“Aye - aye Sir, word has gone round the men like lightning and they’re ready to fight. They don’t want her to escape again.”
Silence fell except for the sound of water under the ship’s forefoot and the creak of timber but even those sounds were deadened by the snow. Merriman smiled to see Laing vainly waving his hand in front of him trying to clear his vision. The snow seemed to be thinning but still he could see nothing, wait, what was that?, did he see something solid out there? No ---- yes, yes a ship looming up out of the murk, was it the French?
The question was answered immediately by eruption of tongues of flame and smoke from the other ship’s side. Aphrodite seemed to stagger as shot hit home in the hull, but most of the broadside went high, ripping holes in the sails and cutting ropes and shrouds. A backstay parted with a snap behind Merriman and he saw the topmen already climbing aloft to effect repairs.
“Fire as you bear” yelled Merriman and his little nine pounders and one of the smashers bellowed their reply. The concussion temporarily blew the snow away creating a gap through which Merriman could just see the stern of the other ship as Aphrodite closed with her. There was the smashed window from their earlier encounter, as yet un-repaired, the French ship without a doubt, although Merriman had had no doubt about it. The French were as ready for action as Aphrodite was and their first broadside had confirmed it.
Both ships were exchanging broadsides as fast as the gun crews could reload but Merriman was pleased to see that his guns were firing three times to the enemy’s two, besides which the smasher was doing more damage than half a dozen of the other guns. Even so, the main deck was already a shambles, with bodies of the dead lying along the centre line where they had been dragged to leave the deck clear for the handling of the guns. Even as Merriman watched he saw a powder monkey just emerging from the hatchway with more cartridges for the guns, have his head smashed into red ruin together with the marine guarding the hatchway.
“Mr. Laing We’ll strike while the iron’s hot. We’ll be alongside shortly and then we’ll board from amidships. Have the boarding parties ready. Mr. Oakley, Mr. Shrigley, run and tell the gun captains to load with grapeshot for the last broadside before we board.”
Merriman turned to the men on the wheel. In the increasing light he saw that they were not the same two who had been there when he came on deck and who were lying nearby in the huddled attitudes of death. The iron discipline of the navy had ensured that new men manned the wheel even as the dead were pulled away.
“Bring her alongside, smartly now.” Merriman saw the two midshipmen racing back to their positions near him. “You two will stay here; you’re not big enough for what’s to be done.”
He discarded his bulky oilskins as Owen appeared beside him with his sword. He grasped it firmly as the ships crashed together. Grapnels were thrown from both ships to hold them together. The swivel guns blasted their charges of musket balls across the enemy deck just before the French swivels did the same. Fortunately only one of the French guns did any damage as the marine marksmen shot the gunners just as they fired.
“Boarders away” shouted Merriman, launching himself across the gap between the ships’ rails. He knew Laing and Owen were to his left and behind them his men eager to get to grips with the French. Owen was a fearsome sight as he wielded a cutlass in each hand, roaring his hatred of the people who had been responsible for his brother’s death. On his right Lieutenant St James was at the head of his depleted party of marines. Although many of the French had been killed by musket balls fired from the swivels they were as eager to fight as the English and met them with a fierce determination. Cut and slash, parry and stamp forward, thrust and cut, feet slipping on blood and slush, standing on or tripping over bodies, men screaming in hate and agony. As it continued Merriman became aware that Owen had ceased to shout and even his great strength could not long support the effort needed to fight so many Frenchmen. He also became aware that they were not making any progress.
“We can’t hold them Sir,” panted the marine Lieutenant as he thrust his sword into a man’s stomach and immediately withdrew it to parry a slash at his head. “There are too many of them, we’re outnumbered.” The press of men in front of him parted and Merriman saw the mysterious scarred Frenchman he had seen before.
“Monsieur Moreau, I believe,” he shouted above the noise.
“Oui Capitaine, and I believe you are the man responsible for ruining all my plans,” replied Moreau, “On guard Monsieur.”
He immediately attacked Merriman and within the space of a few clashes of their blades Merriman knew he was facing a superior swordsman and he was pressed further and further backwards until he felt the ship’s rail at his back.
“My bird Captain, if you permit.” The voice was St James’ as he smoothly interposed his sword and parried a cut to Merriman’s head.
Moreau stepped back. “Ha! The redcoat who killed my Lieutenant. I wanted to meet you.” The two men met eagerly, the movement of the swords faster than the eye could follow until suddenly there was blood on the shoulder of St James’ coat. Meanwhile around them the fight continued but the English were being forced back by greater numbers. A swirl of men separated Moreau and St James who were both forced to engage other opponents.
“Back men, back to Aphrodite,” roared Merriman. There were only a few of his men left aboard La Sirene now, desperately fighting with backs to the rail to hold back the French, when there was a sudden blast of canister from Aphrodite’s swivel guns over their heads and the hail of musket balls tore into the French . In the stunned pause Merriman’s men swiftly regained their own deck, Owen helping the wounded marine lieutenant to clamber over the rails.
Merriman looked round to see his two midshipmen each with two seamen hastily reloading the two small guns. The French surged forward to board in their turn but the crack of light cannon fire halted them. More men fell as shot erupted through French ship’s deck, striking them as they stood momentarily confused.
Lieutenant Laing was bawling orders to the men to reload the cannon and to fire when ready and Merriman could see the French frantically hacking loose the cables holding the ships together. They were obviously trying to break off the action.
The snow was still falling, but lighter than before when the flash and thunder of cannon fire blew the snow away again and Merriman turned to see the revenue cutter Pilote passing the stern of the Frenchman before turning to bring her other broadside into action, raking the Sirene’s stern again. The cutter was too low to be able to fire directly along the Sirene’s upper deck, but Merriman could see that her small guns were at full elevation which was why the balls had come up through the enemy deck.
Then the Pilote turned onto the enemy’s disengaged side . A mistake, as she immediately received a full broadside from the French cannon which had not yet been fired. The small cutter staggered under the impact, lethal splinters of wood cutting men down on her deck. Her topmast slowly collapsed bringing down most of the sails in a tangle of canvas and cordage, rendering her helpless.
As the ships moved apart both La Sirene and Aphrodite managed partial broadsides before the French ship drew ahead.
“Mr. Hodges, see what you can do with the chaser,” yelled Merriman and to the helmsmen, “Bear away a point so that the starboard bow chaser bears on the French.” As the other ship was disappearing into the murk the gun fired. The shot impacted at the base of the French ship’s mizzen mast which crashed down alongside.
Unfortunately, the slight change of course brought more wind into Aphrodite’s sails and the fore topmast, already weakened in the earlier exchange of fire, swayed and then fell across the fo’c’sle, blanketing the guns and striking down the gunner and his gun crew. La Sirene disappeared into the darkness and still falling snow.
Merriman dragged his weary mind to the problems of getting his ship back into fighting trim again. Already the bos’n and a party of seamen were swarming over the remains of the topmast and the flash of a
xes showed where efforts were being made to get rid of it Other men were removing the wounded below and the heap of corpses at the base of the mainmast showed what price had been paid during the engagement. The Pilote was in a bad way and would need help as soon as possible. Merriman turned to the men waiting for orders or waiting to report .
“Hull’s sound below Sir,” this was the carpenter, “Apart from the mast down, there are some shot holes and smashed rails and the like. Soon have those fixed Sir. I spoke with the bos’n Sir and there is a spare mainyard we can rig to replace the topmast but it’ll take some time Sir.”
“Very well Mr Green, get to it. I know you’ll do it as quickly as you can.”
Merriman looked at Lieutenant Laing, his uniform coat in tatters and blood splashed over his once white trousers. “Are you hurt Mr. Laing?”
The Lieutenant looked down ruefully at the remains of his uniform. “No Sir, not a scratch, the blood isn’t mine.”
“Glad to hear it . Now, how soon will we be able to fight?”
“Very soon Sir, or as soon as the foremast is refitted. We had four guns dismounted, but two can be back in use again very soon. The other two need new carriages Sir, so they must wait for the carpenter. Mr. Hodges the gunner is dead and some twenty nine others killed and wounded, maybe more. The Master and Mr. St James are both wounded, Mr. Cuthbert seriously. Here is Mr. McBride Sir, he’ll be able to tell you more.”
Mcbride, his face haggard, his shirt and apron covered in blood, approached through the men working on the deck and stood in front of Merriman, absently wiping his hands on a rag already soaked in blood.
“What’s the bill Mr. McBride?” asked Merriman gently.
“Of the men Sir, fourteen dead, fifteen wounded of whom three or four are not going to live to see another day. Those who have lost a limb should survive but I can’t be certain.” His face twisted, “I’ve done my best, but I have never seen such carnage before Sir, I don’t know if I can -------” His voice trailed off miserably.
“Steady Mr. McBride, I’m certain you have done all you can. How about Mr. Cuthbert and Mr. St James? How are they?”
“Mr. St James will recover Sir, he has a clean sword thrust through his shoulder and will be himself again in a few days, but the Master’s condition is more serious. A large splinter pierced his side from front to back, I don’t think it damaged anything vital but he’s an old man and has lost a lot of blood ----- I can only depend on his own resources to pull him through. I learned a lot from Doctor Simpson in the short time I was with him but it didn’t prepare me for this.”
“Carry on Mr. McBride and do your best, I’ll come down and see the wounded when I can.”
“Thank you Sir, that will please them.”
“Mr. Laing, have a boat brought alongside and manned. Mr. Oakley, I want you to take the boat’s crew and pull for the Pilote still in sight over there. Find out how they are coping with the damage and see if they can manage to bring her nearer so that we can get a line to her to tow if they need it. Stay there with the boat’s crew to help.”
Aphrodite was lying into the wind with only the spanker set to keep her head to the wind whilst the work went furiously ahead to raise the new fore topmast. The boats had been towed astern to avoid damage and one was quickly ready to go.
“Mr.Oakley, you and Mr. Shrigley did well to prepare the swivels when you did. That was quick thinking. It gave the chance for our men to get back aboard”
Oakley looked down at the deck and then at his captain, drew a deep breath and said, “It wasn’t me Sir, it was Mr. Shrigley, he thought of it and got the men to help.”
“Nevertheless Mr. Oakley, it was well done.”
Oakley disappeared over the side and Merriman took a moment to consider what the lad had said. Oakley was honest enough to credit Shrigley with what they had done without trying to claim the credit for himself and little Shrigley had the makings of a competent officer. He was quick witted and had used his initiative to bring the swivels into use. He watched the boat until it reached the Pilote. The snow had stopped, the wind had abated and the clouds were parting to show a few gleams of weak sunlight. There was no sign of the French ship which would have been able to make a fair speed once the smashed mizzen mast and top hamper had been cleared.
“Damn that fellow Moreau, I would have liked to have taken him back to present to Mr. Grahame. As it is we haven’t seen the last of him I’ll be bound.” mused Merriman, “Could I have done more to capture him? Probably not, shorthanded as we were with so many men and marines aboard the cutter. Jeavons did well to find us and his action in putting two broadsides into the Frenchman’s stern certainly saved us.”
He dragged his mind back. “Mr. Laing, please see to it that the galley fire is relit and the men have some hot food. Also I want every man to have an extra tot of grog including the wounded.”
Below, in the cramped orlop deck with low headroom, dimly lit by a few lanterns, it was a scene from some terrible nightmare. Wounded men were lying where they could, some unconscious, most nursing their wounds in silence, a few groaning in agony and even several corpses with their faces covered with scraps of cloth. The stench was appalling.
“Get these bodies out of here” snarled Merriman to one of the surgeon’s assistants, “Immediately.”
“Captain’s ‘ere lads” said a voice from the gloom and there was an instant stirring from the men.
“Rest easy men, Mr. McBride is doing his best for you and there’s a tot coming down for each of you. You’ve done well, I’m proud of you.”
“Did we finish those Frogs Sir?”
“No, they got away when the foremast came down, but we hurt them, we hurt them badly.”
“Will we get another chance at ‘em Sir? We’ll finish ‘em next time.”
“Maybe, but not today. They must be running back to France as fast as they can go with their tails between their legs.”
Merriman looked down at a man with a bloodstained bandage round his head and over his eyes, who was shaking the man next to him, saying “Wake up Tom, come on lad, Captain’s come down to see us, come on mate, wake up.” Merriman bent, touched the man on the shoulder. “It’s no use I’m afraid, he’s gone.”
“But ‘e were talking to me but a bit ago Sir, ‘e can’t be gone, ‘e’s me mate Sir.” He reached out a shaking hand and Merriman took it in his own.
“I’m sorry, your friend is dead. You were at the smasher with the gunner weren’t you. That last shot was a good one, sent the Frogs packing and saved this ship.”
“Aye Sir, but I wish Tom were alive to see it.”
Merriman stood and looked around. What men these were, living in awful conditions with poor, often rotten food, with a rope’s end on the back of a man if he were too slow to obey an order and the lash if he dared to answer back. Probably none of them had anything better to look forward to except more of the same, but it was pride and loyalty that kept them going. Pride in the ship and loyalty to their mates, not wanting to let either down and even now wanting to fight again He turned away, feeling diminished in himself by their sacrifice for which he alone was responsible.
Back on deck he was surprised to see the Pilote appreciably nearer. Somebody over there had managed to raise a scrap or two of canvas on the stump of the mast which was helping to keep way on her. He looked at his own foremast and was pleased to see that the new spar was already being swayed aloft with new shrouds and stays attached. The next step was to guide the butt of the spar into the repaired crosstrees and secure it as the shrouds and stays were taken up to support it. Then yards and canvas could be sent up.
“Mr. Laing, have a party rig for towing and prepare to pass a cable to Pilote when she is near enough.” It meant grinding toil for the already exhausted men but he had to ensure the safety of the other ship and crew.
Eventually all was done. Pilote was secured to the tow rope and Aphrodite’s new foremast was stayed and ready for the repaired headsails and square
sails to be bent on. Merriman went forr-ard to where the bos’n and carpenter were overseeing the final part of the work.
“Another hour Sir,” reported the weary bos’n, “and she’ll be almost as good as new.”
“I’m pleased Mr. Brockle, Mr. Green, you and your men have done well.”
The boat had returned and the worn-out men climbed slowly aboard, Lieutenant Andrews from the cutter among them.
“Welcome back Mr. Andrews, what have you to report?”
“Sir, I’m sorry to report that Mr. Jeavons was severely injured when the French broadside hit us. He was under the topmast when it fell. His plan was to go alongside the Frenchie and board to take them in the rear while they were still fighting with you. We didn’t expect that they would be ready to fire a full broadside. In addition to Mr. Jeavons being wounded we lost five seamen and three marines dead or wounded including the sergeant Before all that Mr. Jeavons carried out his orders exactly. The fishing boat and the smugglers were taken and we found a cargo of graphite aboard which is now aboard Pilote.”
“An excellent report Mr. Andrews. I’m sorry to hear about the First Lieutenant and the others, the surgeon must go across right away. But tell me, where is the fishing boat and the prisoners?”
“When it was realized that Aphrodite was in action, Mr. Jeavons took us off and we released the prisoners and left them behind, but not before taking the sails off her. Even if they can find something to make a sail from, they can’t get under way easily, or get very far, so we should be able to find them again. There are only ten of them Sir.”
“And the condition of the cutter?”
“Not too bad Sir, the hull is sound but I’ll need more men to effect repairs to the mast and rigging, especially the carpenter and bos’n.”
“That must wait for now. The first priority is to make Aphrodite seaworthy and ready to fight again. Then the next thing to do is to bury our dead. When I’ve finished that sad duty here I’ll go over to the cutter and do the same. Then we’ll see about temporary repairs to the cutter. So far as the smugglers are concerned we’ll try to recover them when we can.”
A Certain Threat (The Merriman Chronicles Book 1) Page 23
