Pender must have guessed what was in his mind from the look in his eye. ‘That’s all we could muster, Captain. The rest were swayed by Sutton.’
‘Sutton?’
‘Aye. He said that what happened to you was none of their concern. You worked them hard for a couple of square meals. It took more’n a bit of grub to get him courtin’ a row with Bartholomew.’
‘What the devil are you doing here?’
‘Mr James Ludlow’s instructions, your honour. He said, begging your pardon, that you were safe enough at sea, but that you was like a child ashore, and shouldn’t be let out of sight. He told me to keep an eye on you, an’ only to make my presence known if you seemed about to leave.’
Harry gave a rueful smile and silently thanked his brother. He looked round as his eyes lit on the surgeon, who was still being held up by Lubeck. ‘Fairbairn, are you all right?’
‘No, sir, I am not,’ the surgeon gasped, for the big German, not sure what was going on, still had him round the throat.
‘Gently, Lubeck.’ The blond giant looked at him, then let Fairbairn go. He dropped to his knees holding his throat, and Harry staggered over to help him to his feet.
‘The Principessa?’
Pender pointed to Lubeck. ‘This fellow took her out from the quayside after she’d finished loading stores. That’s why it took so long to get a rescue party together. She’s anchored outside the harbour.’
‘Do we have a boat, Pender?’
‘We do.’
‘Come, Mr Fairbairn. I fear that Ma Thomas’s inn is not a place you should return to.’
‘The cutter is moored near the Customs Fort,’ said Pender.
‘Let’s go.’ He led the way north along the quayside, stumbling as he ran, for Harry was on the verge of collapse. His head was throbbing, and each bite and scratch seemed to have a painful life of its own. Pender, who must have wondered at his condition, took him by the elbow to help him, and Harry turned to give his servant a smile. He saw the teeth flash in the moonlight, and that one sign that Pender was confident made him feel that the situation could be rectified.
They were in the boat, pulling hard out of the harbour with the first hint of dawn in the sky. Pender, now that he had time, was anxiously examining what he could see of Harry’s face.
‘I damn near missed you. When you went off in that sedan chair, I took my time, thinkin’ I knew where you was goin’. These alleys all look alike, specially in the dark. I got well lost. And then when I found that villa there was none of those hands outside like last time, it seemed that you set off back to the ship. I was just deciding to make my way back to the quay, when you came out.’
Harry leant over and touched Pender’s arm. ‘You saw them take me?’
‘Aye, though I heard more’n I saw. But there were too many to tackle, even though I had pistols. I stood as much chance of hittin’ you as them.’
Tired as he was, Harry was thinking of what he needed to do next. That he was going to kill Bartholomew he didn’t doubt, and everything else would take second place to that. How he was going to accomplish it was a mystery. He didn’t have enough men to attack Ma Thomas’s or Bartholomew’s boats, even if he could personally muster more than Pender and Lubeck had managed. If he waited until Bartholomew put to sea, he would be facing odds of five to one. Lightly crewed they might be, but with his four-pounder cannon it would be suicide to try and take them all on. If only he had those twelve-pounders sitting uselessly on the Dido. And what about those carronades?
‘Lubeck. Put the cutter about and head for the Dido.’
There was a moment’s pause while the German slowly translated this. Another while he considered it. Then he did as Harry asked.
‘Whatever for, Captain?’
‘We’re going to steal her, Pender.’
‘What, that useless tub?’
The boat lost some of its speed, as the rest of the men pulling on the oars exchanged looks and murmurs. They hadn’t signed up for this when he took them on as crew, and they’d already done more than their share. Harry felt that, as his rescuers, they were entitled to an explanation. But ingrained habit made him contrive an excuse. ‘Two ships are better than one, even a hulk like the Dido.’
They weren’t satisfied, for the cutter’s speed dropped even more. Harry cursed softly. ‘I’m going to take and destroy Bartholomew. If I have to fight them all, I intend to. But him I want more than anything. I can’t explain everything to you all right now, but I know I can do it. And I also know that he’s heading for a rendezvous with some prizes. I intend to take those as well, and since there will only be one ship’s crew, I dare say each share of the booty will amount to a tidy sum.’
His little speech hadn’t quite done the trick. Money excited them. Death didn’t. It was Pender who supplied the words that tipped the balance. ‘One thing at a time, lads. Let’s do as Captain Ludlow says for now, ’cause that looks easy. Then we can put our minds to the future in the light of day.’
The speed of the cutter increased immediately, and they sped towards the side of the Dido, racing past the other ships of Bartholomew’s little squadron. No one was awake as yet, and if they had a man on watch, he wasn’t paying much attention. Bartholomew hadn’t bothered to put anyone aboard to guard the ship. He knew, as did Harry’s boat crew, that it wasn’t worth stealing. It wallowed in the gentle well, creaking alarmingly, and smelling of tar and rotting timber.
Harry was first aboard, his energy restored by necessity. The others followed. The men who’d volunteered were the best of his new crew, and they ran quickly to carry out Harry’s whispered instructions. There would be no time for hauling up anchors, and Harry gave Lubeck an axe and told him to stand by to cut the cables. A scrap of canvas was all Harry needed at this point, and he called out to the men to let the main course fall.
The Dido strained on her anchors, with the sound of protesting wood coming from beneath Harry’s feet. He called to Pender to organise the sailors who’d come down from setting the sails. ‘Get some turpentine, some big wads of tow, and a couple of flints and tapers. Put two of them with axes to stand by on the stern anchor. As soon as Lubeck cuts through the bower, tell them to go to it. And fenders! We’ll need fenders. Use the capstan bars if you have to.’
Harry nodded to Lubeck, who stood by the bows. The German swung the axe with all his might. The noise seemed to thunder out across the whole harbour as the man hacked away. Ten times he swiped at the heavy cable before it parted. The Dido’s head swung round, and Lubeck ran down the deck to join the others hacking at the other, smaller, cable. It gave way with a loud crack and whistled into the water. The ship was clear, and Harry spun the wheel to take her out past the stern of the nearest of Bartholomew’s ships. He had to lessen the odds, and he intended to start that right now.
‘Lubeck, take the wheel.’ The German rushed to his side. ‘Steer me across the hawse of that polacre.’
‘That’s the Bella,’ a voice said. ‘Captain Freeman!’
A pity it wasn’t Bartholomew’s, but that couldn’t be helped. Harry grabbed a hefty bunch of tow and lashed it to a capstan bar, calling to the others to do the same. He then stove in the cask of turpentine that Pender had fetched from below. The tow was dipped in the turps, soaking it up. By the time that Lubeck had them close to the Bella, they had a dozen of these missiles ready.
Harry lit a taper with the flint, then a lantern. He knew he was taking a risk, for turpentine from the barrel had spilled all over the Dido’s deck. But it was risk he was prepared to accept with a ship he didn’t really want. As they sailed by the little flotilla, Harry lit the first bundle of tow. It flared up immediately. He stood like a Greek athlete with a javelin, aimed it at the Bella’s rigging, and threw. It caught in the mizzen shrouds. These, covered in tar, and dry as tinder in this climate, flared up. Pender and the others followed his example. Soon the ship was covered in pricks of light. As they sailed by the stern, they snagged through the anchor cable with
the Dido’s bows. Harry and Lubeck leapt out onto the bowsprit. Straddling it, they hacked at the Bella’s cable till it parted. Then it was fenders out to avoid the two ships colliding as the Dido drifted past the Bella’s sternlights. Harry threw his final missile through the open window of the main cabin.
He could hear the cries of panic, for sailors feared fire aboard their ships more than anything else. It would have pleased Harry greatly if one of his missiles had gone down the main hatchway and set the magazine alight, but that was asking too much. The Bella was nevertheless beginning to burn merrily, and in enough places to cause those trying to fight the fire a lot of trouble. Reduced to one anchor, the burning ship swung round on her single cable and crashed into its neighbour.
‘Whose ship’s that?’ he called out as he eased himself back onto the deck.
‘Frome’s. The Ariel.’
‘What’s Bartholomew’s ship called?’
One of his hands reeled off the names. ‘Daedalus. The others are Mercury, Captain Chittenden, and Cromer. That useless sod Pilton has her.’
He saw the flames licking their way out of the Bella’s main cabin. He must have landed his burning wad on some furnishings for it to ignite so quickly. It might not burn the ship to the waterline, for they’d likely put it out before that. But this polacre, damaged, would not sail with Bartholomew, reducing the odds by twenty per cent. Men from the Ariel were fending off the burning threat, ignoring the cries for help from their mates on the Bella.
‘Steer for the Principessa,’ he shouted to Lubeck. The Dido wallowed across the harbour, with Lubeck struggling to hold a course as it threatened to fall off with the leeway. Harry made his way to the small cabin.
‘Are you all right, Mr Fairbairn?’
The surgeon looked at him with his pale blue eyes. ‘Where’s Broadbridge?’
‘Dead, Mr Fairbairn. But I don’t have time now to tell you of the circumstances.’ The surgeon was still staring at him. ‘I was not the cause, sir, my word on it.’
‘Bartholomew?’
‘I don’t rightly know. But after what happened tonight, it certainly wouldn’t surprise me.’
Harry ran back on deck. ‘Lubeck, as we come alongside, I want you to go aboard the Principessa. All hands about ship and get her out to sea. I’ll need a dozen more men to sail this. That is if she doesn’t sink on us first. I doubt you’ll have much difficulty in catching us up.’
He turned to Pender and explained in English what he’d just told Lubeck in French. ‘Some of the crew might not like it, your honour.’
Harry turned back to the German. ‘Any signs of dissent from the crew, Lubeck, you have my permission to sling them over the side.’
The blond man grinned, his scarred face lighting up in the morning sky. The sun had yet to appear over the top of the mountains, leaving the port still in shadow. Harry looked back to where the Bella still blazed—it looked as though the crew were winning. He suddenly felt utterly exhausted, and he had to hold onto the bulwark to stay upright. Pender took his arm and led him towards the small cabin.
‘You’d better lay down now, Captain, afore you fall down.’
Fairbairn stood up as they entered. Harry flopped onto the cot, and the surgeon leant over him to examine the cuts, bites, and bruises that covered his face, shoulders and neck.
‘Barbaric,’ he said. ‘Fetch me some clean water and some cloths. If there are any spirits about fetch them too, we must clean up these wounds.’
Pender disappeared to search the ship. Harry passed out, and slept through Fairbairn’s ministrations, just as he slept through the arguments on the deck of the Principessa when the Dido came alongside. Lubeck threatened to throw a couple of the least willing over the side, but it was the moment when Pender floored Sutton that turned things, for he’d been the most vocal in his objections.
They got the Dido under way again, heading out for the open sea. The Principessa was up with them in no time, and the two ships headed out into deep water. The land dropped away behind them and they sailed on through the morning, at no great speed for their pace was set by the slower ship. Harry slept on, unaware that Fairbairn, having raided the sailmaker’s locker, was busy stitching him up. Pender, seeing the needle in the surgeon’s hands, was no happier to watch this being done to someone else, so he removed himself.
Harry woke just before noon. His throat was as dry as a bone, and when he tried to speak no sound emerged. Fairbairn must have heard something for he came into the cabin. He held a cup to Harry’s lips, letting him drink slowly.
‘We’re at sea?’
‘Yes. We lost sight of land about an hour ago.’
Harry started to sit up. ‘Is anyone in pursuit?’
The surgeon, his hands on the patient’s shoulders, shook his head. ‘You need to rest, Captain Ludlow. I have rarely seen anyone in such a state of collapse. You didn’t even move when I stitched the skin over your eye. There are others to take care of the ship.’
Harry pushed the surgeon’s feeble arms aside. ‘Rest? I’ve no time for that, Mr Fairbairn.’
As he moved to get out of the cot, all the aches and pains seemed to well up together. Forcing himself to sit up, Harry swung his feet onto the floor with a look of pain and ran his hands over his face and neck. He felt the stitches that Fairbairn had used, touching them gently.
‘Thank you. I must have been quite a sight.’
‘You were at that. In fact you still are.’ Fairbairn almost smiled. Funny how the attempt made him look sad.
‘I owe you my life,’ said Harry.
‘Had I known those fellows were about, I could have safely left you.’ Now he did look miserable, shaking his head slowly. ‘I didn’t mean to actually kill him, you know.’
Harry put his hand on the surgeon’s arm so as to pull himself to his feet. ‘It was no more than he deserved, sir. I wouldn’t give it a second’s thought.’
‘But then you’re not me, Captain Ludlow. My job is to save life, not take it.’
‘Then the slate is even, Fairbairn, for as I say, you saved mine.’
Harry made his way out of the cabin onto the sunlit deck. He looked over the rail and saw the Principessa sailing easy on the larboard quarter. If he needed anything to raise his spirits that was it. That and some sustenance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE TWO SHIPS were lashed together, with the pumps clanking away on the Dido to rid her of the water in her hull. They shifted most of her stores into the Principessa, especially the powder and shot. That had raised her slightly, but she was in such a state she was making water whilst stationary. Harry had been down in the hold to have a look at her knees and cross bracings. They were so rotten that he could poke his finger through the wood. It made what he proposed to do both a necessity and a pleasure.
Shifting the guns took till mid-afternoon. They struck the four-pounders down to the hold, replacing them with the Dido’s twelve-pounders, and located the four carronades amidships. Given the weight of metal proportionate to the Principessa’s hull, too many broadsides could damage the ship. But Harry had in mind a more staggered form of attack, never firing more than one carronade at a time. Yet he knew if he got close enough to Bartholomew he’d let the whole lot go and damn the consequences. Every time Harry conjured up that face in his mind his blood boiled and he had to divert himself with something physical to calm down.
Did Bartholomew and his fellow captains know about these guns? If not, he would have a distinct advantage, for the carronades, known as smashers, fired a large ball over a small distance. At the right range they were lethal to a ship the size of those he intended to engage. He would soon know by the way they behaved. His first priority was to weld his crew into a half-decent fighting machine. They cast off the Dido and let her drift away to leeward.
He was short of hands, but Bartholomew was shorter still; even distributing the hands from the Bella left him with fewer men per ship than Harry mustered on the Principessa. Each of the twelve-
pounders, nine feet long, required eight men to fire them. One side alone took up forty men, with five men each to man the two carronades, leaving precious few people to sail the ship, supply the guns with powder and shot, carry out emergency repairs, and remove the wounded. If Harry had been sailing fresh from home, he would have more than doubled the crew.
First he had them run the guns in and out and practise loading them. This allowed each man to become familiar with his team, and by moving men about Harry took what started as a farce and produced some semblance of order. The nimblest men were on the carronades, since he had one simple plan. To get close to his enemy, do as much damage with his cannon as possible, disable the others, then board and take Bartholomew’s ship.
Men get bored with pretense; they like to hear the sound of real gunfire. Harry obliged, letting them fire away as much as they pleased. With what he’d loaded himself, added to the large quantity of shot he’d taken out of the Dido, he had more than he could decently store. Only in the balls for the carronades did he need to show caution. But he’d put the best men on those, and they needed the least practice.
The guns roared out one at a time, and Harry watched the men as they reloaded, stepping in to advise them of ways to speed it up. Having done this with each gun he moved onto rolling broadsides. It was no good expecting people to manage this by sound, because in battle they wouldn’t hear any shouted orders. The gun captain had to time his fire to the man before him, with Harry or Lubeck giving the order for the first gun to fire its second shot.
The sea around the Principessa boiled as round after round was fired into it. Harry then made up a target on a raft so that they would have something to aim at. After a period of firing from a stationary position, he tried firing on the move. The men were now black from head to foot and smoke rolled over the ship as she bore down on the raft and fired. It wasn’t perfect, for the target still floated, but they had got close enough to satisfy him. Harry hove to, for it was time to make a speech.
Dying Trade Page 29
