29th May, night; Patrolling

Following Perkin's lead Hagman moved through the enemy as best he could. He still hadn't found time to reload so he had to use his knife to get the Frogs out of the way. They were surrounded by pure chaos now. Horses with or without riders sped in all directions, Frenchmen shouting warnings or orders - he never could tell - and men were falling around them. And now there was shooting coming from behind them too. That meant the redcoats had arrived but it also meant more bullets looking for targets.
Dan was trying not to lose Ben and at the same time make out the dark of another rifleman's uniform in all that commotion. He prayed they would find Sam soon enough.

Perkins saw a rider fall, cut down by their own red coated side. The horse reared as its rider dropped close to its front feet. Its eyes showed a great deal of white, ears flattened against the animal's head, and nostrils flared in fear. The horse stomped its feet, turned left, but came in contact with more, fast moving shadows. Turned to bolt right, but it was just at that moment that a man rose up and fired. It backed then with a sudden bolt of bravery, or perhaps another mound of fear, it ran in the direction of the red coated men.

"Sam!" Perkins called out, as he climbed over a few of the dead and dying bodies, piled on top of each other. A ball whizzed past, almost too close. He still could not see him, and in a moment he was too busy too. A mounted pair of men spotted the two and chose to be rid of them whilst having a chance. Other men though seemed to have noted the greater danger of the red coated menaces, and began to advance in their direction. The scuffle was becoming more and more chaotic.

Someone was shouting for him. Mayden staggered over the unexpected obstacle of a dead Frog and moved toward the voice. He could see the blobs of white beyond them and knew the redcoats had come to steal some of the fight for themselves.

"Those bastards!" His footing slipped but he kept his balance and ducked around a cantering horse on his way back toward where he last knew his fellow Riflemen to be.

"Rally square! Rally square!" Too close. Those horses were far too damn close! "Rally! Rally! Rally!" He kept shouting even as Cavender put his bugle to his lips to blow the call - he didn't know if the redcoats knew the bugle call or not, and they needed to get into the rally square too. "Fix swords! Rally! Rally! Rally!"

The Riflemen were beginning to respond, clumping together around him, dragging out their swords and slotting them onto the muzzles of their rifles.

He heard Cavender blow his bugle , the call carrying further than Vickery's voice could. Their captain's voice though could still be given credit, for it was any ounce as loud as very few could be. Pye had been about to reload his rifle, when the call came and glanced at Cotton briefly to see what he'd do.

His hand reached for his sword bayonet as he stepped backward. Automatic though it was, upon the hearing of the captain's order, he still felt the longer sword to be much more awkward in handling than the bayonet he was used to. But it was fixed. Good. He stepped back a couple of paces, towards the formation that was quickly taking its shape and taking his place, stopped.

Cotton slotted his heavy sword bayonet onto the muzzle of his rifle and reached for Pye's collar to pull him into place as the Riflemen ran into the rally square, grabbing stray redcoats as they went, to pull them into the ragged rally square. It wasn't an exact thing, unlike the regimental squares of the Line regiments, but it was safe protection against cavalry - if only they were in time!

Pye stumbled a little before he shifted dutifully into position. "Thanks." He uttered in haste, shifting his rifle to the front, blade up. "They're comin'?" Forming a square could mean only one thing. He looked for horses.

Hell's teeth, Burr thought when he heard the hurried notes of the bugle. The rest of the patrol was moving into action too. Some of those damned Frogs had gotten past them.

"Lights!" Despite their precarious situation, he did not shout. "Square! Form square."

But what about the Riflemen they had been sent to assist? Burr stared down at the ever-shifting mass of shadows and bit his lip. There was an officer with that lot, or at least there had been one when they were sent out. For all he knew now, that officer had been cut down. But then again, they would all be put to the sword if this wild melee carried on much longer.

He was probably going to regret this, he thought, and he finally raised his voice. "Rifles! 95th! Form on us!" Then, falling back again to his usual gruff tone, "Break and receive 'em when they come, you lads."

There wasn't the barest shiver from his men to suggest unease at this dangerous order, which was good. He had some right steady lads in this lot. Now if those Riflemen could prove their own steadiness.

Bloody hell. Who was that damn fool confusing his men?

"Get into rally square damn you!" Sharpe bellowed, not particularly caring which group his men ended up in, so long as they ended up somewhere they could turn at bay and face down those bastard cavalry. Vickery had the right idea, at least, and his men seemed to be grabbing redcoats and dragging them along into their rough square that suddenly bristled with swords and bayonets.

If they could all get into one big group, it'd be easier to know what was going on, but it seemed that was not to be.

"Fix swords!" he bellowed. His own sword was already out of his scabbard and his rifle was slung over his back. He pushed between two soldiers, uncaring that his sword didn't have the reach of their bayonet-tipped muskets.

The bugle call confused the spread-out men of his company. Blackwood himself was not fully certain what those notes meant, but the movement of Vickery's Riflemen told him what the call did not.

"Light Company!" He cried, grateful to the greenjackets for dragging his men into the necessary formation. "Into square! Form with the Rifles!"

Down below them, Burr's little force was making its own movement to close ranks. Man-shaped shadows were shifting quickly into recognisable shapes, as a couple swifter-footed greenjackets sought the safety of the already-formed redcoat square. The square that opened to receive them. What the hell was Burr doing?

Hagman tried not to lose orientation with the hell of confusion that reigned the place now. Perkins was still by his side but they hadn't managed to make out Sam yet. The lad must be way into enemy lines, he thought as he realised that he and Ben were quite some paces away from the others as well, judging by the distant shouting.
"Ben" he called over his shoulder "we need ta go back. 'Tis a bloody inferno here." He did not want to leave Sam but as they had no idea where he was it would be suicide to stay where they were.

"Dan!" Mayden tripped over a dead Frog, but he knew where his mates were now. The bugle had blared in the distance, calling the Rifles to fall into rally square. The Frog cavalry must be forming up to present a real threat.

"Where's the square?"

He was just about to turn around and drag Perkins along to where he reckoned the others to be when he found himself almost collide with Mayden.
"Sam!" he exclaimed and reached for the lad, grabbing him by the jacket and already heading away from the French.
"Move!" he urges him and Ben on. "Took ya damned time, lad" he mutters though more as a reflex than meant as a genuine reproach. All he can think of at the moment is to get the two lads and himself back where he hopes some officer has already formed a square.

Mayden let Dan haul him along without protest. "I was havin' tea with some Frogs," he said by way of explanation. He had a solid grip on his rifle, however, and managed to present a formidable threat to the French horsemen all around them.

Perkins turned to take a last look at the French, wishing he spotted Mayden among them. It was then, almost by chance, that he heard Sam call back. It took barely a few moments before he saw him being hauled by Dan and couldn't help but grin. Sam was alright and coming with them. He chuckled. "Sam, you saved nay for us?"

Back to serious then. They needed to get to the square ahead of them. Whether it was made of the 95th, the 60th or even the redcoats.

"No tea, sorry," Mayden answered curtly. "Might ask the next Frog comin' by if he's got any, though!"

"Mayden! Is that you muckin' around over there?" It certainly sounded like him, Sharpe thought sourly. "Who's that wi' you? Get in bloody square!"

He was out of the square himself now, which was a stupid thing to do. Only he didn't know where Hagman was, and he'd be damned if he lost his best shot to bloody cavalry in the dark.

"Don't be dawdlin' there," Burr snapped at a greenjacket as he reached out to drag the man bodily into the little square. The cavalry was scattering around them, driven away by the outward-pointing bayonets. They couldn't risk breaking their ranks for any more late-arriving Riflemen, however. Not anymore. One lucky Frog had nearly broken through, but the swift application of a bayonet to the horse's chest had stopped that cold.

Burr jerked the ramrod back out of the barrel and shoved it down into its tubes. "Aim high, boys what's firin'. Knock 'em outta their saddles." He lifted his musket to his shoulder and tracked one fast-moving Frog trooper. Lead him just a bit and... fire.

Now where, he thought as he charged his bayonet outward to help ward off an abortive charge, where the rest of those damned Riflemen they'd been sent to help?

"It's me, sir!" Mayden gasped, staggering back to his feet again after being knocked over by the wild flailing hooves of a dying horse. "It's Perkins and Hagman here too."

But where, he wanted desperately to know, was the rally square? Over there, maybe, where there was a semi-concentration of musketry rippling out? If so... what was Mister Sharpe doing away from it?

"We're here." Perkins moved after Mayden and with Hagman. Here, but far from safe. The cavalry was there, willing to slay as many of those not yet in their squares, and then to retreat, to see them slain by a greater force, bunched up as they were.

"Fire into 'em!" Blackwood cried, picking up a musket from a dead redcoat's hands. "Push 'em back!"

The musket had been fired and so needed reloading. Blackwood stooped quickly and pulled off the cartridge box, crossbelt and all. It was easy work to load the firelock then, once he had the crossbelt slung from his shoulder.

A ragged volley of musketry flashed out into the night, the muzzle flashes providing short-lived illumination. The French horsemen were withdrawing, most likely to regroup. They'd organise, then come at the tiny squares in force. Blackwood took aim at a large retreating shadow and fired.

They were too small a square to permit him to stand within it and do nothing, after all.

Burke had been rather bodily placed in the square earlier on, and was in the rhythm of loading and firing. He had seen more than one cavalry soldier fall from their saddle following the crack of his rifle, but it did not seem to be entirely enough. They were a small square, and there were a great number of horses charging at them - or so it seemed.

He paused to wipe sweat from his eyes, and had a vague glimpse in the dark and chaos of Hagman, Perkins and Mayden struggling their way through the fight. It did not even look as though they were headed in the right direction!

"Oi!" he shouted, hoping to be heard above the musket and rifle fire around him. "Dan! O'er here, lads!"

"Get back to t' bloody square, Mayden," Sharpe said, and realised that the Rifleman was none too steady on his feet. He took hold of the man's arm around the bicep to keep him more or less upright. "Here."

He pushed his way between two startled redcoats, turning to keep his sword, heavy thought it was, outstretched towards the threatening cavalry. "Bugger it," he said, changing his mind. He slid the sword back into the scabbard and began reloading his rifle again.

To tell the truth, Mayden had no objections to being hauled roughly after his officer. Not that doing so was sensible in the circumstances. He simply kept a grip on his rifle and followed along.

At least he was in the square, and hopefully so were Perkins and Hagman. Mayden turned to face outward, starting automatically to reload his rifle. Now that he was part of the square he had to help make it lethal.

They couldn't stay here. There wasn't enough of them to stand against a prolonged attack. Burr hauled back a wounded man and glanced up toward where the company had likewise fallen into square. How to rejoin them, though?

"Shoot their horses!" Burr ordered, seeing no other way to eliminate the threat posed by the hussars. Without horses, cavalrymen were no better than infantry. And infantry was something Burr knew very well how to deal with.