"You're a welcome sight to these powder-burned
eyes, Danny,” was the greeting of General Leslie as he grasped
Daniel's elbow in a warrior's clasp. "And just look at your new
ship. You've done well for yourself in a year, haven't you? I was
told to expect a friend with a present, but I was expecting a
Dutchman. So, how many guns did you bring me?"
"Fourteen six-pounder field guns, canister type,” Daniel told him.
"I was told to expect eighteen, with two eight-pounders if I could put a carriage under them."
"Nay, you mustn't. That would leave my ship defenseless. On our way here we were chased by some of the king's ships of the line."
"What?" Alex said with a bit of panic in his voice. "How far away? Please say that they weren't troop carriers."
"Off the Humber, and no, they were an escort for a fleet of colliers, probably bound for Tynemouth."
"Colliers going north. But they would be running empty save for sand ballast. And yet they had an escort of warships?"
"Them effing Newcastle mine-lords are making a fortune from their king's monopoly in black diamonds,” Daniel told him, "and so the colliers have become critical to the health of the king's purse."
Alex was silent and thoughtful for a moment, all the while looking between the sleek ship and his own loyal men, men who had followed him back from fighting for the Swedes and the Dutch in the Germanies just so as to help out their fellow Scots. "I see ye have four of the six-pounders rigged for use on yer ship. Does that mean that yer crew were trained by the Dutch gunner masters in their use?"
"Aye, and the crew took to them quickly. We've some fine gunners aboard."
"Then Danny, I'll make ye a bargain. Ye can have the eight-pounders to defend the ship while she makes for Edinburgh for a cargo of whisky. Meanwhile, if ye loan me yer gunners to train my own men, then when I have finished with them I will send them back here to meet ye with four of the six-pounders."
Daniel thought about the bargain. You had to be careful when bargaining with Scots for they tended to take advantage of that which was not specifically stated. For instance, Alex wouldn't want the two eight-pounders anyway, because he preferred lighter cannon that could be moved quickly along poor roads. For instance, Alex hadn't stated how long he would hold onto the gunners and the four guns.
"You've a bargain Alex, and as you have stated it except that I will be one of the gunners at your side, and I will decide when it is time for us to return to my ship. Will you shake on it?"
"Gladly Danny, for having ye by my side just makes the bargain even sweeter. Did ye bring any Genever with ye?"
* * * * *
"But I can't take control of Tynemouth unless I take control of Newcastle, and I can't take Newcastle unless I control both banks of the Tyne. Newcastle has a bloody big fortress. It is a dilemma, a classical dilemma." General Alex Leslie had endlessly moaned to his officers the same sad lament that he had told to the Scottish parliamentarians who though them his governor. He had moaned it when he crossed the River Tweed, he had moaned as he marched the Scottish army south through Northumbria, and he was moaning it now, just five miles north of the River Tyne.
"Alex, this plan was of your design,” Daniel replied. "It was you who convinced Argyll and parliament. And it is a good plan, a very good plan. Take Tynemouth and stop the keelsmen from loading the colliers. That not only cuts Charlie off from his share of the coal revenue, but makes all of London realize how stupid he was to pick a fight with the Scots over what prayer book is used in Scotland."
Alex took another swig of Genever and sighed. "Aye, but good plans made over a map look quite different when it comes time to ask men to charge the cannons."
"Hah, how many men did you lose taking most of Northumbria?"
"One,” the general glared at Daniel. Daniel had the decency to look away. The only man he had lost had been a clan-kilted Highlander who had been shot by Daniel. Of course it wasn't Daniel's fault. The Highlander had pulled his dirk on the tall archer who marched with the ship's gunners. At the time the archer had been helping an old English woman claim her chickens back from the Highlander's clan, who had been thieving them.
Although Daniel and he had arrived in time to stop a brawl between the English Fensmen and the Highlanders, and although he had repeated his standing order to all present that there was to be no looting or raping of the Northumbrian folk, this one Highlander had taken objection to the archer pulling him away from the old grandmother and schooling him in manners.
At first it had been funny because the archer's logic had been so irrefutable. "What would you do to any man you found beating and stealing from your own grandmother?" Of course the village Highlander had answered truthfully, "Hit him, and hit him hard." To which the archer complied with his ham fist.
With the Highlander on the ground, the archer had turned his back on him to help the old woman, and that is when the Highlander had drawn his dirk from his boot and went for the archer's back. Daniel's pistol ball flew true, and by the time the gunsmoke had cleared, the Highlander was already dead.
Even though the man's own clan admitted that Daniel was in the right, Alex did not trust them not to avenge their cousin, so he had paid the entire clan out and sent them off to join Argyll's army of Campbells over on the west coast. Not only had he lost a man, he had lost an entire clan of tough mountain warriors.
"Aye, I've taken Northumbria without a battle and without the locals hating me. That is true. But once it becomes clear that I intend to cross the Tyne, things will be different. My spies report that Lord Conway is making ready to mobilize the smaller cannons from Newcastle fortress. Wherever I chose to cross, it will be into the mouths of those cannon. The spies report that the coal miners will help Conway because they fear I will close the mines. They are tough men, those miners, and they know the terrain."
Daniel poured Alex another dram. "Tell your spies to assure the miners that we have no interest in the mines. Our only interest is in the aristocratic lords who cheat them out of their fair wages. Tell them that they can keep working the mines and better still, they can keep the aristo's share of the profits for themselves."
"But that is not true. One of the key points of my plan is to stop the coal from reaching London."
"They are both true,” Daniel replied. "To stop the coal we do not need to close the mines, but simply stop the Tynemouth keelsmen from loading the colliers. The mines can still be worked. The only fib is that the coal will pile up at Tynemouth until you allow the colliers to be loaded."
"I like you Danny. You think like a Scot. You keep to the letter of promises, but not necessarily to the spirit assumed of them."
"As for Conway's cannon, well, you know better than I the disadvantages of old-fashioned cannons. They will be heavy, so slow to move, and slow to load, and tricky to aim. Their shots will hit us randomly, while our shots will target his gun crews. Once his cannon are silenced, we will control the battlefield with grape."
"It's like I am listening to an echo,” Alex grinned. "I suppose we have no choice. I don't mind targeting Charlie's officers, and I don't mind silencing his cannon, but I will surely pray that we will not be forced to use our grape against the lads of the infantry. I did too much of that in Saxony, and I hated it."
"I hope you won't stop us from mowing down Conway's cavalry. All those second and third sons of Charlie's aristocracy will be no great loss to England. They are assholes, born and bred and inherited."
"Wasn't it you that told me that not many second and third sons rallied to Charlie's call this time? They sent mercenaries in their place."
"Well then, you have solved your own dilemma. No experienced mercenary will charge your cannon. They will leave the battlefield at the first foolish command from their officers."
The two captains sitting on the other side of Daniel from Alex reached over and slapped Daniel on the back, and slammed down their own pots for more of the Genever. Alex was always like this before a battle, full of second thoughts because he hated to order men into the slaughter. The Fen's captain had not said anything that had not been said before, but he had picked out the key points and had spoken convincingly.
"Right then,” Alex growled. "Where do we cross the Tyne?"
Everyone gathered around the map table answered the same, "Newbourne, five miles up the Tyne from Newcastle, and the closest bridge and ford to the sea." There was nowhere else that made sense. They knew it, but unfortunately so did the English army.
* * * * *
General Alexander Leslie returned to his camp in a grim depression after the war council with Charlie's generals Lord Stafford and Lord Conway in Stella, a village just across the River Tyne. And not just depressed that the two fools told him outright that they would not bargain with a mere peasant, though this particular peasant had more experience as a winning general than either lord could ever fathom. And not just depressed that they did not accept his offer of peace along the Tyne if they would just order their outnumbered army to withdraw south away from the banks of the Tyne and away from the fortress at Newcastle.
What depressed him was that some trigger-happy English musketeer had shot and killed one of his junior officers while they were riding back from the council. True, the lad was showing far too much interest in how the English had built their earthen work rampart on the south side of the river, and in how many cannons they had poking out, but still.... they were all riding under a flag of truce at the time.
On returning back across the bridge into Newbourne, the general said a quick prayer over the lad's body, and by the end of the prayer his depression had been replaced by a fuming anger. "Dammit, Lord Conway's spies are the equal of ours. He stalled us waiting for this council, which served to do nothing, and all the time he was floating Newcastle's cannon up the river to place along his ramparts. And dammit, I know the lad's mother. What am I to say to her?"
Alexander Hamilton, who the other captains called 'Ham' to distinguish him from Alexander Leslie, had been Leslie's artillery commander for five years in Saxony. He rarely spoke, so when he did speak everyone, including the general, shut up and listened. "Most of Conway's cannon are Tudor era culverins. It would have taken them eight or ten horses to move each from the barges and up the banks. If we can force them to retreat they will have no option but to spike those guns and leave them useless to all. Without those guns, they are outmatched on this field of battle, for we outnumber them two to one in muskets. If they can't get those guns back to the fortress, then the fortress is nothing but a big wall."
"So we must not only get them to retreat," Leslie moaned, "but to retreat so quickly that they must spike their guns. Meanwhile, they have had more than enough time to sight them and range them on the bridge and both fords. Yes, we have a larger army, but they are dug in. If we charge across the river, their grape will slaughter us by the thousands before we can win the other bank, and then there are the ramparts guarded by a thousand muskets."'
"We have the church,” a musketeer captain pointed out, searching for any solution that did not involve charging his men across the ford into grape. "It is a Norman-built church, so the tower is built like a castle tower. We could put our two four-pounders on top of the tower and target their gun crews."
Ham said something new, but so quietly that no one heard over the chatter about the captain's idea. Everyone immediately went silent to hear him repeat it. "The four-pounders have neither the range nor the payload to quiet those culverins."
"What about our demiculverins,” Leslie suggested, meaning the Dutch six pounders that Daniel had brought him from Rotterdam.
"Too heavy to hoist up the church tower," Ham replied softly.
"How long will they be useful on top, before the English guns blow the tower to pieces?" Daniel asked.
"Perhaps an hour, perhaps two,” Ham looked at Daniel with curiosity. "Such a large change in their aim will require physically moving the guns and those culverins are bitchin' heavy to move. Why?"
"My gun crews are ship's crews too, remember,” Daniel replied. "We can rig naval style blocks and tackle to put some six-pounders up on the tower, but it will take some time, and they will be in plain view while we do it."
"We can lift them at night." Ham made the obvious suggestion.
"Even so, from the moment we open fire to the moment the tower is blown to pieces, you say will be perhaps an hour or two,” Daniel warned.
Ham smiled. It was an evil smile and everyone who noticed it went perfectly still. "Ah, but there was a case of bombs sent with your cannon. If we fire the bombs at whichever culverin is next to be aimed at the tower, then we will buy our tower more time."
* * * * *
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The Pistoleer - Slavers by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14