Waterloo (13 page)

The captain turned and acknowledged them. ‘As well you warned us, Colonel,’ he said cheerfully. ‘My men are nervous in here.’

‘As are we, Captain. What is your situation?’

‘We hold the wood but for the extreme southern edge. The French are camped in a shallow valley beyond and are keeping us at bay with musket fire. I sent a small troop to reconnoitre from the east. They report that the French have been receiving reinforcements and have brought up artillery.’ It was not difficult to guess what the artillery would be firing at.

‘I fear it will be a wet and miserable night for you and your men, Captain. We must hold the woods until the morning. Then we will see what the enemy’s plans are.’

‘I understand, Colonel. Wet and miserable is the lot of the Jäger. We are quite used to it.’ He held out a hand to Macdonell. ‘May tomorrow bring us glory.’

‘I will settle for victory, Captain, glorious or not. Until tomorrow.’

So the woods were probably safe until dawn. But then the French would throw men into them and the Jägers and Nassauers would be forced to withdraw or they would need reinforcements. And unless General Cooke was willing to provide reinforcements, there would be none. The chateau and farm were thinly enough defended as it was.

Harry was waiting for them at the south gate. ‘Relieved to see you, Colonel,’ he greeted them, ‘and you, gentlemen. How did you find the woods?’

‘Unpleasant, thank you, Captain, but in good hands for now. Has any food been sent down?’

‘Not yet, although we have a barrel of gin and the bits we foraged. And there is a pig in the barn.’

‘So it’s pork for supper and a cup of gin all round. Mister Gooch, see to the pig, if you please. Sergeant Dawson is handy with a butcher’s knife. A piece for every man to go with the food Captain Wyndham managed to acquire for us. Mister Hervey, kindly take over from the sergeant. We may expect wagons to be coming and going most of the night. Captain Wyndham and I will make another inspection.’

‘How will they do, James, do you think?’ asked Harry when the ensigns had gone.

‘Well enough, although this is likely to be the hardest fighting any of us have seen. The French are in a valley beyond the wood with artillery coming up. We will be bombarded and attacked on three sides. Only the west wall is anywhere near secure. And I gather that Buonaparte’s
brother Jérôme commands them. He will doubtless get all the men he asks for.’

They started with the farm buildings. The high points on the roofs of the cowshed and farmer’s house had been made ready. Tiles had been removed and holes made for access. A man lying on his stomach on the cowshed would have a clear view of the area outside the north gate while being protected by the pitch of the roof. Men on the farmer’s house would get some protection from the gable end and would be able to cover the garden. It was the same on the south side where the roofs of the gardener’s house, the small stable and the shed adjoining it were being made ready. Stacks of muskets and boxes of ammunition had been placed inside the windows, and loopholes made in the brickwork. ‘Good work, Harry,’ said Macdonell. ‘The question is, will it be enough?’

And there was still much to do. The garden was the best part of a hundred yards long and fifty wide. A loophole every five yards on three sides meant fifty loopholes, each one of which had to be hammered out of the brick. There was enough timber to build fire steps, but a dearth of nails. ‘Have you looked in the store and the sheds?’ asked Macdonell.

‘We have. We found very little of use.’

Macdonell grunted. To lose Hougoumont for want of nails would be absurd. Not that it was likely to come to that. Round shot and shells from the French artillery on the other side of the wood would be their biggest worry. They would have to rely on General Byng’s cannon and Major Bull’s howitzers to protect them from those. ‘Let us see how Colonel Saltoun is faring.’

In the orchard, the light companies of the 1st Brigade
were also struggling. The hedge still looked a hopelessly feeble obstacle against attacking infantry. A good cavalry horse might even jump it. Saltoun clearly thought so too. ‘For God’s sake, man,’ he bellowed at a soldier working on the hedge, ‘that wouldn’t stop my old mother. Get some timber into the hole.’

The wretched man looked up from his task. His face and uniform were caked in grime and mud and he was barely able to speak from exhaustion. ‘Haven’t got any, sir,’ he mumbled.

‘Then go and find a dead frog and shove him in there. There are two or three in the field.’ The soldier shambled off. ‘About turn, Private. I was jesting. But for the love of God make a better job of it. There will be timber in the farm buildings. Go and get it.’ He saw James. ‘Thankfully there is a ditch on the other side of the hedge. Without it we wouldn’t last ten minutes.’

It was nearly dark and the rain had started again. James took off his shako and looked to the heavens. ‘Will it never stop?’

‘Never. If Nelson were alive, Wellington would send for him at once. It is ships we’ll need, not horses.’

‘You know Harry Wyndham, of course, my captain?’

‘I do, and pleased to have you with us, Captain.’

‘I trust you will be able to say the same at this time tomorrow, My Lord.’

‘Hah. Well spoken, Captain. How goes the work at the farm?’

‘Well enough,’ replied Macdonell.

‘Good. In that case, James, I propose that we meet in the farmer’s house at ten. There are matters to discuss.’

‘Very well. Ten o’clock.’

In addition to supply wagons arriving at the north gate, a succession of officers had begun appearing, having ridden down the sunken lane from the ridge. They too knew that Hougoumont would hold the key to the battle and wanted to see for themselves how well defended it would be. Most offered a few words of encouragement and did not stay long. Being nearer to the French lines than their own made them nervous. A tiresome captain of Hussars insisted on riding around the entire perimeter and giving his opinion, loudly, on what should be done to improve their chances of keeping the French out. Very politely James suggested that he might like to dismount and lend a hand. The captain was soon gone.

It was dark when Francis Hepburn appeared. ‘Francis,’ exclaimed James, ‘I had almost forgotten you. They said you were at the hospital. Are you wounded?’

Francis looked sheepish. ‘No, no, unhurt. I merely thought to check on the medical arrangements. Every house in Mont St Jean is ready to take casualties and there is a hospital in Waterloo.’

‘You were a long time. Is everything in order there?’

‘Oh, yes, quite in order.’

‘Then why so long? I was concerned.’

‘Dammit, James. Can a man not be allowed a little privacy? If you must know, Daisy is in the village helping the surgeons. They are dealing with the wounded from yesterday. She travelled down from Enghien and arrived this morning. Clever girl managed to get a message to me.’

‘I should have guessed. Brave and devoted. I do hope she knows what she has let herself in for.’

‘Do any of us know, James?’

‘Perhaps not. Now do inspect the premises if you wish.’

‘I shall. Then I must return to my post. God be with you, James.’

‘And with us all.’

Saltoun was waiting in the empty farmhouse, which had been stripped of its doors and furniture. There was neither table nor chair, nor even an upturned crate, but except where rain dripped through the hole made in the roof, at least it was dry. Laid out on a blanket on the floor were two bottles of claret, a loaf of bread and a small cut of beef. ‘I thought we would eat while we talk, James,’ said Saltoun. ‘I daresay you are hungry.’

‘Ravenous. As are my men. Fortunately, Wyndham acquired a little food from a trader and we found a pig in the cowshed.’

Saltoun cut a slice of beef with his bayonet and passed it to Macdonell. ‘Try that, James. No glasses, I fear. We’ll have to drink from the bottle.’

The beef was good and the wine better. ‘Excellent, Alexander,’ he said, raising his bottle in salute, ‘but I must be about my business very soon.’

‘Of course. And tomorrow will either of us be alive to finish our meal, I wonder? I am not entirely sure whether Wellington really thinks we can hold out or whether we are merely a diversion intended to lure troops away from the French centre. Either way, even with the Hanoverians and Nassauers we are no more than eight hundred or so.’

‘We are outnumbered everywhere, Alexander. The Duke will send reinforcements if he can spare them. He expects Blücher’s
Prussians to arrive sometime tomorrow. Our task is to hold Hougoumont until they do.’

Saltoun tipped wine into his mouth. ‘To do that, some of us must stay alive. That is what will be difficult. The orchard is our weakest spot. I will hold it only as long as we are not in danger of being wiped out. There is no point in sacrificing men unnecessarily for the sake of it. We will withdraw when we have to.’

‘I agree. As long as we hold the garden and the house and farm, the frogs will not be able to attack the Duke’s right flank. That is his main concern.’

For a while they were silent, each alone with his own thoughts. Suddenly, Saltoun jumped up. ‘Frogs, always the frogs. Ever since the Normans arrived, it’s been the frogs. Now and again we fight the Spanish or the Dutch, even the American rebels or ourselves, but it doesn’t last long. We always go back to the frogs, damn them. Why?’

‘I am but a humble soldier, Alexander,’ replied James with a smile. ‘Such questions are for politicians. Now, if you would excuse me, I must be gone. We will be using the large barn for the wounded. There is dry straw in there. I am hoping for a surgeon and an assistant or two. Send your wounded there.’

‘Thank you, James. Until tomorrow.’

Despite the rain a fire had been lit in the yard over which the pig was being cooked on a makeshift spit. While Sergeant Dawson kept a line of hungry soldiers at bay, the Grahams were hacking chunks off the beast. Two men were fighting over a scrap of meat that had fallen on the ground. One of them was the weasel-faced Patrick Luke. Another was complaining loudly
that he had been given only a bit of pig’s head, barely cooked and foul-smelling. ‘If you had waited until the bloody thing was cooked,’ yelled the sergeant, ‘it would have tasted a sight better.’ He was ignored. The aroma of roasting meat was too much for men who had eaten almost nothing for two days. They stuffed whatever they could get into their mouths and tried to swallow it whole. Some retched and coughed their prize into the dirt, others managed to wash it down with a cup of water or gin. Macdonell, who had enjoyed several slices of well-cooked beef, could not help feeling a little guilty.

‘It’s a full-grown pig,’ he told Dawson. ‘Enough to go round, and do not forget the guards in the orchard.’

In the chateau, the men stationed at the windows were sitting with their backs to the wall, leaving just one to keep watch. They had seen nothing outside the south gate or in the wood. It was the same in the tower, where Private Lester was playing a tune on a child’s whistle while his comrades sat or lay on the floor. Macdonell told them to send a man down to fetch their share of the pig and to get what rest they could.

Inside the south gate, Ensign Gooch’s troop was standing to arms, ready to act if a warning came from the gardener’s house above it. They had used thick timbers as props for the gate. ‘Have them rest in the house, Mister Gooch,’ Macdonell ordered. ‘As much rest as possible for every man. Including yourself.’

Ensign Hervey at the north gate had already sent half of his troop to the barn, while he kept watch with the remainder. ‘It will be light at four, Colonel,’ he said. ‘I intend two hours on guard and three hours rest in the barn for each man.’

In the garden Harry had placed a man at every loophole and sent the rest to find shelter. ‘How did the meeting with Lord Saltoun go?’ he asked. ‘I looked in on the farmer’s house to make sure all was well but you had finished.’

‘It did not take long,’ replied Macdonell.

‘No, indeed. Surprising choice of claret, though.’ They must have left the empty bottles there.

‘Would you believe me if I told you that we found the bottles in the house?’

‘No.’

‘Then I won’t. Have you managed to build sufficient fire steps?’

‘Barely. We have a shortage of nails, not to mention carpenters. Some of the steps look like the bell tower in Pisa. Have you seen it?’

‘Never, although I know it is still standing, despite being crooked. Have faith, Harry. And don’t forget to get some rest yourself.’

The faint sound of singing reached them from the direction of the wood. ‘There, James, can you hear them?’ asked Harry. ‘They’ve been at it for an hour. Singing away like choirboys.’

‘They are camped without shelter in a narrow valley beyond the wood. They’re singing to keep their spirits up. As long as they don’t keep us awake, let them sing.’

For the first time, Macdonell realised how tired he was. Until then the need to keep going had driven him on. Now, suddenly, his eyelids were drooping and an irresistible urge to sleep took over. He found a place in the barn, kicked straw
into a pile and lay down. Around him, exhausted men snored, scratched and grunted. Their colonel heard nothing. Within seconds he too was asleep.

He was woken by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He struggled briefly back to consciousness. There was an urgent voice in his ear. ‘Colonel, General Byng is here.’ It sounded like Hervey. His eyes closed and he was asleep again. The voice was insistent. ‘Colonel, General Byng.’ With a huge effort he pushed himself up. He shook sleep from his head and stood up. Stupid oaf, he thought, I should never have allowed myself to lie down.

‘Where is the general?’ he croaked. Hervey passed him a canteen of water.

‘At the north gate, Colonel.’

He tipped water down his throat and splashed a little on his face. It helped. ‘Brush me down, if you please, Hervey.’ Hervey used his hand to sweep straw from Macdonell’s jacket and trousers. ‘What is the time?’

‘Two o’clock. It will be light in two hours.’

Byng had ridden down from the ridge and was waiting in the small yard inside the north gate. An aide was holding his horse. ‘Ah, James, getting some rest, I trust.’