Clearing a path up the slope proved a more arduous enterprise than any expected, and devoured all of the forenoon, and some hours of the afternoon as well. Hayden spent the time clambering up and down the slope, until his legs ached, overseeing the efforts of the men who laboured among the massive blocks.
Although Wickham and the lieutenant had proven that guns could be raised in the manner Hayden intended, the slope here was both notably steeper and more rugged. The height was also greater. Whether it could be managed was unknown and would remain so for some time.
A more reasonable man might have drawn one of the gun carriages up first, or the howitzer, as a trial, but Hayden reasoned that if they could not carry eighteen-pounders to the crest there would be no use for carriages or even the howitzer. For this reason, it was his intention to make the experiment with one of the great guns.
‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ Jinks responded when Hayden explained his reasoning to him, but it was 4000 pounds that concerned Hayden.
On one of his several ascents to the crest that day, Hayden found Moore awaiting him, his entire manner apparently approving of all the sailors’ efforts.
‘I see a gun lying trussed up, and ready to ascend to the heights,’ Moore observed.
‘It is ready, but are we?’
‘There is no doubt on that account, Hayden.’
The two officers walked the short distance to the place where the engineers prepared the batteries, and stared down at the French below. Hayden was certain that Moore hoped above all things that there would soon be guns upon this very spot, for the effectiveness of the more distant battery was still somewhat in doubt, and it was unlikely to reach the batteries surrounding the tower above Fornali Bay. Guns upon this spot, however, would be devastating to all of the French positions.
The two frigates lying in the tiny bay between the tower of Fornali and the Convention Redoubt drew Hayden’s attention, and not for the first time.
‘I have noted, Captain, that the French ships weigh upon your thoughts,’ Moore observed.
‘Yes. I fear they shall be scuttled or burnt when the works are carried.’
‘Better that than they escape,’ Moore ventured.
‘Indeed. But we have need of frigates, here in the Mediterranean almost more than anywhere of which I can conceive.’
‘Can they be taken?’ Moore asked. He had raised his telescope and directed its glass eye towards the two ships.
‘Not easily. They’ve rigged boarding nets all around, and have no doubt loaded every gun with grape. We would have to cut them out by night. Preferably at the exact moment the works were being carried. I don’t think the French will burn such valuable ships until it is apparent they have no choice.’
Moore lowered his glass, his countenance pensive. ‘Has Lord Hood indicated his thoughts on this matter?’
‘He has not. I am considering making application to him to allow my crew to attempt to cut them out.’
‘It seems an excellent enterprise, to my mind.’
When Moore and Hayden returned to the place where the blocks were strapped to the rocks, the hands were already bearing the rope back down to the base. Calling out the names of two of the Themis’s men, Hayden sent one down the hill to fetch a glass and then stationed them to watch the French frigates.
‘I am most interested to know if either ship has a full muster,’ he told the men, ‘or if they are making preparations to fire the ships. Keep the closest possible watch – turn about.’
As the men were delighted to be spared the brutal toil of raising guns, Hayden was certain they would not take their eyes from the enemy ships, lest they be sent back to the ropes.
Hayden then turned to Moore. ‘The moment of truth,’ he announced. ‘Or perhaps I should say the several hours of truth.’ He looked up at the sun. Daylight appeared to be flying with even greater than usual haste.
‘It will be done, Hayden; I have no doubt of it.’ Moore’s face turned suddenly serious. ‘I do have one small wager over this matter. If you bear the eighteen-pounders to the crest, Major Kochler must seek your forgiveness for his unacceptable treatment of you and amend his views of the Navy in the future.’
‘And if I fail in this task?’
‘Well, he can hardly treat you worse.’
Hayden laughed. ‘I shall not disagree with you there.’
On his way down the slope, Hayden stopped to speak with the men who manned the great rope, being certain they were able to continue and seeing to their need for food and water. The day was warm, without being hot, but the task was arduous and lack of water, even on this mild day, would soon tell.
The sun rode low over the western hills, casting its thin, winter light down upon the blue sea and dusty-green island. An hour would bring twilight. Hayden had torches and lanterns made ready.
He saw to the eighteen-pounder himself, to be certain it would not shift on its bed. Satisfied, he turned to Jinks. ‘You may give the order to begin.’
‘Aye, sir. Man the falls!’ he called loudly. ‘Haul taut!’ A slight tug on the sledge bearing the gun shifted it into line. ‘Hoist away! Walk!’
The rope seemed to stretch for an impossible length of time. After several long moments, the rope growing ever tauter, the sledge stirred, scraped forward a little, hesitated, then began the slow, burdensome climb towards the crest. Hayden climbed up beside the sledge, guiding it with a Samson bar. Despite the manifest dangers of this enterprise, hanging back at such a moment would earn him the scorn of the hands. His time with Captain Bourne had taught him that officers need always brave the worst dangers faced by their crews to maintain respect. He did not always do it without trepidation, or even foreboding, but he always forced himself to step forward.
The doubly heavy gun caused the sledge to snag and lodge upon the smallest edge, and the men with the bars were constantly active to keep it from stopping altogether. Knowledge that any stoppage might be the cause of the rope parting galvanized them into prompt action.
The first impediment appeared, and Hayden called out, ‘Mr Jinks! We shall call a halt in but five yards.’
‘Aye, sir!’
A long, steep-sided rock greater than a yard in height stood in the way. All progress was brought to a halt, while Hayden examined the ground all around.
‘Lieutenant!’ Hayden called. ‘I believe we can shift the sledge to larboard and get round.’
Two baulks of timber were laid athwart the slope, wedged in place by heavy stones.
‘They must stand the weight of an eighteen-pounder,’ Hayden instructed the hands. ‘They cannot shift.’
Crowbars and levers were then employed to shift the gun sideways, an inch at a time, until the sledge rested on the two timbers, which were spaced perhaps six feet apart. These were quickly greased. Taking up his bar, Hayden dug it in beneath the heavy runner. ‘One and two and three and heave! Again!’
The sledge lurched to the side but two inches. And then two more. Hayden was soon dripping with sweat and handed his bar to another while he removed both jacket and waistcoat. Taking back his bar he drove it into the unforgiving ground just beneath the runner, presssing his shoulder against the top, the sledge relenting and sliding less than an inch.
‘That will do,’ Hayden announced. ‘Lieutenant! Commence hauling.’
‘Aye, sir.’ The lieutenant called up. ‘Man the falls!’
The sledge reverted to scraping and grating up the rocky slope. The heavy runners – two timbers with their bows shaped to an upward angle – left shavings and chips of rust-coloured wood in their wake. The ancient rock was surprisingly sharp, almost serrated, and tore away at feet and hands so that all the men bore small wounds. ‘Medals’ they called them, and went in search of the most decorated man – the least decorated, excoriated for not toiling sufficiently and being unwilling to bleed for his country.
A man with a bucket caught them up and Hayden thankfully took the dipper, pouring warmish water down his throat. At that
precise instant the sledge slid back, and a hissing slash knifed the air. The rope went scything and coiling up the slope, making the most horrifying noise. The men manning the falls threw themselves down but he heard screams among them. Five feet the sledge grated then came to an abrupt halt against a stone, the gun straining at its bonds. Hayden dropped the dipper and began clambering up the slope as quickly as his tired legs and arms could bear him.
To his relief he saw Jinks emerging from behind a rock, hatless and dishevelled, but otherwise, apparently, whole.
‘Are you injured, Mr Jinks?’
‘No, sir, but it near took my head off even as I threw myself down. My hat is gone… I know not where.’ It was then the moans of the injured men penetrated Jinks’s consciousness. He turned quickly up the slope, and then back towards Hayden in distress and alarm. As Hayden reached him the two scrambled up the slope side by side.
He could hear men calling out that they would need a surgeon.
Three men lay in the rubble of the Corsican hillside, one gashed open across the right side of his abdomen. A second bore an ugly purple welt, as wide as a man’s arm, across his chest and biceps. Both were in terrible pain, and making no secret of it. A third man had been struck on the temple and lay still as stone, though breathing shallowly.
‘Mr Jinks,’ Hayden said, his wits returning. ‘Climb down and secure the gun. Send a man to the beach to bring a surgeon. We shall make up litters to bear these men away.’
‘Captain Hayden!’ came a distant voice.
Hayden turned to find Kochler and some of the other officers who had been observing the gun’s progress making their way with all speed towards them across the steep slope. ‘We have sent for our surgeon, who shall hasten to this place with all speed.’
Moore was also making his way down the slope towards them.
‘Mr Jinks…’ Hayden prompted softly.
‘Aye, sir. Shall I send for the surgeon, yet?’
‘No. But we will require litters, all the same.’
Kochler arrived before Moore, in his wake a few junior officers. For a moment Kochler stood catching his breath, gazing at the fallen men. ‘Our surgeon shall not take twenty minutes, I am certain.’ He turned his attention to Hayden. ‘I am sorry, Hayden. It is the worst luck. But our surgeon is a cunning hand. He shall soon put them to rights. See if he doesn’t.’
It was the longest quarter of an hour Hayden could recall. The hands tried, with a shirt, to staunch the bleeding of the man who was gashed, but the cotton was soon crimson with blood and the man kept passing from consciousness. Each time his fellows thought he had died, but he would then come around and recommence moaning, faintly.
Finally the surgeon appeared across the slope, leading a small party of men bearing litters. He was soon bending over the wounded, speaking to them in a soft, reassuring voice. Hayden thought him overly young for his position, but he was well-made and confident, moving about the rugged slope with a grace that few exhibited. A dressing was soon applied to the bleeding wound, which appeared to be oozing less by the moment, and the three men shifted gently into litters. With difficulty, they were borne across the slope and up. Hayden was not surprised to see Moore lending a hand whenever needed, and taking the greatest care with the wounded, but to see Kochler step in to bear the litters over rough patches was more than unexpected.
Daylight was rapidly slipping away, and Hayden propelled himself down the slope to the waiting bosun. The man was running his fid into one coil of the cable, and muttering a stream of black invective.
‘It has a rotten heart, Captain Hayden,’ Germain stated, prising the stained hemp apart, revealing the black interior. ‘Just the one strand. How it lasted as it did, I cannot say.’
‘It is a wonder,’ Hayden agreed.
‘This here’s the end of it. Then she’s sound as stone, sir.’ He looked back along the length of the rope to where two seaman stood holding a section up. ‘’Bout seven fathoms, Captain Hayden, sir. I’ve more than half a cable in reserve so t’would be simple enough to cut this out and splice in a length. Take a little time, I fear.’
‘It cannot be helped. Let us make up the splices with all speed.’ Hayden turned around, looking for the lieutenant, and found him down by the gun. ‘Mr Jinks. We shall splice in some new rope. Find three able seamen and examine this cable from one end to the other. Lay it open, for this was rotten within and showed no signs of it.’
‘Aye, Captain. There are some cracked planks in the sledge, sir, but I think it will hold until the top.’
‘I shall climb down and see for myself.’
Indeed, there were cracked planks – three of them, but Hayden agreed with Jinks that it would probably hold together until a repair could be effected. Hayden tried not to let his frustration overwhelm him. They had been a few hours from having both eighteen-pounders on the crest! At least the rope had been rotten and had not broken undamaged – that would have been a setback they might never have overcome. There was no question that the cable should have been strong enough to bear the gun’s weight, but the extreme slope and the added friction of the coarse stone was greater than forty hundredweight, Hayden believed.
Before the splices were made the sun settled into the west, leaving an opalescent sky. Jinks picked his way down the slope towards Hayden. ‘The cable is sound, sir, but for that one section. Here and there strands have chaffed through, but not so many as to weaken it overly.’
‘Let us hope that is true. If the rot were greater we should have to send for more cable. I do not like to do this work by dark; it is dangerous for our people, but we have little choice, now.’
Twilight waned rapidly, light draining away into the west. All around, the faces of sailors appeared pale, almost haunted, in the failing light. The men were done in.
We are so close, Hayden thought. The work of but a few more hours.
He almost did not want to ask it of them but knew they would jump to the ropes without hesitation when the order was given. They would raise the guns to the hilltop if they had to bear them on their backs, he was sure.
The new section of rope was run through the block on the sledge and then spliced into the existing cable. There was no one more adept at this craft than sailors but, even so, it was not the work of a moment, and the failing light did not help. Torches were lit, but there was that odd, brief period, when the sunlight faded and yet the torchlight appeared utterly inadequate. Somehow, the eye adjusted to it as the night grew darker, and torchlight seemed, almost, to grow brighter.
Splices were made, the cable drawn taut.
‘Haul away, Mr Jinks!’ Hayden called from his place beside the great gun.
The sledge jostled a little as the rope went taut, slid forward an inch, hesitated, then began jarring and jolting up the slope, pitching up or down as it teetered over some rock. Hayden dug his bar into the hard ground, and diverted the sledge a little to starboard. Two men with torches scrambled along beside, trying to keep light on both sledge and ground, while not setting Corsica afire. The sledge would catch on an edge, and Hayden and the man opposite would prise the bow up, hurrying lest the rope stretch too much. For a foot, the sledge would surge forward, then settle back to grating over stone, as though the gun were some massive, black grub inching its way upwards.
Halfway up the slope they found a place where the sledge could be wedged in place so that the men hauling might have a short respite. Hands on knees, he bent over to catch his breath, not from the speed of their ascent but from the steepness of the slope. Life aboard ship did not build stamina for such work.
When the men had all drunk their fill from hands bearing buckets and dippers, Hayden called to Jinks to continue. The half-blind sledge went forward – the men with torches appearing to guide it, casting their smudge of light upon the shattered landscape.
The crest appeared, as unexpected as a silent whale rising out of the oily, darkened sea. Hayden called down the slope to Jinks, and then collapsed on the gun, dr
awing in deep draughts of warm Mediterranean air. The smell of the sea reached them here, and Hayden felt a sudden longing to be on a ship and done with this war on land, for which he had neither training nor inclination.
‘I do hope Kochler apologizes while I am present,’ a voice said, and Hayden turned to find a beaming Moore, hands on hips, gazing down at him.
‘I find I do not much care about apologies, Colonel. To have managed this thing seems reward enough, at this moment.’ And indeed it did. Despite his physical exhaustion, Hayden felt a great sense of elation, as though rising to the hilltop had only been the first step, and now he was floating higher.
‘I offer you my congratulations, Captain!’ Jinks said, as he came puffing over the rise.
‘And I you, Mr Jinks. It is not every day that one manages the impossible, but so we were informed this task was.’ Hayden patted the gun with an open hand. ‘Yet here is one of Mr Blomefield’s eighteen-pounders, upon a mountaintop where it has no business at all.’ He waved a hand down the slope. ‘All of these men have much of which to be proud.’
‘No more than you, sir.’ Jinks nodded to Moore. ‘Colonel.’
‘The men may rest before they carry the rope back down the hill, Mr Jinks, and then we will tackle the second eighteen. All done before midnight, and tomorrow, once the carriages and howitzer have been raised, the men may take their rest or disport themselves as they choose.’
‘Aye, sir.’
A fathom of the rope used to haul the guns, Hayden estimated, weighed five or six stone – dry – and a cable length consisted of one hundred fathoms, more or less. Several cables had been long-spliced together to make the whole, so the weight was very great. Upon this rugged ground a man per fathom of cable was required to move it with any speed, and Hayden hadn’t enough, even after he had pressed Corsican militiamen into service, but even so, he was not going to ask aid from the army. Kochler and many others had been so disdainful of this attempt that Hayden was damned if he would allow the army to take any part of the credit for the success.
Instead he forced himself up and took hold of a section of cable himself. Every seaman who could walk joined in the work, and though exhausted from their efforts, dragged a fathom of the cable back down to the base of the hill.
A Battle Won Page 37
