by Smith, Skye
"Are you really telling me that if I go after the army, Admiral Tromp will have his ships stand by but do nothing?” Batten asked in amazement. "Do nothing while I bombard the army that he has just carried here?"
"Exactly,” replied Daniel. "Mind you, it does help that I misquoted you a bit to imply to Tromp that your squadron is just the vanguard of the fleet that is on its way."
"It is certainly tempting, but no. I can't take the chance. If I run my ships in a line along the shore so we can bombard the army, then we will be sitting ducks for Tromp's guns. They could blow us out of the water."
"Not without giving you fair warning first,” Rob told him. "If there is a warning shot, then just break off the engagement immediately and turn away."
"How sure of this are you?” Batten asked.
"Very sure."
"Would you stake your ship on it?” Batten asked. "Would you take the Swift in first, and begin the bombardment?” His question was met with silence while Rob and Daniel stared at each other.
"But we have but six cannons,” Rob told him. "Two six pounders on each side, and an eight pounder both fore and aft. Our balls would do next to nothing."
"As I thought. You are very brave when it comes to me risking my four ships, with hundreds of men on each, but not so brave about risking your own ship and your own twenty men."
"We'll do it,” Daniel spoke out. "We'll do it and gladly.” He looked towards the busy port. The wind had dropped and the morning fog was beginning to form. For three days now, the morning fog has stayed offshore. If today was the same, then while the Dutch squadron was hidden by fog, the shallow draughted Swift could sail close enough to the shore to be out of the fog. "Name our targets and we will go."
Batten turned around and stared at the lights of the port town. "Well the thatch roofs are winter damp, so there is no hope of setting them alight. With your small guns there is no hope of breaking down the walls of houses, so I suppose you must target the activity on the quays and pier. Do you carry grape canisters?"
The Swift was pulling up to the Rainbow by this time, where they would take on lines to keep the Swift in place while Batten was hauled aboard his flagship. Daniel and Rob clamboured up the boarding net behind him. The commanders of his other ships had been waiting for his return to the Rainbow. In the presence of so many commanders, Rob became formally polite with the Admiral.
"Beggin' yer pardon, sir,” Rob said as he touched his forehead. "I have a plan if you have the time to listen.” Batten gave him the nod. The other commanders came closer to hear. "The harbour is a death trap for your ships if they are caught there by the Dutch guns, but the morning fog will be our friend. I propose that we wait until the fog is thick, and then the Swift will move into the harbour and open fire."
"As we had already agreed upon,” Batten interrupted, "in order to test the waters, and to test van Tromp's promise."
"Aye, and if there is no warning shot from the Dutch, then there is but one other shallow draught ship which can follow us into the harbour to use her cannons, the Greyhound. If Commander Wheeler is willing, the Swift will use her oars to tow his ship into position off the quays so he can fire his guns."
Abe Wheeler spoke out, "The Greyhound has but nine sakers aside. Nine shots only before the Dutch will have marked our position. Before we can reload, a hundred Dutch guns will blow us out of the water."
"That is why the Swift will go first and test van Tromp's resolve,” Rob explained. "If he does not fire warning shots at the Swift, then why would he shoot at the Greyhound? If he fires warning shots, then we break off and turn back. Know this, that we led Admiral Tromp to believe that we are waiting for other English warships to arrive. If there is a fog this morning, then that fog will be our best friend. The larger ships will stay in reserve here in the fog with lanterns lit. Once the fog is heavy, they send out their jolly boats into the fog and once they have spread out they will raise lanterns high up their masts. Because of the fog we can make three ships look like a dozen. Tromp will not risk firing on the Greyhound with an English fleet skulking in the fog. What is more, Tromp daren't fire through the fog at the Greyhound for fear of Dutch balls hitting the quays and the village."
The other commanders, Batten of the Rainbow, Caesar Brooks of the Expedition, and William Brooks of the Providence began to understand the brilliance of Rob's ruse. Caesar pointed out the obvious flaw. "Abe is right. The Greyhound is a sixth rated ship with but eighteen guns, and light sakers at that. All our other ships are second rated with at least double that number of guns including culverins. The plan is good, but the Greyhound is wrong for it."
"On the contrary, the Greyhound is perfect,” Daniel answered for Rob. "There is a good reason that only the fluyts entered the harbour while Tromp's warships stood off. The harbour faces south in the lee of the cliffs. It shielded from the sea waves by a jetty on the east end, the sea end, of it. The Gypsy River has carved a valley through the cliffs and silts up the harbour, which means that in the winter the harbour is shallow and the tides run high and low and fast. Your bigger ships may run aground as soon as they enter the harbour."
Rob put an arm on Daniel's hand to take back the explaining, "Besides that, the plan depends on fog. If there is fog, there will be no wind, so the Swift's oars will have to tow the gun boat in. The Greyhound we can tow, but the others are too heavy."
"That is true,” Wheeler confirmed. "She is but a hundred thirty tons, less than half the tonnage of the others. There is another good reason to use the Greyhound. With so little breeze the bigger ships will have no helm for aiming the guns. My girl has a lateen sail on the aft mast so even in the lightest breeze we can still move the stern about. I'm sorry Master Blake, I interrupted you."
"You said it for me Master Wheeler, thank you.” Rob was glad this had come from Wheeler, for it meant that the man had just volunteered his ship and his crew for a most dangerous undertaking.
Now the navy commanders began speaking excitedly amongst themselves, trading ideas, making refinements to Rob's plan, and working out the details. Batten eventually asked, "Daniel, if you double up the men on the Swift's oars, how many more men will you need?"
"Twenty,” Daniel told him.
"You will have them, but not until after you have made your first run to test van Tromp's promise. I suggest that you two get back to your ship and have your crew rest and eat and make their peace with their maker. I would guess that you have perhaps three hours before the fog is thick enough; four at the most.” Batten looked down on them as the scrambled down the boarding net and when they looked back up at him from the deck of the sleek Swift, he smiled and told them, "God be with you gentlemen, and let us hope that your knowledge of Admiral Tromp keeps you safe from him.” Only then did he turned to his other commanders and tell them to get back to their ships and make ready.
After saluting in acknowledgement, one of the officers asked, "Sir, we are loaded with bar-shot and chain-shot for we assumed that our only chance of crippling the Dutch warships was to tear into their rigging. Do you wish us to change the load.” Bar shot was two balls connected by a short bar, that once fired wobbled and rotated through the air. Chain shot was the same but using a chain rather than a bar. Both were devastatingly effective against a ships rigging. If you could cut and tangle the rigging of a floating fortress, then they would lose their maneuverability and so would be unable to aim their broadsides.
"Nay,” Batten replied. "Keep the guns loaded for rigging. They can reek just as much mischief on powder kegs and cargo crates as they do on rigging."
* * * * *
The fog had chilled Daniel's body to the point of shivering, or were they shivers of fear. The fog was swirling and thickening off shore to the point where all you could make out of all the ships standing off the port were their lanterns and a few ghostly shapes. The Swift was now at the shore edge of the fog, so he was just beginning to see the port clearly beyond the billowing border of the cloud. They would wait here. Wai
t until Batten's jolly boats lit and raised there lanterns as a make believe fleet hidden by the fog.
"I see them,” Mick said in a low voice. In such a still fog sounds traveled far, even small sounds. "There, see, another one. Our four ships are now eight."
Daniel mind was elsewhere now. He was trying not to think of the line of Dutch warships out there in the fog. There were perhaps three hundred big Dutch guns facing the shore. To bombard the quay the Swift would have to sail along underneath every one of those guns, and any one of them could sink her. "How did I let you talk me into this?” he asked of Rob.
"You volunteered, remember?” Rob replied, but with a frown. He had been so glib, so certain, when he was convincing Batten to bombard the port. Now he was having second thoughts about the plan, his own plan. The shots from the Swift's light guns would be, at best, an annoyance to the queen's army, and yet firing them may cost every man aboard their lives. He looked back towards the glints from the lanterns on the English ships. It looked like a dozen ships now, and they were forming a line facing the lanterns of the Dutch ships. Only the Swift was without lanterns. Oh well, at least Batten was well and convinced; now if only he could convince himself. "Guns or helm, Danny?” he asked softly. You needed both to aim a cannon. You needed someone who knew guns on the helm to do the general aim, and someone else at each gun to time the shot to the motion of the ship.
"I'll take the helm,” Daniel replied. Rob gave him a questioning look. This was the opposite of what was usual for them. Rob was better at the helm, while he was better with the guns. Rob wasn't moving. "I said that I will take the helm,” he repeated. Rob shrugged and began signaling his gunners to his side. Daniel didn't go and listen to what Rob was telling them for he had his own men to direct. The men who would needed to put their backs into their oars and yet do so without making a sound.
Rob eventually came to stand with Daniel near the aft most oarsmen, the men that all other oarsmen would take their lead from. He said softly, "There are men on the pier rolling barrels and kegs. I'm going to give them a taste of grape. I need you to sweep in towards the pier, bow on. As soon as the bowchaser is fired, turn side on to the pier so I can fire the two starboard guns, and then turn again to be stern on, so I can fire the sternchaser then turn again so that I can use the larboard guns. So more than a full circle. It will all be grape, so we must be close in before I fire. Silence is essential, else the men on the pier will be warned before we are within range. Do you agree?"
"Our small guns will sound like popguns to the Dutch gunners,” Daniel moaned at the thought of using grape on other men, "but they will know different once the injured men begin screaming. I agree."
"Are you going to steer by oar or by wheel? I don't care which but you must stand a watch to keep an eye towards the Dutch ships. Any flash and he must call out loud and clear so that everyone can take cover behind the gunnels."
"I will be on the wheel. Mick will be my midshipman down here with the oarsmen for when we must steer by oar. He will keep watch. Are we all ready?” No one said a word. Since they were running silent, only someone not ready would have spoken out. "Then softly now, everyone row.” The Swift began to move out of the last wisps of fog and around the jetty towards the south facing entrance to the Bridlington harbour.
Without any sails up, or lanterns glaring in the black of night, and with little noise from the oarsmen louder than the slap of waves, the Swift approached unnoticed from the pier until they were but fifty paces to the east of it. This was not surprising for the men on the pier had torches lit to see to work by, and therefore were looking out into the dark of the sea without any night vision. Eventually someone saw the looming hull and let out a warning shout. That first shout was the signal that Rob should fire the bowchaser, and he did.
Eight pounds of lead pistol shot sprayed the shore end of the pier, and the men there began to scream and yell. The boom of the cannon followed by screams of agony was enough to set every man on the pier in motion towards the shore. Powder kegs stopped rolling and crates of muskets were dropped as the mercenaries left their precious cargo and ran for their lives. It was already too late for some of them, for as soon as the bowchaser had belched death, there was no longer a need to keep quiet and Daniel yelled to his larboard oarsmen to back-row to spin the ship.
The Swift turned hard on it's oars but almost as soon as it came about, Daniel ordered all oars out of the water. The speed of the turn was already slowing down as Rob left two his gunners reloading the bowchaser and ran out of the fore cabin towards the starboard guns. The first gun he fired at the quay end of the pier and hit many of the mercenaries who were running to leave the pier. By the time he fired the second, he could no longer target the quay, so he again targeted the shore end of the pier.
With those two cannons spent, Daniel ordered the starboard oars to scrape water, and the Swift began to spin on its oars once more to bring the sternchaser to bear. As Rob dived into the small command cabin under his feet, Daniel ordered all oars out of the water and allowed the stern of the Swift to drift towards the shore end of the pier. Suddenly he was in the middle of a cloud of choking gun smoke so dense that he could not see the effect of Rob's latest shot.
With a cough and a sneeze he yelled for the starboard oars to again scrape water, and the Swift turned to be facing north again, with her two larboard guns coming up to bear on the quays. Only then could he see the pier. Most of the mercenaries were now off the pier and onto the adjoining quays, and it was those quays that Rob targeted with his last two shots. Men went down, but there was no way of knowing if they were hit or ducking for cover. And then a godsend. One of the torches at the shore end of the pier fell from its post and must have fallen into a patch of spilled gunpowder for there was a sudden bright flash and a snap, crackle and popping sound as the powder burned.
There was no explosion so the keg that had spilled the powder must not have been nearby. There was just a lot of white bright flame that was over in an instant. Everyone who had been watching was suddenly blind to the darkness around them, including Daniel. He covered his eyes to force them into the dark again, but only for a moment for he was supposed to be piloting this ship away from the shallows near the quays. And then there was a new color of flame. The white hot powder burn must have caught alight the pitch preservative of the pier decking, because now there were greasy yellow flames to be seen spreading along the shore end of the pier.
"Good enough lads!” he yelled out. "Let's get out of here and back to the squadron. Every back on every oar. We can reload the guns later.” It was a welcome order to the fearful crew and since there was no longer the need to row without splashing, the sleek ship skimmed out of the confines of Bridlington harbour, and around the eastern jetty towards the fog bank and Batten's squadron. There had been no gun flashes from the Dutch squadron, not one.
* * * * *
The Greyhound was waiting for them with only her stern lateen sail flapping damp and heavy in the still air of the fog bank. As the Swift came alongside to pick up the tow lines, twenty navy seamen leaped aboard her to lend their backs to the oars. With two men on every oar, the Swift made ready to tow, but all this time Rob had been speaking to Abe Wheeler and his gunners.
"By the time we get your guns to bear, there won't be a soul to be seen,” Rob told them. "Our shots will have them all hiding behind stout walls. We left the pier burning, so don't waste more shot on it. Many of them will be hiding in the stone and brick buildings near the pier, so see if you can collapse those roofs onto their heads. I'll keep the Swift's guns loaded with grape in case men run out of the buildings.” Wheeler waved his understanding and was ordering his gunners back to their guns just as the Swift pulled away from the Greyhound.
So it was that the two smallest ships of the English squadron moved out from under the fog bank and around the jetty that formed the sea end of Bridlington harbour. Although the Greyhound was the same length as the Swift, her upper decks were twice the height, an
d she was of greater girth, greater depth, and thrice the tonnage. Needless to say, it was a grunt on all oars to get her moving, but once she was moving the tow went well and at a reasonable speed. The quays were now in darkness, for all of the worker torches were now snuffed. Only the glow from the slowly burning pier shed any light.
There was a grand white building near the pier glowing softly amber in the light of the pier fire, and it became the Greyhound's first target. Even though chain shot and bar shot are designed to whip about and tear and shred the rigging and sails of a ship, what they now did to the roofs of houses was a horror to behold. Sailors hated chain shot more than any other than those that lit fires, because on a ship there was no hiding from the illogical and random ricochets of such shot. They had no empathy for those on shore, however, because on land there were always many good solid places to hide from cannon shot.
The Swift was towing the Greyhound around in a great a circle within the confines of the deeper parts of the harbour. This meant that between the two ships there were almost always cannons being fired from one side or the other of the ships. The Greyhound had eight guns aside plus a bow and stern chaser, and they were all heating up from how quickly they were being reloaded and fired again. Meanwhile five sets of eyes were keenly watching for any sign of a cannon flash from the direction of the Dutch squadron. There were none.
Other than ripping at the roofs off the large buildings that fronted the quays, and smashing the windows, their guns were doing little damage to the mercenary army or their supplies. The thirty field guns landed by the convoy were lined up along the quays, but the Greyhound's shots were having no visible effect on the heavy beasts. Yes they were blowing apart barrels and cases and spilling a lot of cargo on the cobble stones, but though that ruined the containers, was it having any effect on the actual cargo? Probably not. What did it really matter if the muskets were now loose on the road rather than neatly packed.
