OPORTO, 22nd May - The Seminary

"No, but 'less we get you sat down, you won't be havin' any more fun for a bit. You need to see a sawbones just as soon as we can find one. You won't be runnin' around for a while, I can tell you that much." He fired his last shot at the retreating French, and looked at his rifle. "Don't think I can load another shot till I get the girl cleaned out," he said.

He glanced at the door Pye indicated. "Looks like it'll be a good place to sort ourselves out, aye," he said. "C'mon, Joe, this way."

"Gabe, that's t' door the Frogs came from. We ought ter have it checked first before we let Joe in.. least in his state, .." He hesitated. "jus' ter be sure."

"Comin'," he said, managing to stumble forward toward the doorway. He would have to clean his own rifle soon too. But he wasn't sure they could manage that task out here.

But they'd all forgotten about the redcoats. They had noticed the sudden lack of support from the Riflemen and fallen back toward them. The redcoat corporal eyed Newbury uncertainly. "Yew lot arrigh'?"

"Well, you an' Jacklin check it out - I don't think I'm goin' to manage to load another round without I clean me rifle out first. Just... follow him an' do what he says." He looked at his mate. "Joe, you'll be all right. Just need to get you somewhere we can have a look at you."

He turned to the corporal. "We'll be with you in a mo. Just need to get rid of the worst of the foulin' in the rifles, Corp." He shrugged. "We'll piss down 'em if we have to."

Pye glanced at the Corporal then to Jacklin and nodded as the man stepped ahead of him. He glanced over his shoulder. They'd be needed in a jib, by the redcoats, to offer support. Of course! He entered the first room, which was empty but for a bloody stain on the floor, which ended quickly after a few steps further in. To their left was a staircase, to the right an empty room, cleared of much but broken furniture.

He glanced at the stairs and both men could hear a distinctive groan albeit stiffled, as of someone who was in pain.

Newbury kept a grimace off his face as he propped himself up against the wall for support. "Cheers, mate," he said to Cotton.

The redcoat corporal, to his surprise, grinned a little. "Feathers, gimme yer canteen. There's a lad. This oughta work better than piss. Yew can wet yer throats down some too."

Up the stairs there was a man or men that fired just as a shako appeared high enough to be seen. Jacklin lowered his shako and grinned. It had been lifted nice on the end of his rifle. Pye smiled. "..nice trick." He had no time for more as the man gave a signal that they would run up the stairs charging into the room.

They would've been loading their muskets, and they could only hope that there was noone that hadn't fired when the target presented itself. Left for Pye, right for Jacklin. They covered the ground, the room quickly. A wounded officer in the corner, by him a man that had fired, to his side another, who might've had his musket misfire. The man charged and Jacklin was quick to break a set of his teeth with the butt of his rifle, then drive the sword into his gut. The second man charged and was pulled over the stairs, till he fell, rolled and thudded down them, his head and neck hitting one at an unfortunate angle and force.

The officer watched the two men, and Jacklin aimed his rifle at him before he spoke:"...you're our prisoner now.."

Cotton grinned and took the offered canteen. "That'll do it for sure," he said. "We won't use it all up, promise." He quickly tipped some down the barrel of his rifle, swirling it around and tipping it out again, hopefully before the lock got wet.

"Can I borrow some of that?" Newbury asked, eyeing the canteen greedily. He had to get his own rifle cleared, so he could keep some semblance of usefulness.

Jacklin carried both rifles as the officer was aided down the stairs. He wasn't as badly injured as the blood stain indicated, though his shoulder had suffered and and the arm could not carry neither any weight nor weapon.

Soon enough they appeared at the door peering outside. "'Ey." Greeting the greencoats first, and more descretly the redcoats, second.

"'Course you can," Cotton said, handing the canteen over. "Think he meant it for you as well." He looked round as someone called them. "Hello. Looks like they've found summat."

The two riflemen, with the Frenchman between them, left the house to rejoin their fellow grasshoppers and redcoats. Jacklin looked at the canteen shared and glanced as his rifle, his own probably as fouled as that of the other two." If there's any left, I'm volunteering for some too."

Pye turned from the officer looking at Newbury and then up to Cotton and the redcoat corporal. Well Newbury looked not the better nor the worse, which in a way was good news. "Gabe, ..what now?" In the distance the sounds of shots and shouts continued.

"Thanks," Newbury said as he accepted the canteen, directing the comment both to Cotton and the redcoat corporal. He carefully poured some of the water down his rifle barrel, swished it around, then emptied it out onto the ground. He passed the canteen to Jacklin next, then checked his cartridge box. There were enough cartridges to last him a few more shots, then he'd be out. Damn.

"We can prolly press on a ways, 'fore we're out of rounds," he offered.

"May I?" Pye asked, watching as Jacklin poured some water down his barrel to clean it enough for use. Jacklin nodded and held the canteen to him, the youth taking his rifle as well. He poured some of the water in - very little left by then - and then slushed it around before pouring it out.

"So you can be coming with us, Joe?" Jacklin asked slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"Ain't much use to nobody sittin' around 'cause I took a little whack," Newbury said, forcing a measure of levity into his voice. He was feeling nominally better now that he was back on his feet. The initial pain from the blow had faded somewhat. Enough that he was ready to ignore it and keep moving.

"Well best we be going then. Help some o' them redcoats, before all the Frogs run out." Jacklin gave a nod to Newbury and a glance to the officer. Now that they had him, what to do with him. They couldn't just leave him behind. He could escape. But to take him with them would just be a damned burned. They ought to have left him up stairs earlier, all the trouble he was not worth but giving.

What Pye was concerned, he was ready. Rifle across his shoulder, his bayonet sword at his side.

Jacklin handed the canteen back to the redcoat called Feathers, who gave it a light shake, shrugged, then finished off the small bit of water that was left.

"Aye, better carry on," the redcoat corporal said. "At least 'til we finds the rest of the company."

That sounded good enough to Newbury. He had managed to reload his rifle, if a little awkwardly, and was feeling impatient to get moving again.

"Forward with you, Froggie."

The riflemen and redcoats began to advance, covering the ground that they've already fought for, passing bodies of dead men. There were a few wounded also reaching to them. French soldiers who might be better as prisoners of war, than wounded fugitives in the land of the Portuguese.

Pye glanced at their officer. He looked calm, composed enough though also with an air of pride and superiority. He glared at the boy and tilted his head so that he could look ahead. He was in pain, his arm bloody and so a part of his tunic, all thanks to Newbury's shot earlier. He muttered something in French.

Once he got moving, it was easier to stay moving. Newbury suppressed a grimace of pain as he hefted his rifle to the low-ready. They weren't likely to be out here alone for too much longer anyway. If there were already redcoats this close, there were bound to be more coming up behind them.

Cotton shrugged. He had no idea how he'd ended up in charge of their small detachment of Riflemen, nor what they were going to do with their prisoner, though there must be some central area where prisoners were being kept.

He wondered how the battle was going, and if they could get away from these redcoats to try to find their own company. Captain Vickery would have more of an idea what to do about their prisoner than he did.

"Anyone seen any other Rifles?" he asked, addressing anyone in earshot who could speak English.

While a few redcoats stepped forward to answer the question, having seen a glimpse of the riflemen, though whether they were the 95th or the 60th they hardly got to see well enough, the Frenchman turned to observe the rooftops. His men must've fled or been killed.

Pye watched the man carefully though he supposed that he would not attempt to flee, not when he was the only Frenchman close about, and he was not armed, possibly much safer in their hands that he would be running back through the occupied streets. He felt hungry. Odd as that may have been.

So there were other Riflemen somewhat close by. That was comforting. Newbury scanned the rooftops warily, not at all keen to have a repeat of the short fight they'd just come out of.

"D'you think there's any more of them Frogs on the roofs?" He asked.

"Ain't seen any. And it'd be a damn fool who'd go up there in the sort of weather we look like we're goin' to get," Cotton answered, indicating the heavy clouds gathering above them.

"I say we should look for the rest of the Comp'ny, an' see if we can't hand this gennelman over to someone," he continued. He didn't have enough cartridges left to carry on fighting for much longer without replenishing his pouch.

"Lets be going then. We cleared this street of them Hoppers here." Been said for both the riflemen and the redcoats.

The officer looked to have understood enough of the English though he uttered not a word in it. He stood there as if a man undecided where to go, with several guarding his exits. He did feel somewhat faint, but wished not to allow others to see it. No weakness to be shown to the enemy perhaps.

" Move on." He was nudged lightly and began to walk, the direction decided by his captives. Of them the redcoat's own seemed highest ranking though not even a proper officer. He glanced at the men that fought at his side and now lay dead then turned up to look ahead. More have fled.

Pye watched his uniform curiously, but didn't move forward to see it up close. He looked up to see that they were indeed going the direction that Cotton had indicated. His rifle was loaded again, though now his supply of ammunition too had been growing short.

Their street ended in a square which the redcoated men had cleared. Left and right it went, one narrower joining a much larger. It was the one that the main body of the army must've crossed through. The second, smaller as well, lead away from the centre. It was where the French must've attempted to flee into.

It was deserted now, while shouting and shot was heard from their right. Just as they were coming closer so they could see glimpses of the familiar uniform. Red, green and an occasional blue. A few redcoats had entered the road to challenge them, just to realise that they were on their side. They looked startled a moment, then turned and pushed back into the main street.

By the time they entered it the green were gone.

"Ey, 'ave yer seen where the rifles had gone?" Jacklin halted one of the men.

"Up ahead, left side, left turn. " Was a hurried answer not even sparing a glance at the four and the men beside them.

More redcoats, and then the report that there were other Riflemen not far away. Newbury glanced toward the redcoat corporal, who had brought up his men along behind them. Or at least the ones who were left after their fighting advance up the street.

"I hope they're our own lads," he grumbled.