James you keep the Alouette out of the slugging match with the frigates, your job is to use your agility to take the Xebecs out of the fight then, if you are able, harass the frigates and try to distract them.
The warning had arrived at midday having taken just a couple of hours to travel up the coast. le Bonne has set sail immediately and was heading South as fast as he could. They had sighted the Eagle and Ryan had made sure that he had gotten close enough that le Bonne would recognise his ship and the flag. Marty wanted him in no doubt about who he was facing.
le Bonne watched as the Eagle sped south and made a signal. Then, to his surprise, it turned west and headed away from the mainland.
“Ha! He knows when he is beaten, look at him run!” He gloated to his First Lieutenant.
“But Sir!” the lieutenant tried to interject as he sensed something wasn’t right, but all le Bonne was aware of was the Formidiable and Alouette making sail and beating around the headland, leaving the smoking port behind them.
“Go on! Run, you miserable dog! I am coming for you and this time it is I that has the advantage!” he shouted to the wind.
“Make all sail! We will catch them and send them to hell!”
His First protested that something wasn’t right again.
“Do as ordered! Or I will have you shot as a traitor!” le Bonne shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.
Marty was watching the approaching ships as they came up over the horizon. He wanted to keep the French in sight so there was no doubt they were following. He had removed his uniform coat and had the red version of their pirate flag flying from the mizzen. The challenge was made, there was no going back now.
Sam arrived, helped him into his weapons harness and put Blaez’s fighting collar on. The dog knew what was coming and was excited. He looked at Marty and gave an expectant bark/yip.
“Steady, boy,” Marty reassured him, “you will get your chance.”
le Bonne had a junior lieutenant calling out the range almost constantly. The poor man stood on the quarter deck measuring the angle to the top of the Formidiable’s main mast and working out the maths. As soon as he announced the result he was back on the sextant for the next measurement. When he announced they were at two thousand meters le Bonne ordered the chasers to fire.
The French only carried twelve-pound chasers, putting more value on the eighteen pounders in the main battery, so this was at extreme range to hope for a hit. But blast away they did in the hope of a bit of luck.
Marty saw the smoke and watched the black dots of the balls fall well wide.
“Keen, isn’t he,” he grinned at Ackermann, who laughed and shouted orders to bring them to quarters.
They were now sailing a little east of South and Marty increased sail to reduce the closing rate. He needed time when he sailed into the bay to anchor to set springs. Third Lieutenant Stamp and Midshipman Hart had the range measurement duties and were calling out the numbers every fifteen minutes.
He saw yet another puff of smoke from the lead French ship which looked like a forty. The other two frigates moved out into an echelon formation with the Xebecs in line astern behind the centre ship forming what he imagined was an arrowhead.
“Wolfgang, what do you make of that?” he asked his First.
“Odd Sir, I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”
“Do you think he is planning to engage us with the lead ship and get the others to try and flank us?”
“With the Xebecs going after the Alouette? Maybe.” Ackermann replied. Marty chuckled, that would only work if they were caught in open water.
They were flying the ‘enemy in sight’ signal, which Captain la Pierre had seen and was preparing his cannon. As the more experienced and senior he was in command of the battery on the hilly headland. The shot ovens were at full temperature and the shot was as he wanted it. All he needed now was for Marty to lead the French in, but when he saw the French ships come over the horizon, he was worried. Could they hold out long enough?
They approached the island, Marty looked through his telescope but couldn’t see the battery to start with. Are they ready? he thought worriedly.
“Smoke, Sir!” announced Hart, who was measuring the range to the island and had substituted a telescope for his sextant for a moment.
“Where?” Marty asked as calmly as he could.
“There, Sir, just above that big rock that sticks out like a pimple.” The boy replied.
Marty scanned along the coast until he saw it and then he picked up the faint haze of the smoke.
“Good! They’ve got the ovens going. Range to the island?”
“One- mile Sir.”
“Be ready Wolfgang, we will hit the lee of the island soon.”
The island was shaped like a crescent with a bay on the East side. The wind was coming from the Northwest so as soon as they rounded the headland, they would fall into the wind shadow.
Marty wanted the French in the bay between the land-based guns and his ship’s battery in that wind shadow. He didn’t want them to be able to easily set sail and get away. He steered his ship close to the headland and rounded into the bay. They had enough momentum to let her drift in under no sail until she was under the cliffs and drop the best bower anchor. A boat crew rowed out to pick up the buoyed cable attached to the stern anchor they had dropped when they had been landing the guns. It was a sandy bottom with good holding, and they could attach springs to swing the ship to allow then to bring their guns to bear as required.
The Alouette steered out to sea to give her room to fight a running battle.
“Signal from the Battery Sir.” Hart reported, “enemy in sight, engage more closely.”
“Guns ready, double shot loaded as ordered,” Ackermann reported.
“Get phase two underway,” Marty ordered.
le Bonne was puzzled. He saw the Formidiable and its escort round the headland but only the escort was visible as they reached the point, and they looked like they were running away.
When they cleared the headland, he saw the Formidiable in the bay with men all over the foremast as if they were frantically trying to repair damage. Yes! The fore topmast was being taken down!
“Reduce sail to fighting topsails. Order the Xebecs to destroy that corvette and steer us into the bay. We will anchor so we can bring the mains to bear and close off his exit!” he ordered, eyes fixed on the Formidiable and its cursed red flag.
“You cannot escape me!” he cried, “I have you now, you bastard!”
His three frigates swung into the bay and their sails started to flap as they entered the wind shadow, but he didn’t care, they had enough way on to get them into position. They were three cables away from the Formidiable and just starting to turn when she opened with a broadside.
Marty knew he had to get in a couple of good punches before the French ships got into position to use their broadsides. He targeted the forty-gun frigate and gave her the benefit of everything they had. Given the stable platform and close range his gunners could hardly miss. He had a faint hope the smoke might confuse their gunners as well.
Paul la Pierre waited until Marty let loose with his first broadside and ordered his guns to fire as soon as they could get the red-hot shot loaded.
He was pleased to see that the nearest ship to them, which was flying an Italian flag, take half a dozen hits, the others going wide or just missing. As the shot was coming down at an angle it was smashing through her deck and lodging inside her hull. Perfect for starting a fire.
He swore at the gunners to improve their aim and reload as fast as they could.
le Bonne cringed as the first broadside from the Formidiable smashed into his ship. Given the angle most hit forward, and his fore mast gave a nasty shudder as it was hit low down. However, the impacts pushed her bow around a little quicker and his guns started to fire as they bore. He swore at his men as he saw the shot going high.
“Do not aim for their rigging, you idiots, she isn’t goin
g anywhere!”
Marty heaved a sigh of relief; the French had wasted their first broadside firing high and the cliff took more punishment than the ship did. The Italian frigate on the left was catching it from the shore battery and didn’t seem to have understood where the fire had come from.
Then he heard the second French frigate open up. She had sailed around the big forty-gunner to get into position and had the benefit of being on the Formidiable’s quarter. She didn’t aim high. Shot crashed into the hull and caused the deck planking to jump, men screamed and died.
His gunners fired again and knew they had to keep up a steady three shots every two minutes until they were all dead and burning or Smith arrived, and the French were beaten.
James saw the Xebecs turn to give chase. They moved up so they were abeam of each other looking to catch him and put him between their broadsides.
“Time to test their seamanship Mr. Davidson,” he said to his midshipman, “wear us around to reverse course and steer right for the middle of them.”
James had studied every crazy manoeuvre that Marty had ever pulled in ship to ship combat and he was relishing the chance to pull one himself now.
The bow came around and they were soon going head on at the two ships.
“Ready to tack!” he called, “guns aim for her bow!”
If this works …. he thought as he measured the distance to the Italian ships. Three cables, two, one and a half,
“Larboard tack! Fire as you bear!”
The Alouette pirouetted through the wind right across the bows of the Xebec to larboard. Her carronades roared one after the other until all fourteen of her starboard battery had fired.
The bow of the Xebec shattered under the onslaught of one hundred and twenty-six, four-pound balls delivering five hundred and four pounds of iron. Her captain panicked and swung his wheel to larboard causing the other Xebec to have to veer away. He was doomed, his bow was shot to pieces and his foremast crashed over the side in a tangle of rigging.
James tacked back to starboard to bring them broadside to broadside to finish them off. To give the Italians their due they did get some shots off, but they were largely ineffective. The broadside from the Alouette was divided between round shot and smashers every other gun, an innovation James had thought up. The Xebec’s side grew huge holes at her waterline and star shaped holes along her side. She was sinking and her flag came down.
The second Xebec seeing what had become of her sister ship decided discretion was better than valour and made off with the wind on her stern.
James ignored them both and ordered the helmsman to sail for the bay, he had to help Marty.
The Italian frigate was out of the fight, Paul’s guns had pounded her, and she was burning, but to his dismay the guns had overheated forcing them to cease fire. He had to let them cool down before he could help with the French frigates.
Marty knew he was losing the battle of attrition. They were doing damage to the forty-gunner, but she was still firing, and the other frigate was pounding him at will. All he could do was serve him with his stern carronades but that wasn’t enough no matter how big they were. They were still floating but a third of his main battery was out of action and the list of wounded and dead was long and getting longer. He had picked up a splinter in the thigh, which, though painful, wasn’t life threatening, yet. It was getting desperate! Then the mainmast snapped about halfway up and, thankfully, fell to the landward side. It must have taken a direct hit further up and snapped where it had been damaged earlier. They were shooting him to pieces!
Paul was frantic and even had the men piss on the barrels to try and cool them. In the end, he ordered the guns loaded with cold shot, it would still be dangerous but not as much as with hot shot.
“Target that frigate and don’t miss!” he ordered as he ran up the battery cajoling the men to work faster. Frasier was sat off to one side his leg broken when he had gotten too close to a recoiling gun, but he too was shouting encouragement and refused to lie down.
The guns roared and kicked so hard they jumped off the ground and when the smoke cleared, he could see that they had scored but the frigate was still firing. Two guns had turned on their side and the rest would have to be man handled back into position. It was taking too long!
Eventually the men were able to sponge out, carefully, steam from the red-hot barrels curling into the air. They were in danger of the charges going off as they rammed them home and they knew it.
“SIR! SAILS!” a lookout cried pointing to the Northwest.
He grabbed a telescope and looked at the approaching ships. It was Smith and he had every stich of sail he could set on the big sixty-four. She was a fast ship and was flying. The sixty-fours could give a frigate a run for her money with their long hulls making them hydrodynamically efficient, her consorts including the Eagle were spread out behind her.
Another fifteen to twenty minutes and they would be there but could the Formidiable hold out!
James could see the Italian frigate was well ablaze, so he was steering towards the French thirty-eight to try and distract her from the fight. He drove his ship mercilessly and fired his first broadside at three cables range. As the smoke cleared, he could see that they were opening the gun ports facing him. “For what we are about to receive!” he said to the helmsman and shouted, .
“Everybody down!”
Marty saw the men on the smaller frigate rushing to their seaward battery and could see the Alouette getting into firing position. Having to face only the bigger ship’s guns bought him time but wouldn’t change the long-term outcome. He looked around the deck and knew at some point soon he would have to save what men he could. He was thinking when to give the order to abandon ship when midshipman Hart, who had a bandage around his head, cried,
“Signal from the Battery! Engage the enemy more closely!”
“What the hell?” Marty wondered and then. Then it struck him, Smith must be here!
“Keep firing you bandits! We offered no quarter and we can still finish that French bastard off! Smith is coming!” There was a ragged cheer and the gunners went back to work.
It took another fifteen minutes for the Pompée to round the headland her guns roaring as she served the French a full broadside. It was hurried and most of the shot missed but it served to distract the French. The gun crews were well schooled, and a second more accurate broadside soon followed. By this time the Formidiable was more wreck than ship, down to half her guns still operational. The Eagle and the rest of Smith’s ships targeted the second Frigate in support of the Alouette. It would soon be over.
Except for one thing.
Marty took a boat manned by the shadows across to the now quiet frigate and climbed the side. Sam carried Blaez on his shoulders as he refused to stay behind. Marty limped, Shelby had taken out the splinter and bandaged the wound, but it still hurt.
He walked to the quarter deck and as he got to the steps signalled his men to stay back. Matai held on to Blaez’s collar and the dog whined anxiously.
“le Bonne,” he greeted the one-armed man standing holding a sword in front of the wheel.
“Captain Stockley, you have come to gloat?”
“No, gloating is the pastime of fools,” he responded. “I have come to kill you.”
“Really? Doesn’t that go against your gentleman’s code of conduct? We have struck.”
“You are still holding a sword and you are mistaken if you think I am a gentleman. I have declared vendetta and there is only one possible outcome to that.”
“One of us must die!” le Bonne shouted and lunged forward with his sword hoping to surprise Marty before he could draw his.
Marty drew his knife and parried the blade with his left hand then flipped the knife to his right, dropping into a knife fighter’s stance. Knees bent, weight on the balls of his feet, shoulders over his toes. The knife held blade down pointing forward. His wounded leg dragged a little and hampered his movement. There would be no fa
ncy footwork in this duel.
“What, no sword?” le Bonne sneered.
“I won’t foul its blade on a dog,” Marty replied with a grin.
That grin! le Bonne remembered it as Marty had tossed the hissing grenades into the centre of the room. He exploded in rage and threw himself forward, slashing down at Marty’s neck with all his strength.
Marty stepped forward inside the swing and came up against le Bonne chest to chest. From a distance it looked like he was holding him in a lover’s hug as he was looking directly into his eyes, which were wide, his mouth open in a silent scream. He was vaguely aware of Blaez barking and a shriek of pain in the background.
He continued to hold him, looking into le Bonne’s eyes, as he twisted the knife that was embedded in his gut until the edge was uppermost. Then ripped it up through his heart.
Le Bonne’s eyes rolled up and dimmed as his last breath rattled in his throat. Marty held him for a while longer until he was sure he was dead then dropped him to the deck. He leant over, using the dead man’s coattail to clean his blade before sheathing it.
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” a voice said from behind him.
He turned to see Sir Sidney stood at the top of the quarterdeck steps.
Marty grinned at him then looked down at le Bonne, and said,
“I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.”
He looked for Blaez and saw that he stood beside two of his men who were holding the French first lieutenant between them. His arm was torn and bleeding and there was a pistol lying at his feet.
Vendetta: The Dorset Boy - Book 6 Page 17
