The governor general watched the fires in the burning houses carefully, and at last the moment came when he decided that a man might dash through the screen of fire and smoke without injury. He gave the signal to advance, a single trumpet call sounded sharp and clear, and the battalions attacked.
When the boucaniers, some two to three hundred yards distant on the King's House lawn, saw the soldiers appearing through the flames, they promptly redoubled the rate of artillery fire. As a result approximately half the brigade, those units which were in rear positions, were pinned down. The leading companies managed to break through, however, and were too close to the enemy for the artillery fire to touch them. Veterans all, the infantrymen spread out, threw themselves to the ground just outside the ornamental fence that surrounded King's House and its spacious lawns, and opened a fierce musketry duel with the boucaniers.
Both groups were in exposed positions, and casualties were high inside the gates as well as out. The gallant little band besieged in King's House took on new courage, and the rate of musket fire from the windows increased. Thus the boucaniers were being hit simultaneously from the front and rear, and there were indications that they might be wavering. The first was a slackening in the artillery barrage, which lifted sufficiently for the remainder of the brigade's battalions to surge forward and take up positions in the plaza just outside the palace gates.
All at once the big guns fell completely silent, and Sir Arthur moved forward with the members of his staff, Jeremy among them. It was believed by several of the senior officers that the troops inside King's House were deliberately picking off those of the boucaniers who were manning the cannon; in any case and whatever the cause, the battle was being fought on more even terms now.
At this stage of the fight the governor general decided to employ his cavalry. A dozen volunteer infantrymen leaped to their feet and dashed to the broad gates. Although all but two of these loyal soldiers were killed, the portals were opened and the horsemen thundered through them, shooting as they rode. This was enough to complete the demoralization of the boucaniers, who took to their heels. Their rear guard could not be stampeded, however, and coolly maintained an insistent fire that prevented the cavalry from breaking through as the entire band of rebels retreated through the narrow streets of the more heavily populated sections of Port Royal.
The cavalrymen and their mounts alike were too weary to take up organized pursuit, so the bulk of the boucanier force escaped to join the Duchess Caroline and the remainder of her supporters in the Citadel. Rebel outposts were set up on streets leading to the fort and were manned by sharpshooters. And as the Duchess had complete control of the harbor and all approaches to the town from the sea, the war was far from finished.
While Sir Arthur and Lady Bartlett enjoyed a brief reunion, strenuous efforts were made to remove the evidence of battle from the precincts of the palace. The wounded were taken to the barracks, where the surgeons and their assistants went to work at once. The dead were removed for burial, and the bodies of boucaniers were thrown into a common grave. Those of the brigade who were not assigned to other duties proved themselves to be experienced soldiers: they ate heartily and promptly took to their beds.
It was during the tidying of the King's House lawns that a sublieutenant made the discovery that so horrified the high command. The boucaniers, working efficiently and methodically, had spiked every piece of artillery on the palace grounds. Thus the problem of dislodging the pirates from the Citadel was increased, and the colonels despaired. The heavy stone walls had been built to withstand assault from every side, from the land as well as from the sea, and no responsible officer had any false illusions of potential victory now. It would require more than a military feat to oust Caroline and her men from the great fortress without artillery, for not one cannon could be operated.
Sir Arthur immediately cut short his reunion with his wife to study the situation. Captain Henry Thorne, the ranking artillery officer, walked at the governor general's side, and as they saw the evidence of the boucaniers' handiwork their depression grew.
The governor general went into conference with his military staff and with those of his civilian advisers who had survived the initial assault of the rebels on the town. This latter group was considerably shrunken; there had been eight, but only the three who had fortunately been in King's House itself at the time Caroline and her cohorts had launched their attack still survived.
Time was all-important, for Sir Arthur could visualize a call being sent out from the fortress to the boucanier brotherhood scattered throughout the Caribbean. Jamacia was the richest plum in the tropics, and it was a certainty that vessels would sail from Hispaniola and Dominica to share the plunder and sack, kill, and loot at will. It was not a pretty picture, but none of the gentlemen could suggest an effective means of preventing the rape of the island. It would not even be possible to send for aid from Charles Towne on the North American mainland, for the huge guns of the Citadel could sink any ship that tried to slip out to sea and could prevent the landing of unfriendly troops.
It was at this juncture that a badly injured soldier was brought into the conference room. One of those who had remained in Port Royal when the brigade had gone off to the hills, he had been taken prisoner at the Citadel, tortured, and left for dead. Despite his painful wounds he had managed to escape, and with the help of friendly townspeople who had smuggled him past bands of roving boucanier patrols he had been brought to King's House. Now, with Sir Arthur and the other officials gathered around him, he gasped out his story.
The enemy, he said, was planning to launch a concentrated attack at eight o'clock the following morning. The boucaniers had reasoned that, although outnumbered, their forces were fresh while the men of the brigade were tired after their long march from the foothills of the Blue Mountains. Further, the Citadel would provide the rebels with a secure operational base from which they could make forays and to which they could retire if the battle should go against them. The brigade, on the other hand, would be forced to fight in the open.
The injured man was carried out, and Sir Arthur tried to curb the growing panic of his advisers. Methods and tactics were discussed fruitlessly and at great length, and at last tempers became frayed. Any interruption was therefore welcome to the majority of the council, who looked up in relief as Captain Thorne, the artillery officer, came into the chamber. Somewhat ill at ease in the presence of so many prominent and influential men, he advanced to Sir Arthur, and his face was red with embarrassment as he saluted.
"A thousand pardons for this intrusion. Your Excellency," he said, "but it appears that a way has been found to beat the insurrectionists."
The governor general raised an eyebrow. "You can do what this distinguished group cannot?"
"No, sir. Not I." He turned toward the open door behind him. "Will you come in, gentlemen?" he called.
Jeremy Stone and Dirk Friendly entered quickly, and their dirty, disreputable clothes contrasted sharply with the fine suits and freshly starched linen of the council. Sir Arthur looked up in amazement, and for an instant his eyes twinkled. "Well, Master Stone!" he said. "You seem to have developed an uncanny habit of appearing at a time when we need help the most. Don't tell me you have a scheme for blasting those damned rebels out of the Citadel without artillery!" "No, sir. With artillery." Jeremy grinned. "Unfortunately we lack the facilities and time to send our cannon to England for repairs."