A Turn of Cards

Chapter One-1

Chapter OneI gasped as the coach jolted over a rut. 'I wish somebody would do something about these roads.'

Emily nodded. She peered out of the window. 'We're nearly there now.' She smiled. 'It's not like you to go to this sort of expedition, Dorothea. You must have taken Mother Faa's words to heart.'

'You mean I should search for a man with a uniform?' I shook my head. 'No, Emily, I only wish a distraction. I am not interested in finding a man.' No man would want to know me, once he discovered my past.

Emily frowned. 'Why not, Dorothea? You can't live alone all your life. Don't you wish a husband to look after you?'

'I don't need a man to look after me, thank you. I can look after myself very well.'

I must have sounded testy for Emily gave me a sideways look, softened with a small smile. 'There are other benefits of marriage.'

'You mean money?' I decided to be deliberately obtuse. 'I have sufficient for my needs.'

'I did not only mean money.' Emily said. 'I meant something quite different.' She lowered her voice, no doubt in case she shocked the driver or frightened the horses. 'I mean the physical side of things.'

'Oh, that.' I said. I knew too much about the physical side of things.

'Yes, that.' Emily touched my arm. 'It's comforting to have a man who loves you. It is quieting to have a man hold you at night.'

I nodded. 'I'm sure it is.' I closed that subject.

Emily peered at me across the width of the coach. 'Am I making you uncomfortable?'

I shook my head. 'No, Emily. I am quite all right.'

'Mother Faa was correct,' Emily said. 'You do have secrets. You never talk about yourself.' The carriage jolted again, throwing her against me. We disentangled ourselves, with Emily laughing. 'I declare that I will be one large bruise by the time we reach Portobello.'

'Travelling does have its discomforts,' I agreed and relapsed into my accustomed silence as we followed the road.

'Look!' Emily tapped her finger on the window. 'We're here.'

I looked outside where the long cold waves splintered into froth along the sand. A flotilla of seagulls paraded above, searching for prey under the grey clouds. Compared to the brilliant colours and heat of Bengal, this east coast of Scotland was a dismal place in early winter.

'This is where they will land.' Emily held onto my arm. 'Right here.' She indicated the long sweep of Portobello beach. 'Look!' A troop of cavalry practised their swordsmanship on a row of turnips set on stakes.

They look the part,' I said. The cavalry wore splendid scarlet coats with blue collar and cuffs, silver breeches, black boots and helmets complete with leopard skin crest and white hackles. 'If ornamental uniforms could win wars Boney would take one look and surrender.'

Emily smiled. 'They are doing their best.'

One cavalryman made a galloping run and slashed at the nearest turnip. 'Cut them down, the villains, cut them down!' His sabre missed the vegetable by a wide margin.

'If that is an example of our defenders, Boney has little to concern himself with,' I said.

'That gentleman is the Quartermaster of the Royal Edinburgh Volunteer Light Dragoons,' Emily said after a moment's scrutiny. 'Walter Scott. He's an Edinburgh solicitor and a bit of a quiz.'

'I see,' I said, watching as the legal warrior dismounted and limped along the beach. 'I hope that our regular soldiers are more skilled than the Volunteers.'

Emily nodded. 'I don't believe you will be setting your cap at Mr Scott, then.'

'I don't believe I will,' I nearly rebuked Emily for using such a commonplace expression but forbore. It was not her fault that I was in a foul mood.

'The army will be waiting if the Frenchies come.' Emily was always forgiving. It was one reason I liked her.

I imagined the scene with the barges full of blue-coated soldiers approaching the bay, their bow-guns flaring orange as they fired at the defenders, the tricolour displayed at the stern and the hammer of artillery drowning the sound of the surf. 'Yes.' It was an inadequate response.

'It could be next month, or next week,' Emily gripped tighter. 'It could be tomorrow.' She looked out to sea as if the French fleet might rise from beneath the waves.

That might be so.' I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders against the smirr of rain. 'Let's hope Nelson can keep them at bay. When does this thing start, Emily?'

'Soon. Look!' Emily pointed. 'Here are the ships!'

I saw them, ten single-masted gunboats creeping under sweeps across the chopped water of the Firth of Forth. Each had a white spume of spray at her bow and wore the Union Flag on her stern; presumably, in case we thought the French had indeed come to infest the Forth.

'Nelson would be proud,' I said.

'Or Admiral Duncan,' Emily waved her handkerchief to the gunboats.

'The army will be here soon, then,' I looked around. A crowd was beginning to gather along the beach, men and women and families come to watch the fun. A couple of collie dogs gambolled, furiously barking as they ran from person to person. A group of children ran to the waves and paddled while their mothers endeavoured to take them to drier ground. A less warlike scene would be hard to imagine.

Emily grabbed my arm. 'Listen!'

I heard the sweet trilling of fifes and the rhythmic tap of the drum. It is strange that the military makes such evocative melodies, pretty sounds to encourage men to march to their s*******r. The music accompanied the gaudy uniforms, both hiding the reality of warfare. I despised the senseless m*********r as one group of rulers decided they wanted to control another group and all the people in that segment of land should expose themselves to agony and death on behalf of a coloured flag. All the same, I felt my toe tapping on the soft sand.

'Here they come.' I allowed Emily to show me a small group of mounted officers riding erect and proud above the crowd, closely followed by the Colours bouncing in military splendour. Behind them came a black column of shakoes, each resplendent with a blue plume, side by side with the barrels of muskets and the broad blades of pikes.

'That's the Third Battalion Midlothian Volunteers,' a knowledgeable man in a tall hat told his wife. 'They're to defend the beach against the Navy.'

'Oh, I see.' The wife looked bored. She pulled a child close to her and wiped its perfectly clean nose.

'Make way, there!' A tall red-faced major shouted and a host of sergeants reinforced his words, pushing at us with hard words and horizontal halberds until we backed away from the beach.

'I hope that's not your uniformed officer.' Emily said. 'He looks out of temper with the world.'

I smiled. 'I have no intention of finding an officer, whatever Mother Faa might say.' I watched the major hectoring a trio of junior officers with language that he should hesitate to use in front of ladies. I had no wish to ever meet such a man, let alone have him in my life.

'I have never heard so many oaths,' Emily said. 'That major is quite a card. He should be on stage.'

I nodded. 'He would draw a crowd for his language alone.'

Within a remarkably short period, the Volunteers had cleared us off the beach so they could practise fighting the French.

These sort of military Field Days were fairly common when we waited in daily expectation of Boney's Frenchmen invading. As well as giving the militia and the Volunteers the opportunity of improving their military skills, it provided free entertainment for crowds of people, a chance for some recruiting and plenty of purses for the busy pick-pockets to snatch.

The gunboats formed in line abreast half a mile off Portobello. Despite my dislike of wars, I could not help but watch. The boats were three cables-lengths apart and with a cluster of men around the six-pounder cannon in the bows. I saw the puff of smoke around each g*n a second before I heard the c***k of the shots.

'Oh, they're firing! How exciting!' Emily clapped her hands together, the white calfskin gloves making little sound against the rising clamour of the crowd.

The foul-mouthed major shouted more orders, and the Volunteers spread out to form two long red lines, the line in front carrying muskets and the one in the rear with the long pikes.

'Why don't they all carry muskets?' Emily asked. 'They could kill more Frenchmen then.'

'Oh, you bloodthirsty thing!' I rebuked her. 'I don't think they possess any more muskets. That's why they have pikes.'

'It's very mediaeval,' Emily said. I did not argue. It seemed strange that a nation as rich as Britain should arm its men with weapons similar to those used by Spartan hoplites or Wallace's freedom-fighters.

The gunboats were closer now so I could make out the faces of the crews, who cheered and shouted like madmen and waved cutlasses and muskets in the air. The cannons fired again, causing Emily to start.

'Oh, my goodness. I do hope nobody gets hurt.'

'They're only firing powder,' I reassured her. 'Not solid ball.'

'Do you think so?'

'I hope so,' I said. 'We've few enough men to defend the country without killing them off in Field Days.'

With white powder smoke adding to the rain, vision was unclear, so we only saw the left flank of the Volunteers, with the double scarlet line becoming more obscure as it stretched toward Joppa in the east. The gunboats were now a couple of hundred yards from the shore with the crews still bunching in the bows. The cannons roared again, echoed by the major's hectoring voice.

The front rank of Volunteers stepped smartly forward until they stood at the line of surf. The major strode along the line, while half a dozen other officers stood at regular distances.

'What about him?' Emily indicated a tall captain. 'He's handsome enough, surely.' She gave a sly smile. 'If I were not married to James I would give him a second look, and a third.'

'I'm not looking for an officer,' I said, 'whatever Mother Faa said.' I wished I had not gone to Emily's house that evening.

'He's a very handsome captain,' Emily insisted, turning her head to one side for a better look.

'You can have him, then,' I nudged her forward.

'I'm married!' Emily tried to look shocked.

'Then neither of us is interested.' I said.

The Volunteers stood at rigid attention until the major shouted again. The long brown muskets came up, the men aimed and then fired a rolling volley that sounded like hell's thunder.

'My! What a noise!' Emily clutched my arm in delight.

At the major's orders, the second line of Volunteers formed into four columns.

The volley of blanks failed to stop the gunboats, which ground onto the sand about fifty yards further out. The crews immediately jumped into the shallow water with a loud splashing and yelling and waving of cutlasses andboarding pikes.

'They're active enough but not quite Boney's Invincibles.' Emily crushed her handkerchief in both hands, her eyes bright. 'Isn't this exciting?'

The major gave an incomprehensible order, and the first Volunteer line fired another volley of blanks and then formed four great gaps through which the columns of pikemen charged. One unfortunate fellow slipped, jammed the point of his pike into the ground and came down in a tangle of scarlet jacket and white trousers. The others advanced at the run and jabbed at the seamen with their long pikes. For a moment the line of surf and gunboats became a mock-battlefield, although not all the strokes were in jest as warriors of the land and the sea threw more than a few shrewd blows in earnest.

Within a few moments, and possibly in a pre-determined outcome, the seamen turned around and pushed their boats back into deeper water. The sweeps frantically flailed as they withdrew.

'Well, that's Boney defeated again,' Emily sounded satisfied.

'I wish it were that easy.' I watched the Volunteers congratulate each other as the major passed around a silver flask to the officers. The handsome captain was smiling, his teeth white against a tanned face. I looked away without having to remind myself that I had no interest.