The Following Wind

by Peter Smalley

  He pushed aside his surprise and immediately raised his glass again. Because he

  had the wind gauge, and wished to exploit that advantage, he decided to risk exposing Expedient beam on to the French frigate as she approached, and to fire a full broadside in an attempt to smash her foremast. He summoned his first lieutenant and told him what Expedient must do.

  The attack would have to be managed with perfect timing and precision.

  Expedient would swing to larboard, the wind on her beam, and fire her starboard battery all in one flowing moment. Rennie was far from certain this could be smoothly accomplished. His guncrews were untested in battle. They had had little gunnery exercise, and no target practice. He did not convey his doubts to his lieutenant, for fear of weakening his resolve. Nor did he give voice to the added risk the profound added risk that the enemy ship would herself haul off the wind, present her beam and loose off her twenty-four pounder guns in a full broadside of her own. This would be immensely dangerous for Expedient. The weight of metal slamming into her from the French ship’s great guns would be far greater than anything Expedient could send.

  Rennie was fully prepared to take these risks.

  If he did not, and it came to an out and out blasting battle, the two frigates at point blank range in a devastating contest, broadside on broadside, Expedient could not survive.

  Rennie had to take and keep the advantage, and smash the French ship to wounded indecision. Then smash her absolutely. Smash her to destruction.

  ‘Mr. Considine.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘What is our design?’

  ‘Our design is to tack to larboard, present our starboard battery, and--’

  Over him: ‘Our design is to smash, burn, sink and destroy our enemy, Mr. Considine. Let us make it so.’

  ‘Aye-aye, sir.’

  In the bow, Mr. Canfield at the reloaded chasers bawled:

  ‘Fire! Fire!’

  BANG BANG

  Through his glass Rennie saw that both round shot went wide. This did not surprise him. The French ship’s reply was more accurate. Midshipman Canfield, standing where Lieutenant Considine had stood a few moments before, was hit full in the chest by a nine pound round shot, which punched straight through him in an explosion of bloody fragments, flew on and shattered the galley stove cowling. The midshipman’s smashed corpse slumped bloodily under the rail.

  If this incident surprised Rennie, or appalled him, he did not show it. To his lieutenant:

  ‘Thank God the Frenchman comes at us so hard and confident. He thinks he can intimidate us. That he can overwhelm and crush us with his heavier guns. We will confound him in that idle belief.’

  Long moments as the two ships came relentlessly toward each other.

  Rennie waited.

  Waited still.

  Then:

  ‘Very well, Mr. Considine.’

  Orders given, and Expedient swung sharply to port, fully exposing her starboard side with its long line of open gunports, guns run out.

  Too late the French frigate attempted to counter, just as Mr. Considine, on the lift of the sea:

  ‘Starboard battery! Fire! Fire!’

  BANG BANG BANG BOOM BANG BANG BOOM BOOM BOOM BANG

  The ear singing concussions reverberated through the decking timbers, through the whole of his body, and lifted Rennie’s heart. Belching smoke boiled over the sea. The stink of powder and flaming wad filled his nostrils.

  His glass up.

  At least half of the eighteen pound round shot went wide, sending up great fountains of spray round the French frigate.

  The other half struck home.

  Struck her bowsprit, and smashed it. Struck her foremast, and brought it down in a heavy tipping collapse, dragging stays, shrouds and sails over the larboard side. The ship at once lost way, and drifted unsteadily.

  ‘We will go about and give her our larboard battery, Mr. Considine.’

  Orders bellowed, calls sounded, and the ship began to turn. Guncrews scrambled to the opposite side of the gun deck, and and took up their positions at the lar-board battery.

  The French frigate opened fire.

  Orange flame stuttered down her side, and smoke ballooned in furious puffing clouds.

  The whole of Expedient’s quarterdeck was sluiced and drenched in spray as twenty-four pound round shot smashed the sea all round her stern. Smashed the sea, but not Expedient.

  ‘Larboard battery stand by!’

  A glistening moment. The ship gliding and turning.

  ‘Fire! Fire!’

  The thunder and flame of the guns. Boiling smoke and powder grit. The terrible crashing thuds of shot going home. The sea pocked by splinters and fragments.

  Over everything the ships, the drifting smoke, the sombre sea the sulphurous reek of battle. Of death delivered.

  And now the screams.

  Rending, piercing, desperate screams.

  Captain Rennie, raising his voice just enough to be heard plainly:

  ‘Mr. Considine.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Both starboard and larboard batteries to reload with grape.’

  ‘Grape shot, sir ?’

  ‘Grape shot.’ Grimly.

  ‘Aye-aye, sir.’

  As Expedient moved in for the kill, a shout from the lookout in the mainmast crosstrees:

  ‘De-e-e-e-ck, there! Foxhound is afire!’

  Rennie had forgotten Foxhound for the moment, and now ran to the rail and focused his glass. In the distance he saw the second French frigate, tacking murderously close across Foxhound’s stern, fire a broadside directly into her. She was already burning, her spanker a sheet of flame. The broadside finished her. Her mizzen and main collapsed, and flaring fire consumed her from stem to stern.

  ‘Christ Jesu .’ Rennie, in a whisper.

  A further moment.

  A great bursting flower of fire, and arcing smoke trails. Foxhound had blown up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Rennie countermanded his order to reload the great guns with grapeshot and ordered them double shotted with eighteen pound round shot instead. His intention was to bear down directly on the second French frigate, catch her unawares and send a tremendous broadside through her stern, just as she had done to Foxhound.

  He knew that at best this was an outside chance. The second French ship, having destroyed Foxhound, would now be intent on aiding her sister ship to destroy

  Expedient.

  Having left that sister ship behind, crippled, Rennie kept his glass on the other frigate as Expedient sailed toward her. Rennie had the wind gauge still, and was counting on it as his greatest asset of attack.

  As he had feared the French frigate turned away from the shattered wreckage of Foxhound, and beat toward Expedient. Rennie did not allow himself to dwell sorrowful on the fate of his friend. Would not, and could not. The time for that was afterward. For now his attention must be directed entirely upon the survival of Expedient and her people. Survival and victory.

  ‘That bloody Frenchman will rue today, when he killed my friend and challenged me. He will rue the day his mother gave him breath, by God. Then rue it sore again, before I am done.’

  ‘Sir?’ Lieutenant Considine, at his side. Without realizing it Rennie had vented his thoughts aloud. To his lieutenant he said now, in a brisk, businesslike tone:

  ‘I will like grenades prepared, and issued to the Marine sharpshooters in the tops. If we come to board this damned second frigate, we must have the advantage in hand to hand fighting. Half a dozen or eight well aimed grenades, armed with canister shot, will give us that advantage. Say so to the gunner.’

  ‘Grenades, filled with canister aye-aye, sir.’

  The ships drew closer. And closer.

  Terrible fear suppressed during the first encounter began to spread its cold tentacles through Rennie’s bowels. And through his water. His heart beat faster. His throat tightened. He felt sick.

  ‘Damnation ’ Whispered. He
strode to the breastrail, and gripped it, his glass clamped under his arm. Sniffed in deep breaths. Turned and strode aft, past the men at the binnacle and wheel, and the men of the afterguard, to the tafferel. Turned and looked aloft, as if to make a final survey of his ship before she en-gaged again in battle. His fear began to recede. What would be would be.

  The remaining French frigate had no bow chasers, and so could not fire at Expedient as she approached. Expedient could fire at her, and did so. Both nine pound round shot fell far short.

  Rennie, his fear governed, went forrard to the starboard gangway, along to the fo’c’s’le, and into the bow, where he brought up his glass. The body of the killed midshipman had been carried below, and another boy had taken his place. The bloody timbers had been sluiced down with buckets of water. Rennie peered at the French ship ahead, lowered his glass, and placed a hand briefly on the new mid’s shoulder.

  ‘Never mind that your guns have not found their mark.’

  ‘Sir ?’

  ‘They signal our certainty of purpose. That our broadsides will presently seal her fate as they sealed the fate of her companion astern.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Y’may reload, and carry on.’ A nod.

  ‘Aye-aye, sir.’

  Rennie went aft.

  The gunner Mr. Archibald was waiting for him at the waist ladder.

  ‘Mr. Archibald?’

  ‘Mr Considine said you wished me to prepare grenades, sir.’

  ‘Yes yes, and we shall need them very soon. Are they ready?’

  ‘I must inform you, sir, that there is no grenades available.’

  ‘No grenades? Nay, that is nonsense. Grenades are provided in every ship of war, in the shot lockers.’

  ‘Not in Expedient, sir.’

  ‘You are certain?’

  ‘I am, sir. They is listed in my book, but when we searched through the filling room and the shot lockers both, there wasn’t a single grenade shell.’

  ‘Why was this not discovered before we sailed, good God?’

  ‘As you will recall, sir, there was great difficulty about our powder and shot when we reached Portsmouth. It must have been overlooked.’

  ‘Overlooked, Mr. Archibald? D’y’mean that you overlooked this discrepancy? And then signed off the ordnance book as complete?’

  ‘I .it is my fault, sir.’

  ‘Yes, well well, recrimination and blame will not do now, Mr. Archibald, as we fly across the open sea and into action. We must make do, and grow inventive. We will make up grenades from cartridge.’

  ‘Cartridge ?’

  ‘Aye, Mr. Archibald. Full allowance powder mixed with a pound of canister shot, in flannel cartridge cases. Seal them, and add fuses. They will answer adequate well, I am in no doubt. Make up a round dozen, right quick, and issue them to the Marines in the tops.’

  ‘Cartridge grenades. A dozen. Aye-aye, sir.’ Mr. Archibald touched his hat, and went below.

  Rennie focused his glass, lowered it, and spoke to his first lieutenant as he returned from the gun deck.

  ‘Are both batteries double shotted, Mr. Considine?’

  ‘They are, sir, indeed.’

  ‘Then all we may do is wait, and let the wind do its work.’

  The French ship was approaching close hauled at a mile distant when she opened fire. At that range none of her twenty-four pound round shot struck Expedient, but fell harmlessly short, sending up fountains of spray.

  Rennie felt his fear returning, icy in his vitals, and had to clench his fists and suppress it with all his resolve. To occupy himself he strode to the rail and brought up his glass.

  The two ships converged, Expedient with the wind on her quarter, the French frigate close hauled. Soon they were in range one with the other, and both fired broadsides at the same moment. Expedient’s was better directed, and three of her double shotted guns found their mark, six eighteen pound round shot in all. The French captain had not allowed for the wind or for Expedient’s momentum on the sea, and all of his twenty-four pound round shot missed.

  Expedient’s hits were all toward the stern of the enemy ship. They smashed her

  wheel and binnacle, tore away her spanker, and damaged her rudder. However, she was not entirely crippled.

  The two ships came closer. Expedient swung on the opposite tack to fire her starboard battery. It was exactly then that the French frigate’s quarterdeck carronades were fired, four short range thirty-two pound smashers.

  BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

  Two of the heavy shot went wide, throwing up fountains of spray. The others thudded home with devastating force. Splinters flew all over Expedient’s quarterdeck. Rennie was hit, and Lieutenant Considine. The tafferel was entirely torn away, the starboard quarter gallery, and half of the stern gallery windows. The top of the rudder was severely damaged, the spectacle plate, gudgeons and pintles torn off, and the whole rudder hung loose.

  Rennie sat up dazed and disorientated, his face a glistening red mask from a gash on his scalp. Lieutenant Considine lay where he had fallen, a great shard of timber through his throat. Afterguard hands lay like discarded sacks, flung about the deck. Smoke, smashed rails, the iron odour of blood.

  ‘Christ Jesu ’ Rennie, hoarsely.

  The groans of the wounded men, and now a despairing scream from the helmsman, who had lost his right arm, and clung to the spokes of the wheel with his left hand. Soon he lost consciousness, and collapsed.

  The ship was drifting. Both ships were drifting, in hanging smoke. Slowly and heavily drifting toward each other. Rennie knew that the next fire would be decisive. Whichever ship fired first would prevail.

  He must make certain that ship was Expedient.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  James was vaguely aware of the battle in the distance. He was wholly aware, now, that he was not aboard his own ship any more, but still afloat. He was clinging to a piece of wreckage, a grating. Just ahead was a floating cask. He could smell its contents salted pork. He was wet through, and cold, and one ear was singing deaf. On the same side, his left side, his head was numb, and he could not see clearly with his left eye.

  With an effort he turned to looked around him, and saw three bodies floating, thirty yards distant. Nay, four bodies. And wreckage. A great deal of wreckage. Casks. Another grating. A torn sail. Massed floating splinters. One or two pieces of wreckage, farther away, were still smouldering. A residue of smoke hung in a light haze over the sea.

  ‘How have I survived .? How is it possible that I am still aswim .and no one else? In least .no one that is alive .’

  Had he dived overboard, at the last moment? Had he jumped? His ship had sunk, that fact was clear to him.

  Or was it clear, after all?

  Perhaps his ship .had not sunk.

  What was she called? What was her name?

  He could not recollect, just at present .

  Had his ship blown up? Had she blown to pieces in a fierce burst of flame?

  ‘I do not know .’

  He struggled to pull himself further on to the grating. The grating tilted heavily, and he lay still. No sense in tipping himself into the sea. He would likely drown. No sense in that.

  Now, in the distance, renewed sounds of battle.

  BOOM BOOM B-BOOM

  Echoing dully over the sea.

  That was Expedient, and Captain Rennie. Expedient .that had been his own ship,

  long ago. If Captain Rennie survived the action, would he think to look for survivors?

  Survivors from ..Foxhound. That was the name of his ship.

  Foxhound.

  At the last, with the much larger ship in pursuit, she had tried to turn and fight, and had been caught with terrible blasting fire through her stern.

  It was if the ship had been sailing of her own accord, quite outside his influence, leave alone his command.

  He could recall nothing more.

  And now she was gone, and likely all the people in her.

  Ex
cept himself.

  He felt no emotion save a dull sense of relief that he was still alive. That he had survived.

  Thus far.

  Perhaps he would not survive beyond the next hour if Expedient did not come looking for him.

  If she herself did not survive the battle.

  BOOM B-BOOM BOOM BOOM

  A lull. The wash of the sea.

  crack-crack-crack crack-crack-crackle-crack

  Those sharper concussions, then no further gunfire of any kind. Only the washing of the waves as the wind stirred. Then silence over the stretching sea. And distant smoke.

  Two hours later, on the point of giving up the search, Expedient found him. He had lost consciousness, but his fingers still clung to the grating.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ‘I had made up my mind, James,’ said Captain Rennie. ‘When we prevailed by a very narrow margin I decided not to search for survivors of a ship that had exploded. Expedient herself was damaged so severe I determined to limp home to England, and leave what little that remained of Foxhound behind, without investigation.’

  ‘Then I am fortunate, indeed.’ James pulled the blanket up round his shoulders.

  ‘Aye, you are, by God.’ A nod and a chuckle.

  ‘And I am most heartily grateful.’ Quietly.

  ‘It was only when we began to turn away that I had a second thought, and said to myself in my head, you know: I must make a pass or two through the wreck-age, and attempt to find his body. ‘

  ‘My body ? Why?’

  ‘In order, well .to be able to say to Catherine, and your mother, that I had buried you decently at sea.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Thank God we did.’

  ‘Find my body ?’

  ‘Both your body, and soul.’

  ‘That was very nearly a ghost.’ A smile, and he pulled the blanket a little higher. ‘Are we heading for England?’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Naples is out of the question, then?’