Young bloods, стр. 121

Already the British had driven them back from the narrow gap and more of their men were spilling round the flanks.With a sick feeling Napoleon realised they could not hold them here. The only chance lay on the rampart.

'Pull back!' he shouted. 'Pull back to the rampart!'

The grenadiers slowly gave ground as they continued to fight for their lives. As soon as he heard the order, General Dugommier scrambled down from the rampart, drew his sword and hurried over to Napoleon's side, just as the knot of Frenchmen were surrounded by the enemy. Now they would have to fight their way back to the rampart.

'Any sign of Muiron?' Napoleon asked.

'No.'

'Shit…'

'So it would appear.' Napoleon saw the general's teeth glimmer in a quick smile. 'Come on, Colonel. Let's show them how well Frenchmen can die.'

Dugommier shouldered his way into the fight, and began to hack and slash at the enemy. Napoleon shook his head in admiration for the old soldier, then tensed his muscles and strode towards the enemy. It was strange, some small rational part of his mind reflected, how afraid he was and yet he felt a sense of release. The plan no longer mattered. His career no longer mattered. There was a brief image of his family and he felt a stab of guilt for the grieving he would cause, and then all thought was gone as he bared his teeth and threw himself at the nearest enemy soldier.

Outnumbered, they edged towards the rampart, but every step of the way, more and more of the small group were cut down and splashed into the mud where they were finished off with the butt of a musket, or quick thrust of a bayonet. Napoleon, unable to take his eyes off the enemy swarming about him, sensed the rise of the ground under his boots and realised they had reached the rampart and there was no further room for retreat.This was where he would die.

'Come on, you bastards!' he shouted, beckoning to the enemy with his spare hand. Two of them responded, working towards him. One lunged and as Napoleon swung to parry the attack, he realised it was a feint. Before he could recover his balance the second man half sprang, half slithered towards him. Napoleon swung his sword back and just managed to deflect the point against his guard with a ringing blow.The blade was knocked low, but still found its target. Napoleon felt the impact, like someone had kicked him with all their strength, and then there was a white-hot stab of agony in his left calf as the bayonet tore through his muddy breeches and ripped into his flesh.

He cried out, and then cried out again as the enemy wrenched the bayonet free and drew it back for a direct thrust into the French officer's chest. As the point of the bayonet came forward, Napoleon raised his arm to try to ward the blow off. A dark shape came between them with a scraping clash of steel as General Dugommier hacked at the barrel of the musket, knocking the weapon from the enemy's grasp. He hacked again, this time at the soldier's shoulder, and the man crumpled to the ground. Even as Dugommier snarled in triumph he gasped as the other soldier who had attacked Napoleon stabbed at him from the side, thrusting the point of his bayonet through the general's sleeve and pinning his sword arm against his ribs. As the bayonet was wrenched free Dugommier collapsed beside Napoleon with an agonised gasp. Napoleon groped for his sword and raised it, trying to protect them both as the enemy closed round, ready to finish them off.

There was a cry from above and behind, then more shouts.The British paused, and stared over the heads of the two French officers in alarm. Then they drew back and raised their weapons as they concentrated on a new danger. Napoleon glanced round. All along the rampart he could see the dark shapes of men clambering over and streaming into the fort. He tugged the general's sleeve in excitement.

'Careful!' Dugommier flinched. 'That's my bloody wounded arm!'

'Sir! It's Muiron, and the rest of the column. We're saved.'

Dugommier glanced round. 'Muiron… Thank God.'

Chapter 81

The reinforcements swept through Fort Mulgrave, routing any attempt by the British to resist such overwhelming odds. Those that didn't surrender fled over the eastern ramparts and ran down the track towards the forts still in British hands at the end of the small peninsula. As dawn broke, the rain finally began to ease, and Napoleon limped along the track towards L'Eguillette with the small artillery train he had improvised from the guns captured at Fort Mulgrave. A rough dressing had been tied around his calf, and even though he walked with a stick to support his leg, every step was agony. There was no time to waste. No time to recover, he admonished himself. The first phase of his attack had succeeded, but the two forts at the end of the peninsula had to be seized before the enemy could recover their nerve and rush reinforcements forward to defend them.

But even as Napoleon and his guns reached the crest of the hill overlooking the two forts it was clear that events were outstripping the detail of his plan. A steady stream of boats was moving to and from the forts and the allied warships anchored in the harbour of Toulon. At first Napoleon's heart sank and he slumped against the carriage of the leading gun. They were too late. The enemy was massively reinforcing the garrisons of the two forts. Then he realised the boats heading towards him were empty, and those heading away were laden with men and equipment.

'My God… they're abandoning the forts.' He shook his head in wonder as Junot came towards him, laughing as he gestured towards the boats.

'Sir. Look! They're running away!'

'Yes, I can see. But I can hardly believe it.'

Junot slapped his hand down on the barrel of the cannon, all trace of weariness gone from his mud-spattered face. On the slope around them the remains of the battalions who had participated in the assault on Fort Mulgrave looked on in astonishment as the enemy continued their evacuation. Junot suddenly turned to Napoleon.

'Sir. What are your orders?'

'Orders?'

'Shall I give the order to attack? If we set the guns up we can pound them as they escape.' Junot's eyes gleamed at the thought. 'Or should we send the infantry in?'

Napoleon shook his head. There had been enough killing. Nothing could be gained from further loss of life. 'Leave them.'

'Leave them?' Junot frowned. 'Sir, they're the enemy. It's our duty to kill them.'

'I said leave them!' Napoleon snapped, and instantly regretted it. Junot was simply overexcited. The lieutenant had performed well during the night and did not deserve a public dressing-down. Napoleon forced himself to smile. 'Junot, a word of advice. Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.'

'Sir?'

'Look.' Napoleon raised his stick towards the forts. 'He's quitting the field.We don't need to attack. If we do, what happens if he decides to reinforce the defenders? Then all is lost. Sometimes you gain more by doing nothing.'

Junot nodded faintly. 'I suppose so, sir.'

'Good. Then send a message back to the general and let him know what's happening.Tell him we'll take the forts as soon as the enemy have left.We'll have our guns in position and covering the inner harbour as soon as possible.'

'Yes, sir.' Junot saluted and hurried away to find a horse to ride back along the track towards Fort Mulgrave.

As the morning wore on the enemy was allowed to complete the evacuation without interference.The last detachment to leave spiked the guns and set off the powder still remaining in the magazines. The explosion made the ground shudder for a moment beneath Napoleon's feet and he glanced up in time to see one of the buildings in Fort L'Eguillette disintegrate in a bright flash and then the fort was covered in a dense swirling cloud of smoke and dust. As soon as the last boat of redcoats pulled away from the fort the French soldiers marched in and raised the revolutionary flag. Napoleon set them to work at once, ordering his men to move aside the spiked guns so that those in his hurriedly acquired siege train could be hauled into position to open fire across the harbour. As the exhausted soldiers laboured Napoleon sat in the highest tower of the fort and watched events unfold on the other side of the harbour through a telescope.