Chapter 52
CHAPTER 52
B ack in the cave, they began to hear shouts from the water. Elizabeth and Darcy looked at one another in horror as the men in the cave advanced upon them, when the cave suddenly filled with officers, with Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at their head. Metal clashed against metal, and muskets fired, as Darcy raced to Elizabeth and pulled her behind the stack of trunks again, attempting to shield her.
There appeared to be about sixty men in the company of dragoons, and they made quick work of the rough men. Elizabeth squeaked as she observed Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam throw down his sword, stride purposefully towards Mr Wickham, and as he approached him, he reached out with his hands, grasped both sides of Mr Wickham's head, and snapped his neck savagely.
With this most necessary of tasks accomplished, Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at the higher ranking officer who had been talking them to death before he arrived, and rasped, “Spaulding.”
The officer called Spaulding looked at Richard with revulsion as Richard strode up to him and spat, “Traitor!” and struck the man in the face. There was murmuring amongst the dragoons, then suddenly there was a great deal of voices outside the cave.
One of the dragoons rushed to the entrance to the cave and came back. “At least one ship has landed! The French are coming ashore!”
Suddenly, the woman who had been feeding Darcy rushed out of a section of the back of the cave that led deep into the cliffside and dragged Elizabeth back with her. Darcy had heard Wickham speak of it, and knew it to be a long corridor with many small roomlike openings. He followed, and saw the woman pull Elizabeth into a small room, then push several enormous bundles of rags in front of the small opening. He had sensed that the woman had not been unsympathetic to him when she had brought him food and water. He ensured that their hiding place was covered, then raced back to the cave opening, took a musket and a sword from a pile of weapons, strode past Wickham’s lifeless form and unseeing eyes, and raced out of the cave after the dragoons.
Huggins and Spaulding had quickly disappeared into the melee when the dragoons had rushed into battle with the French. Darcy threw himself into the fighting alongside his cousin and shouted, “Richard! There are too many!”
Darcy could see in Richard’s eyes that he knew this. This was what his cousin did on the front. When there were too many to fight, when other men held back, Richard rushed in. Darcy fought harder at his cousin’s side.
The Wish Tower was quiet when William Bennet approached it. There may be one or two officers inside, but the tower was now mostly the domain of the volunteer corps, and they did not man the tower at night unless they were investigating a smuggling drop. As he came up to the Tower, he looked up to see Tom Tyler climbing the iron bars sticking out of the stone that created a ladder up the side of the tower.
Tom reached the top and looked around him. The first and only firework had exploded in the sky some minutes ago. He was glad Mr Bennet had apparently stopped the rest, but the French might still land. He would not be prevented from accomplishing the mission he had been given. There was a drunken officer sleeping on the floor next to the open door that led inside. In the middle of the roof of the tower, an incredibly large bonfire was laid, a small cauldron of lamp oil hanging above it. There was a torch burning nearby.
Tom approached the officer. Tom was an expert in determining the likeliness of a drunkard to wake, he had experience enough with his father. He shoved the officer lightly with his boot. The man did not even move. Emboldened, Tom grasped the man with both hands, and rolled him through the door, onto the landing at the top of the stairs inside. He stood and stepped back, closing the door, and bolting it from the outside, grateful the door was equipped for such, likely to protect the person who had to light the beacon.
He turned towards the bonfire, and carefully stepped up the ladder that led to the cauldron. When he reached the top, he grasped the handle and tilted it, pouring the oil carefully and slowly onto the wood below. He then descended the ladder carefully. As much as he wished to rush, he could not, this had to be done right. He could not make a single mistake.
When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he grasped the torch and stepped back a bit towards the nearby bell. He tossed the torch onto the firewood, and shielded his eyes with his hands as the blaze billowed up. As he looked up and down the coast, every minute or two, other beacons further down the coast in both directions lit one by one, each tower warning the next, as the signals got smaller and smaller in the distance. It was a sight very few might ever see in a lifetime, and for good or ill, Tom Tyler knew he would never forget this night.
He turned to the bell beside him and began to ring it with all of his might, warning the townspeople of the imminent danger. As he rang the bell, he could see small lights, candles, and torches lighting up the village, and could hear the men as they rushed into the streets, shouting instructions to one another, pulling on their boots as they rushed to the armoury. Those who already had weapons of their own rushed to the coast.
In the Admiral's quarters of one of His Majesty’s first rate ships hiding in the waters in a cove near Eastbourne, Admiral Croft inspected a map of the local coastline with his brother-in-law and comrade in arms, Captain Wentworth, whose third rate was nearby.
“If they come, it will be at night, and it will almost certainly be by Beachy Head.” Wentworth pointed out a particular stretch of coastline. “The moon is full, if there is to be a drop, it will certainly be tonight.”
“From Fitzwilliam’s words, I sense that Eastbourne is expecting more than a smuggler’s drop,” replied Admiral Croft. “You should return to your vessel, if it is to happen tonight, it will happen soon.”
Almost as if his words had conjured it, there was suddenly a great commotion on deck. The door opened, and a midshipman rushed in, his expression one of disbelief and great excitement. The men had been on alert since one solitary firework had gone off in the sky some minutes ago.
“Sir!” The young man remembered himself and saluted the two senior officers. “The beacons are lit! Eastbourne calls for aid!” The young sailor turned and rushed back out, followed by Admiral Croft and Captain Wentworth.
Sailors milled about, waiting for orders as Wentworth and Croft gazed upon a never before seen sight. The beacons of the Martello Towers were lit along the coast in both directions.
“Man your positions!” boomed Admiral Croft as Wentworth rushed with all haste to the rowboat that would return him to his ship.