Barracuda: The Fighting Anthonys, Book 3

by Michael Aye

  “Very well. Beat to quarters, Mr. Jackson. I feel it will be two against three until Merlin can overhaul us.”

  “Think we could delay things until she arrives?” Jackson asked not liking the odds of two large schooners of fourteen guns each and the twenty-eight gun frigate. It was more than any sane man would want to face.

  “I don’t think it’s up to us,” Gabe replied, noting the privateers had split up. The two schooners to windward and the frigate to leeward.

  “Bet they’ve played this game before,” Gunnells offered.

  “Deck there! Signal from LeFrelon. Attack ships to windward.”

  After pausing, Gabe realized Knight was the senior of the two so he had the right to give Gabe orders. He will have a hard time of it, Gabe thought. It was apparent Knight was no coward or one to shirk his duty. He’d taken the frigate leaving Gabe with the schooners, theoretically a more even match up.

  “Merlin has signaled, harass the enemy,” Jackson said.

  “What’s he mean?” Dagan, who had been listening but had not spoken, now addressed the first lieutenant.

  “His way of telling us to be careful if possible. Harass, but don’t attack. If we can play cat ’n’ mouse long enough, we’ll have the odds in our favor.”

  “I wish the admiral hadn’t sent Swan off on dispatch,” Lavery interjected.

  “Not squeamish are you sir?” Gunnells asked. Being new on board SeaWolf, the master had no idea of the action Lavery had been in.

  Hearing the interaction, Gabe not wanting any conflict spoke up for his lieutenant, “Nay, Lavery’s not squeamish. Prudent is more to my thinking.”

  “Deck there, the leading schooner ’as opened ’er gunports,” the lookout called down.

  “No doubt now,” Gabe volunteered to his officers. “They are deliberately seeking action.” After looking over the ship Gabe spoke to the first lieutenant, Mr. Jackson. “Those boarding nets are too tight. See to them if you will sir, they need to be slackened.”

  Then looking down the main deck he could see the gun crews were standing about. The gunner had already carefully selected his first ball, making sure it was free of any rust and as near perfect as could be for roundness. The men had various types of scarves and bandanas tied over their ears to reduce the noise.

  A tub full of cutlasses, pikes and boarding axes set amidship. Turning aft Gabe saw Lum and Dawkins. Neither had to be involved but he’d not try to talk them into going below to safety. Dagan was aft as well; he was talking to Caleb.

  Wonder where that damned ape is, Gabe thought. As the thought crossed his mind so did another. Dagan was making his way toward him so Gabe held his thought. When Dagan grew close he spoke softly, “Did you ever hear of an ape being killed in action?”

  Dagan stopped dead in his tracks and looked directly into Gabe’s eyes then they both burst out in laughter.

  One of the gun captains hearing the laughter spoke to his gun crew, “Lookie there laddies, iffen the cap’n can ’ave ’isself a chuckle then he can’t be much worried about them buggers. So when the ossifer gives the word, fire, let’s lay about like I’s done showed ya!”

  The gun captain was a leathered wrinkled old salt who was nearly deaf from serving the guns for thirty or more years. His ready grin showed gaps between his yellowed teeth. Experienced as he was, his word put not only his gun crew but also those on either side at ease.

  BOOM!…BOOM!…BOOM!

  “Well, they’d open the ball,” Gunnells cried out.

  Gabe ignored the privateer’s opening shots. They were more for effect that anything else. It would be another five minutes before they would be in effect range. Noticing how the two schooners were sailing gave Gabe an idea. It would be nip ’n’ tuck for a harried moment or so, but he knew what SeaWolf could do.

  “Mr. Gunnells, do you see the two schooners are running parallel but the lead ship has a good distance over the sister ship?”

  “Aye, cap’n, I sees it.”

  “I want to split the two, then come around and pour a broadside up the latter ship’s bunghole.”

  Smiling, Gunnells replied, “I’ll lay her so close to yonder ship’s stern you could walk through the galley windows if you’ve a mind.”

  “No nothing that close,” Gabe answered the old master, “But pistol shot range will do.”

  BOOM!…BOOM!

  “The frigate has fired on LeFrelon,” the lookout called.

  Smoke had engulfed the privateer momentarily but was now drifting between the two ships.

  BOOM!…BOOM!

  The roar of cannon filled the air as LeFrelon fired back scoring a hit as pieces of debris went flying into the air. Seeing this, Gabe called to his gun crews, “A guinea to the first gun to score a hit.”

  This brought cheers from the men, profit and a gut full-o’-glory, “Huzza to the cap’n, huzza.”

  “Open ports,” Gabe ordered Jackson.

  “Mr. Druett,” Gabe called to his gunner, “Let go with the bowchaser if you will. I want those rogues to feel SeaWolf’s fangs.”

  “Aye, cap’n. Hear that lads,” Druett called. “Time for SeaWolf to bare her fangs and give them whoresons a bite or two.”

  BOOM!…BOOM! Both nine pounders had fired.

  “We claim the guinea,” a man cried. Sure enough the huge jib on the leading schooner had been hit causing her to skew to larboard.

  “Foul! Foul,” the ole gapped-tooth gun captain cried. “We’ve had no chance to bear.”

  Raising his hands in surrender, “Fair is fair,” Gabe called. “We’ll make it even. A guinea to the first crew on each side to score a hit, but a tie means you split the purse.”

  This brought more cheers from the men. SeaWolf was now bearing down on the schooners.

  As an afterthought, Gabe turned to Jackson, “Are the boats being towed?”

  “Aye, captain, I set Mr. Graf to it soon as you ordered beat to quarters.”

  SeaWolf and the leading schooner were virtually parallel. As Gabe gave the order to fire he could hear the firing as LeFrelon battled her foe. Lanyards jerked as one as the anxious gun captains heard the order they’d been waiting on.

  SeaWolf rocked back as a whole broadside let loose with a tremendous crash. The entire side was in a frenzy. As the guns hurled backwards to the end of their breechings, clouds of dirty yellow ’n’ black acrid smoke filled the air then flowed aft toward the quarterdeck with the breeze.

  The gun crew flung themselves at their guns as the gun captains shouted instructions and encouragement.

  “Worm out, worm out laddies. ’At’s it, now swab. Atkins, ya bugger I said swab.”

  Worming, swabbing, reloading, and running out, each crew was like a well-oiled machine. The occasional curse from a gun captain was more for show than need.

  “Lively now! Fire! That’s it, you lubberly whoresons! Worm…swab…reload.” On and on it went, each crew trying to beat the time of the next crew.

  Gabe tried to watch the fall of shot. The schooner was being pounded but SeaWolf was being hit as well. Several gaps were in the bulwark, the forward mainsail had a huge rent and one gun was overturned. One of the gun crew lay beneath the heavy barrel, his legs kicking the air. Then mercifully they thudded to the deck and lay still. Then they were past the first ship. Would he come about or continue on? Gabe wasn’t sure but if things worked to plan, he’d have the second schooner between them.

  “He’s trying to come about, sir.” This from Gunnells, “He’s trying to come about on the same tack.”

  Well, he couldn’t worry about that now; they were along side the other schooner and SeaWolf rocked as she was racked by the privateer’s broadside.

  “Four pounders,” Jackson cried out, “She’s only got four pounders.”

  Was he glad or complaining, Dagan wondered. SeaWolf rocked again but this time it was from her own broadside. The schooner was hit good, but was firing her guns again, those that were left after SeaWolf spoke.

  “She�
�s got a good skipper,” Gabe spoke to Dagan.

  “Aye, he’s making a fight of it.”

  Gabe had made his way aft to Gunnells and the wheel. He looked at the schooner as SeaWolf slid by then after a pause bellowed his order. “Now, Mr. Gunnells, down helm. Put your helm down.”

  The master had two men at the wheel. With all their might they spun the big wheel. Gabe felt the rudder bite and SeaWolf made her turn to larboard bringing the loaded cannon to bear on the stern.

  “Ease her up, that’s it, ease her up,” Gabe ordered.

  SeaWolf crossed the privateer’s stern with each gun firing as they sailed past. The galley windows were shattered by the first gun with each subsequent shot lending to the destruction of the one before it.

  Then there was an explosion as the magazine was undoubtedly hit. The once proud beautiful ship was now nothing by fiery debris filling the air, then raining down all about. Huge chunks were hitting the sea with splashing and sizzling sounds.

  Suddenly, one of the worst sounds heard aboard ship rang out: “Fire! Fire! Fire to the mainsail.”

  Gabe turned to Gunnells, “Put the ship before the wind, then heave to.” He then shouted orders to Jackson, “Clew up the topsail and top gallant. Then cut away the mainsail.”

  “Lavery?”

  “Aye, captain.”

  “Get a bucket line formed.”

  “Graf?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Get the hammocks and blankets soaked and ready if we need them.”

  “Mr. Dover?”

  “Here, sir,” the carpenter answered.

  “Open the sea-cock and get some water in the bilges, then get the ship’s pumps ready. Hopefully we won’t need them, but let’s get them ready.”

  “Aye, cap’n.” As the carpenter turned to carry out his duties Gabe called after him again.

  “Mr. Dover.”

  “Sir.”

  “Don’t forget to close the sea-cocks. We want to put water in the bilge, not sink the ship.”

  “Aye, sir, close them I will.”

  Dagan then sidled up to Gabe, “Here comes the other privateer.”

  “Damme,” Gabe said, not liking the thought of having to surrender.

  BOOM!…BOOM!…Gabe looked for the fall of the shot not seeing any damage to SeaWolf.

  “Look sir,” one of the petty officers called out, “It’s Merlin. She’s firing on the privateer.”

  “Huzzah! Huzzah for the Merlin,” SeaWolf’s crew cheered.

  On board Merlin, Lord Anthony and Bart watched as SeaWolf’s crew fought the flames. Meanwhile, Earl guided his ship into combat against the remaining schooner. LeFrelon and the privateering frigate were locked together and were in hand-to-hand combat.

  “We’s got to ’urry,” Bart volunteered, “else Knight and his bunch’ll be overrun.”

  Lord Anthony was also concerned. He wanted to help Gabe but he also had to go to Knight’s aid. However, the damnable schooner came first.

  “Captain Earl?”

  “Aye, my Lord.”

  “I’d be grateful if your next salvo was double-shotted with a measure of grape. Time is of the essence.”

  Earl understood the urgency and had himself been torn between which ship to aid. In theory, Gabe should be able to handle the fire but…

  The cannons had been loaded as ordered and after coming about Merlin unleashed its deadly broadside. The weight of its metal stopped the schooner dead in the water. The once proud schooner should have hauled her wind after the first exchange with Merlin’s bigger twelve pounder cannons.

  The ship was mastless, and pockmarked from the stern forward. Men were scurrying to abandon ship as the schooner was already down forward.

  “Come about if you will, sir,” Lord Anthony was addressing Earl. “Let’s see if we can lie alongside the rogue,” he continued, using his sword as a pointer. “Pray to God we’re not too late.”

  As Merlin approached the privateer frigate men started firing muskets and swivels in their direction. One of the men at the wheel involuntarily let up, as a ball hit the deck next to him.

  “Steer small, blast you,” Merlin’s master hissed at the man. Merlin yawed then was instantly corrected.

  The frigate’s transom was now level with Merlin’s jib boom. A heavy thump, then the scraping and grinding of wood as the two ships came together.

  “Boarders away, boarders away,” Earl was calling when he saw Bart and Lord Anthony, pistol in one hand and blade in the other.

  “My Lord,” he cried, “It’s not for you to be boarding, sir.”

  Touched, but not amazed at Earl’s sincerity, Anthony answered, “I must lead by example Stephen, you most of all should realize that.”

  “Aye, my Lord,” Earl muttered as he stepped aside.

  “Don’t yew worry none, cap’n,” Bart spoke as he passed, “I’s protecting ’im.”

  “Humph! You can’t protect yourself so how are you to protect me?” Anthony asked.

  “I’s will, don’t yews be worrying how, jus’ knows I will.”

  The flash of powder as muskets and pistols fired continued all around. Realizing they were now being assaulted on two fronts the privateers were now fighting like madmen. Cutlasses flashed amid cries of anguish and pain. Bart discharged his pistol into a man’s rotund belly as the man jabbed at Lord Anthony with a boarding pike.

  Earl aimed at what appeared to be an officer and squeezed the trigger. As the man went down he put the fired pistol in his waistband and shifted his other pistol to his right hand. When he spotted another target, he aimed, held his breath for a second then fired. When the second man collapsed he took his sword and joined into the fight.

  The privateers were now tiring. They’d all but won the battle with LeFrelon when Merlin joined in. A small half-crazed man screaming profanities was skewered by Lord Anthony’s blade. He dropped the axe he had been carrying and bolted toward a ladder, before dropping to the deck, letting out a final bloodcurdling profane scream.

  Earl, who was by Lord Anthony looked at the admiral and declared, “Blasphemy, by Gawd.”

  “Damnation,” Bart cried. “Look!”

  Knight was in the midst of a melee. The man could be heard yelling encouragement to his men. His voice strong and commanding could be heard above the din of battle.

  Dead and dying men lay sprawled about the deck. Little knots of men were still fighting. Lord Anthony now was face to face with a man carrying a blade and a tomahawk. Desperation showed on the man’s face and eyes as he circled and prodded with his blade, feinting then swinging the tomahawk.

  Circling with the man, Anthony became aware of how slick the deck had become from all the blood and gore. Feeling himself tire, Anthony knew he had to soon end it. Then just as he started to press the man, there was a loud crack to his left.

  His opponent’s face turned from that of a man to unrecognizable gore. As the man dropped to the deck Bart stepped up next to Lord Anthony, smoking pistol still in his hand.

  “No need to bother with that bugger. Iffen he’d ’ad any sense he’d throwed down ’is weapons and surrendered proper like. ’Nother one o’ them buggers wot shoulda learned ’scretion, I’m thinking. Now ’e’ll never share another wet with ’s mates.”

  The fighting was now over. Merlin’s marine lieutenant was bellowing at his men to form up. Wounded men were being carried below and the bodies of dead privateers were being dumped unceremoniously overboard. Cries from the orlop deck could be heard as Bart and Lord Anthony made their way back on board Merlin.

  Turning to Lord Anthony, Bart spoke in a very solemn voice, “I don’t know wot’s worse, dying on deck or at the ’ands o’ the surgeon.”

  Nursing a cut arm, Anthony replied, “I don’t know but I think it’s quicker in battle.”

  “Aye,” Bart agreed, “Plus yew don’t ’ave to lay there and think on it.”

  Back on board SeaWolf, Gabe and his crew were able to get the burning sail cut away and overb
oard before the fire had spread. Most of the damage from the battle was to the rails and bulwark. One gun would have to have a new carriage. Two crewmembers were dead and several wounded, a few from fighting the fire and not the battle.

  LeFrelon was not so lucky. She had twenty dead and twice that wounded. The ship had taken a beating and may sink.

  “Several planks has been stove in,” the carpenter reported, “Plus she be holed twice.”

  As Knight reported to Admiral Anthony he felt distraught. “I doubt she’ll ever fight again, my Lord. The frigate’s heavier guns pounded her badly, I’m afraid.”

  “Think she’ll make it to Saint Augustine?” Anthony inquired.

  “I’m not sure, my Lord. If the wind doesn’t get up she might.”

  “Very well,” Lord Anthony said with a sigh. “Leave your first lieutenant and a skeleton crew on board and you take command of the frigate. What was her name?” Anthony asked.

  “The Neptune, sir.”

  “Ah, yes, the Neptune. Since Lord Howe has promoted you to commander of LeFrelon, I’m sure he’ll confirm your promotion to captain and command of the frigate. Did you loose any officers?”

  “No, my Lord.”

  “Good, then we’ll do what we can for LeFrelon now, and make a final decision when we get back to Saint Augustine.”

  PART II

  Skylarking

  Searching for fresh air.

  The crew gathering on deck,

  And stared out in awe;

  As the Caribbean sun set.

  They drank down their ration,

  And lit up their pipes.

  The master had promised,

  Another scorching night.

  -Michael Aye

  Chapter Eight

  The weeks following the battle with the privateers proved to be less rewarding. It was monotonous at times and hot all the time.

  Anthony sent the ships out on patrol in pairs. Merlin and Swan were plying the coast up to Wilmington, North Carolina where two transports had been taken by rebel gunboats.

  The Cape Fear River poured out into the Atlantic at Wilmington. The area had over a dozen inlets and most were suited for privateering. Strike fast, then escape into one of the inlets where navigation would be very treacherous for someone who didn’t know the area.