OPORTO, 22nd May - The Seminary

"C'mon, Pye!" Jacklin called, appearing by the young Rifleman to help him prise his sword-bayonet loose. "Ain't time for playin' about!"

Pye's face brightened, few beads of sweat at his temple. "Right when this.." He began pulling at the damned sword.

It came free with Jacklin's help, the Frenchman's body rolling onto it's back with a sickening wet sound. "Thankye n' sorry!" He was ready to move ahead looking somewhat relieved.

"Pleasure, mate," Jacklin told him with a grin. "Now c'mon!"

"Comin', comin'!" Pye said quickly, a grin plastered on his face. He stepped over the dead body of the large Frog and avoided some rubble that lay at the other side of the door. A terrified cat bolted under the feet of the green coated men. How it had managed to last this long was a mystery, but it must've had enough.

Pye grinned at Jacklin adjusting his shako. Many of the French had been sent running while others were offering resistance thrusting their muskets, bayonets fixed, at the incoming flood of men.

There were some Frogs putting up a fight. Jacklin slammed his back against a wall, just shy of barging around the corner, as half a volley of shots stirred up sharp bits of stone from the street and wall.

"Determined buggers ain't they!" The Rifleman held his weapon out around the corner and fired nearly blind, then he cheered and went forward.

"Determined b' slow." He had nothing to complain about. His own loading of the rifle took its bloody time. He didn't yell as he came around the corner.

The sword was thrust forward at the men, of which neither had a musket ball in their midst yet ready. A small stone came free and a green coat cursed looking up. Another, deflected a blow, just inches from that man's face, cursing him and shoving the Frenchman back.

A man sat slumped on the ground. It was probably the one that Jacklin's ball felled. Lucky blind shot, or just good quick aiming, the man was there caughing some blood, a red stain of a wound spreading on his chest.

Pye ducked, thrust up and went to the side.

Jacklin cheered again when Pye came up to join him. The lad was learning well!

Pye grinned at Jacklin and joined in the cheer, albeit not as loud or certain on his side. He was adapting to it all though. Especially the rifles, and all in a good way.

"There!" He pointed ahead of them. "I think.. maybe a Frog officer gone there."

"Well, better not let him get away!" Jacklin grinned and headed in the direction that Pye had indicated.

The Frenchman was a real officer surrounded by four of his men who hadn't yet fled. Two of them were broader, one was a skinny rat faced man, with a face covered in scars. There was a cruel look on his face. But it wasn't he who wore the stripes of a sergeant. That was the man that stood closest to their officer and had a partially burnt face, with a few teeth missing. By the amount of blood seen on his lip, the latter must've been a recent injury.

Pye made sure he could keep up with Jacklin, jumping over a body that rolled in their way, and ducking under an elbow which wasn't really meant for either of them.

The officer and his men had backed into a narrower street, and behind them some soldiers were hesitant, not yet fleeing yet not in order any longer.

"At 'em!" Jacklin cried, momentarily regretting that he hadn't paused to reload after his last shot. There was nothing else for it, though. "C'mon, Pye. Charge!"

There were some redcoats close behind them, having apparently decided that the Riflemen were worth following. At least they weren't running into the enemy's teeth unsupported.

Pye charged without a moment of consideration or thought. He ran at the closest of the men, his rifle held to the side - perhaps fixing the bayonet sword would not have been such a bad idea either - and thrust forward with his other hand, holding the said weapon.

Behind them there were more men and infront of them some of the French had made up their mind. A ragged few muskets were shot not even aimed as the men began to hurry to fix their own bayonets to the ends of their firearms.

The French officer was shouting something which had a few of the further most soldiers advance in their direction, while a few were more assured to flee.

"Keep your firin' orders, lads!" The redcoat corporal was yelling. "First line, there! Second line, on me!"

Jacklin knocked one of the Frenchmen down and put his sword-bayonet through the man's chest. He hesitated before advancing, glancing back to see what the redcoats were up to. What he saw made him frown in confusion. They were setting up in a fighting order that made no sense to him, hurrying to reload their muskets where they were apparently scattered willy-nilly around the street.

The corporal was waving at his men. "Ready, lads! Remember, fire superiority! First line, fire!"

Pye instinctively ducked to the side. They were ahead of the redcoats that were firing at the French, what he could gather, and that was never a good thing.

Some Frenchmen fell under the line of fire, and there seemed to be a hurried loading of weapons of the ones surviving. Pye's sword bayonet slashed against a musket's underside of one Frog. He struck again and his attack was deflected, then his elbow came at the man's collar bone and his knee rode up to the man's thigh, not strong nor high enough to strike his groin. But it was enough to have his musket disoldged from his grip and then the man choked on his blood. Pye whirled around to look towards Jacklin, see if the man was alright and see what the redcoats meant to do as well.

Jacklin found himself grinning as the redcoats' volley cut down several Frogs. What he had brushed off as madness on the corporal's part didn't seem quite so mad anymore.

"Well done, lads!" He cheered.

The corporal flashed a powder-darkened grin at him. "Second line, covering fire! First line, fix bayonets!" He waited until the chorus of metallic clattering ended before adding, "First line! Up! Pick yer targets, boys, an' go get 'em!"

The Frenchmen were shouting something, the officer stood shielded by the few men, while others had not even tried to close ranks after the last salvo. instead they just lowered their muskets. Waited and as the order :"Feu." Came, they fired with a few shots coming sooner and few later than the main body.

The ragged volley knocked a couple redcoats down, but the others pressed their advance. As the corporal had ordered, the second line let go a volley to cover their mates, then they too were dragging out their bayonets and moving after them.

The corporal spat on the ground and yelled "First line, second line, break from yer orders! At 'em, boys, at 'em!"

It was a general charge now. Jacklin hurried to close up and join them. This was one determined group of redcoats.

"We'll have em! Watch t' officer, n'.. them.. that's the sergeant." Pye shouted towards Jacklin and then cheered with the redcoats. They were good and though the French were offering resistance he had all the faith in their side.

The French had fixed or been in the process of fixing their bayonets. Musket clashed against musket. Man bumped into man, shouts in french and those in English, the two lines collided fiercely.

"Get the officer first!" Jacklin shouted back, knocking a Frog into last week with his rifle butt. The redcoats were streaming past in a yelling, cheering rush, gleefully laying into their opponents.

On the other side of the mêlée, another greenjacket appeared from a side-street. Newbury had heard the sounds of combat and ran toward it, hoping it would not be over before he got there. Cotton was only a step behind him, or he had been the last Newbury had looked.

"Looks like they saved some for us," Newbury said cheerfully as he stretched his legs out to run against the Frenchmen's flank.

Cotton looked up from reloading to find that he didn't have a clue what was happening any more.

One thing seemed to be clear, though. The redcoats - he couldn't work out where they'd come from - were pushing the blue-coated Frogs back in a determined charge.

He let out a yell, and and joined in.

Jacklin spotted the two late arrivals and cheered. "Nice of you lads to show up!" He teased.

Newbury smirked at him. "Ain't our fault, you lads went off whatever way an' didn't say so!"

"Should've left directions, lads, we'd've bin here a mite earlier," Cotton said, his grin very white in his powder-smoke blackened face.

"Maybe next time," Jacklin said, taking advantage of the brief pause to reload his rifle.

Newbury was already forcing another cartridge down the barrel. "Where'd these redcoats come from?"

"Dunno." Jacklin shrugged. "But they're somethin' else, lads, I'll tell you! Sent them Frogs into a fright, nice an' smart-like."

Cotton had already loaded his rifle, and peered up into the sky. "I heared of bread comin' from Heaven," he said, "but I ain't never heared of soldiers droppin' from the sky. Clever of 'em to get here so quick-like."

The other two shrugged. Jacklin said, "Clever of 'em, sure. We oughta stick with them for a bit. They ain't done yet, I don't think!"

Follow redcoats? Newbury frowned at the idea, as odd as it sounded. Riflemen weren't supposed to follow redcoats.

The redcoat corporal was shouting at his men again. "First line! Reform! Second line, marshal the prisoners!"