Winds of Fury

by Peter Duysings

  Otto abruptly began swinging the wheel, port-tacking the ship desperately to bring his starboard to bear yet again.

  “Starboard cannons ready?” Drope called out. An immediate reply was bellowed by a boatswain who was overseeing that side of the ship. “Be ready again to fire at my command,” Heinrich yelled out.

  “Jawohl,” the reply came back.

  The large schooner appeared to be adrift, Captain Fischer observed. He called out information for the benefit of his two young first mates, “The schooner is changing direction. I believe she has absolutely no control with the broken rudder.” Then he called down to Heinrich, “Herr Drope that was excellent work.”

  “Apparently she hasn’t given up yet, Kapitän, she is trying to tack back into us using sails,” Otto remarked.

  “That is true. But let us ensure our escape by causing more damage to her. Herr Kleist, continue to position her for firing. Herr Drope, stand by with your starboard guns.”

  “Ja, Kapitän, standing by to fire,”

  Captain Fischer tried to ascertain what action was taking place on the other ship. “She is getting the wind into her sails enough to tack. Herr Drope, can you level your guns at the bowsprit jib sail rigging?”

  “Jawohl. Give us a moment, and we will send four cannon shots into it. That’s a tough target even at this short distance.”

  “Affirmative, lad,” Captain Fischer spoke unruffled. “Take accurate aim; it is a must shot.”

  As busy as Heinrich was at the moment directing the men, he couldn’t help but be amazed at his captain’s calm demeanor throughout the engagement; just as the man had taught them to be in front of the crew. The man had guts.

  The schooner was trying to turn, but they were struggling, the ship bobbed in the water a mere thirty yards off. Heinrich’s men hurried to bring their guns to bear on the bowsprit jib rigging the best they could. Most of these sailors had little experience with the cannons, compared to a gunner aboard a naval frigate or a ship-of-the-line.

  “Kapitän, we are set to fire with grapeshot and chain at your discretion.”

  “Well then, let us not keep them waiting. Fire at will,” Fischer stated in a clipped tone.

  With one more look through a cannon slat, sighting where the gun aimed, Heinrich commanded them to fire in the ship’s upward roll. As the firing lanyards were pulled, the flints struck steel while sparks ignited the powder, and detonated the charges in the barrels. In a staggered sequence, the guns loosed their loads. He had the crew quickly reload.

  At this short distance, Fischer did not even have to look through his scope to see the damage they inflicted. “Solid impact,” he shouted.

  He thought how lucky they had been so far; the plan was working superbly. He was extremely impressed with the accuracy. Was it always this easy? For the moment he could only be thankful. The scores matched those of a well-trained military ship’s gunners. Hitting a specific target with cannon fire was not a science; it was an art.

  Along with practice a lot of luck was still needed. The aim of the big guns was a calculated guess at best; fortunately, at this short distance to the target, it was much more accurate. The North Sea gods were with them today. But, how much longer could his gunners stay lucky?

  Everyone onboard could see that the schooner’s bowsprit jib rigging shattered; it had ripped apart and was tangled amidst the foremast.

  “Herr Drope, make your next target the foremast!”

  “Jawohl, Kapitän, but the likelihood of hitting another small target is rather dismal.”

  Fischer glared at Heinrich and sternly said, “You’ve been straight on so far. We have no other option. Their ship can still come around and be able to fire off her full array of broadside cannons. Our ship will be blown to bits! Just do it, lad.”

  Heinrich was searching for a better answer as Fischer barked out his order to Otto.

  “Herr Kleist, wear the sail and keep her steady, swing the ship around and move in as close as you can.”

  “Jawohl,” Otto replied and had the helmsman hold the large wheel as he stepped back to massage his arms.

  “Kapitän!” Heinrich called out excitedly.

  “Speak your peace, lad” Fischer yelled back.

  “I have grapeshot and chain in the ready canons and can reload the other four the same.

  At this short range, we can damage the foremast rigging and also blast metal across her deck.”

  Fischer didn’t have to mull the thought over but for a brief second. “Ja, that is true. Do it!”

  “Jawohl.”

  Fischer thought; why hadn’t I thought of that? This young man has the makings of a superb tactician. He was always thinking.

  Heinrich had the men reload quickly and had the helmsman turn the ship sharply to starboard around the schooner’s bow. They came within forty yards of the schooner’s starboard when Heinrich bellowed out, “Guns ready, Kapitän.”

  “Let them rip at your discretion!”

  “Jawohl. Cannons as you bear and fire at my command.”

  Less than three seconds passed and Heinrich gave the order to fire. The line of eight guns roared once again. The mix of grapeshot and chain did the trick and shredded the cordage, sails, and the boom attached to the wooden mast in several areas and with the assistance of the wind blowing into the sails, the entire apparatus tore apart.

  A loud roar went skyward from the Baltic Swan’s crew. They had just done the impossible; crippled a swift and heavily armed schooner with a ship that should have been an easy target.

  Heinrich shouted for the gunners to reload with the same ordnance, while Otto had the Baltic Swan maneuvered toward the stern of the schooner, which now lay dead in the water.

  “We can get on our way now, gentlemen. She is no threat in her condition,” Captain Fischer proudly called out across the deck. “Well done, men. That was a superb job. We can tell our children and grandchildren the story about how we defeated pirates.”

  “Kapitän, why leave the schooner out here without taking it as spoil? It is a magnificent ship, and the damage can be repaired,” commented Heinrich. “It is a fine trophy. We can force their crew into rowboats and tow the schooner to Germany. What a sight that would be when we sail into the harbor. You will be the talk of the town.”

  Fischer hadn’t given any thought what to do after the battle. He was much more focused on trying to stay out of the hands of the attackers. Young Heinrich was some thinker; a very creative one at that. Or was it just a foolish comment coming from an excited young sailor enamored by the fact they had been very successful – so far? For a moment Fischer stood indecisive, which was odd behavior for him after safely sailing the seas for decades without ever losing a single load of cargo. The notion that Heinrich triggered in his mind was foreign to his way of thinking. Ja, why not take the ship? Was this decision also spurred on by the euphoria he was feeling at the moment? Whatever it was, he went with it. He decided the lad was right. It would take them a bit longer to get back if they towed the ship, but so what?

  Fischer gave orders and they brought the Baltic Swan slowly toward the schooner’s stern. From twenty feet away, he had the ship’s captain hailed. After some time, a tall, slender man came sauntering to the rail of the ship along with a handful of his men and glared fiercely at Fischer as if he was the devil incarnate. The pirate leader must have been thoroughly embarrassed to have allowed his vessel to be neutralized by this slow bathtub of a boat. He was furious.

  Fischer asked if he spoke German. In a Spanish accent, the miscreant spat out, “What is it you want of me? Surely you know you have had nothing but luck on your side to have caused such damage to my ship. You expect me to beg for my life, is that it? I won’t give you the satisfaction, señor. If its booty you’re after, I will tell you now; you must be completely insane. You would have to kill every one of us before we part with anything of value.”

  If Fischer was shocked to be facing a Spaniard this far north, he didn’t show it and patie
ntly allowed the man to exhaust his temper. Fischer knew he was holding all the cards. Heinrich and Otto along with twenty musket-armed crewmen were lined up nearby, weapons ready. The cannons were primed and ready for action.

  In a stern voice Fischer spoke, “Señor, I do not wish to insult you any further than you have been already, but I must remind you that you have no more hand to play in your present situation.”

  The man scoffed at the words out of contempt even knowing he had lost the ability to recover from his predicament.

  “Señor, here are my terms and I assure you I will not back down an inch on my demands. You have only two options. I want your ship and -”

  The Spaniard went berserk when he heard the demands and in an angry rage grabbed for one of two flintlock pistols sheathed on a leather belt that hung across his chest. The weapon cleared its bandolier, and the hammer was cocked, but before the man was able to get the pistol fully extended, a shot cracked from across the way. In the sea breeze, a thin tendril of smoke drifted away from the pistol that Heinrich held in his steady hand. The Spaniard was spun around and then collapsed by the round lead ball that penetrated his upper chest. His trigger finger must have tightened in his death throes because his pistol fired harmlessly into the air. The small group of men around him were startled into action at the sight of their leader shot and drew their pistols. Just as Captain Fischer ducked below the thick wooden bulwark, a volley of musket fire erupted a few yards behind him as the first line of ten musket men responded to the threat. Five pirates went down in a hail of lead.

  “Reload and be ready to fire again,” commanded Heinrich. Looking at the sailors holding muskets, “You men still with charged weapons, get yourselves behind the bulwark railing over there,” He pointed to where he wanted them. “I want ten men ready to fire at command and the next line of ten right behind the first line … and only fire when ordered.”

  “Kapitän, come this way and get behind the main mast,” Otto hastily beckoned him over. “All others find suitable places to take cover,” he yelled loudly.

  Fischer got behind the mast that was wide enough to provide cover, while Otto and Heinrich sought shelter along with the riflemen at the bulwarks. It wasn’t long before a second group of armed Spaniards showed up at the stern. Heinrich peered over the edge when he spotted them and immediately called out, “You men stand down. You have no way to defeat us. I have ranks of muskets right here with me and more cannons at the ready to fire at my word. Do not mistake my intent, señors! Your mates made that fatal error, and now they have paid dearly for it. You do not want to end up dead. Listen to me! No more bloodshed needs to take place as long as you do as we say, and you will be able to go free and live out your lives. Now, what do you say to that?”

  A long pause ensued. He hoped that his offer was enthusiastically accepted; after all, how much fairer could he have made it? The proposal provided a wide window of escape for the entire pirate crew. They just had to believe him. But Heinrich wondered if they understood his words. His answer came forth.

  “And how are we to depart these waters if we accept your offer, señor?” barked out a gruff voice from across the way. “You expect us to walk on water to the nearest land? And what about our possessions?”

  Heinrich had already anticipated these questions and answered back, “You have plenty of skiffs onboard to make your passage to the nearest land mass, which happens to be some twenty nautical miles to the north – Sweden. You will also be able to take enough food for the short journey and keep the weapons in hand as well. Everything else onboard stays put. It is a most generous offer seeing that you have but a limited option – no other deals are acceptable to us. Now I strongly suggest you take up the offer immediately before my capitán’s patient grace in this matter dissipates into a tragic commencement of more cannon fire that will decimate you entirely and prevent you from living to a ripe old age. What is it going to be?”

  Captain Fischer quietly chuckled at Heinrich’s choice of words. He continued to let Heinrich spearhead the defense of the ship. The lad was smart and crafty and chose his words carefully enough to allow the pirate crew to save face and yet for the Baltic Swan to take their ship. He couldn’t have stated the demand any better if he spoke the words himself.

  “We have too much to lose in the deal. Maybe we will make a stand and fight it out,” the same gruff voice yelled over in a sour tone.

  “Aim number three and four cannons across the main deck,” Heinrich shouted the order to his gunners through a relay man positioned near the main deck. “Let me know when you are ready.”

  “Jawohl,” the man rushed off.

  It took just a moment before Heinrich received the confirmation that the guns were primed. He didn’t hesitate and gave the order to fire. Both guns boomed as its loads thundered across the deck of the crippled schooner, causing more damage.

  In short order, an urgent cry came back. “Stop your firing! We surrender to your demands!

  I will round up my men and will lower the boats. Just hold your fire!” said a shrill voice.

  “Make it quick for we are out of patience and my men are mad with vengeance!” barked

  out Heinrich. “You can leave the ship with your individual weapons only! Is that clear?”

  “Si, señor. We hear you. Give us a moment.”

  “Make it quick. My men will not wait much longer.”

  Several minutes went by, and the schooner’s scoundrel crew was seen scattering about their decks in an attempt to disembark. Heinrich told his armed men to stay put and alert. He then stood up and backed away to the mast where Captain Fischer was standing, while keeping his eyes to the pirate vessel. Fischer came out from behind the mast and stood next to Heinrich.

  “Heinrich, I must say this with bluntness as you know I do not mince my words. I cannot credit you enough for your quick-thinking in taking a commanding stance against the pirate crew.”

  “Thank you, Kapitän, but this is not over yet.”

  “Let’s hope it will be soon. They know there is no recourse but to leave.”

  Heinrich spun around and moved back to the railing. Fischer hastily followed the young first officer, who had taken control of this situation and was master of its conclusion. From their position, they had a view of the crew vacating the vessel. The pirates lowered rowboats into the water and climbed in with their gear.

  In one of the boats stood a large swarthy Spaniard who glared at Heinrich and Fischer. The man cupped his hands to his mouth and called out to them in heavily accented English.

  “The entire crew will be off the ship in a few more minutes – then we’ll be on our way. Señors, it will be my pleasure to see you again and have a close face-to-face meeting. It will not be so lucky for you the next time.”

  “Save your bark, señor. We don’t need to wait to meet another day … we can end this here and now at the end of a cannon shot,” Heinrich yelled back.

  “You are nothing but a … coward, señor, certainly not a man of personal courage by refusing to deal with me face-to-face.”

  “If my memory serves me right, you and your crew set out to plunder our small brigantine with only merchant seamen on board, and you call us cowards? You are nothing but hoodlums that just got a pass to freedom, so you should mind your tongue before we change our minds. If we find any of your men lying in wait for us as a trap when we board the schooner, we will fire grapeshot at every one of your rowboats, and none of you will ever see land again! Is that clear, Spaniard?”

  The big man seethed with anger. Heinrich looked at his captain and furrowed his brows, a sign that Fischer took as something fishy was up. Fischer squinted his eyes, and his face expressed a questioning look back at Heinrich. Before Heinrich could explain his concern, the big Spaniard hailed the rest of the crew as if the remainder was just late in vacating their ship.

  “Rápido, hombres – Quickly, men. All of you get down here and let us be off.”

  Several Spanish sailors at the s
tarboard bulwark looked down at their leader who was telling them something that could not be heard from this distance. The big Spaniard continued communicating to the men onboard, his arms flaying about in irritation. The men went scurrying across the deck and disappeared.

  They returned a few minutes later and with them were close to two dozen men armed with muskets and swords that climbed into the last few boats. They did have a trap planned. Finally, they shoved off. Already afloat in the water, their new leader sat with his head down, most likely foaming at the mouth, for having been outplayed in this last attempt to hold on to their ship. The staggered line of boats bobbed up and down in the water as men manned the oars and were distancing themselves from the schooner.

  Making a quick count of the Spanish crew that had departed the ship as well as the ones they had killed earlier, Heinrich surmised they had an extremely small crew for such a massive schooner. It hit him suddenly, as clear as a blue sky after a storm, the ship was most likely a stolen ship and only manned by a skeleton crew of pirates. No wonder they didn’t face any cannon fire. There weren’t enough men nor powder to make that possible.

  Nevertheless, it was time to inspect the entire schooner and make sure it had been vacated and that his notion about the cannons was correct. Fischer sent groups of armed sailors to search every nook and cranny of the pirate ship, just in case there were any surprises left on board. They tossed the dead Spaniards overboard. As they stood on the deck of the schooner, they confirmed that the cannons had not been manned, to their fortuitousness. It was a most merciful fact indeed as they saw the lineup of thirty 24-pounders topside and twenty-two 36-pounders below. It would have been catastrophic for the Baltic Swan if these guns had been used against them.