"We're turnin' the whoresons back." There were more shouts now, even some cheers. Finally the din of battle cut through his reverie.
"Prepare to reload." He was shouting again, almost more to himself than to the others, trying to be heard above the crack of musket fire that sounded down the length of the shoreline. Everywhere there were flashes, yells, screams. The air in the trench was rancid and opaque with black smoke.
As he began reloading his musket he suddenly felt a new closeness, almost a mystical union, with the ragged planters around him. They were a fraternity of men, standing together, defending their land. Why had Anthony never told him that war could be like this? Could teach you brotherhood as well as hate?
He was priming his powder pan again, trying to control the shake of his hands as he tilted the powder flask, when he looked up to see that more red tips were emerging from the darkness of the sea. Another wave of Roundhead infantry had landed in longboats.
There was no longer any purpose in calling out a loading sequence. Some men were priming now, some ramming in powder and shot, some threading their matchcord into the hammer, some firing again. All the discipline he had been taught so carefully by Anthony was irrelevant.
Most frightening of all, while the first wave of infantry had dropped back to reload, a fresh line of musketmen was advancing toward the parapet, guns primed and ready.
“Fire and fall back. In orderly fashion.''
It was the voice of Anthony. The call to abandon the trench
meant that all the Roundhead infantry had landed. Now they were to be drawn inland with a feigned retreat.
The plan worked out was to resist strongly until all the infantry were ashore, to damage them as much as possible using the protection of the parapet, and then to fall back into the trees, luring them away from their longboats. When their lines were thinned, Hugh Winston would lead a cavalry charge that would drive a wedge along the shore, between the infantry and the sea, cutting off their escape. Next the longboats would be driven off, and the invading infantry slowly surrounded. They would be harassed by irregular fire and, with luck, soon lose heart. Cut off from their escape route, the demoralized invaders would have no choice but to surrender. Then, so the strategy went, Commander Morris and the admiral of the fleet would seek to negotiate.