by Smith, Skye
"Bagus,” Cleff replied. He smirked. He knew where Daniel's thoughts were. Besides, the Swift's hull was so long and true that she almost sailed herself.
"Bagus,” Daniel repeated. "Bagus. You would think that after all these years of doing business with the Dutch that I would know that any deal that is good for me will be just as good for them." He was also smirking. Smirking at the fair winds, smirking at the clear sky and the sun, smirking at the sleek beauty of the Swift and her lateen sails, and most of all smirking at the way Admiral Maarten Tromp had played him like a fish on a line.
During the latest refitting at the graving docks in Rotterdam, the Dutch admiralty had placed twenty cannons aboard the Swift. Eighteen of them were six-pound field guns complete with wheel carriages, and fourteen of those were now stowed in the cargo hold with casks of gunpowder and corrals of cannon balls, and piles of shot canisters. The other four were sitting on the deck, but with ship's rollers replacing the leggy field gun wheels. The two cannons that were not six-pounders were long-barreled eight-pounder ship's guns, one on the bow castle facing forward and one on the stern castle facing aft.
The cannons were far from new, but all had recently had the inside of their barrels ground and polished so they could be used with canisters, though only the Dutch navy could afford the canisters to load them with. The bow and stern chasers were a gift to the Swift, but all the six-pounders were a gift to the Scots. To be more exact, they were a gift from Admiral Maarten Tromp of the Confederate Navy to General Alexander Leslie of the Scottish Covenanter army.
It was now very clear why Daniel had been given this fast ship and why he had been instructed to register it in Bridgwater and sail it under English colors. No one must ever know that these guns were a gift from the United Dutch Republic to the Covenanter rebels of Scotland. This was the Dutch Admiralty's way of punishing Charlie for harbouring the Armada at the Downs, and Daniel was just a pawn on their chessboard, although he preferred to think of himself as a knight.
And it wasn't just Tromp that he had to blame. Daniel saw the hand of his friend Alex Hamilton, General Leslie's artillery officer, in all of this. When he and Ham had first met in Rotterdam a year ago, he was collecting muskets to ship to Scotland, while Ham was there to beg some small cannons out of the Admiralty's mothball warehouse. The Admiralty had refused him when they heard that Leslie had taken leave of the Swedish army to help the Scots. Because of the Battle of the Downs, Ham's begging seemed to have worked.
Most of their delay in sailing out of Rotterdam was not due to the getting the cannons and cargo aboard. The delay was to give the Dutch gunnery masters time enough to thoroughly train the Swift's crew in how to work and aim the Dutch cannons. They had first been trained in how to use an old-fashioned Spanish cannon just so that they could understand the difference. Comparing a Spanish cannon to a Dutch cannon was like comparing a matchlock blunderbuss to a snaphaunce musket.
Spanish and English gunners made up for the whimsical aim of their old-fashioned cannons by firing a huge payload in a wide spread from as large a gun as possible. Because the Dutch cannons could be more accurately aimed, they fired much smaller payloads. Because of that, the cannons were less than a third the weight, which meant that they could be manhandled and reloaded and re-aimed in less than half the time with less than half the manpower.
The longer range of the huge Spanish guns was almost never a factor because they were so inaccurate. The Spanish and English, and the French for that matter, made use of their 'blunderbuss' cannons by targeting the rigging of enemy ships. A ship with crippled rigging lost its maneuverability and so could not position its cannon decks for broadsides. The Dutch used the accuracy of their newer cannons to target the enemy gun decks to destroy the guns and guncrews.
After the Spanish disaster at the Downs, there was no doubt at all about which gunnery tactics were the most effective. Daniel smirked when he thought back to the tour that his land lubber friends Robert and Oliver had been given of the Dutch warships in Rotterdam. Afterwards they been convinced that parliament should take control of the English Navy away from Charlie and convert it following the Dutch model.
"Sails, two ships, ships of the line, English,” the call from the bow watch brought Daniel out of his daydream and removed the smirk from his face. He focused his eyes and scanned the horizon forward. There they were. Two ships of the line but they were not alone. Beyond them was a convoy of ships on a parallel course to the Swift. By the look of them they were empty colliers on their way back north to load coal. Coal had become so vital to London and the South, that the navy was calling it black diamonds, and was providing escort ships.
He calmed himself. The tall ships were therefore not a patrol but a convoy escort. They were not looking for the Swift, and had probably never even heard of her because this was her first time in these waters. They could not know about his cargo of cannons and canisters. For now the most important thing was not to make them suspicious.
"Keep to your course, but don't gain on them,” was his order to old Cleff on the wheel.
"Then you'd better order the mainsail reefed, 'cause on this course we'll be making double their speed,” Cleff replied. The order was given with a nod to the crew who had been sitting about trading stories about their adventures in Rotterdam. They jumped to it. One of the advantages of the Mediterranean lateen sails was how quick and easy they were to reef in once the power was taken out of them.
"Damn lateens,” Cleff muttered. "Make us look like a dago pirate. That's why those two tall ships broke away from the convoy. They thinks we is pirates."
"We have an English registry."
"Aye but they won't know that until they read our stern, as it slips under the water,” Cleff hinted, clumsily. Sometimes Daniel missed the obvious, but he hated to be nagged and he didn't take subtle hints.
"Hoist English colors,” Daniel called out to the crew, "and bring me the signal flags and the book so I can work out a message." Tromp had given him a navy book that showed how to send signals to Dutch, Spanish, and English ships. The pictures of the flags had even been colored, by hand of course, probably by lads enrolled in Rotterdam's naval college.
"They're making hard for us Danny,” Cleff called. "We don't want them to get any closer, not with the cargo we be carrying. They'll be having us make our explanations through the bite of a cat."
Daniel looked up from his book, gauged the intersecting courses of the ships, and then yelled to the crew, "Full sail, and tack to the other side of this wind! Hopefully by the time they close on us we will be north of the convoy and they will have no more reason to chase us." The men jumped to the order and used four of the oars on the lee side to change the course across the wind so that they didn't lose way or lose rudder control.
He finally finished his flag message and then hoisted it high. The first flag meant bound for, and the other flags were the English Navy's code for the Humber. "There, hopefully they will be satisfied that we are an English ship with cargo for York or Lincoln." Only time would tell. At this distance the watch on the warships could not read the flags, and likely couldn't even see the English colors.
Two hours later, with the Swift just north of the convoy but at least three miles further out to sea, the two English ships were still making for her. They were still over a thousand yards away and slightly to the stern on the portside, and that meant that the Swift was within the cannon range of their bow chasers, but any shots would be a bit wild.
"They are both brigantines of the old style, so fully square-rigged and with no oars," Cleff called out. "Thank Freyja our navy hasn't the sense to refit them as the Dutch have done, else we'd be pickled in our own piss." The crew all knew what he was talking about. In Rotterdam they had all seen the brigantines that the Dutch used to counter the Dunkirker pirates. They had a similar hull and masts to these English ships, but the rigging had been changed so that the rear mast was no long square-rigged, and oar positions had been added so that it could be
rowed as well as sailed. In other words, a Dutch brigantine was more like a pirate galliot, but larger.
Now that the navy ships were closer it was clear that the Swift was out-sailing them and slowly pulling away. A half hour later, they were fully to the stern of her. Just as the crew began to relax there was a cloud of smoke from the lead brigantine, followed a moment later by the roar of the cannon and a heavy whistle as the cannonball streaked by and hit the water with a huge splash just ahead of them. "Either there's an effing big whale ahead, or that was one across our bows,” the lad on the bow watch called out in a shaky voice. "They still don't see our colors."
"Oh, they see them,” Cleff called to him calmly. "They just don't believe them."
"Run every oar out,” Daniel called, "and row like hell. Cleff, as soon as the oars are biting, then put her as close to the wind as you can and still be sailing. Be ready to fall off the wind on my warning that they have fired again." To use their bowchasers, the brigantines had to steer along almost the same course as the Swift. He watched and waited for one of two things to happen, hopefully the first.
There was another puff of smoke. Damn. So, not the first thing. "Fall off!" he yelled to Cleff who immediately spun the wheel and almost immediately the Swift leaped forward with the increased power of the wind in the sails at a more cutting angle. They needn't have bothered. The shot went well wide. "Put her up the wind again, Cleff." Cleff was panting from the exertion but did as he was told.
Before the brigantine could shoot again, the other thing happened to her. She was fully square-rigged so she couldn't sail as close to the wind as the Swift, especially with the Swift's crew putting their backs into their oars. This time, when the brigantine used their rudder to bring the bow chaser to bear, their sails lost the wind completely, and then back filled, and they were temporarily becalmed.
This was all good news, because before the brigantine could refill her sails, the Swift had gained a full five hundred yards. By the time the brigantine was up to speed again, the Swift had gained another five hundred yards. Unfortunately, they had not gained so much on the other brigantine who had now overtaken her sister. Her bowchaser smoked, and Daniel had Cleff fall off the wind, and again the Swift quickly changed courses and picked up speed. This ship's gunner was a better shot, and might even have hit the Swift if Cleff had not spun the wheel so hard.
Neither of the brigantines fired another shot. To chase a ship that could sail closer to the wind than they could, meant they would have to tack. That might have worked with another ship under sail, but not against a galliot rigged lateen and with oars. It was a waste of their time, and worse, they were being drawn away from the convoy they were supposed to be guarding.
"And that,” Daniel announced to the crew, "is exactly why the Dutch have re-rigged their own brigantines. Meanwhile our navy still has their heads up their butts."
"Aye, and Tromp knew this ship could do it,” Cleff added, "and he knew this crew could do it. That is why he put us together." He looked along the line of oarsmen and called out, "Keep up the pace for a few minutes more, lads." Then to Daniel. "Were you tempted, Danny? Were you tempted to try your marksmanship with your new stern chaser?"
"It was tempting, but no. An English ship would never have returned fire, and we are English, after all. If we'd have fired, they would still be after us, instead of turning back to the convoy." Daniel walked over and patted the brute of a cannon but then turned back to Cleff. "It's a lesson, though. With the bigger, faster ship there is no need for us to hug the coast anymore. Steer us further out and keep us away from the coastal traffic."
It was not true. They did see ships further out, but not English ships. They were Danish and Frisian coastal traders, some of them no larger than the Freisburn. Out of curiosity, Cleff maneuvered the Swift onto a parallel course to one of them that was flying Frisian colors and then brought the ships within hailing range. As soon as the other ship heard Daniel's hailing voice speaking the mother of all Netherlands tongues, she spilled her wind and drifted to a crawl to have a chat and exchange gifts of good humour such as bacon and strong spirits.
As soon as the smaller ship was rafted to the larger Swift, she stopped bouncing in the seas and both crews called out names of villages and kinfolk until it was determined that they were all brothers of the sea even if they weren't cousins. They stayed rafted together for a two-hour feast aboard the Swift while the skippers exchanged news, or rather, bartered news.
The 'Pelican' was out of Harlingen in Frisia and her business was selling rot gut Genever to the coal miners of the Tyne valley, who had ready coin to pay for it because they had the monopoly on selling coal to London. On their return journey to Frisia they carried sheepskins and wool. "There's a war brewing with the Scots,” the skipper told them. "That is why all the coastal traders are relocating to the coast of the Netherlands. Why risk having your ship confiscated by either side's army?"
The skipper gazed around at the six cannon on the decks of the Swift, and gave a low whistle. "Them's Rotterdam guns, else I'll eat the Pelican. I'll not ask your cargo. What I don't know can't hurt me."
"We trade in Scottish whisky, and make good coin doing so, but the risks are high because every bugger afloat wants to steal it,” Daniel told him with a straight face. After all, it was partially true. The skipper never caught any of the truth because he was laughing so hard. As if anyone wanted the vile porridge that the Scots called whisky. Once the belly laughter calmed, Daniel asked him for the news from Northumbria and Scotland.
"Well,” he began, "just so you know, this was all told to me by Englishmen, and you know what their stories are worth. They say that King Charlie has an Irish army ready to land on the west coast of Scotland, so the Scottish Earl Argyll has captured Dumbarton Castle to stop the Irish from landing. Charlie has sent the English army to Newcastle under the Earl of Strafford, his henchman from Ireland, but they are a sorry lot, both the army and the Earl. Charlie himself is directing everything from the safety of London, so you know how well that will be going."
"Do you know anything of a General Leslie?"
"Aye, he's waiting for the English army up on the border along the Tweed. He'll have a long wait. Strafford is sick and his army is weak, 'cause they are getting no support from the Northumbrians. The northerners are right pissed with Charlie and his wasteful ways and his illegal taxes. I think Strafford was expecting for his army to swell in numbers once it reached Newcastle. You know. Locals joining up to save their villages from being invaded by the heathen Scots. Well, in truth they don't seem to mind the Scots as much as they mind Strafford’s thieving army."
As soon as the Pelican threw off their lines, the Swift changed courses to make for Eyemouth and its sheltered bay and river mouth ten miles north of the Tweed and well within Scotland.
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The Pistoleer - Slavers by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 5 - Crossing the River Tweed with Alex Leslie in August 1640
"You're a welcome sight to these powder-burned eyes, Danny,” was the greeting of General Leslie as he grasped Daniel's elbow in a warrior's clasp. "And just look at your new ship. You've done well for yourself in a year, haven't you? I was told to expect a friend with a present, but I was expecting a Dutchman. So, how many guns did you bring me?"
"Fourteen six-pounder field guns, canister type,” Daniel told him.
"I was told to expect eighteen, with two eight-pounders if I could put a carriage under them."
"Nay, you mustn't. That would leave my ship defenseless. On our way here we were chased by some of the king's ships of the line."
"What?" Alex said with a bit of panic in his voice. "How far away? Please say that they weren't troop carriers."
"Off the Humber, and no, they were an escort for a fleet of colliers, probably bound for Tynemouth."
"Colliers going north. But they would be running empty save for sand ballast. And yet they had an escort of warships?"
"Them effing Newcastle mine-lords are making a fortune from their king's monopoly in black diamonds,” Daniel told him, "and so the colliers have become critical to the health of the king's purse."
Alex was silent and thoughtful for a moment, all the while looking between the sleek ship and his own loyal men, men who had followed him back from fighting for the Swedes and the Dutch in the Germanies just so as to help out their fellow Scots. "I see ye have four of the six-pounders rigged for use on yer ship. Does that mean that yer crew were trained by the Dutch gunner masters in their use?"
"Aye, and the crew took to them quickly. We've some fine gunners aboard."
"Then Danny, I'll make ye a bargain. Ye can have the eight-pounders to defend the ship while she makes for Edinburgh for a cargo of whisky. Meanwhile, if ye loan me yer gunners to train my own men, then when I have finished with them I will send them back here to meet ye with four of the six-pounders."
Daniel thought about the bargain. You had to be careful when bargaining with Scots for they tended to take advantage of that which was not specifically stated. For instance, Alex wouldn't want the two eight-pounders anyway, because he preferred lighter cannon that could be moved quickly along poor roads. For instance, Alex hadn't stated how long he would hold onto the gunners and the four guns.
"You've a bargain Alex, and as you have stated it except that I will be one of the gunners at your side, and I will decide when it is time for us to return to my ship. Will you shake on it?"
"Gladly Danny, for having ye by my side just makes the bargain even sweeter. Did ye bring any Genever with ye?"
* * * * *
"But I can't take control of Tynemouth unless I take control of Newcastle, and I can't take Newcastle unless I control both banks of the Tyne. Newcastle has a bloody big fortress. It is a dilemma, a classical dilemma." General Alex Leslie had endlessly moaned to his officers the same sad lament that he had told to the Scottish parliamentarians who though them his governor. He had moaned it when he crossed the River Tweed, he had moaned as he marched the Scottish army south through Northumbria, and he was moaning it now, just five miles north of the River Tyne.