Death Hulk

by Matthew Sprange

  "He'll be stranded for some time, trying to make good the damage you caused," said Corbin.

  "True, but we have our own wounds to heal before we can think about going into battle again. One or two good salvoes from that ship and we would have been in serious trouble. Gods, but she can hit hard!"

  "We are rigging the foremast now, Captain, and should have near full mobility within the hour," said Corbin.

  "Good. She won't be her normal sprightly self until that is fully repaired though. What else do we have to contend with? Has Wynton given you the full list?"

  "Minor breach on the starboard side below the waterline. The pumps are keeping pace at the moment but we'll have to stop to patch it. Four cannon knocked off their carriages, Kennedy thinks they are all serviceable. A lot of damage to the gun ports and fittings larboard but it can all be repaired, given time."

  "We gave better than we took then. Casualties?" Havelock asked.

  "Considering what might have been, light. I'm told seventeen dead or dying, nearly half as many again injured and unable to report for service." Corbin tried to look on the good side. "Still, I think we dealt far worse."

  "Yes, but then they can afford to take worse. Another race is about to start, Mr Corbin, the one for repair. If we can patch this old girl up and locate the Elita again before she can make good the damage we handed her, she'll be ours. If she beats us..." He trailed off, not wanting to think about facing the larger ship while the Whirlwind was still battered.

  "What are your orders, Captain?"

  "Set course due east. We'll find a natural harbour on the African coast and make repairs. I think we can also take the opportunity to send out teams for water and fresh food - the crew certainly deserve it." Havelock thought for a moment. "Speaking of which, give them an extra ration of rum tonight. They fought well and are worthy of the recognition."

  In spite of the wind streaming in from gaping holes in the side of the hull the atmosphere on board the Whirlwind was jubilant. Already exhilarated to have survived a clash with a French frigate, Captain Havelock's granting of an extra ration of rum for all men had been received extremely well. In the flickering light of the gun deck, someone had produced a fiddle and many sailors were dancing wherever there was room, their shipmates clapping and joining in with familiar songs.

  Having toured the entire length of the gun deck, linking arms with any man he found dancing before spinning off to the next group of happy souls, Murphy was getting fairly exhausted. Though he had consumed his own rum some time earlier, he was on the look out for anyone who did not feel the need to drink in order to have fun. As usual he was disappointed. In the end, he trotted and skipped his way sternwards, where he found his own gun crew in happy debate with their neighbouring teams. Crashing down on a bench next to Bryant, he grinned at everyone present.

  "To the Whirlwind!" he said, holding up a fist in place of a full mug of rum. The others joined in with his toast with a more meaningful handful.

  "No arguments 'ere," said one of the revellers. "An' 'ere's to the Cap'n!" he added, invoking another round of raised mugs. Murphy sniffed around hopefully to see if anyone was going too steady with their drinking but a shake of the head from Bryant dashed his hopes.

  "So what happens now, then?" Brooks asked.

  "No doubt the Captain's sailing us somewhere to make repairs," said Bryant. "And then it will be back to find that ship."

  "Won't the Frogs be making repairs too?" Brooks said.

  "Aye," said Bryant. "But I think it is fair to say we got the best of the last battle." The group responded with another heartfelt cheer. "You did well today, lad," he added, looking meaningfully at Brooks.

  "I... I went to pieces at the start."

  "Many men older than you do likewise, in their first battle," said Bryant. "Battle on board one of his King's ships is a scary thing. All you can see is the murderous enemy out of your gun port, and that is exactly where the damn cannon balls are going to be coming from. Takes a lot to stand and do your job in the face of that. You never know where the next hit is going to come in."

  "True 'nough," said Murphy. "But I was watchin' you, lad. Once you saw what needed to be done, you got your 'ead down an' stuck at it."

  Bryant slapped Brooks on the shoulder. "Can't ask for more than that in a gun crew," he said.

  "How did you all fair?" Murphy asked of the other guns crews.

  "Carriage rolled over Tailor's leg. 'E's with the surgeon."

  "Buckley took a hit. Been cleanin' 'im up from the deck. Ain't a pretty sight."

  "We lost Stefans too. Hull buckled in front of us, 'e lost his arm. Bled to death 'fore we could get 'im down below."

  The group fell silent for a few seconds as they considered the loss of their shipmates, the pain endured by others and their own fate. The spell was broken by Bryant raising his mug again. "Hey, we're still here, lads."

  He was greeted by murmurs of thanks and appreciation. Battle at sea was never routine, no matter how many times a man lived through it and they were all grateful to be alive.

  "I say it was down to the Cap'n that we did so well," said Murphy with some conviction.

  "Aye, masterful," said one of the other crew members. "Kept 'is 'ead as we closed range, didn't allow the Frogs to put 'im off. Then a quick turn and we're racin' 'em, tradin' fire as we go!"

  "Then that lovely turn," said Bryant. "Took them completely off guard, just as they were about to fire. And we went sailing past their stern, with all the time in the world to take our shot!"

  "Never thought I would see a French ship up that close," chipped in Brooks. "Not while there were fightin' Frogs on board!"

  "You remember that moment, lad," said another sailor. "That 'ain't somethin' you see often!"

  "And that's the God's honest truth," said Bryant, in full agreement. "For my money though, the masterstroke of the Captain was that aimed shot at their masts. Stopped them near dead in the water!"

  "Couldn't believe it when the Cap'n came down 'ere - and walked straight to our gun!" said Brooks, excitedly.

  "Well, 'e did more than that, Brooks," said Murphy. "Looks through the gun port, asks your name, and then congratulates you - personally!"

  Brooks looked somewhat embarrassed. "I think that was for all of us," he said quietly.

  "Don't you knock it back, lad," said Bryant. "He'll remember that incident as well as you do. From now on, the Captain knows who you are!"

  "If we could all be so lucky!" Murphy said, raising a few chuckles from the gathered men.

  Trying to shake the complement off with a laugh, Brooks suddenly turned serious as he considered something. "One thing I didn't get, though. We had been poundin' away at the side of the French ship all the way through the battle. And then, just one shot, boom, the masts go. How did the Capt'n know how to do that?"

  "Was wondering when you would ask that," said Bryant with a satisfied smile. "The gun carriages we carry here give the cannon very little elevation - just enough to lob a shot over a good distance. Now, you can change the elevation of your guns... you remember how, from your drills?"

  "Err, yes. Use blocks and wedges to lift the barrel up."

  "Aye, that's right. But it takes time to do that. You have to lift the entire gun up, get just the right amount of elevation the Captain asks for, settle the gun back down - and that is not just us doing that but every cannon on this side of the ship."

  Bryant threw his head back to drain his mug, settling it down on the bench next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Murphy peer hopefully into the dark recesses of the mug in a vain hope of free drink and smiled to himself as he saw the small man's nose wrinkle in disappointment.

  "There is a quicker way of shooting to a ship's masts," he said, seeing that Brooks was fully engaged in his explanation. "In fact, it is something the French do damn near all the time."

  Cocking his head with a puzzled expression, Brooks said "Yeah, the Cap'n said somethin' about a French trick."

>   "Well, not really a trick," said Bryant. He raised his forearm across his face, palm flat. "As you will be well aware by now, a ship does not lie flat in the water. It will move depending on what the sea is doing, how the sails are rigged, where the rudder is and so on. It will pitch up and down," he said, raising his hand up and down. "It will also roll," this time rocking his hand from side to side.

  Brooks nodded but it was clear from his face that he still did not fully comprehend.

  "Well, we British are told to fire when the side we are shoving the guns out of is at its lowest point of that roll." Bryant demonstrated by tilting his hand. "That side of the ship will just be rising, and so our shot goes in a more or less straight line, straight into the side of the enemy's hull. We do it to cause as much damage as we can, knocking out his guns early on in the battle. Obviously, if a ship cannot shoot back at you, he cannot fight."

  "And the French fire at the high point of the roll?" Brooks guessed.

  "That's right," Bryant said. "Their shot tends to go up into the masts and sails. They aim to cripple a ship early on in the battle, taking away its ability to move effectively. If they can do that quickly, you have no choice but to surrender or watch them move to a place where your guns can't reach and have them pound you into the sea."

  "And so that's what the Cap'n did," said Brooks.

  "Exactly. He saw what the Frogs were going to do and decided to stop them quickly. We were lucky and it worked."

  "Lucky?"

  Bryant smiled. "We in the King's Navy are known to be good gunners but our aim is not like that of a sharpshooter. Our reputation comes from being able to fire together and to reload quickly - that is really all there is to it. The shot from these cannon can go all over the place - that's why ships have to move so close together in order to fight. It is possible for the guns to fire much, much further but you would be lucky to hit the coast at those ranges. And remember, you haven't got to worry about one gun reaching its target but eleven of them in the Whirlwind. One little cannon ball is not going to do a lot of damage. But a whole storm of them will."

  Brooks stared hard at the floor for a few seconds, then looked up with a smile. "I think I've got it," he said.

  "Oh, you 'ave more to learn yet," said Murphy. "Like takin' the wind out of another ship's sails. That's a good one. You see..."

  "Whoa there, Murphy," said Bryant. "No need to over burden the lad. He doesn't need to learn everything tonight!"

  Brooks seemed about to protest but Bryant shook his head firmly. "Just concentrate on what you are doing at the moment, young Brooks. Learn to handle the guns and rig the sails. Everything else is easy, so master those and you'll be well on your way to being a valued shipmate. You'll pick up the rest as you go on."

  Brooks nodded, a little disappointed but then perked up. "So, there are lots of tricks like that, then?"

  "More than any one man has a right to know," said another sailor in answer. "But I would bet my ration of rum for the next month that the Captain 'as 'em all pegged."

  "And what are you reckonin' will 'appen when we next meet them Frogs?" Murphy asked.

  "The Cap'n will pull somethin' out the bag," said the sailor confidently.

  "Aye, but we have some hard work ahead of us," said Bryant, causing the sailor to nod in agreement.

  "What do you mean?" asked Brooks.

  "Well, we have plenty of damage that needs fixing, as you can see," Bryant said, sweeping an arm to take in the shattered hull larboard. "But the Frogs have their own repairs to make too. If we can fix the Whirlwind, make her battle worthy again and find that frigate before they can do anything meaningful, she'll be ours. They'll probably surrender after the first shot!"

  "And if they fixed their ship too?" Murphy asked, a little mischievously.

  Bryant sighed. "Well, then, we'll have to start all over again." Seeing Brooks' face fall a little at this, he smiled. "Don't worry, lad. Trust to the Captain. He'll see us right."

  "Aye," said Murphy. "I certainly 'aven't 'eard Jessop and 'is mates goin' on about 'Avelock's Curse since the battle."

  "Like us, they're all too full of rum tonight," said Bryant, ignoring Murphy's waspish comment about chance being a fine thing. "They'll start off again soon enough. So long as we ignore them, they can't do any harm."

  The gathered sailors murmured their agreement. The conversation meandered after that, as they discussed the possibility of re-supply during the voyage and the fresh food it might bring, before Brooks leapt in with an excited comment from the battle and the whole fight was recounted yet again. It would not be the last time that night.

  With the setting sun at his back, Havelock luxuriated in the warm evening wind that swept across the deck of the Whirlwind. He had already noted the presence of sea birds high in the sky but was nevertheless gratified to hear the lookout announce the presence of land dead ahead.

  "We made good time," he said to Corbin.

  "Aye, she is a fast ship, even with a few scratches."

  "Call all hands on deck, Mr Corbin," Havelock said. "It is time we told them of our intentions. It will also do them good to see land."

  Corbin dutifully relayed the order and the other lieutenants and midshipmen descended below deck to stir the crew. They arose in groups and gaggles and Havelock was pleased to see that some were alert enough to see land. Word of this rippled through the assembling crowd and more than one sailor had a smile on his face as he looked up expectantly at his Captain.

  Waiting until he received a nod from Corbin that all hands were present, Havelock strode confidently up to the front of the quarterdeck and, in his customary manner, spread his hands on the wooden railing. Satisfied that he had the attention of every man on board the Whirlwind, he began his address.

  "Today, you have fought in a manner that befits a crew in his King's Navy. I am proud to have each and every man jack of you with us on this voyage! It is no exaggeration to say that we gave the French a damn good thrashing!"

  Though they might have expected praise from their Captain, this did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm and excitement of the crew. They responded to his words with an impassioned cheer that Havelock let run long and loud. When they finally subsided, he continued.

  "We have proved that no matter what ship the French bring to battle, a good British frigate with a hard-working and disciplined crew will win the day every time!"

  Another cheer erupted but, sensing that it might partly be fuelled by rum, Havelock held a hand up to still them.

  "We still have work to do," he said. "As you no doubt have already seen, we approach land. We will find a safe harbour and put ashore for repairs. And though there is much to be done, spare a thought for the poor Frenchmen, at sea with no means of making landfall!" The crew gave the appropriate cruel laugh at this. "Through your excellent gunnery, they are far worse off than we! We will see to the Whirlwind's slight wounds and then head back west to find our prey. And this time, we shall see her surrender, striking her colours as we approach!"

  The volume of the crew's jubilant cries made Havelock both wince and smile. For any faults individuals may have, he knew that, collectively, there was a good crew on board this ship. He gave a nod to Corbin.

  "All hands dismissed!"

  Before the crew could return to their duties or sleep, depending on which watch they had been placed on, a new voice rang out from the crowd. Havelock quickly realised that it was the Bosun who had called aloud.

  "Three cheers for Captain Havelock," Kennedy shouted out. "Hip, hip..." As one, the crew raised their voices in a genuine salute of their commanding officer's skill.

  Taken aback, Havelock opened his mouth to say something but found he did not have the words. Instead, he just smiled again and nodded at his crew in gratitude. He turned to walk to the rear of the quarterdeck as his men finally dispersed.

  He was surprised to find that tears had started to well up, unbidden, in his eyes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sea thr
ew itself against the shore, breakers rearing up as they smashed into the pristine white sand and smooth rocks. The coast looked as if it had never been disturbed by the intrusion of civilised humans. Struggling to climb out of the jolly boat with a modicum of dignity intact, Hague readjusted the long sword at his belt and hopped into the sea, another incoming wave immediately soaking him up to the chest. As he staggered to the shore, he kept an eye on the rest of the crew dragging the jolly boat in, alert for any mishaps that might drag them under but they seemed quite accustomed to the conditions. Hague had occasionally seen sea rise up like this on the tip of Cornwall and had to remind himself that nothing separated him from the raw strength of the Atlantic Ocean on the beaches of this land.

  Two other boats had already been dragged up onto the shore and he saw Lieutenant Corbin organise various parties, mixing marines in among sailors where he thought prudent, but giving enough latitude to those he felt worthy of trust. He was surprised to see him assign one man to a party of sailors who were going inland alone, a sailor he thought Corbin had been partly responsible for disciplining earlier on this voyage. Perhaps the Lieutenant thought the others would be a stabilising influence or perhaps he just did not much care for what happened to the man while they spent time here. The last sentiment might not have been one worthy of an officer in the King's Navy, but it was one that Hague could readily identify with. Some men were beyond reach, shrugging off the harshest discipline like water from a duck's back.

  As Hague stomped up the beach, leading his rowing party, he listened to the tail end of Corbin's orders as the Lieutenant pointed at his men and then directed them into their groups.

  "Do not stray too far and always make sure you are within five minutes' run of the shore," said Corbin. "The wildlife round here may not be used to men and many creatures will bite before asking questions. If you see any interesting insects or snakes, believe me, you are better off leaving them alone. If you see any large predators, back away from them carefully. If you meet any natives you will show them all respect. Remember, this is their land and they know it better than you do. Party leaders, you have instructions and you know which direction I want you to head in. Mr Hague, you are with me - I believe you have some experience in dealing with the natives of Africa?"