Free A Shred of Honour by David Donachie Page A

him to engage them, thus throwing away, very cheaply, the only good defensive position between here and the naval base. IfElphinstone brought up enough reinforcements they could hold it. The French would then be obliged to mount a major assault to dislodge them. Reduced to basics, what he must do depended on the quality of the forces opposing him.
    With only a fleeting glimpse of the French and their commanders, he had hardly enough on which to base a sound judgment. But instinct counted. It told him that he had a chance to inflict some casualties, and slow the main body down, if he could only surprise them. Lacking discipline , at the sight of a red coat they might just rush the crest en masse, in which case he’d be forced to run. But that same vision, so unexpected, might bring the whole column to a halt. Time might be expended while they prepared an attack, an interval that might allow Elphinstone to fulfil his promise.
    Common sense dictated that he look beyond that possibility . Without more men, his detachment would have to pull back. Facing just infantry, he could hold them up in the village, making each building a redoubt that would need to be taken individually. But he’d also need room to effect an escape across the bridge and a hundred and fifty yards of open road. That couldn’t be achieved against a commander brimming with confidence. The best way to ensure he lacked that was to induce caution from the very outset, which in turn, required him to be bold to the point of madness.
    He slid back down the slope, standing up as soon as he was out of sight, gnawing on the various alternatives, which really came down to the best way to handle his divided command. His preferred method, of explaining what he was planning to attempt, a must with well-trained men, might backfire with this lot. Yet leaving them in the dark could prove worse. Even within their own groupings there was little common purpose.
    Halsey had rejoined from the village, and was being interrogated by Schutte, with the Dutchman’s fingerregularly poking the corporal in the chest. ‘Line up the marines,’ Markham barked as he approached the pair, deliberately aiming his instructions at both men. Close to, Schutte’s heavy frame dwarfed the older man. His small eyes, in a shaven skull that was almost square, held a hostile stare designed to let Markham know that he was the senior of the pair. There was an ugliness about the Hollander that spoke of the kind of belligerence which bordered on stupidity. It was there in the reclining forehead , a furrowed narrow strip, well defined despite his bald head, in the heavy lobes and fighter’s flat nose.
    ‘You’re improperly dressed, Schutte,’ Markham barked, forcing the Dutchman to put on the tricorne hat he carried, a headpiece which had a grey wig sewn inside. ‘How’s your knowledge of infantry tactics?’
    Schutte looked blank, but Halsey replied with an eagerness that stood in sharp contrast to his previous attitude. ‘We did a bit at Chatham. Not much, but enough to get the root of the thing.’
    He suddenly remembered himself; the faint hint of enthusiasm disappeared, and the look he gave Schutte had a trace of supplication, designed to show that he was only trying to be helpful. Markham, addressing him, only increased his unease.
    ‘Fine. I want you to get your men up here and line them up in column. We’re going to march over that hill like a pack of fools, deploy halfway down the crest and take on all the appearance of men preparing to stand and fight. There’s a French force coming up that road, with men out front who’re more like a rabble than an army. I want to give them a fright.’
    ‘I lead,’ snarled Schutte.
    ‘No,’ Markham replied coldly.
    ‘I sergeant!’
    ‘Only if I say so. Rank is something you earn by soldiering, not by using your fists. Captain Frobisher is dead. It’s me you have to satisfy. If you don’t, I’ll break you back to private.’
    The implication