BOOM BOOM B-BOOM
Fountains of spray over the deck.
'They have got our range now, God damn and blast them, the villains. Cheerly now, lads! Let us get clear of these damned guns, and break for the open sea!'
'What a pity hhh it is a clear dawn hhh and not a grey and gloomy one ...' James, heaving at a fall.
And now came a sound even more chilling than the crash of guns. Rennie had sent a man into the main crosstrees as his sole lookout, and now that man called:
'Two ships in pursu-u-u-uit! One mile astern of us!'
Rennie abandoned his position at the halyard, snatched up a glass as he ran aft, and focused from the tafferel. Silhouetted to the east against the fiery ingot of the rising sun, the masts and sails of two ships of war. Frigates.
'Christ's blood ...' Whispered. 'How have they repaired so soon? I thought I had damn near crippled them, as they near crippled me.'
BOOM BOOM BOOM B-BOOM
Roundshot whirred past Expedient, and flung up spray to larboard. The creaking and straining of yards, rigging and timbers as the ship heeled with the lifting wind on the larboard tack, heeled and pitched in the swirling suck of the tide, and ran west under her canvas towers.
Rennie jumped up into the mizzen shrouds, careless of his safety, and focused his glass ahead. Ten miles to the open sea. Hooking an arm through a shroud he swung round and peered at the following ships. Were they gaining? By God, they were. Soon they would begin to fire chasers, and attempt to smash his rudder. His already damaged rudder, that was hanging on its pintles by mere good luck. One accurate shot with a long nine and the ball would render Expedient helpless. He would have to devise a defence. A defence that would allow him time to reach the open sea – say an hour.
'The best defence is to attack, ain't it?' In his head. 'Can I attack while I am running away?'
He jumped down on his quarterdeck, and clamped the glass under his arm. He paced and paced, back and forth across the deck, head down, as his ship heeled and groaned and quivered under him like a frightened animal. Presently, to the helmsman as he went forrard past him:
'Just so, Whittle, hold her just so.'
To James, who now stood at the breast-rail, his crewing work done:
'Mr Hayter, a word with you, if y'please.'
James came aft, and Rennie beckoned him close. 'I have a notion to fire a carronade, James.'
James glanced astern. 'But they are far out of range of our carronades, sir ...'
'They are gaining rapid, though.' Taking his arm and guiding James to the lee rail. 'They are gaining, but we cannot turn and face them.'
'Then how can we—'
'Listen, now. If we was to take a carronade off the gunport, right out of its breeching rope, and fix it on the deck just about – there – at the tafferel, how high could you elevate its aim?'
'Well, sir, not overly high. You mean – to fire it through one of the chase ports?'
'Nay, I do not. You will secure it with tackle rings, but the essence of it is – hammocks.'
'Hammocks ... ?'
'Hammocks filled with sand, several of them together, placed under the carronade carriage and elevating the muzzle to fire in a high trajectory at those damned ships in pursuit.'
'Firing roundshot, sir? Thirty-two-pound roundshot?'
'No, no, no.' Impatiently. 'A mortar bomb, James. A lethal projectile that will fall on one of those frigates and cripple her, and deter the other.'
'We don't possess such bombs in the ship, I fear.' Shaking his head.
'No, but we can make one, or even two. Mr Storey has got in his stores four-pound grenades, has he not?'
'I think so, yes.' Beginning to see. 'Yes, I'm sure of it.'
'Very good. I want him to make me a stick of them, bound together in a sleeve of canvas and tied up with stout chain, the topmost grenade to have a long fuse.'
'Yes, I see, yes. A stick of say half a dozen, placed in the elevated carronade, and fired in a high arc.'
'Exact. To fall on the leading frigate, at her fo'c's'le, and explode with lethal effect.'
'Shall I send for Mr Storey, sir?'
'No, James, you will set about placing the carronade as I described. I will speak to Storey myself.'
One glass by the bell, and the preparations in hand. Expedient now clear of the fort, but the two pursuing ships appreciably nearer, the sun climbing in a great dazzle above them.
A droning whine and a spew of spray to larboard. Then a distant
THUMP
The action had begun.
The 'bomb' carronade was in position, secured by a system of fore-and-aft and thwartwise tackles to rings in the deck and the tafferel, and supported by a mound of sand-filled hammocks – clewed and tied off – to give the muzzle extreme elevation, exactly like a mortar.
The frigates, one slightly astern and to larboard of the other, had each commenced firing bow chasers in a steady rhythm. Each pairing of nine-pounder shots came closer to striking Expedient, sending fans of spray over her decks as they struck the sea. When the frigates had overhauled Expedient to within a quarter of a mile, Rennie ordered the first of the grenade-bombs loaded. Mr Storey had supervised the entire procedure himself, and had made three bombs in all. He had calculated everything – the height, parabola, distance, and timing required for the fuse. Now he stood by the carronade to fire it, waiting for Richard Abey to give the direct command.
Richard Abey lifted his hand high. 'On my signal ...' And dropped his arm.
BOOM
A fluttering whine as the bomb flew up in a rush of smoke and flame and fragments of wad, tumbled end over end in a blur, higher and higher and smaller and smaller, then dropped, trailing a corkscrew of smoke. The bomb fell out of sight, and for a moment Rennie believed it had fallen into the sea. Then there was a series of flashes at the bow of the leading frigate, her bowsprit flew to pieces, and the forestay snaked up in a great flailing curl.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-BANG BANG-BANG
A moment of quiet, then the frigate's foremast shuddered, tipped and went by the board. She lost way at once, slewed in a half-turn and began to burn. Sails caught fire on the fallen mast, and soon the whole head of the ship was enveloped in fiery smoke.
On Expedient's quarterdeck the carronade had slewed to one side with the force of the discharge, and one of the hammocks had burst, spilling sand over the planking.
'Re-lo-o-oad!' Richard Abey.
Mr Storey and the carronade crew, aided by seamen of the afterguard, righted the carronade, and another grenade-bomb was loaded. Mr Storey aimed the squat gun as accurately as he could, and stood by.
'Wait ...' Rennie, his glass focused on the second frigate, which had now tacked to larboard and was preparing to fire her starboard battery of guns.
'Wait ... very well, Mr Abey.'
'On my signal ...' And Richard Abey dropped his arm.
BOOM
The second bomb flew up, tumbling and spitting fuse smoke, reached its zenith against the dawn, and began to fall. A flickering flash, and the bomb exploded in mid-air. The cracking thuds of the multiple explosion. The sea stitched ragged all round the second frigate. Clouds of smoke drifting high on the wind.
'Bugger the poxy thing!' Mr Storey. 'The fuse burned too quick!'
'Wait ...' Rennie watched through his glass. Presently: 'Your bomb was not wasted, Mr Storey. The grenades bursting above the ship have done great injury to the men on her deck. They meant to fire a broadside at us, but they've been interrupted in that purpose.' He lowered the glass.
'Shall I load the last bomb, sir?'
'Nay, Mr Storey, thankee. Your work is done for today, and very well done, too. Neither frigate will wish to pursue us now. They have had a nasty taste of Hades, and it has discommoded them.'
'Very good, sir.' Touching his hat.
'Mr Hayter.'
'Sir?'
'We shall replace the carronade at the gunport, if y'please, and rerig the breeching ropes. Thankee a
gain, Mr Storey, there is no need for you to oversee the work. Y'may go below.'
'You wish me to take the last bomb with me, sir?'
'Indeed, Mr Storey, take it with you, and keep it as a curiosity, hey?'
A glass. Another glass. And now Expedient was clear of Brest and the immediate coast. She had left the frigates behind and was heading into the Atlantic. Rennie had inspected his ship, and thought that she could limp home to England safe enough. He went aft to his quarterdeck in a relatively buoyant frame of mind.
'Mr Hayter.'
'Sir?' James, dressed now in a version of his favourite working rig, with a kerchief tied round his head. He wiped his hands on a scrap of cloth. He was very dirty, having been deep into the cable tier at the boatswain's request.
'What d'y'say to breakfast?' Thinking that his lieutenant looked like the worst sort of ruffian in a gin-and-sawdust drinking den.
'I should welcome it, sir, indeed.' He balled up the filthy cloth and threw it over the lee rail.
'Then let us eat it together, hey?'
'I'll just wash my face and shift into my coat—'
'Never mind, never mind.' Magnanimously. 'I don't care how you look, my dear James, when we have beat the French at sea, and will not be troubled by them any more.'
But Captain Rennie had spoken too soon.
*
Expedient at sea, west of Ushant, at 5 degrees and 29 minutes west, 49 degrees and 29 minutes north, the wind from the south-west. At four bells of the afternoon watch the ship preparing to bear north for England, having tracked far enough west into the Atlantic to be clear of all French difficulty. Lieutenant Hayter the officer of the watch, his appointment as replacement first lieutenant now confirmed by Rennie's written warrant.
'De-e-e-e-ck!' The lookout in the main crosstrees. 'Sail of ship two leagues due east, beating west toward us!'
'What manner of ship? A merchantman?' James, through his speaking trumpet.
'She has the lines of a frigate, sir!'
James focused his glass astern and found masts and sails. To himself: 'A frigate?' To the middy on duty: 'You there, go below to the captain's cabin, and say—'
'I am here, Mr Hayter.' Captain Rennie came on deck, seating his hat firm on his head, and carrying his long Dollond. 'I heard the report. Jump up and have a look, will ye?'
'Aye, sir.' James slung a glass on his back, jumped into the mizzen shrouds and went aloft. He was used to such requests from his captain, who had a lifelong aversion to heights and seldom ventured above his quarterdeck. Rennie strode to the tafferel and lifted his glass. Presently James bellowed from the mizzen crosstrees:
'French frigate! Cracking on!'
'Thankee, Mr Hayter! Return to the deck, if y'please!'
James stepped off the crosstrees and plunged to the deck by a backstay, careless of the smears of tar on his makeshift working clothes.
'That second damned frigate was not crippled after all, James.' Rennie, leaving the tafferel.
'But why in God's name does her captain pursue us? We are beyond French waters, now.'
'Vengeance?'
'You think so, sir?'
'Perhaps we killed a brother officer in our last attack. Perhaps he simply hates the English.'
James glanced astern. 'Well, whatever his reasons, he is there. If he wishes to destroy us we must run or fight – even though we are not at war.'
'Not at war? If those blackguards really do wish to kill their own king, James, as you believe – and Dr Wing thinks the same thing – then how long before they will like to kill ours? It is only a matter of time.'
James looked at Rennie, and thought of why they had come to France, of why they were pursued now.
'I believe that may likely be so, yes.' Quietly.
'We cannot outrun him, James, in our present state of repair. We will have to fight.'
'With another grenade-bomb, sir?'
'Nay, we cannot expect that ruse to work again. He will not come close enough for a bomb to be effective. Even if he did, we have only one further bomb, and no more grenades. If that should miss, or explode short ...'
'Surely we must try?'
'Nay, the Frenchman will attempt to injure us at long range with his bow chasers. We'll run west as long as we can, then when he believes he has us at his mercy, we will go about and run straight at him. He must either continue to run straight at us, or tack away to bring his great guns to bear. We haven't guncrew enough to fight our own long guns, but if we can close the distance between us to carronade range – then we may have a chance to prevail.'
'Very good, sir.'
*
Expedient ran west, deeper and deeper into the Atlantic, but she was limping and slow. A glass, and the French frigate nearer by half a league. Another glass, and now Rennie sniffed the air, and felt a cold puff of wind against his cheek, from a new direction. Was the sky just a little darker? Within moments:
'De-e-e-e-ck! Stormclouds far to the south-we-e-e-st! Very dark and heavy!'
James jumped again into the shrouds, and confirmed the report. Rennie reached a decision almost at once. He paced aft, turned, then loud enough for all on deck to hear:
'Mr Hayter, we will sail into the storm.'
'Sail into it, sir?'
'Aye, that is our best chance to elude the fellow, and then run north to England. If we don't absolutely have to fight, damned short-handed as we are, then by God we will not.'
'Sir ... if you please ...' James moved close to Rennie, and lowered his voice. 'Our standing rigging ain't sound, nor our upper masts. And that persistent leak is only patched. Even in heavy weather, bruised and battered as we are, it would be a close-run thing. But in a fierce storm—'
'We face a storm either way, Mr Hayter. A storm of wind, or a storm of metal. I prefer the wind. We will steer sou'-west.'
*
Expedient met the first squall head on. The onslaught was fierce, blustering and capricious, and very dangerous to a ship in Expedient's condition. Her only hope of survival in the hours before her was to keep her head to the wind. If she faltered, even in these first huffing, puffing blasts, if she so much as lost her footing a moment and fell to her knees, she was lost. The wind rose briefly to a shrieking whistle.
'Four men at the wheel, Mr Loftus! Two on the weather spokes, two on the lee!' Rennie had to cup a hand to his mouth and bellow in the master's ear to make himself heard.
'Aye, sir!'
At first the swell was merely beaten down by the sweeps of wind, with flurries of spray whipped and scattered over the rolling sea, the surface itself dimpled and scoured beneath the swirling spray. Then the swell began to lift and run before the increasing madness of the wind, to heave and seethe and ride up in blue-black masses. Horizontal rain slashed and beat like liquid metal against the ship, and men on deck had to duck their heads. Lightning stood on the sky like a great sudden tree of light, and a branch darted and danced across the trucktops of the masts. An immediate head-numbing concussion, and repeated thudding aftershocks.
Rennie had ordered all his guns double-breeched, hatches battened down, and sail reduced to a bare minimum to keep the ship's head up.
'If I live through this it will be a miracle,' murmured James. The tied kerchief was torn off his head by the wind. His hair thrashed all over his face, and the wind seemed to suck his thoughts out of him and fling them away over the tafferel. 'If any of us lives, we will be blessed.'
'Mr Ha-a-ayter!'
The master Mr Loftus, clinging to a backstay. Ducking his head, then lifting it:
'Ca-a-asks loose in the ho-o-old! I ne-e-ed a party to secu-u-ure them!'
'Very we—'
A huge sea smacked into the bow, buried the bowsprit and inundated the fo'c's'le. The shock of the impact nearly knocked James off his feet. He clung to a stay, and felt Bernard Loftus lifted bodily against him as the sea surged aft over the hancés and half-buried them together.
The ship did not lose her footing. She rose st
eady and sure, shook off the excess water and strode on. But all was not well within her. Deep in her innards she was disturbed, and uneasy.
'Mister A-a-bey!' James, in his most carrying quarterdeck.
Richard Abey, swathed in heavy-weather oilskins, lurched to James's side. 'Sir?'
'I am going belo-o-ow with Mr Loftus! You will take the co-o-on! Keep her head up!'
'Very good, sir!' Like an otter with water streaming all over him.
'Come on, Be-e-ernard!'
And the two men fought their way forrard, gathered a small party of able men, and went below.
In the hold, the belly of the ship, James saw the extent of the difficulty in the swaying lantern light. There was a great sloshing lake of water. Whole tiers of casks had come loose and were jostling, surging and smacking together in that water. A dead rat floated toward him, and was carried away as the ship rolled. There was the stink of spoiled meat, and other things. With each heavy movement of the ship more casks shivered and squirmed together in the tiers, and it was clear to James and Mr Loftus both that if the loose casks were not replaced in the tiers, and the whole of the tiers secured, the trim of the ship would soon be compromised, and the ship placed in mortal peril, particularly given the depth of water in the hold. She was already injured and weakened without, and if her internal difficulty increased she would grow sluggish, her head would begin to droop, and in the full severity of the storm to follow – she would certainly founder.
'Mr Loftus, we will begin by securing all loose casks, if y'please. I am going up to report to the captain. I will rejoin you in a few minutes.' And he went up the ladder. In his head he told himself: 'That depth of water is the greater fear. If she is leaking this bad now, what will she be like in an hour, when the storm is at its height?'
There were relays of men already at the pumps, but even with all pumps manned and worked continuously at full capacity the depth of water below was horribly dismaying. The fury of the wind as he came on deck and went aft was tempered by his relief at being away from the foul smell of the hold.
The Gathering Storm Page 24
