Beneath the Aurora Read Online Free PDF Page B

Shall we go then?’ Drinkwater tossed off the glass and swept up his cloak and hat. ‘A dinner in two hours, my girl, and no later; a hot meat pie will do very well.’
    Apart from its flagstaff, the Redoubt was as well hidden from sight as from cannon shot, nestling below a glacis which rose fifty feet above the level of the country. This slope terminated on the edge of a vertical counterscarp, and the brick bulk of the circular fort rose on the far side of a wide ditch. This was crossed by a drawbridge which led directly to the rampart, which was pierced by embrasures each housing a huge, black 24-pounder. Under the iron arch with its empty sconce, which marked the inconspicuous gateway to this military wonder, they were challenged halfheartedly by a blue-coated artilleryman on sentry duty. He had spied them walking out through the town’s main gate and he had summoned a lieutenant who hurried up to greet them. For the second time in an hour, Drinkwater produced his identification.
    â€˜Your servant, sir,’ the artillery officer said with a good deal more
savoir-faire
than Sparkman had mustered, handing back the paper. ‘Lieutenant Patmore, sir, at your service. I’ve made the Italian officer as comfortable as possible, sir . . .’ Patmore paused and shot a look at Sparkman, ‘but I’m afraid he’s frightfully touchy about his honour.’
    Drinkwater regarded Sparkman and raised an eyebrow. ‘You may announce me, Mr Sparkman. Lead on, Mr Patmore.’
    They turned left and for a moment Drinkwater caught a glimpse of the open sea to the south-east, then the opposing salient of Landguard Point with its much older fortification, a shingle distal which formed a breakwater to the Harwich Shelf whereon a dozen merchantmen, collier brigs for the most part, rode out the last of the gale. To the north the River Orwell disappeared beyond a pair of Martello towers, winding through woodland to the port of Ipswich. Somewhere, beyond those tree-tops, lay Gantley Hall beneath the roof of which dwelt his wife Elizabeth, his children Amelia and Richard, and all his worldly desires.
    Closer, behind the roofs of Harwich itself, the River Stour stretched westward to Manningtree, where he had had his final change of horses prior to traversing its banks that very forenoon.
    â€˜Your batteries command the harbour very well, Mr Patmore. Have you been stationed here long?’
    â€˜I came with the guns, sir, from Woolwich, three years ago.’
    They passed a stiffly rigid bombardier and two gunners, then turned suddenly, out of the wind and down through a stepped tunnel, descending rapidly to the level of the bottom of the dry moat, emerging within the wall’s circumference on to a parade ground almost ninety feet across. Walking quickly round its edge they passed a number of wooden doors, some open, betraying a kitchen, a guardroom and the garrison’s quarters, then stopped beside one which Sparkman unlocked.
    Inside the casemate, wooden stalls formed the fort’s prison, and at the opening of the door the inmate of the nearer leapt to his feet and Drinkwater saw the blazing dark eyes and fierce moustaches of the Neapolitan officer.
    â€˜This is an outrage! I demand you release me at once! I am invested with plenipotentiary powers by King Joachim Napoleon of Naples! An insult to me is an insult to the King my master! You have taken my sword and with my sword my honour! I wish to be taken to London . . .’
    As this tirade burst upon them, Drinkwater turned to Patmore and, putting up a hand to the artillery officer’s ear, asked, ‘Do you have a room I could use? Somewhere you could serve some bread and meat, and perhaps a conciliatory bottle?’
    Patmore nodded.
    â€˜Would you oblige me by attending to the matter?’
    â€˜Of course, sir. I advised Sparkman against this line of conduct.’
    â€˜Leave the matter to me, Mr