest and make them turn outward to face the trees.

Ram's stallion reared, screaming, and went down. He jumped clear but fell heavily and for a moment lay dazed, hearing only the animal's dying groans.

"Father!" Juan pulled him to his feet, "Father, are you hit?"

"Get your platoon into the wood's fringe on the left, sir!" he snapped. "No one to fire unless he sees a plain target."

Pale but game, Juan nodded. While he took his half company into the left fringe, the lieutenant moved his into the right. The road was clear save for the casualties.

"Steady!" Ram encouraged, "They daren't charge, if you don't falter. Don't waste powder against trees. Shoot at redskins only!"

Braddock galloped up, "Ye lily-livered poltroons, back in company ranks!" He beat the nearest man with the flat of his sword. "In formation, I say!"

Seething, Ram seized his bridle. "This isn't Fontenoy! The men make too easy a target, formed in ranks. Let 'em spread out and fire from cover when they see enemies to shoot at!"

Either Braddock didn't hear or chose to ignore such advice. "Re-

form on the road and fire by platoons!" Then his horse was killed under him.

Whoops came for all sides now, and from all sides came bullets. Juan's men began to break. Ram saw his son dash after a knot of runaways, clutching at their arms, beating their backs with his sword, trying to turn them around.

"Great God, it's Bloody Marsh all over, only now we're in the Don's place!" Ram thought in cold horror. Damn all regulars in this kind of a fight!

The lieutenant lay dead near him, so he snarled at the nearest men to pick up the wounded and follow him back to the overturned tool wagon, which gave a modicum of shelter. There he reorganized them, making them kneel behind trees. Using a discarded musket he showed them how to fire at any figure that flitted through the woods. He recognized Faucett, crouching beside another private.

Braddock had returned on a fresh mount, seeming to have gone insane. "Bastards!" he mouthed. "Stand and fight like men!"

The private beside Faucett fled rearward. Pivoting his horse. Brad-dock pursued him. "Back in formation!" he roared and, when the fugitive kept on, drove his sword into his back.

"My brother!" Ram heard Faucett scream and saw him raise his musket. "Ye've murdered my brother!" He fired. Braddock jerked, sagged in his saddle and fell to the ground.

Ram saw all, but was too occupied either to help the general or to kill Faucett. For a ball came through the wagon's exposed bed, just by his right cheek. Kneeling, he saw a figure dart from one tree to the next. The Indian's next dash wasn't fast enough. Ram's bullet knocked him down.

Reloading, Ram looked around. He was alone. Juan! Surely he hasn't run too!

"Ah, Christ, he's goin' to scalp me!" A private lay a few yards off, one leg doubled under him, his eyes riveted upon the left tree fringe. He began making the Sign of the Gross.

Ram stood up. This was worse than Fort Moosa! Where were the Virginians? He ran toward the man, musket ready. There! A brave appeared in the roadway; Ram's ball pulped his painted face.

Two! Ram felt in a dead man's pouch for more charges. Juan! he kept muttering. He can't have run, he's my son!

"Crawl behind the wagon," he bade the wounded man. "I'll—"

A sledgehammer hit him. Briefly everything went black, but then the sky reappeared above him, fringed by tree tops. He was lying on his back, a numbness in his chest. Raising his head, he saw that his blue coat was stained red.

His arms felt leaden as he strove to open the coat. Must stop the bleeding. Strange, the fight's over . . . there's no more firing.

An ochre-and-black daubed face was above him. He wanted to yell a Creek defiance at it, but he couldn't remember the word.

A tomahawk! He raised his arms to ward off the blow.

The Ojibway stooped and ripped something from Ram's neck, his silver gorget. Screeching, the savage waved it aloft. He bent again. Another tug and he had the chain and the amulet.

Ram tried to taunt him that the thing was worthless, but his mouth was filling with choking fluid.

"Father!" The cry came from a great distance. "Where are you?"

"Here, Juan!" he thought he answered, though he'd made no sound.

How was he to know that once, long, long ago, a redcoat officer had come riding around an overturned vehicle in time to save him from being brained.

The tomahawk rose again. There was a pistol shot and the brave staggered. But sheer momentum had completed his blow.

This time the redcoat rider had arrived too late.

HISTORICAL NOTE ON RAM

France's increasing strength in the half century before this story opei in 1706 had enabled her to displace Spain, her former bitterest enem as the principal European power. France's new position had also rais( up against her a series of alliances, each with the object of frustratii her aggressive plans—for the most part successfully. Self-interest dro^ Britain and Holland to lead these anti-French combinations.

In 1700, Louis XIV, the despotic King of France, seized a testamenta opportunity to place his grandson on the vacant throne of Spain, violation of two general European treaties regulating the future successic to the Spanish throne. France had herself assented to each. In cons quence, Britain and Holland (both at that time joined under a sing constitutional monarch, William, Prince of Orange, who had displacf his father-in-law, James II, on the British throne) alone with Austria ar Portugal, went to war against France in the War of the Spanish Successic (1701-1714).

In the end this war did not remove Louis' grandson from the throne > Spain. The later result, which had been dreaded by the other Europe; powers, a Franco-Spanish alliance, known generally as the Family Cor pact which was to aggravate the intensity of future eighteenth centu wars. The peace settlement, however, redistributed to Austria and to oth Powers European territories that had formerly belonged to the Spani; Crown.

Battles raged throughout Europe from 1701 to 1714, but the princip actions were mostly fought in the Spanish Netherlands (now Belgiun under the command of Winston Churchill's famous ancestor, the Du of Marlborough, ultimately Commander-in-Chief of the whole Alliani after the death of William, Prince of Orange (who had also been Willia III of England, Scotland and Ireland). The battle of Ramillies (170^ was probably, next to his victory at Blenheim in Austria (1704), tl most brilliant of Marlborough's splendid career and resulted in the co quest by the Allies of the Spanish Netherlands, then occupied by tl French.

Neither France nor Britain were, from 1685 on, completely unite

Louis XIV, in forcibly suppressing Protestantism in France, had driven out thousands upon thousands of Protestant Frenchmen, many of whom still served twenty years later as refugees in all the armies arrayed against France. Equally, when the Catholic King, James II, fled from Britain and William of Orange succeeded to the throne at the invitation of Parliament (the Revolution of 1689), William's successful suppression of the uprising of James II's supporters in Ireland drove Irishmen into exile to sen'e in the armies of France and Spain. In many of Marlborough's battles individuals and units found themselves advancing against their fellow countrymen—and enemies—upon the other side. The War of the Spanish Succession was, for many, an ideological war.