'Dispute!'
'Indeed, dispute, Mr Blewitt. Perhaps Mr Hayter and I will like to call down a quarterman from Portsmouth Yard to examine the work in all particulars, at some later time. In a month, say, or six weeks. It may then become a matter for the Admiralty Court – who can say? Well well, good day to you.' A few steps down the side of the slip, and he called: 'Stop the work, at any rate. Stop the work, Mr Blewitt.'
'Wait! Wait a moment!'
'What in the name of Christ our Saviour and Comfort did y'say to him, sir?' James had asked, chuckling and shaking his head in admiration as they walked together down to the boat. 'What made him change his mind?'
'Well well . . . I showed him where his best interests lay.'
'Yes, but how?' Still chuckling.
'By calling his bluff, James.' And he would say no more than that.
They had sailed at dusk, not heading toward Wyrefall Cove direct, but south-west in a long sweep, then west, then at length north, then east, until they stood off the coast half a league, immediately to the west of the cove, having described nearly a full circle in several hours of sailing. Now, standing off a little, the wind in the west, they had the wind gauge. When Lark made her run into the open sea she would be at a disadvantage.
James had ordered Hawk darkened. No lights of any kind were to be shown on deck, or aloft. Every man aboard had been obliged to blacken his face, and to wear the darkest coat, jacket or jerkin he possessed. The Marines had not made the trip from Portsmouth in their scarlet coats, but in blue jackets found for them at James's request. Even Colonel Macklin, in usual very smart in his appearance, had been persuaded to shed his scarlet and don a plain blue frock coat lent him by James. There was absolute silence on deck, fore and aft. Orders were to be conveyed by relayed hand signals, or in whispers, until battle was joined.
Hawk's carronades were loaded with roundshot for the first broadsides, and were to be reloaded with more roundshot.
'Not grape, James?' Rennie had asked. 'I thought you had a preference for grape as a man-killer, did not y'tell me?'
'I do not want to kill men, sir, this action – for fear of killing Aidan Faulk. I want to disable Lark and take her, and him. We must produce the fellow alive.'
'Yes, in course you are right . . . only, will not eighteenpound roundshot smash Lark so heavy that she will likely sink? Surely it will be better to cut across her stern and rake her with – '
'Sir, if you please.' Firmly, over him. 'Allow me to know best how to handle my ship and fight my guns. Will you?'
'Indeed, indeed – forgive me.' And Rennie had then shut his mouth, contrite.
The Lark made her run in the first faint glimmers of dawn.
And at first, Hawk's lookout did not see her. James had insisted that Hawk should not remain hove-to or lying at anchor during the hours of darkness, but should continue to tack by the wind, go about and run before, &c., in order to keep the watches on their toes, since Lark could appear at any time. He had not, however, insisted that his guncrews should stand by their guns. He wanted them fresh and eager when the time came.
When the lookout did see Lark she was already slipped clear of the cove and begun to head south-east on the starboard tack. She was in disguise. She was again painted black, and her canvas was also very dark. Against the dark line of the coast she was nearly invisible. Hawk had been sailing west, and was coming off the wind to go about, and the lookout – forgetting all notions of silence – bellowed:
'D-e-e-e-e-ck! Cutter standing away to the east!'
James raised his glass, saw the Lark and recognized her, and:
'Mr Love! We will beat to quarters! Mr Dumbleton! Set me a course to intercept!'
The calls, thudding feet, and the deck heeling as Hawk came round on the new heading, the heavy mainsail boom swinging over the heads of James, Rennie and the afterguard at the falls. The urgent sighing and creaking of a weatherly sea boat answering the helm. A glitter of spray like liquid fire against the dawn. The hissing, seething rush of the sea. The shouts of guncrews, and powderboys with cartridge. The clatter and fury as tompions came out, and:
'Larboard battery ready, sir!' Midshipman Wallace.
'Starboard battery ready, sir!' Midshipman Abey.
'Has she seen us, d'y'think?' James, his glass to his eye.
'Certainly.' Rennie, at his side. 'That is why she is running.'
'Then we will run, too. Run right at her, by God.'
Hawk closed the other cutter, running on the port tack with the westerly wind on her quarter. Lark ran steadily sou'- east on the starboard tack, the wind on her beam. She could not run due east to make her escape, because if she did she would wreck herself on the Needles. Although Lark was a fast, weatherly cutter, Hawk was faster running before, and as she came within range the Lark's starboard battery spoke, a stutter of orange flashes and ballooning smoke preceding the deep concussive thuds of her guns over the sea.
Roundshot ploughed into the swell just astern of Hawk in multiple eruptions of spray. All the shots had missed, but James was not in any way relieved.
'By God, he has got carronades! Twelve-pounder carronades!'
'Aye, the guns hid under the canvas on the shingle in the cove,' nodded Rennie. 'I should have looked under that canvas, but I did not.'
'He has sixteen carronades to my ten! Eight twelvepounders in each broadside!' James was aghast. 'Christ Jesu, we cannot best him now.'
'We must try, James.'
'Aye, we must. Mr Abey!'
'Sir?' The whites of his eyes in his blackened face.
'Stand by your guns until we cross his stern.' A long, heeling, sea-hissing moment, and:
'Fire as they bear!' James.
'Starboard battery! Fire! Fire! Fire!' Richard Abey.
BOOM BOOM-BOOM BOOM BOOM
Hawk trembled her whole length. Gritty smoke boiled out and wafted away on the wind, and James saw that only one of his shots had struck home. The Lark's stern was damaged, but not shattered, and her helm and rudder were intact.
Hawk came about on the starboard tack in order to chase her quarry south-east. As she tacked, Lark's guns spoke again – her larboard battery.
THUMP THUMP THUMP-THUD
MP-THUD THUD THUD
Twelve-pound roundshot struck the Hawk in four places. She shook horribly, and there was the sound of splintering timber. Then moans, and a harsh, agonized scream. Repeated. And repeated.
Half the forrard rail on the starboard side had been smashed away, and hammocks hung trailing in tatters in the sea. Two of the starboard carronades had been hit, and torn off their carriages. There were dying men, and dead men. There was blood streaming along the deck, and spattered across the reef points of the mainsail.
The scream came again.
James picked himself up, staggered on the tilting deck, and lurched aft to the tafferel. Peered over and down in an effort to examine his rudder. It appeared to be intact. But the helmsman was absent, the tiller beginning to swing free.
'Mr Dumbleton! . . . Mr Dumbleton!' Taking the tiller himself until a new helmsman could be found – or the missing one.
The red-gleaming, yellow-glittering sun seemed to pierce his head when he glanced east. The low-sitting, fiery light burned across the swell, across the restless, living sea. He looked south and saw that Lark had altered course to run sou'-sou'-east, and was already nearly half a league distant, making good her escape. How long had he lain there on deck, James wondered.
'Mr Dumbleton! We must give chase!'
But Garvey Dumbleton did not attend him. The scream came again, fierce and piteous in the same moment.
'Mr Abey!'
'Sir . . . ?' The youth came aft, pale with shock.
'Who is hurt? Who is that screaming?'
'It is Mr Dumbleton, sir. He . . . he has been very horribly injured . . .'
'Find Dr Wing, and ask him to come on deck at once.'
Thomas Wing was already on deck, kneeling far forrard, tending to the
wounded there. James gave the helm to Richard Abey, went forrard himself, and found Garvey Dumbleton trapped in a splintered shot-hole in the decking and side. He was hanging head down over the side, one arm half submerged in the rising and falling sea. One of his legs was caught deep in the hole, and the other lay useless beside it, with a dreadful injury below the knee. The injuries to his legs were not the most severe he had sustained. At his midriff was a mass of blood and bloodily pulped tissue soaking under and through his shirt. He screamed again, his eyes staring, his mouth gaping in a savage desperate grimace. James looked at him, turned his head away a moment, looked at him again.
'Ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh, God . . .' pleaded the wounded man.
James reached and tried to free the trapped leg. But this made him scream again, and then again came the helpless, panting 'ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh, Christ . . .'
'Doctor! Dr Wing!' shouted James, half-standing, halfkneeling. The sea sucked and lifted along the damaged wales, and submerged Dumbleton's dangling arm up to the shoulder.
And now Thomas Wing was at James's side, a bloody saw in his hand.
'We must release him, Thomas, and get him below.'
Dr Wing took it all in with the careful, detached gaze of a man who cannot allow emotion or delicate feeling to dictate. A swift intake of breath, and leaning close to James:
'There is nothing can be done for him. We must end his suffering.'
'What? We must get him free, and – '
'No, sir. No. We must end his suffering.'
'But how? How, if we don't release his leg?'
Quietly: 'Have you a pistol?'
'What?'
'I cannot reach down to give him a lethal quantity of physic. Your pistol must answer.'
'Good God, Thomas . . . Good God, I cannot . . .'
'Then give the pistol to me.' Calm and grim.
'Nay – nay, if you are entirely certain it must be done . . . ?'
'Yes.' With finality. 'I am.'
'Then I will do it.'
He took his pistol from his coat, cocked it, and as Garvey Dumbleton moaned 'Ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh, Christ . . .'
crack
James ended it, and threw the pistol far out into the sea. Felt Thomas Wing's hand grip his arm, a brief, strong, heartfelt squeeze, and then the doctor was gone, hurrying forrard.
James stood still a moment, steadied himself with a deep breath, and was about to turn aft when he became aware of a seaman staring at him in shocked disbelief. James briefly met the seaman's gaze, then the man turned away. However, James had seen the accusation in the man's eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, to say some quick word of explication and reassurance. No words would come. He stood irresolute a moment longer, then swung round and strode aft. Another breath, as if to cleanse his breast, and:
'Mr Abey! We will get under way, if you please! Let us clear all wreckage and put it over the side, and reload our guns! We are in a chase!'
'Hands to make sail!'
The calls, and renewed bustling activity. Captain Rennie appeared.
'There you are, sir.'
'I helped to carry some of the wounded people below, James. What is my duty?'
'Eh? Duty?'
'Give me a task.'
'Very well, sir, I will. Y'may help put Mr Dumbleton over the side, that has been killed, forrard. And then y'may captain a carronade.'
Hawk had been damaged and had lost men, but she was no worse injured than Lark, and was as swift – swifter – so that soon she began to gain on Lark. The dawn light had become full morning, broad and clear, the Needles and the Isle of Wight to the east.
When after a further glass it became apparent that Hawk would likely run Lark down, the black-painted, dark-sailed cutter came about and prepared to meet the challenge. She would not run any more, she would stand and fight.
James tacked and ran sou'-west close-hauled, as if sailing away from the Lark. Then as Lark herself began to run sou'- west, briefly the predator, James brought his cutter about once more, and flew on the starboard tack, with the wind on his quarter, straight at Lark. He had kept the wind gauge, and now was very close, well within range before Lark could counter. On James's instruction, as Hawk now abruptly swung to starboard, the larboard battery was brought to bear as one gun. In giving this instruction earlier, he had added: 'We will aim to dismast him again, Mr Abey. We cannot
allow him first fire, else he will likely smash us altogether. We must dismast him, throw his people into desperate confusion, and lay alongside before he can recover. Every man to have a cutlass and a pair of pistols as we board. Colonel Macklin?'
'I am here.'
'I will lead the first group, boarding at the bow. Will you lead the second, boarding aft with your marines?' 'Very good.'
'And remember – we must take her master alive.'
'What will you like me to do, James?' Rennie, anxious to be of active use.
'Take command of Hawk, sir, if y'please, as soon as I am out of her.'
'You will not like me to board Lark with you?'
'No, sir.'
'Well well, very good, as you wish.' Disappointed.
And now they ran at the Lark in a tight curve, Mr Love acting as sailing master in Garvey Dumbleton's place. A creaking, heeling moment, then:
Richard Abey: 'Larboard battery . . . on the lift . . . fire, fire, fire!'
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM-BOOM
Belching orange fire, the hiss of roundshot, a storm of sulphurous smoke.
Lark faltered. Even as her own guns thudded, she faltered.
Her mainsail shivered, and slumped. Shrouds, stays, foresails, yards, all tipped tangling and tumbling from the great stick of her mast, and with a rending, splintering, quivering crash the mast fell away over her starboard side into the sea.
A ragged cheer from the Hawks. Lark's broadside had gone wide. She was at their mercy.
'Lay me alongside her, Mr Love!' James bellowed. 'Prepare to board!'
Resistance at first was fierce on Lark's tangled deck. There was hand-to-hand fighting, bloody, yelling, and hard. Attempts were made by the defenders to fire canister-loaded swivels into the advancing boarders. Both attempts were thwarted by quick action and the swivels thrown overboard. As the two boarding parties fought towards each other, faces blacked, pistols cracking, cutlasses hacking and thrusting, the hapless crew of the boarded vessel, caught between them, saw that the position would soon become hopeless, and rather than surrender their lives they surrendered their weapons instead, and capitulated.
'Now then, where is he?' James strode through the kneeling men, and went aft. 'Where is her master?'
He went below, and found only wounded seamen, and much bloody confusion. The great cabin was empty. James came again on deck, and stood by the binnacle, surveying the damage. Richard Abey came to him, his hat off.
'If you please, sir. There is a man lying under the broken mainsail boom, part covered by canvas. I think he is dead.'
'I will look at him, Richard.' And he followed the boy across the deck. At the place James pulled away bloodsoaked canvas and a tangle of cable-laid rope, and gazed down at the motionless figure. A heavy splinter protruded from his throat in a welter of blood. His eyes were open, staring sightless.
'Yes, he is dead. – Jump aboard Hawk, Richard, if y'please, and say to Captain Rennie with my compliments that I will like to see him here.' Sheathing his sword.
'Aye, sir.'
A few minutes after, Rennie came aboard, stepping over debris, and stood beside James. 'Why did not you allow me to board and fight, James? We have always – '
'Because this was my fight, sir.' Over him. 'I did not wish to see you risk your life untoward.'
'Untoward! Surely we are – '
'Is that the man, sir?' Again over him, pushing aside bloody canvas with his foot.
Rennie looked, sniffed in a breath, and let it out as a sigh: 'Yes, that is Aidan Faulk.'
'So it has all been for nothing, has it not?' And
he covered the dead man's face.
'Never say that, James.'
'What, then? What should I say? That we have won?'
And he stepped away to the rail, and stared out over the lifting sea.
NINE
'Escaped!' Major Braithwaite was both furiously dismayed and extremely sceptical, and his face said so. 'Both of them escaped?'
'No, sir.' James, very correct, his back straight. 'Mr Scott has escaped. Faulk – was killed.'
'Damnation and hellfire! You gave me your word that Scott would be took! And now you bring me this wretched intelligence!'
'You may imagine our very considerable regret that Aidan Faulk – '
'Candidly, Mr Hayter, candidly I do not much care about Mr Bloody Faulk, now! You have allowed Scott to give you the slip, that is the – '
'Major Braithwaite. Sir.' Rennie took a step forward with a polite but firm little smile, and a brief nod to James. 'We have suffered very heavy losses in the action we fought earlier today. Men are dead, and gravely injured. Mr Hayter and I was lucky to escape death ourselves. We did not know Scott had escaped until half a glass after, and then it was too late altogether. Hawk lay near crippled in the sea, there was handto- hand fighting, and – '
'Christ in tears, Rennie, could not your damned lookouts have kept a better watch? Was not the entire purpose of this battle at sea to capture Scott?'
'In course it was, Major, in course it was. Scott and Faulk both. And as sea officers we did our utmost to achieve that end. However, Scott and several others had escaped in a boat, and –'
'You failed! Failed, sir! When I had put at your disposal all my resource, and you gave me your solemn oath!'
'Our solemn oath that we would do everything in our power. But anything may happen – '
'I warned you what I would do if you failed me, did not I? That I would place you under arrest!'
'Anything may happen at sea, as I was about to say.'
Rennie, very firmly, over him in turn. 'We are only human men, not gods, and men may only do their best.'
'You call this dismal outcome your best?'
'Honourably do their best, as we have done today, at great cost.'
'Hah!'
'You scoff, sir?' Rennie, his eyes narrowed. 'You question my honour?'
The Hawk Page 32
