by Peter Greene
“Dear Lord!” exclaimed Harrison. “What in the name of the saints is that cat doing here?”
“Stewie!” called Sean, who immediately broke ranks and ran to the animal.
“Get back in line, Flagon!” called Hudson angrily.
“But it’s Stewie!” he exclaimed, reaching for the cat.
“Now, Flagon!” called Hudson, turning red.
This outburst frightened the mouser, who immediately ran away, hiding under a nearby fruit cart. Sean could only look and slowly return to his position.
As they marched away, he glanced over his shoulder, hoping his furry friend would follow; however, he saw nothing more of the cat.
“Don’t worry, Seany,” said Hicks softly. “I bet ’ell wait fer us right thar!”
* * * * *
Harrison led the small party deeper into town. Before long, they began to climb the hill to the viscount’s villa. Sean, nervous and alert, seemed to believe that everyone in town was staring at him and his armed friends. Of course, they were, as all the Paladins were in full uniform: Harrison in his best-kept deep-navy-blue jacket, hat trimmed in gold, and sword in a silver sheath at his hip. The three marines—Hudson, Hicks, and Flagon—in their scarlet coats and the several deckhands in their embroidered and tasseled hats were a sight to see for the townspeople.
“Stay alert, men,” reminded Harrison.
A well vocalized chorus of “Yes, sir!” echoed through the streets off the stone-walled buildings. This, of course, set the townspeople into wide smiles, as if the parade were staged for their enjoyment; several began to clap, almost encouraging the Englishmen to perform again.
“This day will not end soon enough for me,” said the commander under his breath.
Aboard the Paladin, Jonathan paced the deck after putting men at the corners of the ship to keep watch on the surroundings. He spent most of his attention overlooking the starboard rail, with Jenkins at his side. Both had agreed that the most dangerous adversary, if there was to be one, would come not from shore, but from the sea.
There was more on Jonathan’s mind than enemy ships or cutting crews.
“It is peculiar, Jenkins, that I am now in command instead of Quinn, is it not?”
“Aye, sir, it is,” said Jenkins. “But not totally unexpected,” he added with a slight smile as he gazed outward to the sea.
“And why do you say that?” asked Jonathan.
“It is obvious that Captain Harrison has no confidence in Lieutenant Quinn. He has considerable respect for you and your judgment, on the other hand.”
“But I have not been exemplary on this cruise, with the withholding of information and, well, basically destroying the foremast with sheer stupidity. I don’t even have a proper uniform to wear,” commented Jonathan.
Jenkins smiled. “It’s not the uniform, my dear departedpappy used to say, but the man inside it!”
“Well,” said Jonathan, “I hope the angels are looking over us, because we will need all the help we can get!”
Jonathan looked to Quinn, who was at the bow speaking with two of the new men, Crump and Crystal. Jonathan felt uncomfortable with the command arrangement, but Quinn had done this to himself. He had second-guessed Harrison more than once—and in an unprofessional manner.
After a few words with Quinn, the two new men descended belowdecks, and Quinn approached the starboard rail.
“Mister Moore, I have sent all the men to their guns, and Crump and Crystal are teamed with the more experienced men I sent below to inventory and secure. I thought it would be good to have them gain some experience.”
“A grand idea, Lieutenant Quinn,” Jonathan responded. “Would you join us in our observation of the surrounding bay, then?”
“With pleasure,” said Quinn, and took up his scope and began searching the mouth to the bay.
He seems content and comfortable, thought Jonathan. This might be easier than I thought!
Harrison stood back and allowed Sean to raise the giant door knocker that was affixed to the entry of the villa. He rapped three times, loudly.
“Almost as stunning as Captain Walker’s back home!” Sean said. Then he took his place next to Hudson and Hicks.
Within a moment, the grand door opened and the viscount of Zadar stood smiling.
“Captain Harrison, I presume?”
“Indeed. And you must be Baron Ragusa, Viscount of Zadar. Mister Garvino sends his regards.”
“Ah! Garvino, that old wagger!” the viscount said, laughing. “I have not seen him since we spent a holiday in Madrid! He told you of that, I am sure?”
Harrison felt slightly more at ease. The acceptance of the name Garvino and the mention of Madrid and holiday would not be coincidence. The viscount was certainly privy to the plan, or the charade, thought Harrison.
“He did mention that event,” answered Harrison.
“Please! Please! Welcome to my home! Enter! Would you and your men join me on the loggia? The climb up the hill will take the breath away from even one of His Majesty’s Marines, and build quite a thirst, yes?”
The viscount’s smile and polite manners were disarming. Harrison agreed, and the party stepped indoors.
“Ship! A ship!” called Garvey from the crow’s nest of the Paladin. “Three points off our port bow!”
All raised their glasses and trained them to the sea. Jonathan clearly could see a two-masted ship flying the English Union Jack. Its sails were only partly functioning, there was smoke about the deck, and men ran to and fro.
“The Echo!” Garvey exclaimed. “She is under attack!”
“But from whom?” asked Quinn.
“Ah! A ship to her stern!” called Jenkins.
Jonathan pointed his glass astern of the Echo. Yes, he saw it: a three-masted brig, possibly thirty-six guns. They fired. Looking back instinctively to the Echo, he saw men fall on deck—but no damage to the ship.
“Grapeshot!” said Quinn. “They are trying to take the ship, not sink it. The attackers have…the Turkish flag! I see the white crescent and star on a field of red!”
“We must give aid to the Echo!” cried Jonathan. “Jenkins, fire three successive rounds from the stern deck guns!”
“I will do it!” said Quinn and ran immediately to his duty.
“Jenkins, with this pitiful breeze, we will be lucky to crawl out to sea, but have the men add all sail. I will see to the anchors!”
“Yes, sir!” said Jenkins.
At the Villa Ragusa, Harrison sat across from the nobleman, sipping cool tea. The remaining Englishmen stood about, also enjoying a beverage. Sean and Hudson sipped nervously as they watched both men closely.
“Splendid tea, Viscount. I thank you most happily.”
“You are welcome, Captain Harrison.”
“Though, this is not why we are here, is it? To sip tea? I believe I have something for you?”
“Why rush to business?” said Ragusa. “It is a lovely day, we are both gentlemen servicing the side of peace for our nations, and our duty is mostly done. Let us relax and celebrate our success.”
“I would assume you would desire to get the treaty to the tsar with all haste. Being in Austrian-controlled Dalmatia, it might be difficult,” added Harrison.
“Not at all. The current peace makes communication to all parts of the world much easier. I have a fast yacht, the Kérata Vátrachos. She will sail tomorrow. What could possibly happen that would stop our efficacious conclusion of this mission?”
Almost on cue, all in the loggia heard three booms fired in succession, coming from the bay. The Englishmen immediately ran to the edge of the balcony.
“The Paladin!” exclaimed Sean.
“Is there trouble?” asked the viscount.
“That is our signal!” said Harrison. He pointed to the nearby telescope. “Viscount, may I?”
“Of course, Captain!”
It took no time at all for Harrison to locate the Paladin, now under sail and heading out to sea. He could
also see the Echo under attack from a larger, unmarked ship astern and slightly to port.
“Paladin is moving to assist Echo!” he said. “There is a thirty-six attacking! That fool Andrews! His sails are luffing, and he is scrambling about like an ape! He is not returning fire!”
“Who is attacking?” asked the viscount.
“The flag is…red, with white crescent and star,” said Harrison.
“Rogue Turks!” said the viscount. “They appear from time to time off these shores. In these days of peace, many have turned to piracy. They are trying to gain ships for their future wars against the Russians that surely will resume!”
“What will Jonathan do?” asked Sean. “Shouldn’t we return at once?”
“There would be no use,” said Harrison, still with an eye glued to the glass. “He is underway. Dear Lord! How could I have put Jonathan in such a predicament? He’s just a boy!”
“Commander Harrison, beggin’ your pardon,” said Hudson. “He’s no ordinary boy.”
“Jenkins!” Jonathan called. “What are we to do?”
“You are in command, Mister Moore.”
“Damn it, Jenkins, I know that! But I have never maneuvered a ship in battle! Stop giving me lessons like a schoolmaster and suggest something!”
“Well, sir, you want to assist the Echo with your guns. Put as much firepower on the enemy as possible, then get away quickly to remount a second attack. She’s a bigger ship, and one broadside won’t do the whole job. Sir.”
Without hesitation, Jonathan called to Fawcett.
“Fawcett, dead ahead west. Approach the thirty-six and a hard starboard turn with the wind assisting will put our portside guns to her side. If Andrews can come to his port and fire his guns, we will have the thirty-six between us.”
“A sound improvement, Mister Moore!” said Jenkins.
Aboard the fast cruiser Navarkhia, Commodore Kharitonov smiled as he himself piloted the ship in battle. He had seen the Paladin approaching to assist her sister ship, thereby taking the bait. Also, and surprisingly to him, he saw that Aggar had successfully moved the old hulk—the rotting ship—from its position behind the small islands to the north, closer to the mouth of the Bay of Zadar, yet still out of the view of anyone in town or at the stone villa on the hill.
“Morozov!” he bellowed. “Take the wheel, and hold a steady course!”
“Aye, sir!” said Morozov as he took control of the helm.
“Skryrabin! Fire another smoke round above the deck of the Echo!” Kharitonov called to his lieutenant as he approached the rail. “It will look as if we are thoroughly engaged! Then load grape shot!”
The Paladin now had a fair amount of crosswind filling the sails as she entered the open sea past the entrance to the bay. Jonathan saw that the large thirty-six was now almost directly ahead, possibly two hundred yards. There were no men aboard observing his approach, and the deck guns were not firing upon him. Am I lucky, he thought, or are they too bent on the Echo?
“Come to starboard, Mister Fawcett. Now!”
“Aye, sir!” said Fawcett.
Paladin performed the maneuver, and catching the wind, came fast alongside the cruiser, only fifty feet away. Jonathan now noticed a change in his enemy’s tactic: the gun crews were now directing their weapons low to the deck of the Paladin.
“Paladins! Fire!” he called.
Nothing happened.
“Fire!” he called again, turning to the main deck.
The gun crews stood beside each piece, torches lit, and tapping the holes atop the guns. But no piece would ignite.
Aboard the Navarkhia, Kharitonov quickly called out his command.
“Strelyat!”
His starboard guns, all eighteen, let loose round after round of hot shot, all into the deck of the Paladin. Jonathan and others reacted fast enough and fell quickly to the deck, avoiding the deadly raking. Others were struck and killed.
There had been enough momentum building that the Paladin kept her speed and sailed on past the Navarkhia to the north.
As the enemy fell behind, Jenkins appeared at Jonathan’s side.
“The guns?” said the man.
“What happened?” Jonathan yelled to the deck.
Marshall was inspecting the touchhole on his gun, and even from Jonathan’s distance, he could see the man’s face turn pale.
“Somethin’s jammed in the touchhole, sir!”
“Mine as well!” called Jones.
“Here too!” said Smith.
Quinn! thought Jonathan. He was to inspect the guns! Harrison was right! Quinn was more than inept; he was a saboteur! He must have spiked the touchholes with something—wood, or worse. It was probably also Quinn who caused the chaser to backfire into the foremast!
“Smith! Jones!” Jonathan yelled. “Find Quinn and bring him here immediately! And bind his hands tightly!”
“He went below!” called Southcott. “I saw him!”
“Yer with us, then!” called Smith as he and Jones ran to the ladder and disappeared below.
“The Echo is escaping to the north!” called Garvey from the crow’s nest.
Indeed, Jonathan could see that the Echo was a hundred yards ahead of them, fleeing. They had added sail and moved while the Navarkhia was engaging the Paladin.
“Jenkins, get the men to add sail,” ordered Jonathan. “We must run away to—”
But as Jonathan looked ahead, he froze in terror. Another ship lay in their path. It had no colors. Looking to the Echo, he witnessed another disturbing image: she was striking her colors.
Harrison could see the action unfolding before him, and he gave voice to what he saw so all on the loggia could hear.
“There is no return of fire from Paladin!” exclaimed Harrison.
“The Paladin did not fire?” asked Sean. “Why not?”
“I haven’t a clue!” cried Harrison. “She is taking damage to the deck but still maneuvering. I cannot see the Echo—she has moved past the tower to the north. The Turk ship is pursuing! She is turning to starboard to give a side to the Paladin as she flees! Hurry, Jonathan! Hurry!”
Aboard the Navarkhia, Kharitonov was in full glory. He laughed and shouted commands to his crew. Aggar’s plan was working perfectly. He knew his spy aboard the English ship, Tretiak, would not fail them. He surely knew enough to ensure that the Paladin never fired a shot. That is initiative, thought Kharitonov. He would reward him with his own command once they had secured this pesky little English brig. Possibly, he would have Tretiak command the Paladin, and Aggar would remain on the Echo. Yes, that would do nicely. Of course, the ship names would be changed and their appearance altered. No one could know that these were English ships at one time—especially the English. There was no need to worry, though. The Royal Navy rarely made appearances in the Black Sea. Kharitonov and his small flotilla could cruise the inland waters unmolested for years.
The perfectly executed turn to starboard had Navarkhia facing almost directly to shore, the tower on the northern point of the bay just ahead. Kharitonov looked over his right shoulder and spotted the viscount’s villa immediately, high on the hill. Within another few seconds, it would move behind the rise of the tower and out of view. Anyone there, watching, would see no details of the final actions of the plan.
“I hope you are paying attention!” he called to the villa with a laugh, then yelled his command to the crew, as loud as thunder: “Strelyat!”
From the hill, Harrison saw the Paladin disappear from view.
“I can still see the Turk!” he said, referring incorrectly to the Navarkhia. “She has completed her turn!”
Sean stared out to sea, watching as best he could. The land to the north rose slightly, and his view was masked by woodland and stone structures. However, it was unmistakable that the Navarkhia had just fired a broadside.
“She has fired,” said Harrison.
Immediately, the men heard two explosions: the first, a muted ripple of the guns from the Nava
rkhia. Then, immediately after, there was a thundering boom, much larger than any sound coming from guns. It was accompanied by a flash of light beyond the tower. Harrison could easily see planking and other debris flying through the air.
“W-what was that?” cried Sean.
“An explosion!” said Harrison. “A ship’s magazine has been hit!”
“A magazine? The gunpowder?” asked the viscount.
“Harrison! Not the Paladin!” cried Sean.
Harrison watched as the Navarkhia turned slightly to starboard, slipping behind the tower.
“Was it the Paladin?” asked Hudson anxiously.
“I cannot tell. They have all passed out of sight!” said Harrison.
“We must go! Now!” cried Sean, grabbing at Harrison’s coat. “Jonathan may need us!”
“Just hold!” Harrison said, obviously upset. “Allow me to observe a moment longer!”
Harrison remained with his eye to the glass, staring at the edge of his view, the last place where the large Turk ship had disappeared. He was waiting for something, anything, that would help him decide on his next move. Eventually, if his notions were correct, the Turk would run back south from where it came, in an effort to turn east and use the Bosphorus Strait to return to the Back Sea. Surely, that is where she came from and would want to deliver her catch—either the Echo or the Paladin—to home waters. Only one ship would follow it, he was certain, the one ship that had been taken; the other was surely destroyed.
“Please,” he said softly, “let the Paladin be afloat!”
After a moment, Harrison’s hopes were dashed. Through the telescope, he could clearly see the Echo, flag struck, sailing back to the south. The Navarkhia was right behind. It was clear that the ship that had exploded could only have been HMS Paladin.
“Dear God,” was all he could say.