“Aye, Sir, we sail briskly enough under topsails and courses alone. Most of these others are carrying all sail they dare. You were worried about the smaller ships, but they’re keeping up well.”
“True enough. They offset their small size by being simpler and more easily sailed than the lumbering ‘company ships’. This Windward Passage isn’t living up to its name, Lt. Ratshaw. We’ve had light winds the last two days. While I enjoy the small seas, we do not make wonderful progress. Did Mr. Greaves give you his opinion of the weather?”
“’It’s the expected way of things this season’ is what he said, Sir. We had that blow before we raised Hispaniola, but that was all. He says these calms will come up from Africa regularly, with the wind going slack before a rain and then piping up when it comes.”
Greaves noticed them talking. “May I join?” he asked.
“Please do, Mr. Greaves. I was about to give my general sailing orders to Lt. Ratshaw before I go below for a bit.
“On this first leg of our journey north here between Spanish Cuba and French Hispaniola, we must stay far enough out to sea that the convoy is not visible from Hispaniola. Only bad luck should cause a clash with pirates from the Isle of Ash or the cul-de-sac. When we tack over, work Experiment to windward of the convoy and then brail our courses. We shall sail slowly and count them all at each turn. After the last, we shall hurry to the van and repeat the process at the next mark.
“There’s the last of them, Sir,” observed Stokes following a tack near the northern end of the Passage. “Margaret Anne has tacked.”
“Mr. Greaves, loose the sails now. Let’s return to the van.”
“Ahoy the deck,” yelled the lookout. “Signal from Margaret Anne.”
“What is it, Mr. Worth?” questioned Stokes.
“Which it is the ‘enemy’ signal, but it’s upside down.”
“Mr. Worth!” yelled Neville, “Look all ‘round for a sail!”
Stokes and Burton waited a minute or more before there was a response from the maintop, but Mr. Worth finally yelled back down, “Aye, Sir. One tops’l – only sometimes. Nor-east.”
“To the nor-east? Thank you, Mr. Worth. Stay sharp.
“Mr. Stokes, send up ‘acknowledge’.
“Lt. Ratshaw, what would you do?”
“Me, Sir? Well, I….” here he paused to think.
“We have plenty of time, Lt. Ratshaw. Think out loud, if it would help.”
“Well, Sir, if she’s enemy, which is what the signal upside down meant, yes?”
“It might be, but Margaret’s not sure of it, I think. Her lookout has very sharp eyes, I say. Nobody else has signaled. That signal’s quite clever of him, too. We never spoke of it.”
“So he might be some Frenchie or pirate coming out from Hispaniola, right?”
“It’s you doing the thinking, lieutenant.”
“Ah, just so. If he’s enemy, we ought to chase him, but if we do and another, possibly even larger force, then shewed up, we’d have hell to pay. If we go back on station and he’s alone, we can fall on him once he’s close enough to identify. Aha! I have it. I would station Experiment farther back of center of us all and watch the bugger. He might avoid us.”
“Very good, lieutenant. You may have a chance at captain yet. All right, so suppose he closes as we sail into the cul-de-sac, but doesn’t try to fight us because he’s alone, and then tacks north in front of us. Anything, then?”
“Not much we can do but crack on, I suppose. We’d have to assume he’s going for his friends.”
“I would agree with all that, so let’s pray he’s alone or slow or both.”
“Did you hear the sailing orders, Mr. Greaves?”
“Aye, aye, Sir. Center convoy to wind’rd.”
The convoy of closely-bunched ships continued to sail west throughout the third day.
“A single ship, sure enough,” announced Midshipman Walshe after staring though his glass for fifteen minutes. “She’s coming this way fast. That little tan rectangle has become larger and has been joined by two more tan rectangles, one below and one behind...”
“Ahoy the deck!” It was now Mr. Silas at the maintop. “Signal. Enemy!”
While they watched, the tan rectangles changed their position one to the other.
“She’s going about, Sir. She has come close enough to know what we are and is now going for help.”
“We crack on, then,” muttered Neville.
“Captain,” said Lt. Ratshaw the next morning. “It’s not likely that a fast ship could go from here to Tortuga and return to our location with his mates before we are through the Passage, is it?”
“Not likely, of course, but I worry. He may have better wind than we as he nears the northern shore, or we may become becalmed before then, or he may find an accomplice before he even reaches Tortuga. An ‘undred things could happen.”
As if in answer to his apprehensions, the rain increased and the wind veered more east than normal and dropped to a zephyr. Rain began to fall, thoroughly wetting the sails. The canvas hung heavily on the yards rather than taking a proper shape for sailing. The overcast of the day added no cheer to the worried officers who stood on the quarterdeck with the rain streaming off tarpaulin hats.
“This may presage a storm; another horror I hadn’t wanted to think of,” Neville added. “Someone might as well stay dry. Neither that pirate nor we are going anywhere at the moment, and this rain is so thick we can’t see more than three of our own. I am going below to have another look at the charts to see if there are any alternatives – though I do not believe there are. Call me if anything changes.”
Neville did not need to be called. Half an hour later, the drumming of rain on the decks ceased, as if the pouring bucket of water was now empty. The ship’s motion changed slightly.
In the few minutes it took Neville to reach the quarterdeck to investigate, the sky turned from overcast to ethereal. A fantastic display of sun rays streamed obliquely from the southwest down through three or four gaps in the flat gray clouds. A thin rainbow appeared in the distance where it was still raining lightly. Rainwater was still trickling from the sails, and where it fell on the deck, it ran in little rivulets to the scuppers. The sea that had been pelted smooth by millions of raindrops was displaying the mottled surface associated with a breeze. Heads were poking out from under anything they had found for shelter, looking for all the world like half-drowned street dogs.
“Amazing, is it not, Mr. Greaves?” queried Neville as he walked across to the wheel.
“The Lord shows us all manner of wonders, sure enough, Captain,” he responded, “The glass has risen considerable, Sir, and look ahead there. The air is clear enough that we can see almost all our fleet. A breeze rises; see it on the water?”
“Yes, Mr. Greaves, I see, and it is not storm winds, thank God. It looks to be a most glorious afternoon! The sails are drying very quickly, despite the steamy air. They are beginning to draw. It will be hot and muggy, maybe, but glorious,” he concluded, realizing that the water trickling between his shoulder blades was no longer rain, but sweat. Experiment was under way again on a flat sea.
A comfortable night under all sail passed.
“There it is, Mr. Stokes,” said Neville, “Punt de Maisi, the north-eastern point of Cuba. That rock defines the end of our beating up the Windward Passage. If anyone looks for me, I have gone to the masthead for the simply joy of it – to look about at a place where I have never before sailed.”
From the maintop, Neville could see some of the east end of Cuba. Their lead ship, Beagle, was just now falling off to the west.
“There goes Margaret Anne, Captain, loosing her starboard sheets and bracing her yards for a fair wind,” said Ratshaw. “She’s the last of them over the top of Cuba.”
“I’ll enjoy running before the wind for Florida, said Neville.
“Sail, Ho! Deck, there. Mr. Walshe!” yelled the lookout below him from the maintop.
“Where
away, Mr. Shield?”
“Dead aft. Two sail.”
Stifling a curse, Neville raised his glass in the direction he had seen Shield studying the horizon. He could see them, but they were only small scraps of intermittent white triangles at this distance. Triangles, he noticed. Not square sails- t’gallants or royals? They’re Luggers! Very, very fast luggers!
Neville climbed down to the maintop, said, “Thank you Mr. Shield. You’ve a good eye,” and slid to the deck on a backstay. He began pacing the quarterdeck on this fifth day out of Jamaica, considering his options, and waiting for Mr. Greaves to appear for a discussion on sails.
The man came quickly up the quarterdeck steps, walked to where Neville was pacing, touched his hat respectfully, and initiated his conversation, “Good morning, Sir. Marvelous fine weather, ain’t it?”
“Good morning to you, and it is indeed, Mr. Greaves. Your opinion?”
“Stuns’ls, Sir,” he offered, cutting straight to the chase.
“I admit, Mr. Greaves, that this is a fine breeze for it; fair and mild, but if we set stuns’ls we shall overrun the convoy by late afternoon. Where we’ll be needed, however, is at the rear here.”
“I’ve thought of that, but my idea is to set stuns’ls and run for’rd to urge the fleet on, then brail up and let ‘em sail by. We would be back at the rear again before those buzzards arrive. There should be no fear of calm. We’re in the trades now.”
The sailing master’s suggestion made sense. “For the urgency, then, I agree. Have at it, then pass word for all officers to my cabin – be sure to include Mr. Temis [Master-at-Arms].”
As Experiment charged forward along the convoy, the officers of the ship held a council of war.
“We can try to speak each ship as we go for’rd,” began Neville. “The ones that don’t hear us will not take long to understand. We can speak any that are so thick they don’t get a move on as they go by once we reach the van and heave to. I’m going to order Wasp to fall to the rear where she can help if we can’t take care of this by ourselves. After that, we’ll continue with the convoy if those two haven’t caught us, but when they’re close, we’ll turn and fight. It should be well after dinner – supper, too, maybe. Make sure every man’s got a weapon. Marines will take the tops and the swivel guns. We’ll decide what to do once we see what they’re up to, but we must challenge them well before dark. We can’t have them attacking at night.”
It was well after dinner when Experiment hove to and waited for the convoy to sail past. Wasp also sat hove to nearby, and the two luggers grew larger in the afternoon sun.
“Methinks they are very greedy, very brave, or very stupid to sail those little craft against a frigate. Do you suppose they figure us to run?”
“I would guess greedy, and hopefully also drunk, Mr. Walshe,” said Ratshaw as they stood at the taffrail with their telescopes. “’Tis very hard to count guns with them coming straight on, but they don’t look large enough for more than sixteen a piece. They’re both two-masted.”
“They’ll have a large number of men aboard, though, but there again I would think less than fifty each. That’s almost one-to-one with us.”
“There goes Wasp, off behind Margaret Anne. I would guess Margaret’s feeling more comfortable now.”
Five bells sounded. They were interrupted by Mr. Tilburne’s piping the watch to set sail and follow Wasp.
“At this rate it will take those two another four hours to catch us. That will be almost dark. We’ll have to break off sooner than that to engage, won’t we?”
Experiment passed an easy, if nervous, afternoon under tops and courses. It was enough to keep up with the now-surging convoy without forereaching on them. Supper was served, and rum.
“Lt. Ratshaw, have the ship cleared for action. Beat to quarters. I’ll inspect divisions.”
He spent more than the usual attention to the guns, and arrived back at the quarterdeck at precisely three bells of the first dog watch. “It’s time, gentlemen,” he announced. “Let’s go give them hell. Prepare to go about.”
There was no apparent flinching by the luggers as Experiment turned to face her foes. They both continued straight on.
“I cannot fathom what they are thinking. Would they pass one to each side of us and pound us as best they can while they go by? And then ignore us to continue their chase?”
“They aren’t the navy, you know. One should not expect them to act rational-like. That does sound like something they might do, however. If they could disable us as they went by it would be a fair strategy indeed, lieutenant,” said Neville, “I like it, though. Let’s not disappoint them. Have all the grapples ready. We shall catch at least one of those fish.”
“Mr. Greaves, we will run between them, as close as possible to one or the other, and throw grapples. Reduce sail so we have steerage, but not much more, and before we fire, take us aback or throw our sheets. We do not want the difference in speed between us to be too large. It won’t be long now. Look, this is perfect. They are both reducing sail, probably in the hope that they will be more accurate with their guns. Their first shots will surely be bar, as will ours,” Neville explained.
The luggers continued straight on, and close together; very close indeed. Do they expect us to turn in order give them a broadside? Neville wondered.
Half a mile, two cables, one. The ships neared. Dozens of men could be seen aboard both ships. Mr. Greaves had the sails thrown aback, and Experiment slowed rapidly. The two luggers loosed their sheets and their sails flailed loose in the breeze. Her men could be heard yelling excitedly.
“Ready, men!” bellowed Neville, “Ready with the grapples! Fire as they bear!”
“Mr. Tilburne, station grapple-throwers on the foredeck and in the chains at the fore and main,” Neville yelled. “And four each side at the fore of the quarterdeck and at the taffrail. An extra tot to the men who catch a pirate.”
There would soon be barely enough room for Experiment to fit between the two luggers. Which ship was caught would now depend mostly upon the grapple-throwers
The luggers came at them with sails flailing and rattling and men howling and banging their cutlasses together, and they fired their first guns prematurely, immediately demonstrating the most critical error in their plans. The lugger to starboard fired prematurely. Her shot made a quarter-inch scrape across the front face of Experiment’s stem beam and then tore away all rigging at the base of her sister pirate’s simple boom.
The second lugger’s better-aimed gun tore a large hole in Experiment’s foredeck rail above the beakhead, and the grapple-thrower there disappeared in an explosion of red goo that sprayed across everything and everyone on the foredeck. They had no time to be stunned, however.
Experiment’s guns spoke next, their shots tearing chunks out of both luggers’ rails and the men who were perched upon them. The chain shot continued onwards to do damage to sails and rigging. All three ships now slid alongside each other, grinding hull against hull, blasting and throwing grapples. The marines firing from the tops were scarcely able to waste a shot into the crowded lugger decks below them.
Experiment’s foredeck swivel was mounted on the starboard side rather than in the center, and so gave the ship there a beating. The aft swivel gun still waited for a good shot. Even before the web of grapples locked the starboard lugger to Experiment, her force was almost depleted. The pirate’s first two guns lay on their sides, victims of effective direct blasts from only a few feet away. There was nobody left to serve them, either, due to flying metal and splinters. Her foremast tilted crazily to her larboard, and less than a quarter of the men that had been standing on her decks were still visible. Her decks were running red with blood, and smoke was rising from somewhere below. No pirate was threatening to jump aboard Experiment.
Neville caught the eye of Sgt. Daweson and beckoned him closer to give an order.
“Sgt. Daweson, I need you to send four men to cut that lugger loose! See that smoke? Push her
off and let her drift away. Then board t’other!”
The noise was decreasing to starboard, but it was still rising on the other side. The pirates there were making a better showing than their cohorts opposite. All of Experiment’s fourteen guns on larboard had been fired once. Their bar shot had done severe damage, but the pirates had managed to fire all eight of their small guns at point blank range, thereby exacting a terrible toll on the Experimentals who served the guns. Neither had cut away any complete set of shrouds, however, and all of Experiment’s masts still stood firm.
The pirates were amassing amidships, obviously expecting to overcome the frigate by sheer numbers and threatening a charge, when Experiment’s forward swivel gun blasted a huge hole in their mob. They were not finished yet, however, despite the decks awash with slippery blood and sharpshooter marines in the tops rapidly dropping man after man. They began gathering in the waist again, and might have mounted another charge, but for a new wave of excited yelling from behind.
Orders were shouted in French. The mob turned from preparing a charge to fending off Experiment’s borders and chopping at the grapple lines. Not a single pirate had yet stepped aboard Experiment, and it now became clear that they never would. From his position on the quarterdeck, Neville saw the change in activity and heard a few of the enemy’s words: “Cut loose! Cut loose! Another ship!”
Neville, who had been concentrating on the fighting, whipped his head around to see Wasp on the way to assist. Knowing that if captured they would all be hung, the pirates were now working feverishly to cut loose and run. They were having a difficult time of it with the marines firing at anybody who swung an axe, but now had only two ropes remaining.
A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2) Page 30