“Mr. Fraser. “Up spirits”, a half ration. Something to warm the men in this chill weather. Go and warn Mortimor.”
The “Monkey’s Orphan” was called for and the young seaman arranged his drum to his satisfaction then rolled out “Drops of Brandy”, the beat being instantly recognised and the men disappeared to the lower deck to obtain their mugs and beakers, the mess cooks to obtain the large jug to obtain the ration for their mess. Soon, under the supervision of Master at Arms Ackroyd, Bosun’s Mate Ball was doling out enough for the half tot and soon after that, the men were back at their guns, but almost all now more cheerful as they consumed their grog.
Argent returned to the lookouts, these now being Whiting and Beddows.
“Where away?”
“Almost on due South now, Sir. We was just about to call out.”
Argent focused his glass. They were, indeed, now due South. The escort frigate had moved slightly ahead and La Pomone could be seen, her deck a clean sweep up to her foremast, neither mizzen nor mainmast standing above her outline. Argent snapped the glass shut, time to make a start. He climbed down the ratlines, making calculations and, once on the gangway, he immediately looked for Fraser, but he was already stood waiting.
“Mr. Fraser. Are the barrels ready?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Drop them down.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“Mr. Ball.”
He was at Fraser’s side.
“All plain sail. Lower and topmast staysails. All jibsails. Close hauled, larboard tack, wind one point large.”
That said, he took himself back to the quarterdeck.
“Mr. Short. Steer due South. Larboard tack.”
As Fraser himself cut the ropes holding the cluster of half filled barrels suspended above each side of the stern, he groaned inwardly as he thought of the press of canvas that Ariadne would soon carry, yet having her speed being severely cut by the barrels straining on both catheads. However, he consoled himself that last time, against La Mouette, it had been an artful and effective ploy. Ariadne came onto due South and picked up speed and the final adjustments to her sail trims were made. Argent climbed back to the foremast crosstrees and as he arrived at the spar he immediately made enquiry.
“Any change?”
There had been and Beddows gave the report, pointing each time to the subject he described, beginning right ahead.
“Yes Sir. They’ve seen us, Sir. The one as was towin must’ve cast off, ‘cos she’s added sail an’ is movin’ quicker, an’ it looks like she’s comin’ round straight for us.”
He changed position to point off to the left.
“T’other, the escort, ‘as hauled ‘er wind an’ is takin’ it on the starboard beam. She has now come right round an’ is steerin’ full off to our larboard, almost goin’ back on where she’s come from. Sir.”
Argent listened to the detailed description, but at the same time he focused his glass. The escort was under a heavy press of sail and was clearly heading far out to Ariadne’s left, her larboard. Focusing on the other frigate, which had been towing, he saw her profile narrow then hold. She had changed course and was now sailing directly at Ariadne, almost on the opposite course. He closed the glass.
“These two know their business!”
He returned to the quarterdeck.
“Mr. McArdle, the log if you please.”
The log was thrown and, as the minutes passed, Argent impatiently smacked his telescope into the palm of his hand, in between focusing it, alternately, onto each of his manoeuvring opponents. McArdle arrived at his side.
“Nine knots, sir.”
Argent looked up at the sails. With that spread of canvas, in this wind, Ariadne was capable of eleven knots and over. He wanted an increase of three when she went to full speed.
He walked the larboard gangway to find Bosun Fraser. He spoke quietly.
“Mr. Fraser.”
“Sir?”
“The sails are too well trimmed. I want the wind spilled from each. Not too much as can be seen, but enough to keep way off the ship. We need one knot less. Am I clear?”
“Yes Sir. Aye aye, Sir.”
“Right, see to the sheets. You’ll know when I want her back up to your best trim.”
Fraser saluted, somewhat puzzled, but orders were orders, however Argent, seeing Fraser’s puzzlement, took the time to explain, he had too much respect for his thoroughly capable Bosun.
“With all the canvas we’re carrying, I want to make the Johnnies think this is our best speed. That’s important. Just like with La Mouette, remember?”
“Aye aye, Sir.”
They parted company, Fraser to supervise the Afterguard, Argent back to his quarterdeck. There he found the whole of his Officer corps, including the Midshipmen and he called these three forward, each a different shade of ghostly pale and in a different state of trepidation. Trenchard was visibly shaking.
“Now, gentlemen. For your information, these are the problems. That facing the French is that they have to stop us getting to La Pomone and probably rake her, easily, as she is so incapable of manoeuvre. Ours is to get past those two and then, indeed, rake her. Now, they could form a line astern in front of her as a kind of screen, but they know that would not serve. We would then sail out to larboard, gain the weather gauge and come across to rake both the last escort and La Pomone. They cannot sail backwards into the wind to stop us. They could stop and allow La Pomone to sail on, and somehow try to block our path, but, with the weather gauge, we could manoeuvre around and one would certainly get raked before we went on to La Pomone. That they know.”
He paused for breath and also to assemble his next explanation.
“They could both come on at us directly, as that one on our bows is now doing, but they know we could dodge to one side and use one to mask the other. We would almost certainly get past them. So this is their plan.”
He pointed to the manoeuvring escort, now far across their larboard bow.
“You see our friend out there?”
All looked and nodded.
“He is gaining the weather gauge on us. He will turn when he feels that he can circle fully around, then come down upon us, match our course and get onto our larboard. He wishes to time that turn so that he comes onto us just before we cross with his companion there. With one beside us and one passing, they will then have us between two fires, at least for a minute or so. They know that they must have one ship that can follow us on to La Pomone and prevent any attack upon her. That ship will be that one, out there, soon to turn and join our course.”
He now pointed down the line of his ship to the second escort, heading straight for them.
“That one, on our bows, would like either to cause some kind of collision and then grapple our hulls together, or hold sufficient distance between us to elevate her guns to disable our sails. Either will enable his companion to sail down upon us and pound either our embraced self, or our disabled self. Our task is to throw out their timing by being able to suddenly increase our speed and then dodge past that fellow in front, who is showing himself to be so keen to halt our progress in some manner.”
He allowed all three time to examine their two opponents. It didn’t seem to help the feelings within any of them, but Argent continued.
“Now, your role as Gunsection Commanders. Expect to exchange fire with him in front first, then to fire into La Pomone. I look to you all to keep your men well in hand, calm and steady, and to fire fast and accurately. Talk to them; tell them that we are counting on their highest capabilities, that they are right “man o’ war’s men” and better than any Johnny Frogs afloat!”
The faintest of smiles passed across the face of each.
“I anticipate only three broadsides, perhaps four. Now, to your stations and good luck to you all.”
Argent solemnly shook the hand of all three and they left to take charge of their section of guns, but Argent called Bright to a halt.
“
Mr. Bright. Please to give Mr. Tucker my compliments and ask him to join me on the quarterdeck.”
Bright disappeared and Argent walked slowly to his place at the weatherside, his eyes on the circling escort. She was still sailing far out, still gaining searoom for the turn that Argent anticipated. He turned to his remaining Officers.
“Something less than a fashionable dance this, gentleman! Soon it will be time to open The Ball.”
The best reaction was a ghost of a smile from Wentworth as he began his own descent to his section of guns. Within minutes, Master Gunner Tucker appeared up the starboard companionway, came to Argent and saluted.
“Mr. Tucker. I intend to give that Johnny in front a short-range broadside, of sufficient weight to knock him sideways a foot or two. I can’t say yet which battery. Double shot, do you think?”
“Yes Sir. At short range?”
“Yes. Double charge?”
Tucker thought.
“I’d say not, Sir. At that range it’ll make small difference, and why risk burstin’ a gun? Extra half charge.”
“Very well. Thank you, Mr. Tucker. Both batteries, load double shot. Extra half charge.”
Tucker knuckled his forehead and bustled off. Soon, from his quarterdeck, Argent could see the guns being hauled back for loading, which his guncrews began immediately. He then looked at his opponents. The one upwind to larboard was still moving out to give herself room to make her 180 degree turn; whilst the frigate ahead had moved significantly off to Ariadne’s starboard, inviting her to pass on her current course. The distance would be suitable to give the French guncrews sufficient room to elevate their guns and disable Ariadne’s sails with chainshot, thus making her easy prey for her companion, who was surely soon to turn and come up to take Ariadne from the opposite side.
“Mr. Short. I want to run down so’s we pass that frigate at less than pistol shot. Give her a nudge if you have to, a glancing blow would suit us fine.”
Short had no idea which words to use that would adequately acknowledge Argent’s order, and so he used just six.
“Aye, aye, Sir. Pistol shot, Sir.”
Argent looked again at the frigate far out. Soon she would be making her turn.
“Mr. Fraser! Stand by with your axes and ready your topmen.”
Fraser ran off, shouting in all directions, but most importantly to Henry Ball, requiring him to also obtain a boarding axe. Argent checked again on both opponents. The frigate ahead had edged even further over to Ariadne’s right in response to Short’s change of course, but Short had followed, steering further to starboard and the Afterguard made no adjustments, allowing the sail trim to remain poor. Argent looked at the other frigate off to windward and gave her his full attention, one minute, then two, then four, and then her profile began to change, she was turning. Argent seized a speaking trumpet and yelled forward.
“Mr. Fraser. Cut loose!”
He saw both axes rise and fall, then Fraser was running back to supervise the sail trimming but he had little to say. The men were at their places and had begun to trim all sails up to standard as the restraining barrels disappeared astern. Argent felt Ariadne heel to starboard as her hull responded and within a minute the waves were passing her hull at noticeably greater speed. He spoke to himself.
“Right. That’s ruined their timing. Now to get past this fellow.”
He considered his options, suddenly less sure, but continuing his analysis. If he continued with what was a collision course, the Frenchman could turn downwind as they approached and fire first, giving Ariadne a full starboard broadside. As if in confirmation, he saw this Frenchman turn further downwind to avoid the collision and give himself cannon room. He then looked over at the other Frenchman making his turn, he would be late at Ariadne’s crossing with the frigate ahead, but only by minutes and she was now spreading more canvas to make up for the obvious fact that she was going to be late to carry out their plan to take Ariadne on both sides. Argent looked at both, several times, gauging course and speed.
If he changed course and steered left, up to windward, he would pass the Frenchman in front at long range, too far for him to be certain of disabling Ariadne. In fact the Frenchman would have to turn upwind himself to keep Ariadne at optimum range for chainshot and that would turn his threatening starboard guns away from Ariadne, at least for some minutes, before he came back on course.
“Mr. Short. Up helm. Come to South by East.”
Short’s acknowledgment was drowned by Argent’s orders to Fraser.
“Mr. Fraser. Close hauled, larboard tack.”
Ariadne’s bowsprit swung over the horizon, she was on the edge of the wind but Argent knew that Ariadne could go a little more if needed. She raced on, close hauled, the wind now coming from just forward of beam on but the sail trimming held the wind strong in her sails. The gap that would exist between Ariadne and her immediate opponent forward was widening, to create such a range that Ariadne would probably sail through with minimal damage. The Frenchman responded, he had to, and he turned upwind to close with Ariadne. Argent saw their starboard battery begin disappear as she swung across to meet them and point harmlessly away. Now it was a question of timing, a crucial question, they were a quarter mile distant and closing rapidly. Argent waited a minute, then two, then another half.
“Mr. Short, down helm. Come to South West. Take us across her bows.”
Again the acknowledgment was drowned as Argent yelled to the waiting Fraser.
“Mr. Fraser. Five points large. Wind over the larboard quarter.”
The major change from where Ariadne took the wind required a major change in the set of the sheets and braces and, as Ariadne’s bowsprit swung over to starboard, the masts were crowded with topmen and the gangways full of waisters and afterguards ready to haul around the braces of the yards and then trim the sheets on the sails. Ariadne’s momentum took her around and she regained her speed, it was now a question of relative speeds and angles of geometry, to decide which ship would cross which ship’s bows. Argent looked at their opponent and then at Short. He saw him take a better grip on the ship’s wheel.
On the gundeck there had been no change for over an hour. The crews, particularly the Gun Captains, could hear the orders changing their course and could see the topmen adjusting the sheets and braces that controlled each sail and they could also see those on the gangways responding to the frantic orders of Fraser, Ball, and the other Bosun’s Mates. They felt the deck tilt and then settle, then came the shouted order from Sanders, repeated unnecessarily down the gundeck by the Gun Captains.
“Larboard battery. Converging broadside. All guns train admidships!”
The guns at the stern had to point forward and those at the bows to point back. Their shot would then all pass through one central area, rather than be spread out. The crews furthest from amidships had the furthest to swing their guns around and there was intense activity with their hand spikes to lever over the gun carriages as Bright, commanding the forward section, checked that his guns were trained back aft, onto the centre, and Trenchard checked that his were trained forward. More shouts and orders from above, then Sanders again.
“Aim down one mark.”
All along the gundeck the quoins were pushed in to one mark beyond the point at which the guns were level, this to raise the cascabel and lower the muzzles. The Gun Captains crouched, sighting along their barrels, concentrating on an empty sea, but now hearing Sanders again.
“Ready?”
Sixteen right arms were raised in the air.
“Coming up right soon, lads. Hit her larboard bow, fire as you bear.”
Soldiers have an early sighting of their enemy, but sailors, beneath their decks, see nothing but empty water through their gunports. Around them all remains as familiar as if they were sat in harbour, they can only wait, until the order comes for them to fire and then the sides of their own ship burst in, the shot and the splinters to kill and maim. The guncrews felt the deck tilt to starboar
d, lifting their aim, but the call had been to lower their muzzles and now, with the tilt of the deck, their guns were level across the water. A minute filled an hour, then numbers one and two fired together, to be followed by the others, all in quick succession, because they were all on converging aim, therefore they saw their target almost as one. Now smoke was everywhere and they began to reload. Then the enemy’s broadside began to come through their own ship’s side and the screaming began, source unseen as the smoke came back through their gunports. Then they felt the ship lurch sideways to starboard, the movement from back at the stern, all simultaneous to a crash and then the bellowing of men.
Fraser and his men were immediately up the larboard shrouds, chopping and hacking as men gone mad. The Frenchman’s bowsprit had pierced the larboard mizzen shrouds, the ladder like construction of heavy rope that led up to the mizzentop. The bowsprit had penetrated just under the top and they were now desperate to cut it loose. It had come it at a sharp angle after the Frenchman had turned hard downwind in response to the same from Ariadne and a collision had become inevitable. The hulls of the two ships were now almost together along their full length, the Frenchman’s shattered larboardbow touching a quarterway along Ariadne’s larboardside, with the gap between growing forward from touching to a final gap of six yards. The Frenchman’s first three gunports had been beaten into one long gash. Fraser threw his axe down to the deck; knives were now needed to cut a passage through the shrouds to allow the bowsprit to slide out. Beside him, a man spluttered and slumped through the rope squares, to then hang upside down and lifeless, shot from the Frenchman’s foretop. He was pulled clear to fall into the sea and another seaman took his place. The thick, tarred rope was parting but it was slow work. Below him the carronade fired and the Marines, lining the rail, added to the conflict taking place at a range of mere feet. Smoke was everywhere, for which Fraser was grateful. He suddenly found Ball opposite him, he had climbed up the inside of the shrouds and was using his knife on the next section over, where the bowsprit should slide after Fraser had opened the section that still held it fast.
A Question of Duty Page 61