"Sir, you're no longer in charge here, and we've all had quite
. . ." His glance fell on the bundle Spurre was unwrapping. The candle lantern cast a golden glow over a shiny new flintlock. The barrel was damascened in gold, and the stock was fine Italian walnut inlaid with mother of pearl. Both the serpentine cock and the heel plate on the stock were engraved and gilt. "Good God, where did that piece come from?"
"From my personal arsenal." Winston watched as Spurre slipped out the ramrod and began loading and priming the flintlock. Then he continued, "These muskets don't belong to your militia. They're just for my own men, here tonight."
"If you can keep them dry," Heathcott's voice quickened, "maybe you could . . ."
"They should be good for at least one round, before the lock gets damp." Winston turned to Heathcott. "They won't be expecting us now. So if your men can help us hold the breastwork while we spike those cannon, we might just manage it."
"And these guns?" Heathcott was still admiring the muskets.
"We won't use them any more than we have to." Winston walked down the line of officers. "There's apt to be some hand-to-hand fighting if their infantry gets wind of what's afoot and tries to rush the emplacement while we're still up there. How many of your militiamen have the stomach for that kind of assignment?"
The tent fell silent save for the drumbeat of rain. The officers all knew that to move on the breastwork now would be the ultimate test of their will to win. The question on every man's mind was whether their militia still possessed that will. But the alternative was most likely a brief and ignominious defeat on the field, followed by unconditional surrender.
They gathered in a huddle at the rear of the tent, a cluster of black hats, while Winston's men continued priming the guns. "Damn'd well-made piece, this one." Edwin Spurre was admiring the gilded trigger of his musket. "I hope she shoots as fine as she feels." He looked up at Winston. "I think we can keep the powder pan dry enough if we take care. They've all got a cover that's been specially fitted."
Winston laughed. "Only the best for Sir Anthony. Let's make sure he finds out how much we appreciate the gun- 1 smithing he paid for."