‘What are her colo-o-o-ours?’
‘Three masted square rigger .no-o-o-o colours!’
‘Eh?’ Rennie, half to himself. He strode to the larboard rail and raised his glass, but could not yet find the sail. He returned to the binnacle.
‘No colours, Mr. Latimer?’
‘No, sir.’ Again he raised his speaking trumpet. ‘Which wa-a-a-ay is she headed?’
‘She is headed north-e-e-e-east!’
‘Headed directly toward us.’ Rennie, a little grimace. ‘And no colours.’ A sniff.
‘I don’t like it, Mr. Latimer. We will beat to quarters, if y’please.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’ His hat off and on, and he stepped to the breast rail. ‘We will beat to quarters, and clear the decks for action!’
Expedient was well off the French coast, west of Brest, heading southwest in the Atlantic with the unknown ship not very far distant. At first Rennie thought that she could not be French, since Admiral Duff’s squadron was blockading the port of Brest very secure. He quickly had second thoughts.
‘In course she could not have come from Brest. She has come from much farther south. La Rochelle, very like. Yes, by God, she is French, after all.’ All this to himself. ‘And I’ll stake my warrant of commission she means to fight. Well well, I am ready.’
James Hayter now came on deck, bare headed and dressed in his plain frock coat. He hesitated a moment, then when Rennie beckoned him he came aft on the quarterdeck as guncrews rushed to their posts and powder monkies darted.
Formally: ‘Thankee, Captain Rennie. I heard the call and then the clatter as the bulkheads were struck. Is it an exercise, or ?’
‘An enemy ship.’ Rennie lifted his glass, and now found the sail. He pointed, and handed James the glass.
James focused the glass, found the ship on the horizon, and after a moment.
‘A large frigate, by the look. Cannot see her colours.’
‘She wears none.’
James lowered the glass. ‘No colours? Ain’t that damned strange?’
‘She may be a French privateer. I have heard of such a ship. A black painted forty gun frigate, very large and fast, that merchant seamen call the Hellhag. She wears no colours until the last moment, then breaks out the French tricolour. She has took many prizes in these waters, and farther out in the Atlantic. As far west as the Azores.’
‘Can we outrun her?’
‘Nay, I don’t think so. Not if she is intent on taking us.’
‘Perhaps if we altered course as night came on she could not find us.’
‘Night ain’t coming on, James.’
‘You will fight, then ?’
‘If I must. And I think that I must. We are closing fast.’
‘Then I had better keep out of the way. With your permission I will go below.’
‘I would not object to your presence on deck.’
‘But I am a supernumerary.’
‘Just so, just so. Below, I expect y’will be safe. Yes, it is the wisest course.’ A nod.
‘That is not my reason for going below.’ Stung.
‘Ain’t it? Ah.’
‘In course it ain’t. I wished merely to be out of your way, so that I would not be a hindrance.’
‘My dear James, you will never be a hindrance in an action. Will not ye change your mind?’
‘D’ymean ?’
‘I will like you on my quarterdeck, if y’please, as a fighting man of great courage and experience. Wearing a sword.’
‘I did not bring a sword.’
‘You may borrow one of mine.’
‘Very well, thankee.’
‘Y’will find a spare long glass in the binnacle rack.’
‘Very good.’ A deep breath, and suddenly he found himself elated. ‘Very good.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
‘Starboard battery ready, sir!’
‘Very good, thank you, Mr. Latimer.’
Rennie stood at the binnacle with the sailing master Mr. Tancred and the quartermaster. James joined them, buckling on his borrowed sword. In a quieter tone, Rennie:
‘Where is your hat, James?’
‘I left it below.’
‘Y’did not think to wear your kerchief?’
This was a light hearted reference to James’s past penchant for informal dress at sea, when he had often worn seaman’s wide trousers, striped shirt and leather jerkin, and a red and white kerchief tied round his head.
‘I no longer possess that piratical kerchief.’ A faint smile.
‘No? Ah.’
James was tempted to ask Rennie what his tactics would be in the coming action, then did not. Quarterdeck etiquette precluded such questions. Unless the captain himself wished to discuss battle tactics, nothing could be said. Presently Rennie summoned his first, and:
‘I want grenades issued to the Marine sharpshooters in the tops, Mr. Latimer. Say so to Mr. Archibald.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’
‘And Mr. Latimer ’
‘Sir?’
‘Our great guns are double shotted with round shot, correct?’
‘Correct, sir.’
‘Though not in course the quarterdeck carronades. They could not happily accommodate two thirty-two pound round shot.’
‘No, sir.’
‘After the first fire, I want alternate guns double shotted with grape and star, and the other guns double shotted with round and bar shot. I want a hail of hell smashing across the Frenchman’s decks.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’ Frowning in concentration. ‘Second fire, round and bar, and alternate guns grape and star. Other than the carronades.’
‘Our aim the first fire is to smash her masts, Mr. Latimer. Her fore and main.’
‘Aye-aye, sir. Foremast and mainmast.’ His hat off and on, and he departed to find the gunner.
‘I don’t know what the Frenchman’s tactics will be, James.’ Rennie, turning to him. ‘I have heard that these French privateers favour the same tactic as their naval ships. Grapeshot the first fire, to kill men, then close and grapple, and board. I do not intend to allow him that opportunity.’
‘To board us?’
‘I will never let him come near me.’ Shaking his head.
‘Well, if he has the wind .which he has .how can we prevent it?’
‘He may have the wind gauge, James. He cannot outfox an Englishman, that has the blood of Reynard in his veins.’
As the two frigates approached each other, the lookout called:
‘De-e-e-eck! She is a British ship! She wears the jack and ensign!’
Rennie brought up his glass, and saw that the frigate had indeed hoisted the union flag, and the red ensign of an independent ship exactly the colours Expedient herself wore. However, there was no pennant streaming from the mainmast truck top. Rennie lowered the glass. A breath, then he shook his head.
‘Nay, I don’t like it.’ Another shake of the head, and:
‘Mr. Latimer!’
‘Sir? Attending.
‘When that ship is at one mile, make the private signal for independent RN ships. If she don’t respond immediate with the correct flags, we will know she is the French privateer and we shall engage. Stand by to tack to larboard and fire, on my command.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’
Rennie stood at the binnacle, James beside him. Expedient sailed on, gliding and dipping, her cutwater smashing up spray. The taut, grumbling complaint of cable laid rope, the creaking of timbers, the tonal humming of the wind. The tension of waiting.
Presently Lieutenant Latimer gave the order to the duty mids to hoist the private signal. The flags were brought from the lockers, the book hastily checked, and the flags hoisted in the correct sequence on the signal halyard.
Rennie and James brought their long glasses up.
Flags fluttered on the frigate’s halyard. Red and white, blue and white, yellow.
The signal was answered.
Both Rennie and James knew at the same insta
nt that the signal was incorrect.
‘Starboard battery! Stand by your guns!’
Lieutenant Latimer turned his alert gaze on Captain Rennie. Rennie did not raise his hand. He did not nod. He did not say a word.
He waited.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
The privateer anticipated Expedient’s move by several seconds. Even as Rennie gave the order and Expedient began to swing to larboard, the black painted French ship had already tacked to starboard to loose her larboard battery.
A sequence of stabbing orange flames and boiling smoke, and two hundred and fifty pounds weight of grapeshot slammed into Expedient in a concentrated smashing hail, ripping at shrouds, stays, halyards and courses. The broadside killed eight men along Expedient’s deck and wounded a further fifteen, chopping through them with devastating force. The binnacle disintegrated in flying shards of timber. Compasses, long glasses and a sextant were smashed to fragments. The forrard section of the wheel was heavily damaged, and the helmsman Jacob Jackman was cut in half, the top of him sprayed across the deck in clumps of bone, skin and bloody flesh. A flap of his scalp, with a tuft of hair attached, slewed across the skylight in a bloody skid.
James was not hit, but he was covered in blood and fragments of the helmsman’s brains. One of the duty mids lay slumped face down on the deck, his left arm torn off. James turned in a daze to Captain Rennie and he was not there. Now James saw that Rennie lay on his back near the base of the mizzen, by the bitts. His hat had been blown off, he had lost a shoe, and he was unconscious.
James came to himself. Where the devil was Lieutenant Latimer?
Was nobody going to give the order to fire?
James ran to the breastrail, wiping blood from his face with his sleeve. Cupped a hand to his mouth, and:
‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’
In spite of the shock and confusion all but two of Expedient’s starboard great guns spoke.
BANG BANG BANG BANG B-BOOM BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
‘Re-loooooad!’
James ran aft to where Rennie lay. A splinter had lodged above his left ear, and another had torn his neck. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. James heaved him up, arm and shoulder, and got him to the companionway. He shouted for help, and two men from a carronade crew ran to his assistance and carried Captain Rennie below. There was nothing to be done for the motionless mid-shipman on the deck. Lieutenant Latimer was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the sailing master Mr. Tancred, nor the quartermaster. Smoke drifted across the ship. Moans and screams came from the gun deck.
‘I must take command.’ James, to himself. He bent and picked up Rennie’s hat from the deck, put it on, seated it firmly, and straightened his back. A deep, head clearing breath. Another. The stink of burnt powder and wad, the stench of torn guts, the sharp metallic odour of blood. The ship was drifting, and there was still confusion on the gun deck. James found a dazed man near the tafferel, and asked him:
‘How are you rated?’
‘I I am rated ordinary ’
‘Then y’can hand, reef and steer. Take the wheel. Wait for my command.’
‘Aye aye, sir.’
James strode again to the breast rail, gripped it and began to bellow orders, his quarterdeck tones ringing the length of the ship.
‘Carry the wounded below! And pass the word for the carpenter, Mr. Mace! Hands to clear away wreckage! Cheerly, now! You there, powder boy!’ Pointing. ‘Find the gunner, Mr. Archibald, and tell him I want him! We must give those damned Frenchies the fight they came for, and smash them for their bloody arrogance! That man there! Get up on your legs! We are a British ship of war, by God, and we shall prevail!’
Expedient’s own double shotted broadside had done its work, and the enemy frigate’s rush into battle had been deflected. She too had suffered terrible casualties, and severe damage. Like Expedient she was drifting in the smoke, with yards and rigging dragging over her side. Her bowsprit had been severed,
her headsails were loose, and there were flames on her fo’c’sle. However, she was far from beaten.
Musket fire crackled and spat from her tops, and three or four swivels sent half pound loads of canister singing across Expedient’s fo’c’sle and waist. Shouts from her quarterdeck, and she began to swing slowly and ponderously to larboard, to loose her starboard battery.
James saw what she intended, and hurried to the wheel to give orders.
He wore ship, in a frenzy of anxiety as Expedient slowly swung round, and just in time presented her undamaged larboard side, all her guns intact and manned. Again he raised his voice:
‘Wait for the lift of the sea .. ..Fire! Fire!’
Expedient’s full larboard battery roared in a tight sequence, belching fiery smoke and frizzling wad, and sending four hundred and sixty pounds of iron smashing,
slamming and thudding into the black painted enemy ship so that she quivered from stem to stern, the sea rippling along her wales. Her mainmast collapsed in a grinding, splintering tangle of shrouds, yards and canvas, men fell screaming overboard, and she began again to drift, sluggish, wounded and helpless.
James spoke to the helmsman.
‘What is your name, lad?’
‘Seymour, sir. Martin Seymour.’
‘Lay me alongside her, Martin. I mean to board her, and take that French bugger’s sword.’
‘Aye-aye, sir.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Two hours afterward, the French ship taken her captain dead, her spurious colours hauled down James had made an assessment. She was the Heliotrope, an ironic name for a black painted vessel bent on dark destruction. Lieutenant Latimer and the second lieutenant Mr. Plunkett had both been wounded by Heliotrope’s grapeshot, and lay below. Unsure what else to do with her, and lacking the authority formally to take her a prize or make prisoners of her people since he was no longer a commissioned sea officer James had simply thrown all her guns overboard, removed her powder, and set her adrift.
By now Rennie had regained consciousness in his sleeping cabin. He was attended by the ship’s surgeon that was not Dr. Pruett. Dr. Pruett, pleading ill health, had resigned from the Sick & Hurt as a naval surgeon immediately after Expedient had returned to Portsmouth for repair, and had gone into quiet retirement in the West Country.
Expedient’s new surgeon was the old. Dr. Thomas Wing, her surgeon in Expedient’s first and several subsequent commissions, had returned to the service, and the ship, just before the present voyage. Captain Rennie had taken him back with relief and gratitude, having thought he should be obliged to sail without a medical man of any description, not even a loblolly boy.
Now, however concussed as he was, and his head bandaged Captain Rennie had forgotten that development, and was mystified by the presence of this once familiar diminutive figure.
‘Thomas .? You here .?’
Patiently Thomas Wing explained how and when he had rejoined the ship,
and Rennie did then recall the course of events .but was anxious.
‘Thomas, I will not like to detain you here in the cabin. You have much work to do below, surely.’
‘That is so, but I am able to spare enough time to ensure you will not perish of your own wounds, Captain Rennie.’
‘Wounds? I was knocked off my feet the first fire, that is all. I am quite all right now, you know.’ Making to rise.
‘Nay, but you ain’t.’ Firmly, a restraining hand on Rennie’s shoulder. ‘I have removed a splinter from your head, and sewed up a gash in your neck caused by another. You will suffer with headache several days together, and y’must rest.’
‘Nay, nay, I am altogether hale ’ And again he made to rise. ‘Ooohh .’ And fell back in his cot with a wince, closing his eyes. ‘My head ’
‘Exact, your head.’ Dr. Wing. ‘It must be treated with utmost respect and kind-ness, since it has been knocked about very grievous.’ He leaned forward and peered closely into Rennie’s eyes, frowned, straightened to his full four foot seven inche
s, and:
‘Y’may take broth and biscuit, softened in broth.’
‘I will like tea ’
‘Y’may well like tea, Captain Rennie. However, I forbid it. Y’may take broth, as I said. I will look in again this evening.’
‘For a very little fellow you are a very great tyrant.’ Rennie, with a sniff, but his tone was not harsh.
‘Good day to ye, Captain Rennie.’ Thomas Wing closed up his bag and departed the sleeping cabin. To James Hayter waiting in the day cabin he nodded and:
‘Y’may go in, James, but be brief, if y’please.’
James went in. He explained what he had done, and:
‘I know that I have likely exceeded my authority in letting the enemy ship go indeed, I have no authority but I could see no alternative, William.’
‘You did right .you did right. What is the extent of our damage?’
‘Erm I have asked Mr. Mace to bring his lists of repair. The boatswain also. And the gunner. They have all done so, and repairs are in hand. I do not know your sailmaker, and have not had the opportunity to speak to--’
‘Ye’ve done very well, James excellent well. I want a drink of water ’
James brought water, and Rennie gratefully sucked down half a glass, cleared his throat, and:
‘Listen now, James I am going to ask that you aid me yet further.’
James waited. Rennie took another drink, then:
‘Since neither Lieutenant Latimer nor my second Mr. Plunkett has come to see me, I must assume they too was wounded. Correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘My sailing master, Mr. Tancred?’
‘He has not been seen since the action, as I understand.’
‘Hm. Hm. Just take up my bible, will ye?’
‘Eh?’
‘The bible.’ Pointing to a shelf.
James reached for the bible, and made to hand it to him.
‘Nay, nay it is for you. Hold it in your left hand, and raise up your right.’
‘What? Why? Are we in a court of law?’
‘I am not in the mood for jest, James. My head aches, and I am forbade tea. Now then: will you swear to take command, temporary, until I am again up on my legs? Simply say I do , and all will be well.’
The Following Wind Page 21