‘How will they do, James, do you think?’ asked Harry when the ensigns had gone.
‘Well enough, although this is likely to be the hardest fighting any of us have seen. The French are in a valley beyond the wood with artillery coming up. We will be bombarded and attacked on three sides. Only the west wall is anywhere near secure. And I gather that Buonaparte’s brother Jérôme commands them. He will doubtless get all the men he asks for.’
They started with the farm buildings. The high points on the roofs of the cowshed and farmer’s house had been made ready. Tiles had been removed and holes made for access. A man lying on his stomach on the cowshed would have a clear view of the area outside the north gate while being protected by the pitch of the roof. Men on the farmer’s house would get some protection from the gable end and would be able to cover the garden. It was the same on the south side where the roofs of the gardener’s house, the small stable and the shed adjoining it were being made ready. Stacks of muskets and boxes of ammunition had been placed inside the windows, and loopholes made in the brickwork. ‘Good work, Harry,’ said Macdonell. ‘The question is, will it be enough?’
And there was still much to do. The garden was the best part of a hundred yards long and fifty wide. A loophole every five yards on three sides meant fifty loopholes, each one of which had to be hammered out of the brick. There was enough timber to build fire steps, but a dearth of nails. ‘Have you looked in the store and the sheds?’ asked Macdonell.
‘We have. We found very little of use.’
Macdonell grunted. To lose Hougoumont for want of nails would be absurd. Not that it was likely to come to that. Round shot and shells from the French artillery on the other side of the wood would be their biggest worry. They would have to rely on General Byng’s cannon and Major Bull’s howitzers to protect them from those. ‘Let us see how Colonel Saltoun is faring.’
In the orchard, the light companies of the 1st Brigade were also struggling. The hedge still looked a hopelessly feeble obstacle against attacking infantry. A good cavalry horse might even jump it. Saltoun clearly thought so too. ‘For God’s sake, man,’ he bellowed at a soldier working on the hedge, ‘that wouldn’t stop my old mother. Get some timber into the hole.’
The wretched man looked up from his task. His face and uniform were caked in grime and mud and he was barely able to speak from exhaustion. ‘Haven’t got any, sir,’ he mumbled.
‘Then go and find a dead frog and shove him in there. There are two or three in the field.’ The soldier shambled off. ‘About turn, Private. I was jesting. But for the love of God make a better job of it. There will be timber in the farm buildings. Go and get it.’ He saw James. ‘Thankfully there is a ditch on the other side of the hedge. Without it we wouldn’t last ten minutes.’
It was nearly dark and the rain had started again. James took off his shako and looked to the heavens. ‘Will it never stop?’
‘Never. If Nelson were alive, Wellington would send for him at once. It is ships we’ll need, not horses.’
‘You know Harry Wyndham, of course, my captain?’
‘I do, and pleased to have you with us, Captain.’
‘I trust you will be able to say the same at this time tomorrow, My Lord.’
‘Hah. Well spoken, Captain. How goes the work at the farm?’
‘Well enough,’ replied Macdonell.
‘Good. In that case, James, I propose that we meet in the farmer’s house at ten. There are matters to discuss.’
‘Very well. Ten o’clock.’
In addition to supply wagons arriving at the north gate, a succession of officers had begun appearing, having ridden down the sunken lane from the ridge. They too knew that Hougoumont would hold the key to the battle and wanted to see for themselves how well defended it would be. Most offered a few words of encouragement and did not stay long. Being nearer to the French lines than their own made them nervous. A tiresome captain of Hussars insisted on riding around the entire perimeter and giving his opinion, loudly, on what should be done to improve their chances of keeping the French out. Very politely James suggested that he might like to dismount and lend a hand. The captain was soon gone.
It was dark when Francis Hepburn appeared. ‘Francis,’ exclaimed James, ‘I had almost forgotten you. They said you were at the hospital. Are you wounded?’
Francis looked sheepish. ‘No, no, unhurt. I merely thought to check on the medical arrangements. Every house in Mont St Jean is ready to take casualties and there is a hospital in Waterloo.’
‘You were a long time. Is everything in order there?’
‘Oh, yes, quite in order.’
‘Then why so long? I was concerned.’
‘Dammit, James. Can a man not be allowed a little privacy? If you must know, Daisy is in the village helping the surgeons. They are dealing with the wounded from yesterday. She travelled down from Enghien and arrived this morning. Clever girl managed to get a message to me.’
‘I should have guessed. Brave and devoted. I do hope she knows what she has let herself in for.’
‘Do any of us know, James?’
‘Perhaps not. Now do inspect the premises if you wish.’
‘I shall. Then I must return to my post. God be with you, James.’
‘And with us all.’
Saltoun was waiting in the empty farmhouse, which had been stripped of its doors and furniture. There was neither table nor chair, nor even an upturned crate, but except where rain dripped through the hole made in the roof, at least it was dry. Laid out on a blanket on the floor were two bottles of claret, a loaf of bread and a small cut of beef. ‘I thought we would eat while we talk, James,’ said Saltoun. ‘I daresay you are hungry.’
‘Ravenous. As are my men. Fortunately, Wyndham acquired a little food from a trader and we found a pig in the cowshed.’
Saltoun cut a slice of beef with his bayonet and passed it to Macdonell. ‘Try that, James. No glasses, I fear. We’ll have to drink from the bottle.’
The beef was good and the wine better. ‘Excellent, Alexander,’ he said, raising his bottle in salute, ‘but I must be about my business very soon.’
‘Of course. And tomorrow will either of us be alive to finish our meal, I wonder? I am not entirely sure whether Wellington really thinks we can hold out or whether we are merely a diversion intended to lure troops away from the French centre. Either way, even with the Hanoverians and Nassauers we are no more than eight hundred or so.’
‘We are outnumbered everywhere, Alexander. The Duke will send reinforcements if he can spare them. He expects Blücher’s Prussians to arrive sometime tomorrow. Our task is to hold Hougoumont until they do.’
Saltoun tipped wine into his mouth. ‘To do that, some of us must stay alive. That is what will be difficult. The orchard is our weakest spot. I will hold it only as long as we are not in danger of being wiped out. There is no point in sacrificing men unnecessarily for the sake of it. We will withdraw when we have to.’
‘I agree. As long as we hold the garden and the house and farm, the frogs will not be able to attack the Duke’s right flank. That is his main concern.’
For a while they were silent, each alone with his own thoughts. Suddenly, Saltoun jumped up. ‘Frogs, always the frogs. Ever since the Normans arrived, it’s been the frogs. Now and again we fight the Spanish or the Dutch, even the American rebels or ourselves, but it doesn’t last long. We always go back to the frogs, damn them. Why?’