Isaac had tied rags over his ears to protect him from the deafening blast of the cannon, but still had to cover his ears with his hands. BLAMM! Even Isaac, with his hulking mass, was blown a step backwards from the violent, concussive force of the explosion. Gray smoke blinded all three men manning the gun while the master gunner immediately ordered a reload. Two other explosions were heard from the belly of the Robin.
At the sound of the first volley, Captain Gibbons turned the ship's bow hard and started to make an expedient escape. Five Spanish cannon shots rang out in return. Crewmen of the Robin screamed as they picked up the hidden weapons from the deck and began firing. A gray fog hung between the two ships.
The Spanish privateers took two hits across the deck. One fantastic shot hit the poop deck and damaged the helm. The other shot missed the mast and just skimmed across the deck. One shot missed completely and another cannon never even fired because of damp powder. In return, the Robin took considerably more damage. One of the jib sails was ripped completely off. A hole was punched into the galley and one of the Quaker cannons on the deck was hit and had blown into the sea.
Men were firing muskets with little luck. Both sides missed just about everything they fired at. The battle scene grew quiet as both sides focused on reloading. The Robin turned away hard and the sloop did not turn to match its movements. The Spanish vessel’s steering wheel no longer worked and they were already drifting aimlessly.
Isaac frantically wormed and then swabbed the cannon so not to pour gunpowder down a smoldering barrel. Another gunner mate then hastily ladled powder down the barrel. Isaac then loaded the cannon with another ball and the gunner's mate rammed it into place. The master gunner repeated his last ritual and readied the fuse, aimed and lit the wick. He took careful aim this time, trying to time the rise and fall of both ships. The master gunner knew this would be his last chance from this cannon before the angle of attack changed too much. All three men covered their ears, closed their eyes and prayed for a direct hit. BLAMM! A deafening crack filled the compartment and the cannon blew backwards. A loud creaking and crash could be heard from the Spanish sloop. As the smoke cleared, Isaac could see the Spanish vessel’s mast hanging a kilter and wailing in the wind. "Fantastic shot! You shivered her timbers!” the gunner's mate yelled in excitement. "Huzzah! Huzzah!" The three men cheered wildly not believing the lucky shot they landed.
Up on deck, cheers from the Robin could be heard as they watched the sloop’s mast flail in the wind. The Robin now completed its turn, so only its stern was a target to the sloop as it made its hasty get away. The two ships exchanged cannon fire with not much avail. It seemed that both crews' gunners were very inaccurate. The Robin only took some minor damage to the railing as it fled away.
The Spanish vessel soon became a small shadow until finally it was swallowed by the horizon. The crew of the Robin was in a mad rush to make repairs. Captain Gibbons knew that he had to increase the distance between the Spanish privateers and themselves as fast as possible. He knew that the Spanish ship would already be rigging up a makeshift jolly mast out of the shattered one. Patrick and the master carpenter busily jumped to work patching the damaged galley. Sam Scurvy was covered with blood and had a large cooking fork sticking out of his shoulder from the cannon blast. He was ignoring the large fork and trying to clean his galley. Patrick summated that he was in battle shock and could not feel the pain of the skewer yet.
"Sam, don’t forget that pot in the corner there,” Patrick pointed.
As Sam Scurvy turned, Patrick made his move and yanked the fork free. With a tearing of flesh, a large splash of blood showered both of them. Sam Scurvy howled and then stared at the large fork in Patrick's hand and stated, “Arrr... Dat’s where dat fork be.”
Mr. McLain insisted that Patrick take Sam to the surgeon’s chest and clean the wound with spirits. As Patrick was treating Sam, Shamus crashed into the room.
“Curse ya two! Why aren’t yas lookin’ for Brian?” Shamus yelled.
“Who is Brian again?" Patrick questioned, "Where is he?”
“He be a gunner’s mate," Shamus belted back. "And if I bloody knew where he be, ya boil-brained boar-pig, I wouldn't be inquirin’! We tink he be blown into a drink when the Quaker cannon blew off."
“We will be there as soon as I finish defestering this lesion,” Patrick replied.
Shamus stormed out as noisily as he could with a string of Irish obscenities.
Brian would never be found as the days passed. The crew still kept looking long after the Robin was patched back up. Still uneasy from the battle with the Spanish privateers, the crew continued to nervously scan the horizon for days after the attack. A few days out in the open sea, the captain finally relaxed and turned his command back over to the quartermaster, Mr. Mandrik. They would not have to worry about pirates again until they closed in on Savannah.
Pirates of Savannah Trilogy: Book One, Sold in Savannah - Young Adult Action Adventure Historical Fiction Page 10
