Kazralkree Questions? This is an unusual novel because it tells a story of the american revolution, primarily from the british perspective. Sam felt like a real Redcoat rather than an action-avatar. Cornwell and history go hand in hand. I never felt a huge connection to the characters but I still enjoyed their story. I have read all his Revolutionary War and Civil War related books and have been impressed every time I pick one of them up to read.
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He charged into the smoke of his gunfire and he saw one Redcoat lying in the doorway, another crawling into the night, and Sam had an impression of blood as though a man had been flensed alive by the screaming metal scraps, then he shoulder-charged the third man, sending him reeling, and leaped over the threshold. Caroline was with him. Sam knew that all was lost, that he was truly trapped, but the madness of battle was deafening him to reason and he whirled the empty gun as though he would fight a regiment before he would surrender.
Hold your fire! He was running hard, dragging Caroline with his broken right hand, sobbing with rage and pain, then Caroline twisted away, dragging Sam into the darkness of the shadows beyond the barn.
Suddenly Sam was cloaked by night and the rain was cool and blessed on his bloodied face. He stumbled, but Caroline pulled him onwards, and Sam realized that no one pursued them or shouted after them. They stopped at the treeline. Both were panting, but Sam heard Caroline say his name aloud, heard her say it again and again, and he held her close in the greying darkness where he could not tell whether the wetness on his face was his own blood, or the rain, or tears of joy because, with a whole army set against him, he had not failed.
Forty-Three The rain stopped. By full dawn the clouds were in ragged retreat from a blue sky in which the sun shone as sweetly as any man might have desired. The Meschianza was saved. The crowds gathered early to throng the wharves which had been hung with bunting that steamed dry in the warm sunlight. Other spectators took to river boats to watch the grand procession which, at half-past three on the afternoon of 18 May , launched the great event.
A larger pinnace carried the two Commanders-in-Chief beneath a gaudy silken awning. The Roebuck, a frigate which had spent the long cold winter in Philadelphia, fired a nineteen-gun salute as the pinnace passed, and the spectators cheered the gallant sight. Surely, the Loyalists reasoned, the British did not fear defeat if they could mount such a spectacle as this.
The French could come, yet this display of confidence suggested that, come what may, Philadelphia was safe. Seven young ladies, unmarried maidens all, were led to a pavilion which had been specially built on the north side of the lawn, and another seven were guided to an identical spired booth to the south.
The girls, chosen for their beauty, were the ladies of the knights this day. The maidens wore turbans edged with silver lace and hung with pearls and golden tassels. Veils hung from the turbans. Their white dresses, fashionably slashed to reveal silk petticoats, were encircled by sashes which each girl in turn presented to her chosen champion. Those champions, at full gallop and with plumes erect, came safely beneath the twin arches. Each of the fourteen knights was an officer, but never, even in an army that loved its uniforms, had officers been so gorgeously arrayed.
They wore doublets of white satin, sleeves slashed to show coloured silks beneath, and boots of silver leather. The Knights of the Burning Mountain challenged the Knights of the Silver Rose to a tourney to decide which pavilion held the most beautiful girls. Gauntlets were thrown down, lances raised, and the mock fight could begin. It was all such happy fun. The knights charged, tossed away their coloured lances, then hacked at each other with blunted swords.
The ladies gasped their admiration. The knights drew pistols charged only with powder and the small explosions reminded the spectators of the real war that waited on these diversions, but today the knights fought, not to contain the foul creed of republicanism, but for their ladies.
Sir William applauded the judicious decision, but his mind was far off. He blinked, then waved a dutiful hand at the bedecked garden. Ah, of course. Just so! Musicians played and guests danced. Sir William, standing beneath the proffered honour, chuckled. And the papers you found across the water? Hardly a treasonable document, I think? But in the search for it, Robert, Captain Vane was killed.
Sir William smiled in the darkness. There was no way of knowing what damage might have been caused by indiscriminate fire. Fireworks for my victories! How very nice. And Lizzie will be pleased. And well done, Robert. Well done. To congratulate ourselves? Chinese fountains spewed white fire to make the night seem like day. Twenty separate displays launched their dazzling flames into the darkness to astonish a city. Sam watched from across the river. Sometimes he stole glances at her face which, lit by the brilliance of the fireworks, seemed so very beautiful.
He felt tears in his eyes. His brother, whom he had loved, had never found his American paradise, and Jonathon, whom Sam had befriended, he now knew lay dead beneath this soil. But Sam lived and he must now live for both the dead men. He held one of her hands in his left hand. Their fingers intertwined. Sam understood what she was saying. Things like the Green Man.
Caroline looked at him. They had hidden in the woods all day. In the morning the soldiers had searched the Fisher farm, slaughtering the livestock for rations and taking away the precious stores from the barn.
The farm had been plundered for food, but the family was safe. Caleb and Anna were now with neighbours, waiting to make certain that the Redcoats would not return, while Sam sat with Caroline beside a dark river. Caroline leaned her head on his shoulder.
Somewhere where no one could find me. The night was riven with fire, and made beautiful by the falling sparks that hissed as they fell into the river. He paused, not because he feared to say the next words, but to savour the pleasure of uttering them.
There was no explanation for love, she thought, but only a fool would want one. Caroline said nothing. Their last exchanges, as stumbling as they may have sounded, were the declarations of love that would last their lifetimes, but Sam was a Redcoat, and she a rebel, and Sam had now hinted at the unasked question that lay between them.
She expected nothing more, for Sam was not like Jonathon who would have wanted to spin words around this moment. And where you are loved.
Because the Redcoat was free. The explosion which destroyed HMS Augusta is here brought forward by one day to coincide with the failure of the assaults on the river forts. Similarly the news of Saratoga reached Philadelphia a few days before those failed assaults, but it seemed apt to inflict all the bad news at once on Sir William.
I fetched General Charles Lee early to Philadelphia, then delayed his return to Valley Forge by one week so he could witness the aftermath of the action at the Crooked Billet. The rest are fictional. The British had troops in Philadelphia for only one more month after the Meschianza. The Loyalists fled, some to Canada, some to the islands, a few to Britain.
The occupation of the city had lasted a mere eight months. Redcoat is drawn from many sources, but I must acknowledge an extraordinary debt to John W.
The inaccuracies that remain are, of course, my own.
Redcoat by Bernard Cornwell - PDF free download eBook
He charged into the smoke of his gunfire and he saw one Redcoat lying in the doorway, another crawling into the night, and Sam had an impression of blood as though a man had been flensed alive by the screaming metal scraps, then he shoulder-charged the third man, sending him reeling, and leaped over the threshold. Caroline was with him. Sam knew that all was lost, that he was truly trapped, but the madness of battle was deafening him to reason and he whirled the empty gun as though he would fight a regiment before he would surrender. Hold your fire! He was running hard, dragging Caroline with his broken right hand, sobbing with rage and pain, then Caroline twisted away, dragging Sam into the darkness of the shadows beyond the barn. Suddenly Sam was cloaked by night and the rain was cool and blessed on his bloodied face.
BERNARD CORNWELL REDCOAT PDF
Shelves: fiction-historical Redcoat , an early Bernard Cornwell historical novel, is his ninth book; as of he has published over 60 historical novels. His mix of excellently-researched history and rip-roaring soap opera has made him among the most widely read and prolific authors. His range, from the Saxon Tale of the 10th century to the Sharpe Saga of the Napoleonic Wars, as well as many other stand-alone novels, draws fans in who, having read some offerings, are ready for more. Redcoat is about the British effort to quell the revolution in America, seen largely from a British viewpoint. Washington has won engagements with other British generals, but Howe has always defeated him. This left Philadelphia open to the British Army, which will arrive on September