Until the Sea Shall Give Up Her Dead

by Sean Thomas Russell

  There was a great ‘Huzza!’ from the British, and Hayden stood a moment, gathering his wits and trying to catch his breath, for he was gasping for air, heart racing. The sound of more distant voices, shouting, came to him, and he realized it came from across the water – the other privateers were launching boats.

  ‘Where is Mr Ransome?’ Hayden called out.

  In a moment the lieutenant came staggering out of the mass of men, his hat gone, coat torn across the front.

  ‘Are you hurt, Mr Ransome?’

  ‘Man ran into my chest with his head, sir. Knocked the wind from me.’

  ‘Have Mr Hawthorne take charge of these prisoners, if you please. We must clap a spring on to the anchor cable on the starboard side and run it out the aftmost gunport.’

  ‘I do not know the explanation, but she is anchored by her small bower, sir.’

  ‘Then we shall run it out the larboard side, Mr Ransome. Have Wickham make up gun crews for both batteries and make ready to fire. We shall require the aid of the Spaniards, for we have not enough men ourselves.’ Hayden did not have to be any more explicit. Ransome would know what he meant and what he planned.

  The lieutenant went running off, calling the names of men.

  Hawthorne came forward then, a Spanish officer beside him.

  ‘Captain Hayden, this gentleman claims to be the former captain of this frigate.’

  The man made a courtly bow. ‘Agapito Serrano,’ he said in good English. ‘At your service, Captain Hayden.’

  Hayden made a quick leg; there was no time for courtly formalities. ‘I will need your aid, and the aid of your men to sail this ship, Captain Serrano,’ he said. ‘We are about to be attacked by boarders.’

  ‘I shall resume my command,’ Serrano said, ‘and dispose my men to defend the ship. When that is done, Captain Hayden, I shall have the time to express my gratitude properly.’

  ‘I believe you have mistaken the situation, Captain Serrano,’ Hayden informed the man. ‘This ship was taken from French privateers and I consider her a British prize of war. She is no longer yours to command; she is mine.’

  Hawthorne took a step away, pulled a pistol from his belt and began immediately to load it.

  The Spaniard was so taken aback that he was unable to form words for a moment. ‘Captain Hayden, this ship is the property of the Spanish Crown! You have liberated us from the French, for which we are grateful, but I demand this ship be returned to Spanish control … this instant.’

  Hawthorne pulled back the cock on the now loaded pistol and handed it to Hayden, who held it, finger on the trigger, pointed at the deck. Around him British sailors began picking up discarded pistols and muskets and loading them. The Spanish had them outnumbered, and Hawthorne had clearly found the arms room and given their ‘allies’ weapons, so Hayden hoped this Spanish captain would realize that he would not hesitate to shoot him if he attempted to take back the ship.

  ‘When we reach Barbados, sir,’ Hayden said evenly, ‘you may plead your case to my admiral. Until then, you must give me your entire support or we will all be the prisoners of privateers within the hour.’

  ‘Sir,’ the Spaniard replied, ‘this will be considered an act of war against Spain. Are you certain you are willing to create a rift between our nations … you, a mere post captain?’

  ‘If there were no Spanish prisoners aboard this ship,’ Hayden said, ‘she would be considered a British prize without question. It would then be up to our two governments to decide what should be done with her. I am only a mere post captain; it is not my place to return this ship to Spain. We have no time to argue the finer points of the laws of the sea. You will either submit to my command or we will lose this ship to the French. I must have your answer this instant.’

  The Spaniard looked around, glancing toward the not so distant privateer, where boats were now in the water.

  Ransome appeared at that moment. ‘Sir, we have rigged the spring.’

  Hayden looked at the Spanish officer, who hesitated yet.

  ‘Until we reach Barbados,’ the man stated evenly.

  ‘Thank you, Captain Serrano,’ Hayden ceded, making a small bow. ‘Mr Wickham is forming crews to man the guns. Will you aid him? And we must be prepared to repel boarders.’ He glanced up at the rigging. ‘There is not a breath of wind upon which we might escape.’

  ‘Where is Mr Wickham?’ the Spaniard asked.

  ‘Mr Hawthorne will take you to him.’

  Captain Serrano made a small bow and immediately attached himself to Hawthorne, calling out orders in Spanish as the two retreated toward the companionway.

  ‘Veer the bower cable, Mr Ransome. Bring us beam on to the other ships.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ Ransome went off at a run. Hayden had no doubt that he had men standing ready to veer cable. He was becoming a surprisingly competent officer.

  The deck guns were manned by Spaniards, and Hayden was surprised to find they were all long guns – there were no carronades.

  ‘Shall we fire grape at the approaching boats, Captain?’ one of Serrano’s officers enquired of Hayden.

  Hayden assented to this suggestion.

  The bower cable was veered and the head of the ship payed off so that the ship would have wind on the larboard quarter – assuming the wind, when it returned, would come from the north or north-west. The small current moved the bow of the ship at an almost languid pace, causing Hayden to worry that they would not bring their guns to bear before the first boats reached them.

  He raised his nightglass and realized, though boats appeared to be manned and away from the ship, that they were backing oars and hovering in place. Waiting for reinforcements, Hayden realized, knowing that the retaken frigate would now be, with all the prisoners moved aboard her, very well manned indeed.

  Hayden estimated that the nearest privateer was just out of range of the Spanish guns, but he went to the waist and called down to the gundeck. He was very happy to find the Spaniards at their guns, silent and purposeful.

  ‘Mr Wickham …?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Elevate a gun to its greatest degree and fire a shot at that ship. I believe she is out of range, but let us be certain.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  Orders were given to one of the British gun crews, the gun elevated and, at a word from the midshipman, fired.

  Hayden had walked away a few paces to be clear of the smoke, raised his glass to his eye and watched with some anticipation. There was a sudden fountain of water, not just short of the ship but shy of the gathering boats as well.

  Wickham’s head appeared at the top of the companionway ladder. ‘We could remove the aft wheels, sir …?’

  ‘Let us keep the wheels in place. Rate of fire might be our advantage yet. Reload with grape, Mr Wickham. Some of these boats might reach us, but we will make them pay for it.’

  Hayden returned to the rail and gazed off toward the privateers through his nightglass. A wandering patch of moonlight illuminated them a moment and, though it was difficult to be certain, Hayden thought there were at least eight boats gathered there and perhaps as many as ten. There could be two hundred privateers in those boats. He hoped the Spanish gunners knew their business.

  Without any order that carried across the water, the boats all set off at once, their bows aimed directly at the Spanish frigate so recently taken. Hayden was more than a little surprised at this, as he would have divided his force in two, circled round and approached the ship from both bow and stern, where only chase pieces could be brought to bear.

  Hawthorne appeared at his side at that moment.

  ‘Do they row directly for us, Captain?’ the marine officer asked quietly, as though the privateers might overhear.

  ‘It appears they do, Mr Hawthorne.’

  ‘Is that not the height of folly? Do they not realize we have brought our ship around?’

  ‘I cannot say. A moving boat is a difficult target to hit, especially by night, as you well know. They
may simply believe our gunnery is not up to the task … but at a hundred yards grape will cause great slaughter.’

  ‘Perhaps they are admirers of Nelson, Captain, and believe you must always “go straight at her”.’

  ‘Which will catch up with even Nelson, one day.’

  ‘Luck to you, Captain,’ Hawthorne said, touching his hat.

  ‘And you, Mr Hawthorne.’

  The marine retreated to take command of his men and whomever else Ransome had assigned him. Men began to climb aloft with muskets at that moment, many of them Spaniards. Hayden raised his glass again, and gazed a moment at the flotilla approaching. Privateers often favoured boarding as a tactic – their ships seldom bore enough guns to offer an advantage – but men could be had at small cost. A privateer usually sailed with a surprisingly large crew. And it appeared the privateers intended to use that advantage here.

  A gun fired on the deck below, catching Hayden entirely by surprise. He stormed over to the opening to the gundeck, where he could hear shouting in both English and Spanish.

  ‘Mr Wickham?’ Hayden cried over the voices. ‘What goes on down there? Where is Captain Serrano?’

  Wickham appeared directly below Hayden, his face a shadow surrounded by a halo of pale gold hair. ‘It was a Spanish gun crew, sir. Captain Serrano has disrated the gun captain and replaced him with another. I believe the man fired the gun as a protest against the British taking his ship, sir.’

  Hayden turned immediately away. ‘Pass the word for Mr Hawthorne!’ he called. He had no time for this now and felt his anger boil up.

  The marine appeared on the run, having no doubt registered the tone of his captain’s voice.

  ‘Take your marines to the gundeck, Mr Hawthorne. If there are signs of insubordination or mutiny among the Spaniards, you may deal with it as harshly as you see fit.’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ Hawthorne replied quickly. He began calling for his men and in a moment they were thumping down the companionway.

  Hayden returned to the rail, only to find the flotilla of ship’s boats dividing into two. He let out a string of frustrated curses. Ransome appeared just then.

  ‘Do you see the boats, Captain?’

  ‘Yes. These privateers are not so foolish as we hoped. Is the spring rigged so we can let it run?’

  ‘Indeed it is, sir, though it would be quicker and easier to cut it.’

  ‘We might have need of it again. Clear everything the cable might foul and be prepared to let it run on my command.’

  ‘Aye, sir!’ Ransome touched his hat and went off at a run.

  Hayden went immediately part way down the steps to the gundeck. ‘Pass the word for Captain Serrano!’ he called out, and the Spanish officer appeared a moment later, very grimfaced and appearing to suppress anger.

  Wickham stood a few paces distant, a pistol in hand, and Hawthorne and his marines claimed the centre of the gundeck with their muskets ready.

  Hayden had no time to mollify an angry Spaniard. ‘We shall have the privateer’s boats approaching from bow and stern. Both batteries must be ready. Once the boats are too near to be fired upon, gunports must be closed tight. All men will then be needed to repel boarders.’ Hayden turned to Wickham. ‘Mr Wickham? Have you heard?’

  ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘Then let us be about our business. Good luck, Captain,’ Hayden offered to the sullen Spaniard.

  He mounted the ladder and returned to the rail with his nightglass. The privateer’s boats had split into two small flotillas, each of which carried somewhere near a hundred men. Hayden dearly wished he’d had more time to prepare his defence, assign the men to stations and create a plan with his officers. The truth was, though, that every experienced man aboard – both officers and hands – comprehended exactly what must be done. Fire upon the boats with the great guns until they draw too near, then take up arms and prepare to defend the ship. As his former captain Bourne often said, ‘War at sea is not a complicated business.’

  The two flotillas were giving the frigate a wide berth, but Hayden needed to keep them as distant as possible for as long as possible. ‘Mr Gould,’ he called out to the midshipman who was commanding the forward deck guns. ‘Jump down to Mr Wickham. Have him traverse a pair of guns, one fore and one aft, and fire on the boats. Let them not become too bold.’

  Gould touched his hat and disappeared to the gundeck.

  When Hayden anchored his schooner he had been pleased to find the current was not strong – now he wished it were running a great deal faster. He was about to employ it in defence of his ship.

  A forward gun fired at that moment, and he turned to see if there was any possibility that he might make out where the shot struck water … but he could not. A second gun fired aft and that ball landed somewhere in the dark ocean as well. Hayden fixed his glass on the forward flotilla and was quite certain it had altered course to keep out of range of the great guns.

  ‘Mr Gould! We will use the chase pieces fore and aft to keep these boats honest.’

  Hayden wanted both flotillas to approach from directly fore and aft, and to be as distant as possible when they began that approach. He turned his head from side to side – the faintest zephyr caressed his cheeks.

  Hayden crossed the deck and again called for Mr Wickham.

  ‘Sir?’ The midshipman spoke from the darkened deck.

  ‘Inform Captain Serrano that I intend to fire both batteries at once.’

  ‘I will, Captain.’

  Even as Hayden gave this order he wondered if it might be a mistake. He would hide his ship in the smoke so that the enemy could not see what he did, but the smoke would also obscure their view of the enemy, making it difficult to aim their guns. He held his hand up again. Was it enough of a breeze to carry the smoke away in time? Once they began firing guns at the enemy boats the smoke would obscure all anyway … but the first clear shot is what would allow the gunners to get the enemies’ range and to gauge their speed.

  Perhaps war at sea was more complicated than Captain Bourne had suggested.

  Hayden drew a lungful of air. His course was set and there was no changing it now. It was all a matter of timing. He gazed up at the lookout.

  ‘Aloft there! We shall fire both batteries to hide the ship. Climb as high up as you can to get above the smoke. I will rely on you to tell me what the boats do.’

  ‘Aye, Captain,’ came the cry from above and the man, who was among the musketeers on the maintop, went crawling up.

  Hayden turned his attention back to the boats, quizzing both flotillas with his nightglass. They were only a few moments distant, but he needed them closer yet. He cursed the privateers who had not replaced the frigate’s lost topmast … he could have used the mizzen topsail with this little zephyr appearing.

  The boats finally drew almost in line with the frigate and Hayden called for Ransome, who appeared at the ladder head.

  ‘Fire both batteries, Mr Ransome, and then let the spring cable run. Be certain the guns are reloaded with grape. We will hold our fire until the boats are within range.’

  Ransome repeated Hayden’s orders and disappeared below. There was a mighty blast as all the guns on the gundeck were fired as one, and a cloud of smoke utterly enveloped the ship and seared Hayden’s nostrils and throat.

  The spring was let run at the same instant and the ship began a slow turn, her stern swinging with the current, aided to the smallest degree by the faint breeze. The movement of the ship, however, appeared to be so slow that she would never swing to the current in time.

  The privateer’s boats were obscured by the cloud and the night, and Hayden began to wonder if he’d misjudged the distance in the dark and that they would be upon them before the ship swung around and the guns brought to bear. It would then be a battle against boarders, and Hayden did not have his steady British crew around him. He did not know if the Spanish were more determined fighters than the French. He was, however, about to find out.

  He could hear, in the
distance, the coxswains crying out the beat in French, exhorting their oarsmen to row faster. The ship continued her turn; Hayden believed he had seen seasons turn more quickly. The smoke swirled around the masts and rigging, caught in eddies and backdraughts. It clung to the ship like a skein of silk entangled in thorns. The faint-hearted breeze could not collect it all and carry it off in one single direction. Hayden had the horrifying feeling that he had made a terrible misjudgement: the French would be upon them before the smoke cleared and guns brought to bear.

  Hayden felt himself leaning out over the rail, trying to catch a glimpse of the boats he could hear approaching, but the smoke appeared to mass before him.

  ‘On deck!’ came the cry of the helmsman, who was himself lost in the smoke. ‘Boats to starboard, three hundred to three hundred fifty yards, sir! To larboard … a little less, Captain.’

  Even if the lookout were correct in his distances, the frigate had not yet turned far enough that guns could be brought to bear. The only good thing Hayden could think of was that it would be very unlikely the privateers could see the frigate was being turned.

  ‘Captain Hayden!’ Gould’s voice reached him from somewhere forward. ‘I can just make them out, sir.’

  Hayden all but ran down the deck to the forecastle, where he found Gould standing on the rail, gazing out to larboard.

  ‘Can we traverse guns and bring them to bear, Mr Gould?’

  ‘Not yet, sir. Not quite.’

  Hayden climbed up on to a gun carriage and stared in the same direction as the midshipman. Smoke yet whirled languidly about him, but then, off in the dark … movement.

  ‘I see them!’

  Very quickly, Hayden gauged the position of his ship, how quickly she turned, and then the speed of the enemy’s boats.

  ‘Shall we prepare to repel boarders, Captain?’ Gould asked softly.

  ‘It will be very close, Mr Gould. Keep the men at the guns a little longer.’ Hayden jumped down off the carriage and crossed the deck, climbing on to another carriage there. The vague little breeze did not hold its course for a moment together but came most of the time from the north-west, so the smoke was eddying behind the starboard topsides. Hayden could see nothing here.