Finish the wooden-navy story: A Raking Broadside

The night seemed long, and sleep hard to come by, for more than one man onboard Hector.

David Pearson had turned his secretary Worstead loose, and completed some papers, and the ship’s log entry himself. Now he was trying to make an entry in a rough, personal diary he’d maintained, so that when he had the chance he could remember things he wanted to “talk” to Eleanor about, in a letter or letters. He tried to write regularly, although God only knew when he’d be able to post anything. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and began another. * “My dearest Eleanor, how I miss you and look to the day when we can once again be together. It has been a strange voyage so far. Today I faced my first serious disciplinary charge, and was forced to order a man flogged.”* Pearson stopped to think. How would one of the fair sex react to something like that? This wasn’t an ordinary love letter, but still. How to explain? “I did my best to temper mercy with justice, the man could have been hung.” Pearson kept on, as if by explaining himself he could hold back tomorrow and what was to come. He thought his betrothed would understand. Eleanor had been firm minded enough to have stand up to her own father, an Admiral, to for David. Sometimes he still wondered what she’d seen in him that he didn’t know he had himself.

Mr. French lay in his own bunk, staring upwards into the dark. He was mightily relieved that the captain had conjured up a reprieve from death for Wynton, but he was haunted by the fact of laying a capital charge against someone, even though he’d had no choice. Rodney French had had duty to King and Country pounded in since he was younger than the middie Callow, but that was small comfort. He sighed deeply, depression for once overtaking his brighter nature. It might have been better if he’d known Wynton bore him no animosity, but he didn’t.

Midshipman Callow crept quietly belowdecks, wanting to see the American who’d saved his life, but not wanting to disturb him if he had managed to get some sleep. He needn’t have worried, Caleb was wide awake, and being kept company by Atkins and O’Reilly.

“Uh, Mr. Wynton,” he began, "I never did thank you proper for saving me, and I sure am sorry about that.”

“Well, Mr. Callow, seeing as how it was me who was partly responsible, spinning you around like that, it was the least I could do.” Caleb knew Atkins and O’Reilly wouldn’t repeat this private talk. “What say we call it even?”

“I don’t remember much of what happened, just being sick after” Callow went on. “They tell me you jumped in after me.”

Caleb shifted his legs, making a clinking sound. “Something like that” he replied carefully, “I’m sure you would have done the same for me.”

“You really think so?” Callow brightened a little.

“Sure, son, we all been scared too” Atkins chimed in. Normally he wouldn’t have referred to even a midshipman as “son”, but he didn’t think the boy would notice, or mind if he did.

The young middie straightened up a little. “Well, Mr. Wynton, I just wanted to tell you thanks,” and he turned on his heel and left., not hearing the soft chuckling after he had gone.

“That boy’s heart is in the right place, even if he is greener than spoiled beef,” snorted the cook. “I think he’ll stiffen up eventually. If he don’t pass out tomorrow he’ll do.”

“I’ll do my best not to scare him” said Caleb, a hard edge of sarcasm now coming into his voice. “I’ll bet I know now why the captain made me wait. Having to wait like this gets on a man’s nerves, can make him scared.”

“That ain’t entirely so” spoke Atkins. “I’ve heard tell of captains changing their minds, givin’ less strokes or something. Gives them time to think too.” Caleb was skeptical of this, but for once kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to upset the closest thing to a good friend he had on this ship.

“Now, boyo,” began O’Reilly, “afore tomorrow I have a little something here for you” and he held out a mug. Caleb took it and noted it was near half full of rum. “I even laced it with some of that honey you like, makes it smoother goin’ down, ya know.”

Caleb took a small sip. It was warm, and did taste sweeter. There was a temptation to down it in a gulp, knowing what was coming. but he hesitated. “Do they know about this abovedeck?” he asked, and a broad wink was his answer. Still, he held back, this time, from drinking. The memory of a tot of rum, in a seaside tavern in Antigua came back to him, and he handed the mug back to the cook.

“I sure do appreciate the thought, but a drink got me into this whole mess and another drink won’t get me out. I’ll stand on my own two legs tomorrow, not on a crutch.”

“Idiot!” grated O’Reilly, and Atkins embroidered on O’Reilly’s epithet with with “Stupid, young idiot.”


The next morning dawned bright and clear, with the sea almost unnaturally flat. The whole ship’s company was assembled to witness punishment. All the officers, from Pearson to Callow, were in their best uniforms, this being a somewhat “formal” occasion.

Caleb, shirtless, was hauled on deck, and stood straight as his charges and punishment were read out officially. That being finished he was bound spread-eagled against the grate on which the flogging would take place. He started to tremble, wishing now maybe he’d taken some of that rum O’Reilly had offered.

Mr. Chisman, the Master at Arms, asked Archer, the ship’s surgeon, if the man sentenced was fit to take the lashing. Archer made a cursory exam, for form’s sake, and pronounced Caleb fit.

It’s a dream, it’s all a dream” Caleb tried to tell himself, as Hudson, a bosun, stepped forward with a red sack, out of which he took the cat, with it’s nine “tails”, like streamers, dangling from a thicker, rope-bound handle. “I’m going to wake up, this isn’t really happening…”

The shock of the first blow wrenched a gasp out of him. It was a pain like he’d never felt, hot and stinging at the same time. He clenched his teeth to ready himself but before he could the second blow fell, and his eyes watered in pain.

“Three!”
“Four!”
“Five!”

Mr. Chisman’s voice calmly counted the strokes as Hudson continued. At the count of “Twelve!” Hudson stepped back, and Caleb sagged against his bonds, thinking that perhaps he was getting a reprieve. His lower lip was bleeding just a little, where he’d bitten it trying not to yell.

But there was no reprieve of course. Mr. Chisman ordered Archer forward again, to ensure that Caleb was still capable of taking the remaining lashes. Some captains wouldn’t care, but Pearson, still learning from Merriot, was using the letter of the regulations. After the surgeon reported only heavy red welts, with one bleeding cut, Chisman gave the order to administer the remaining twelve strokes.

Another bosun would administer the second twelve strokes, and now a man named Brown stepped forward.

“Thirteen!”
“Fourteen!”
“Fifteen!”

By now Caleb’s whole back felt afire, he could feel he was cut and beginning to bleed freely from his stripes… As it had while he was in the sea with Callow, time was stretching again. Dear, God, when was this going to be over?

“Nineteen!”
“Twenty!”
“Twenty-one!”

He couldn’t help himself any longer, each blow was now wrenching a deep sob of pain from between his clenched teeth.

“Twenty-two!”
“Twenty-three!”
“TWENTY-FOUR!”

It was Pearson who gave the official command “Cut him down.” The company was dismissed, and the cat thrown overboard, not to be used again. Archer came forward a final time. Salt water was washed over Caleb’s raw, bleeding wounds, and Archer applied a salve… Helped into a loose shirt Caleb was hustled groggy, but still on his feet, belowdecks, not to a hammock but to his former pallet in the galley. This time, when O’Reilly offered him a drink he did not refuse, and finally fell, face down, into a pained sleep, as the work of the ship went on about him, unheard.

The repair crews, both Passamaquoddy’s own men and the Hector’s, were hard at work; but some of the damage was going to be irreparable until the ship could spend some time in a dockyard. That much was plain even to David Pearson’s inexperienced eyes; Chisman could likely have told him in much greater detail, if he had any need for such. He could have excused a little irritability in Captain Harding on that account, since the damage was likely to take all the profit out of his present voyage and possibly one or two more beside, but the American was acting pleasantly enough, possibly out of the knowledge that he’d brought at least some of the worst of it down on his own head.

Harding’s cabin was well-appointed next to the Hector’s, and fortunately had got off lightly in all the ship’s misadventures. He had some attractive crystal glasses that set off a measure of good Madeira with a pleasing sparkle, and a richly-polished table and comfortable chairs bearing testimony to the dedication of a skilled cabinetmaker. On the whole it seemed as though the life of a merchant seaman had not done him badly.

Now he was fixing Pearson with a somewhat quizzical look. “Couldn’t help noticing you had a man under punishment this morning, Captain.”

“Of necessity, and an unpleasant one, I’m sure you’ll agree,” said Pearson. “I presume you’re obliged to maintain order yourself from time to time?”

“There’re generally less violent alternatives aboard a merchantman. Stopping a man’s pay or threatening to put him ashore at the next port mostly does the trick. ‘Course, I suppose that’s not so much to the point on a ship with a pressed crew, now is it?”

It was Pearson’s turn to give his fellow a quizzical look. “A surprising proportion of Hector’s crew are volunteers, Captain; enough to surprise me when I was appointed to her. Now, let’s not be beating about the bush. You’ve something to say?”

“Plain speaking it is, Captain. I’m of the mind that the youngster I saw being given a catting this morning was the very hand I saw professing his contentment at serving aboard a ‘Swedish’ vessel not so many days back. And I’ll make so bold as to say that it sits ill with me to see an American pressed to serve in a King’s ship, and told what to tell any strangers, and having his back laid open by the rope’s end,” said Harding, his face darkening, “and I’ll add that I see it ending badly one of these days.”

Before replying, Pearson took a sip of the Madeira, and so gained a few seconds to think before opening his mouth. "Then I’ll give you plain words for plain words, Captain, beginning by saying that you’re in a poor position to be demanding any accounting from me; but I’ll answer you anyway. Firstly, you’re sailing a point or two further off the wind than you think. What Mr Wynton said to you before was at no prompting of mine. I’ll not deny that at that time and that place I was grateful for his loyalty, but there was no coercion behind it. Secondly, the best-behaved man aboard my ship is as subject as any other to the Articles of War, whether I like it or not, if he does fall from grace. And thirdly, it sits ill with me to see an Englishman hiding aboard an American ship and passing himself off as a neutral when his country has a desperate need of him, and it will indeed end badly one of these days.”

For a moment he thought he’d answered Harding too bluntly: then the American gave him a nod and the ghost of a smile. “Fairly answered, point by point, Captain.”

“Thank you. You’ll maybe sympathise with me when I say that I’m not allowed to set a man at liberty simply on his say-so that he’s American, but must have proof; and that when all is over, I’d much prefer to have no-one aboard my ship who does not think he belongs there. If you’ll understand that – why, up to now I’ve seen no reason even to ask if you’ve an Englishman aboard your ship, and I’m willing to keep it that way.

“And now for our business,” Pearson added. “We’re both agreed that it would be much in the interests of both our countries if this pirate sailing under my country’s colours were brought to book?”

“I’ll sign to that, with a full and ready heart,” Harding agreed. He nodded again. “I fear me there’ll be powder burnt and blood spilled between Limey and Jonathan before all’s said and done, but the longer it’s delayed, the better; and delay’s the last thing there’ll be while your flag’s firing on mine, even without your King’s leave.”

“Exactly so. We have enough to manage with Bonaparte alone. So to the details: Suppose yourself in the pirate’s shoes. You have followed a fat prize the length of the Caribbean, and you see her damaged and being towed slowly by one of her countrymen. What are your intentions?” Pearson slid the decanter along the table with his glass behind it.

“Why, that’s plain,” said Harding, sliding his own glass before the decanter. “I’ll sink, capture, or at worst drive off the escort, and help myself to the prize.”

“I hope it’s as plain to the renegade, for that’s what I mean him to see, with a few minor modifications that he’ll not know about.”

“Such as the presence of your Hector, for a start,” said Harding; “but I’m at a loss to see where you’ll hide her.”

“In plain sight. I’m given to understand that’s the best hiding place you can find. And I’d be grateful for your goodwill in accommodating maybe a hundred of the Hector’s company meanwhile. They’ll be armed, naturally. I believe that’s led to trouble before now, too,” Pearson smiled, “but I’m hoping it need not this time.”

(Back on the Yarmouth)

Richards finally awakened in his bunk. His head was pounding, his teeth were sticky, and his mouth tasted like he’d rinsed it in bilgewater. Sitting up too quickly, a wave of dizziness passed over him, and for a minute he thought his head was going to fall right off. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to the floor he waited until he thought he could get up safely. Good God, Cook sure must have loaded that mug that Sedgewick had brought him. Oh well, it was just a hangover.

Still, the captain winced at the sound of a knocking at his cabin door. “What is it?” he managed to grate out, as he tottered over and opened up.

“Uh, it’s breakfast captain” said the seaman standing there, with a tray in his hand. He was startled by the washed out appearance of the bleary eyed captain, but was wise enough not to comment.

Given the way his stomach felt Richards nearly told the man to toss the tray over the side, but then the smell hit him and his body remembered it was hungry. He snatched the tray and dismissed the man. Then he fell on the food, oatmeal, some kind of bread with real butter on it, and a boiled, fresh egg, wonder of wonders. Feeling almost human he splashed some water on his face, put on a fresh shirt, and combed his bedraggled dark-brown hair, finishing just as another knock sounded. “Come on in” he called out, and he turned to see Coppy entering.

Richards noted the strained, exhausted look on his helmsman’s face. “Damn, man, you look like I feel” he said. Richards wasn’t a compassionate man, but he valued Coppy above all others aboard Yarmouth, and it didn’t do to abuse such men. “I can see I’ve been out of it for a while again, while you held things together. Let me know what’s been going on, then get some rest.”

“Thank you captain” was the brief reply. “Sir, while you slept I made sure we kept to a course that I hope is the most likely one for the American. It’s the best I can do, but there’s still some by gosh and golly involved, and I can’t promise…”

Here Coppy stopped as Richards waved his hand around. “Sure, sure, I’ll take your judgement. You have the nose for it. How’s the weather.”

“That’s an odd thing. Sky is clear, hardly a cloud, and the water is as flat as I’ve ever seen. Strange, so soon after the storm. I got the crew to looking all over the ship, checking her out, but it appears we were lucky, only a little damage.”

“Good” Richards grumped. “Well, let me know our heading, then get some sleep.” Gratefully Coppy turned away and left the cabin, to seek his own bunk. Captain Richards followed him out but stayed on deck, abosrbing the sights and sounds of his ship.

“By God” he thought, “I am not going to let that ship get away from me! ‘Gold and guns’ Coppy heard. I’d settle for gold. And then I’ll scuttle her, and send her crew to perdition, while her captain watches.” Thinking pleasant thoughts like those Richards began a tour around his vessel, to inspect it for himself.


Caleb didn’t wake up until late in the evening. As he tried move he gave a muffled cry of pain. His body had had time to stiffen up as he slept, and his back still felt afire.

In the dimness of the galley he managed to focus his vision, and saw O’Reilly shuffling towards him. The cook handed him a cup.

“So, boyo, you’re back amongst the living, are you? Best have a drink. dont worry, it’s only water.”

Caleb downed the water in one long swallow. “Thanks O’Reilly, I really needed that.”

"The older man chuckled in a knowing way. “Well, me lad, it wasn’t all out of the kindness of my hear. I’m gonna be needing you in the morning.”

“Why?” was the surprised respone.

“To work of course!”

“Less than a whole day to recover, huh?”

“That’s the way it is, American.” O’Reilly agreed. “What did you expect? To be waited on like a lord?”

The sea was calm now, and O’Brien went on deck to enjoy the last of the evening twilight. He looked over at the American ship, the Passamaquoddy; the schooner was drawn up alongside, and he could see men on the bigger ship’s deck lowering something down to the Gudrun. Peculiar. Of course America were neutral and there was no bar to conducting business with them, but it wasn’t as though they had any trade goods to exchange, barring the few trifles they’d used as cover for their trip into the Spanish port. Well, whatever was going on was none of his business.


“All right, boyo, let’s be having you!”

Caleb, unable to believe it was light already, hobbled painfully after O’Brien; only his back had been flogged, but it felt as though every other muscle and nerve in his body had come out in sympathy. He almost wished, in a macabre kind of way, that he could see what his back looked like, but perhaps he was better not knowing. Still, he did his best to carry himself with what dignity he could manage, and the old cook seemed to be giving him a nod and a wink, as though his beating had admitted him into some kind of brotherhood.

“Here we go,” said O’Brien. There was a tub of salt beef, the meat having been left to soak for hours to wash the salt out and render it at least a little more edible, and a row of pudding cloths each with a numbered brass tag showing which mess they belonged to. Men who wanted to pool their combined rations of flour and dried fruit into a duff were at liberty to do so, telling off one of their number to do the necessary mixing and kneading and then deliver the results to the galley for cooking. “Get the copper stoked and things on to boil. There’s a lot of hard work going on above decks this morning.”

“Were we badly damaged in the fight?”

“Not hardly. Half the company’s over on the American ship, putting things right.” O’Brien held a hand up to forestall Caleb’s question. “Afore you ask – yes, it seems there were a few casualties over there. It’s not to be helped, boyo. They fired on us. Mebbe the Captain knows by now what they thought they were doing, but it’s their own foolishness that’s to blame.”

Caleb sighed. “I guess so. But there must’ve been something up. Americans don’t go around picking fights with other countries.”

“An’ if they did, they’d be smarter than to pick on a warship that outgunned them three for one, I’m thinking,” O’Brien agreed. He scratched his sparsely-covered scalp. “It’s a puzzle, that’s for sure. Anyhow, that’s what the Captain’s for – getting’ to the bottom of stories like that. For now it seems like we’re all friends again; and along of fixing up the damage the storm did us, we’re getting ourselves a new paint job. Also the carpenter and his mates are busy removing the figurehead. I’m sort of hoping we’ll be told why some time soon. Come on, lively there. Stretch that back a bit now and you’ll keep it from stiffening up.”


Lieutenant Merriot watched the Hector’s figurehead being hoisted over the bow. It was a rather larger than life Trojan warrior with a suitably martial expression on his face, and already losing some of the new paint it had had in English Harbour. There would be time to amend that later. Fortunately the figurehead wasn’t too heavy, and half a dozen men with a luff tackle on the braced-around foreyard could manage it. They lowered it to the deck with care and even a kind of affection. Whatever else the Captain had managed, it seemed as though he’d given the Hector’s company back some of the pride that they ought to have in their ship.

Merriot waved in the direction of the forehatch. “Get that stowed below and secured, and be careful about it,” he ordered, and went to lean over the larboard rail. A number of men were busy with paintbrushes, erasing the white strake that ran the length of the Hector. He still didn’t know why. The Captain must be sure of himself if he wasn’t even unobtrusively soliciting his advice, Merriot thought. Presumably it had something to do with whatever he’d been talking over with the Passamaquoddy’s commander, but Merriot didn’t know. On the other hand, he didn’t need to. As much as the most junior landsman aboard the Hector, Merriot’s duty was to obey the orders of his superior. Exactly as (Merriot reflected, studying the dial of his pocket-watch) every cog on every wheel in a complex mechanism moved when and as it was made to move.

And on that subject… He stood up and turned, and saw the half-dozen men with the figurehead standing by the open forehatch and making no move to lower it. There was no time for standing around lallygagging. He shut his watch with a snap and covered the distance in half a dozen strides. “I thought I said to stow the figurehead below?”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the men, grinning. He was Able Seaman Tyler, one of the hands who’d been aboard when they’d met the renegade under Captain Anselm. Short on teeth, and the ones he had left marked him as a compulsive tobacco-chewer. More to the point, he was still making no move to get on with his work.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Merriot demanded.

“Christmas, sir,” said Tyler perkily. Merriot’s nostrils flared, and he was on the point of ordering a nearby bosun’s mate to “start” the man for his cheek; but he paused long enough to see a running block descending on the end of a bight of rope, and looked up to the foreyard to see… Able Seaman John Christmas, known as “Mary” for the obvious reason. He gave the men on deck the thumbs-up, signifying that the upper block was secured and ready to use.

“Then carry on, Tyler,” said Merriot evenly, and turned away in time to hide his silent laughter. He’d been set up! Tyler and his messmates had actually dared to tease him; men he’d seen beaten and numb when the Hector got her hiding from the Yarmouth. Well, but one way and another the ship’s company were getting their spirit back, and no mistake. Technically insolence, but it was worth it; and it put a spring in his own step as well.

Note: in the previous post read “O’Reilly” for “O’Brien”


Passamaquoddy’s captain, William Harding, had himself been supervising the transfer of cargo that O’Reilly had observed. If anyone had been so nosy as to ask what the heavy wooden chest, with iron bands and* two* strong locks contained, they would have been told( after recieving a long, cool stare), that it now held all of Passamaquoddy’s important records. That would have been the truth, but not the whole truth, not by a long shot.

David Pearson had, on his visit to Passamaquoddy, admired Harding’s cabin, which had been finer and more luxurious than his own. Pearson had speculated that Harding had done well for himself as a merchantman.

How right he was. From his first stint as master on a ship owned by others, he had parlayed his own share of the profits into the Passamaquoddy, of which he was sole owner. Not putting all his eggs in one basket Harding had interests in several other vessels of course. He had once even captained a ship in which Wynton and Associates had had a minor interest.

A willingness to take risks had also played a part in his rise, and accounted for Passamaquoddy’s visit to the Spanish port of La Firenza, where it had been berthed alongside Gudrun. A little over two years earlier Harding and his ship had put into that port for the first time. He had been surprised to recieve a quiet call from an aide to the local governor, Don Diego de Escober, asking if the American would be willing to(equally quietly) meet with him in return. Smelling intrigue that might be profitable Harding had met with de Escober, and he had not been disappointed.

Don Diego was a man with a problem. He had a brother in Mexico, also in government, who had managed through whatever clandestine means, to smuggle out native gold work. By law the Spanish crown held the rights to ownership of such works, but corruption was rife, especially with so much value at stake. Don Diego was supposed to find a “reliable” person to dispose of the goods, but he had not been able to find a captain who suited him. The arrival of an American, one who apparently had no stake or interest in the European conflicts, had been a relief.

For that first venture Harding and de Escober had worked out a deal, a sort of test of trustworthiness. Harding had taken on several small pieces by pledging an interest in Passamaquoddy itself. He’d managed to find his own outlets for the gold(it does melt down so easily!) and returned to La Firenza with a tidy profit for de Escober and for himself as well. A second trip had produced similar results. The recent visit of Passamaquoddy to La Firenza had been the third, and probably final pickup of gold. The de Escober brothers would be able to retire in comfort, and so in all likelihood would Harding.

Harding was not troubled by any moral qualms about his actions. He thought of himself as a businessman, and it was no business of his, the laws or relations of Spain and her colonies. And so he had hovered over the chest, like a mother hen with one chick. His aide, Ephraim Carter, would be aboard Gudrun for now, to keep an eye on the chest and the other surviving goods from Passamaquoddy. It was the latter that had been her “official” cargo in the foreign ports that had been visited.

William Harding was rowed in a small boat back to his beloved ship, now so sadly damaged, and looked over the work being done to shore her up, both by his surviving crew and the British help. He figured he might not make as much this time as last. There would be repairs to be funded, and payoffs to the families of his crewmembers who had been killed. Strictly speaking, all they were due was back pay. But if you paid and treated your crew well, it came back to you in respect and loyalty.

Entering his cabin he sat down and poured himself the last of the fine wine he had served to David Pearson. He was glad to be alone to go over one more time the plan he an Pearson had worked out, to pick it apart a final time, looking for flaws. Well, there might be some he decided, but the risks were no more than he had taken earlier in his career. And if the plan succeeded he would have his revenge on the pirate, whoever he really was, who had started this whole mess.

That would be enough for now.

Pearson tapped the quill against the sheet of paper on his desk. It was ruled in two columns, headed “Transfer to Passamaquoddy” and “To remain aboard Hector”, and the two lists of names were of roughly equal length. Smiling amiably at Captain Harding, he said “I hope you’ll find this acceptable. I’m keeping most of the gun-crews, as we have many more guns, but I’m sending you the bulk of the fighting men.”

Harding nodded. “Aye. Though it’ll go hard with my men to see Redcoats aboard!” There was a hint of a twinkle in his eyes, as though to take the sting out of his words; but Pearson couldn’t help wondering how many of the American’s company had encountered Redcoats before, and how the meeting had gone. Someone who’d been a young rebel in 1776 could still be at sea now.

“I hope it will make a difference that these are Marines, and not the Army,” he said mildly. “We’ll send arms, powder and shot with them. I doubt you’ve enough for an extended action.”

“Indeed not. We go armed, naturally,” said Harding, as one to whom the right to bear arms was a dear treasure, “but who expects to meet pirates in this day and age, and in these waters? By the same token, we’ve not much powder and shot for the guns.”

“They’re good guns too, I noticed. The Navy can’t run to brass, but I’ve met a few merchant masters who swear by them. So much the less chipping of rust and painting blacking.”

“That’s exactly it. They’ve been in the Harding ships for three generations, some of them, and they’ve well repaid their capital cost by now. But you’re not planning to make much use of them, you say.”

Pearson shook his head and placed another sheet of paper on the table. It was covered with roughly-drawn diagrams showing the movements of the Hector, the Passamaquoddy, the Gudrun and the renegade. “No. Indeed, the less you use them the better. I’m hoping our adversary will entirely discount you as a serious factor in a sea-fight, we will do well not to discourage such thinking. If I were in his shoes, my first thought would be to disable this ship, and I mean him to think that the battle is going very much his way. Why should it not? If he is surprised to sight an American frigate, the last he will expect is that she will be much used to her work.”

Studying the diagrams, Harding nodded understanding. “It’s a bold plan, to be sure. You can count on the Passamaquoddies to do their part. None of us care to see the American flag fired upon, and there’s not a man of my company but will want to see this pirate chastised.”

“Mine, too,” Pearson agreed. “Well, it’s time to go and give the men the news.”


Caleb felt his heart beat faster as he listened to the Captain. Half the ship’s company was to go aboard the Passamaquoddy? Even a few days spent among his own countrymen would be a blessed balm to his soul. And there might be a Bostonian aboard, conceivably even someone he knew. Once his initial resentment at being pressed aboard a British ship had eased, he’d come to think that Captain Pearson, whatever his faults, was scrupulously truthful; and having once made a promise to him, the Captain would surely keep it.

So it galled him through what seemed like the best part of an hour, even though it could not have been more than a few minutes, that his surname was so close to the back end of the alphabet. He listened with such rapt attention that he could almost forget about his still-sore back; and it was only when the Captain reached the end of the list and Caleb’s name still hadn’t been read out that the realization sank in. He deflated almost visibly, and barely heard the orders to the transferees to fall out and collect arms and personal effects to take with them.

Dejectedly he trudged below to get on with his duties in the galley, where no doubt O’Reilley would have more than enough work to take his mind of his troubles, or at least so the old cook would think. Unfortunately Caleb had found that a Navy cook’s mate’s duties were mindless enough that he had plenty of time for brooding. There was little enough real cooking to do, with most of his time spent keeping the coppers stoked and skimming slush off the surface of the boiling water; and though he’d impressed O’Reilley with his knowledge of the cook’s craft, there was seldom any opportunity to exercise it. Even the bread eaten aboard ship was baked on shore (and the name “bread” was a polite euphemism for something hard, biscuity and almost unbelievably tasteless), and as for the rest of the ship’s fare, barring what was served to the wardroom or prepared for the captain’s table, it was either boiled or it wasn’t.

He wasn’t really prepared for Atkins’s cheery greeting. The older man raised a hand, as though to slap him on the back, but forebore just as Caleb was on the point of snapping at him. “All right boy? See the Captain’s kept Number Three’s crew together, then? He knows what gun’s the best served on this ship, I’m thinking.”

“I guess,” said Caleb automatically; perhaps Atkins was right. “All the same, I’d’ve liked a run aboard the Passamaquoddy.”

“Aye well, I should count your blessings,” Atkins replied. “If you’re stuck aboard a foreign ship, at least they speak your language. ’S’more than Kester’s got going for him.” He shook his head. “Listen, we’ve been over this already. Try to stop thinking all the time about going home. It’s not going to happen any earlier, and if your mind’s on your home when it ought to be on the business at hand, it could be the finish of you. That’s how I’ve got through the past few years at any rate. Make of it what you like.”

Caleb nodded thoughtfully, and while there certainly wasn’t a spring in his step as he made his way to the galley, he carried his head a little higher.


Captain Pearson stood by the taffrail watching the stout hawser linking the Hector to the Passamaquoddy grow taut as the frigate put on way. His attention was matched by Chisman’s; the Master stroked his chin and grunted sagely, watching how the American ship rode to her tow.

“That’s all she’ll carry, sir,” he said. The Passamaquoddy had all sails furled on her yards, barring a yard or two that was missing, no doubt through enemy action or storm damage; at least, that was what any onlooker was intended to think. “Another knot or two and she’d start to baulk. We’re big enough to tow her under if we put our minds to it.”

“Very well. And we’re making…?”

“I’ll stake a shilling on five knots, though I’ll have a cast of the log directly,” said Chisman. “A slow run to Rhode Island at that rate, but it’ll answer our present purpose well enough.”

“Yes.” Pearson sighed fractionally. “You’ve seen a great deal of ships and the sea, Mr Chisman. Have I taken leave of my senses?”

“So a court martial might conclude, sir,” chuckled the Master. “One thing I have seen many times though. Bring home the bacon, and you’ll likely be called ‘brilliant’ or ‘visionary’. And this notion of yours – playing the lapwing – might just be crazy enough to work. Not that my opinion of it’s going to be one way or another if it does come to a court martial, of course.”

“No. On the other hand, if my plan’s crazy, and yet not crazy enough to work, I imagine a court martial’s going to be low on my list of worries.” He looked up at the Stars and Stripes fluttering in the strong westerly breeze. “Well, here’s to the Benjamin Franklin and all who sail in her. Let’s hope her first fight doesn’t disgrace her.”

“Fleet” was a grandiose name for the trio of ships making a northeasterly course. Pearson, with advice from Harding, had decided to sail a course that actually would, eventually, allow the vessels to head north, up the American coast. This plan also retraced, at least in part, some of their previous heading. The first goal was to put themselves in the path of the renegade, and hopefully, even with the storm, this course would help

Capt. Pearson, aboard the “Benjamin Franklin” had fully disclosed his cat-and-mouse plan to his officers, who would, in turn, inform the crew, and similar exchanges had taken place aboard Passamaquoddy and Gudrun. On the whole, reaction had been favorable, and anticipation keen, now that all knew the reason for the transfers, and the subterfuge surrounding Hector’s transformation Both the British and the Americans had good reason to desire payback from the renegade. Lt. French, once again captaining the Gudrun, was a bit grumpy that his role was to be seen to flee if and when an attack came, but he understood the necessity.

But after nearly three days of ordinary sailing, with no action, the edge was wearing off the early excitement. Surprisingly, however, things were less boring aboard Passamaquoddy than the other ships. The Americans had bristled some at having to host the transferred British. That was a natural reaction, as when a dog defends it’s own territory. But crowded ship conditions did not allow the two crews to be standoffish, and natural curiosity had gotten the better of them all, with tentative friendships were being struck. Two crewmwmbers, the British Aaron Goodrich, and the American George Sutton, had even discovered, much to their amazement that they were related, their respective mothers having been first cousins.

Privately Pearson was beginning to fret that his chosen course of action was not as clever as he had hoped for.


As time passed Coppy, aboard the Yarmouth, was also starting to worry that his “by guess and by golly” calculations for finding the American prize had been too far off the mark. Despite his comments to Capt. Richards several days earlier he had been almost positive he could find Passamaquoddy, and perhaps by doing so garner a larger share of the prize for himself, when it was captured. His worries were not lessened by the fact that, in spite of his regard for the navigator, Richards was acting more and more irritable again.

It was dark outside, with only a sliver of moon showing in a partly cloudy sky. Coppy had been on deck, face turned to the southwest, almost as if he was willing the American to appear. But finally becoming sleepy he was turning to seek his bunk when he heard the voice of lookout call “Light! Light to forward!”

Coppy rubbed his eyes and strained to see into the darkness, even knowing that such effort would be futile with the naked eye. The lookout, perched high in the crow’s nest, would have a much longer view than someone below in deck. Snorting at his own foolishness Coppy decided instead to inform Richards of this new development. It might not be the vessel Richards was seeking, but even if it wasn’t it could be another they might take.

Rapping at the captain’s hatch he called “It’s Coppy, captain. Got something you want to hear!” It took a few minutes, as Richards slept hard, even when he wasn’t intoxicated. But finally, needing a shave, and with his hair wanting the attention of a comb, Richards appeared. “You finally got something for me?” he asked, “or is it another false alarm?”

“Sir, lookout has seen a light to forward, southwest.” At Richard’s skeptical look he went on quickly “that’s about where I hoped we’d find…” Coppy didn’t have time to finish before Richards had shove him aside and bolted for the deck. Swarming nimbly up the rigging he joined the very startled lookout in the crows-nest. Three hours later he was back down again, a slight frown on his face.

“The lookout saw true” he mused. “Hard to tell for now, but I think there’s at least two ships out there. Coppy?”

“Yes sir?”

“See if you can set course to bring us heading almost due west. When the sun comes up I want it behind us. Maybe the glare will conceal us a ways into the morning. And douse every light on this ship that might show” With a wolfish grin he turned back to his cabin to plan how he might face either one vessel or two. He found the hatch to his cabin very slightly ajar, and was surprised, not remembering, in his haste to leave earlier, whether he’d closed it or not. As noiselessly as possible he approached. Still nothing.

“Now what in hell might that all have been?” he mused.

For the first time in many weeks David slept poorly, and when he was awakened by his steward he was convinced he had barely managed to close his eyes. Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten although it was very far from being daylight. He splashed about in the warm water for a few moments before settling down with marked reluctance to his morning shave. Even his skin felt sleepy and resentful of the none-too-sharp blade being drawn over it, and he had to pay a good deal of heed to what he was doing to keep from cutting himself severely.

Under such circumstances it was more annoying than usual to see Lieutenant Merriot poised, alert and apparently carved from ice when the Captain made his appearance on deck. He acknowledged his arrival with a crisp salute and nodded his head at the pre-dawn business on the Hector’s deck. “Sun will be up in about ten minutes, sir. General quarters?”

Normally the answer would be a formality, but Pearson had been thinking about this. “I think not. We have our disguise to maintain; would an American ship greet the dawn ready for action? The United States is at peace.”

“True, sir,” said Merriot, his tone neutral, “but this particular American ship is towing another that has been damaged by the actions of a rogue vessel, which must be presumed to be in the vicinity.”

Pearson scowled slightly at the obviousness of Merriot’s point; if he’d been wider awake he would not have needed it made quite so plain. “Of course. Have it done.”

The sounds of activity became more pronounced as the Hector was made ready for action; crews ran to the guns, charges were brought up from the magazine, and the decks were sanded and wetted. By the time the visibility had improved to the universal standard – to “see a grey goose at a mile” – the frigate was ready for any hypothetical enemy that might be ranging alongside in the early dim. All for nothing, perhaps, but Pearson had to admit that it was more comforting to rely on thirty-six good guns than only the bluff of the American flag.

At that –

“Deck there, mainmast here! Sail to starboard!”

  • at that, it could have been a wise precaution after all. “Deck here! Keep it in sight. Mr Merriot, have a man go aloft with a telescope!” He felt his heart give a thump. The sky was brightening rapidly and he could almost measure the rate at which the Hector’s circle of visibility was increasing. His own eyes weren’t the match of the mainmasthead lookout’s, and he could only take the man’s word for the presence of the strange sail; but if he could see it at all in this light, the stranger could be barely two miles distant.

With startling suddenness, the rim of the tropical sun appeared over the edge of the world even as a hand with a telescope was scurrying up the rigging to the crow’s nest. A brilliant, shimmering golden track appeared, stretching across the sea from the Hector to the horizon. He winced and peered into the glare.

“Mainmast there, deck here! What is the strange sail?”

“Mainmast here! Sir, we’ve lost her in the sunrise.”

The lookout’s tone was apologetic, but Pearson would have been surprised if the answer had been any different. Sunrises and sunsets alike were dramatic in these latitudes compared to their gentler appearance in England; the sun seemed to plunge vertically into the sea or soar out of it like a lark. “Very well. Keep an eye out.”

Which meant that the strange ship’s positioning was either a remarkable coincidence, or they’d spotted the Hector first and been both lucky and clever enough to place themselves within a few degrees of the sunrise. Pearson nodded thoughtfully. He’d assume the latter.

“Mr Merriot, be so good as to signal the Passamaquoddy – No, belay that, damn it!”

“Sir?”

“I’ve been stupid, lieutenant. If I make a British signal to the Passamaquoddy, a British renegade is going to know we are not an American vessel!”. He could have punched himself in exasperation. The American trader was well beyond hailing distance at the extent of the towing cable, speaking trumpet or no, and it had taken him until now to realize what this meant. But Merriot seemed to be on the verge of breaking into a smile!

“Quite right, sir, but we do have an American signal book aboard. Shall I inform them that we have sighted a strange sail?”

And his imperturbable First Lieutenant had earned the right to a smile, at that. “Yes. Also have the guns run in, but keep the crews at their stations. And send a man for my sword.”

=====

Atkins chewed savagely on a cud of tobacco. His teeth were bared and there was a gleam in his eyes, not so much like a cornered rat, Caleb thought, as the terrier that has cornered it and is readying for the kill. He patted the gun. Since they were at general quarters, he kept his voice down to a hoarse mutter so the nearest bosun’s mate wouldn’t hear. “All right. We’ve spotted something. It’s either our old friend, or it isn’t, but let’s figure it is, an’ let’s think about what we’ve got to do. This old girl -“ he patted the twelve-pounder’s ample bulk for emphasis “-is our father an’ mother an’ our ticket to see tomorrow, all rolled into one. We stick by her, she’ll see us right. We keep her fed, we keep her singing, understand? A sea fight’s down to who can keep their guns manned an’ shooting straightest, and quickest, for longest. So we do everything quick, an’ we do it right.”

“Yep,” agreed Johansen; but he jerked a thumb along the gun-deck, where one gun out of three was unmanned. “Only not to forget we’re short-handed down here, with so many mates over on the American. Don’t know how the Captain’s figuring to win a shooting match.”

“By having the fleet’s best damn crew on the job!” Atkins retorted. “It’s going to come to boarding sooner or later, I’m thinking. Pirates’ll take a ship intact sooner than sink her. An’ when it comes to that – this crew sticks together, understand?”

Caleb felt his skin prickle. He wasn’t a fighter and this wasn’t his fight, and his only comfort up to now was that whatever he was getting into, at least he wouldn’t be firing on Americans this time. But the moment was getting to him. Any plans he had for the future revolved around getthing through the next couple of hours, whether that meant wrestling with a ton and a half of wood and iron or the hurly-burly of a deck fight. And something deep inside him was waking up almost eager for it…

=====

“Well now, Mr Merriot, and what would you be doing if you were our renegade, and out to sunward of an American frigate and her salvage?”

Lieutenant Merriot peered into the fierce glare to eastward, still unable to make anything out against the blaze of the sun. “I’d be quickly making my mind up whether I wanted to hazard a fight with an American frigate, and assuming I did, I’d be coming in under all plain sail with the wind on my port quarter, sir, before the sun got high enough that it wasn’t a help any more.”

“That’s about how I’d call it too,” said Captain Pearson. “He’ll have seen our guns run in and port-lids closed and figured that we’ve stood down, and that with about eight knots on he can be on us in maybe five minutes from when we sight him. We’d be struggling to clear for action in that time – especially an American vessel.”

“Yes. They’re good enough peacetime seamen, and they don’t want for spirit, but they’d be lacking the needful sense of urgency,” Merriot agreed.

Pearson nodded. “Talking of urgency, do we have axemen standing by the tow, and the gunner warned to be ready with the black smoke?”

The masthead lookout’s hail interrupted Merriot’s reply. “Deck there! Strange sail to starboard, frigate, coming in fast, sir!”

And as another piece of the puzzle fell into place, Pearson heard Merriot growl as he shaded his eyes and peered into the brilliant sunlight, “It’s her, sir. I’d know that damned ship anywhere this side of Hell!”

As the “American” ships had drawn closer Capt. Richards had been surprised to note there were actually three of them. He’d examined them, out of the sunrise glare, through his telescope, and while still too far away to read nameplates, he believed that the smaller ship, the one being towed, was indeed the vessel Yarmouth had damaged before, and the reportedly rich prize he so desired.

Leaning forward, his face frozen in a rictus of savage greed, his mind went through plans for the coming battle. Much depended on what the third, medium sized vessel would do, if the two that were connected were fired on.

Coming to a decision he began to rap out orders. “Full sail!” he shouted, we want to come in on the two fast!" Turning to Coppy, and the bosun Remmy, who had been standing near, he said “that third ship is further back. If we can get the first two seperated, and smash the one doing the towing, I doubt the other will be able to make a challenge.” To Coppy he said “You were right after all, damn you, I’ll see about a special share for you.” Coppy just nodded, then replied “You want me to check on readiness?” He could tell his captain wanted to talk to the bosun. At Richard’s curt nod he scurried off. “Remington” he said, just loud enough not to be overheard by anyone else. The bosun stepped closer.
“It’s been a while, but you do remember what we talked about, don’t you?”

“Uh, yessir, I think so.”

“Well, you ever see anything I should know about, about Sedgewick?”

“Um, well, no sir, he’s been quiet as a mouse, seems to spend a lot of time with the doc, when he’s not on duty, keeps out of my way since I flogged him. Should I have told you before sir?” Remington, for all his being a coarse and brutal man, was nervous around the captain, especially since he believed the captain knew about his “preferences”

“Um, no, it’s just a bad feeling I’ve been having. Hell, I don’t have time for all this now, it’s just, that if something happened to “Lucky” Sedgewick, in the coming scrap, I wouldn’t cry about it. You follow?”

“Yes sir!” was the answer, as Remmy turned away.

Richardson turned his attention back to the approaching fight. Yarmouth was rapidly gaining on the vessels and it was now possible to see that signal flags had been sent up on the largest ship. Richardson couldn’t make out their entire meaning, but he knew British naval signals, and these didn’t match. Men were running about the deck, obviously preparing for something, but no guns seemed to be at ready.

He grunted to himself in satisfaction. He’d caught them unprepared. Yarmouth would be in place in the next few minutes, and with the firepower it carried, he could blast the largest ship out of fighting condition, cut loose the hulk, if it hadn’t been already, and scare off the laggard. Scratching his scalp he grinned again.
“We’ll have two prizes” he gloated to himself.

Coppy had returned by now. “Ready as they’ll ever be, cap’n. We should be in position to fire almost anytime.”

A curt nod from Richards, and “Let’s try to aim too low, I mean to take…” and here he peared through the telescope again, …" ‘the Benjamin Franklin’ " too, if it can be done.

As the Yarmouth sped across the waves it seemed that everything was going Richards’ way. The lead American had gotten at least half it’s guns port lids open, but there was no way * they would be able to match the readiness of the Yarmouth. His ship almost danced into position, and a cruel bloodlust rose in him, he ached to smash something, anything, but he fought it down and readied himself to give that first command…
*
"FIRE!"

The cannon belched out flame and death, with a roar that one could feel in their bones. Richard’s could certainly feel it in his feet, as the deck quivered under him. Screams were audible across the water and through the smoke he could see splintered wood fly, along with something red that may once have been a man. He started to turn his face away, to call out more directions, but at a great shout from his own crew he turned back and saw even thicker black smoke beginning to spread rapidly across the deck of the American. It also appeared that the damaged hulk was already floating free from it’s tether, although it hadn’t drifted off yet.

“Yes, yes YES!” he screamed. Something vital had obviously been hit. “Prepare for boarding, when we can come alongside!” he shouted. They aren’t going to be able to do a thing with those guns."

Richards had only a short span of time to realize how wrong he was.

The Yarmouth vomited smoke and flame as she bore up. Captain Pearson felt his jaw drop despite himself; more than a dozen heavy-calibre guns firing in rapid succession was like nothing he had ever seen or imagined, the few shots the Passamaquoddy had managed notwithstanding. Even from fifty or a hundred yards away, he seemed to feel the concussion of the gunfire as much as hear the sound. Moments later a hail of iron swept across the deck, and a cloud of splinters followed as wood was torn apart. Men began to scream. A red smear showed where a scream had been abruptly cut off in bloody and grisly death.

“My God, what am I doing?” whispered Pearson inaudibly. He was a clerk! He belonged in a counting house, pushing quill across paper, filing, fetching and carrying, not on a ship of war. His clever ideas, now exposed mercilessly to the cold light of reality, were going to get men killed – had begun to get men killed. One of the Hector’s company, someone who’d been laughing and jesting with his shipmates only minutes before, or who had passed the last night in a sweat of fear, had been callously rubbed out like a smudge of spilled ink; and it was all because of him. His hands gripped the rail in an agony of indecision. What could he do now that would not spill more of the Hector’s blood?

It was Merriot’s voice that pulled him around. Calmly, almost sardonically, the First Lieutenant commented: “Somewhat indifferent gunnery there, sir. They’ve hardly touched us. Your orders?”

Orders. Yes, he had several. He’d worked out a plan and he wasn’t going to toss it aside untried just because of some girlish fit of the vapours over a whiff of powder and a frightening noise. “Yes, Mr Merriot. Part the tow. Bear away to larboard and return fire. Make black smoke. Oh, and strike the American colours and hoist our own.” His voice was far steadier than he’d expected, and it was somewhat to his surprise that he had found his sword in his hand.

Behind him, Midshipman Callow busied himself with the flags. Given that they were dealing with a damned pirate and traitor who was making a mockery of the colours he himself flew, it seemed fussy to adhere to the requirement that the Hector was not to fire a shot save under her proper flag, but they were going to do this by the rule-book. The star-spangled banner came down at a run and Callow hastily tossed it aside, all his energies devoted to getting the Union Flag aloft as soon as possible. His hands shook, but under the very eye of the Captain and the First Lieutenant both, he daren’t fumble the job. He was almost oblivious to the sounds of gunfire.

The squeal of the block was drowned out by the thud of axes as two seamen hewed through the cable coupling the Hector to the Passamaquoddy. In moments the frigate gave a lurch as the tow parted, and she seemed to gather speed almost instantly. Her bow veered to larboard, bringing her guns to bear on the renegade, and Merriot, pausing only to check that the middy had got the proper flag flying, passed the Captain’s order to the gun-deck: “Fire as you bear!”

Even as the first gun began to fire, men stationed at the Hector’s waist hurriedly opened lanterns and applied the flame to a batch of pots the gunner had prepared. It was dangerous to fool around with fire during a battle, with powder being carried all about by the swarm of ship’s boys, but this was all part of the Captain’s plan. The pots were filled with some devil’s brew the Gunner had thought up, a mixture of pitch and powder and turpentine and only Mephistopheles knew what else, and the short lengths of fuse embedded into them caught, burned with a flurry of sparks, and ignited the mixture in a matter of seconds. The mixture burned with little flame but great clouds of mephitic smoke, billowing about in the breeze and drawing coughs and profane exclamations from the men nearby. Soon a pall hung over the Hector’s midships, for all the world as though a hit from the Yarmouth’s guns had started a fire below decks.

=====

Atkins’s grin became wider and more savage as he heard the first shots strike home above. “She’s aiming to sweep the decks,” he snarled. “Thinks we’re all up there managing the tow, and no-one at the guns. We’ll show ‘em different presently. Wait for the order! And you, boy:” he turned his wildcat scowl directly on Caleb, “you stick to your gun and work your arse off, or I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

Caleb might have protested at the injustice of this, but he’d have as soon tangled with a real wildcat as with Atkins right now. He just hoped like hell he wouldn’t forget what to do, and also that a twelve-pound shot wouldn’t burst through the Hector’s hull while he was doing it, and that the gun wouldn’t burst, and that they wouldn’t set a charge off by mistake, and that the ship wouldn’t sink under him. But for whatever reason, the last thing he felt like doing at the moment was running away and hiding.

It seemed like ages later, but was probably only a minute or so, when he felt the ship lurch slightly and began to veer to larboard. At the same moment he heard their lieutenant, Tyldesley, bellow “Fire as you bear, all guns!”, and an instant later he was hauling on Number Three’s tackle for all he was worth as the port-lid opened. At once Atkins was behind the gun, down on one knee just beyond reach of the weapon’s recoil, sighting down the barrel and drawing the lanyard tight. On Atkins’s signal, Johansen cocked the lock, and a moment later Atkins fired. The flintlock snapped, there was a momentary flash from the priming powder, and then a bellow roaring like the wrath of God in the confined quarters of the gundeck. The massive twelve-pounder leapt back instantly, with a speed belying its thirty-hundredweight mass, and the tackles groaned as they braked the recoil.

There was no time for conscious thought. The barrel had to be swabbed out with a wet sponge and wormed out with the “wormer”, a thick metal spiral on a long shaft designed to remove any glowing shreds of cartridge case before the next was loaded. Then the cartridge itself, the powder charge already measured into a cloth bag, followed by the twelve-pound shot, each rammed down in their turn before Johansen thrust the “pricker” through the priming hole to expose the cartridge’s contents to the priming powder. Through it all Atkins cursed steadily in a monotone, seeing the target growing larger in his sights and picking his aiming point. There was no need to elevate the gun at this range and the motion of the two ships was doing all the traversing that was necessary. The four-man crew flung themselves on the tackle and hauled the gun outboard until its muzzle was clear of the port. Moments later the gun spoke again. The black smoke from the pots was mingling with the greyer smoke of the powder and, despite the breeze, the ship was becoming shrouded in murk. Well, there’d be no fancy gunnery then – just as many twelve-pound iron balls hurled into the other ship as the gun-crews could manage.

The stink of human fear was overlaid but not quite masked by the sulphurous reek of powder, nor the screams of fear or rage by the apocalyptic clamour of the guns; but, Caleb saw, Atkins might have had neither nose or ears by all the attention he paid to either, nor eyes for anything but his mark. The Yarmouth had closed to murderously short range before opening fire, and ironically the Hector was somewhat the better off for having nearly half her crew missing. There was barely a man to spare on the gun-deck, but then only the larboard or starboard side guns needed to be served at one time, and there was hardly a frigate in the fleet that could have manned both sides if she had wanted to. But there was more empty air aboard the Hector than usual, and many of the Yarmouth shots were ploughing through her and hitting nothing. Not all, though. Shot and splinters alike were finding their mark and a clang like a giant’s dinner-bell told that a gun somewhere to sternward had taken a direct hit and probably been dismounted. Atkins ignored it. For all Caleb could tell, he was as thoroughly at home as a very fiend in the Pit itself.

=====

Harding was ready as soon as he saw the Yarmouth open fire. He snatched at his speaking trumpet and bellowed “Part the tow, make sail, all hands prepare to fight!” almost before the shot had struck home aboard the Hector. Then he added, “Pass your orders, Lieutenant,” to the uniformed Englishman at his side, and after a moment’s pause McVicar, still unused at being called a *loo-*tenant, was exercising his own vocal cords.

The Passamaquoddy had a good crew. Harding was willing to spend money on sound investments, and seamen who knew their work to the inch were as good a buy as new rope and brass guns. But he was astonished at the speed with which the English topmen swarmed up the rigging. His Rhode Islanders were good, but they’d never been spurred on by enemy shot whistling around them. They were trained in the value of a good job safely done and haste making waste; the English byword seemed to be “He who hesitates is lost”. Faster than he’d have believed possible, Harding saw the freighter’s yards sprout sails and the canvas sheeted home and drawing. Under topsails and topgallants, the Passamaquoddy took on a life of her own even as the two frigates were disappearing into a cloud of their own smoke.

“We’ll need to time our move carefully, Captain,” murmured McVicar, as around him a file of Marines stamped their way to the rail at the double, every musket already loaded. “The Hector’s due to either run aboard the enemy or let her do likewise, and give her as much encouragement as she can to do so, and we need to run ourselves aboard the renegade’s disengaged side once we see which way they’re lying.”

“I know all that, damn it,” growled Harding, but without much heat. He had a big brass-belled musketoon in his hands, its mouth yawning almost as wide as a trumpet’s, and he was itching for someone to unload it on. “But it’s no use being too careful and getting there too late to do any good.”

“Oh, I think we’ll manage affairs better than that, Captain,” said McVicar humorously. Harding’s scowl and his uncouth weapon made him look not too much unlike a pirate himself. Rhode Island bred fowls, McVicar understood. It seemed like they bred fighting cocks as well.

Aboard the Yarmouth Richard’s glee at punishing the “American” turned into white-hot anger as he realized the so-called Benjamin Franklin was actually a *British * naval vessel, and not so nearly unprepared as he thought.

As the first shots slammed into Yarmouth, the sound of splintering, crashing wood, and the screams of men, rang across the deck. A quick look around the deck told the captain there was no flame yet, but it appeared the mizzen sail, with attendant rigging, was coming down.

Cannon from both ships continued their work. Richards saw the crippled prize Passamaquoddy sprout sail, probably in an attempt to get away from the firing, and he felt a grim respect for the foresight shown at making a hulk manuverable. But he felt no pity. The damage to his own ship would be paid for in blood, and so for now he dismissed Passamaquoddy’s action. It certainly would be no threat.
Just a freighter, it might have light weapons, but nothing to stand up to the big guns.

Coppy came running up to Richards. “You still aim to board now?” He practically had to scream the words into the captain’s ear, in order to be heard.

Richards yelled back. “Yes, by the devil! Pass the orders to come alongside. I want to take that ship before she burns belowdecks. The way that smoke is spreading, we may not have much time. Tell 'em to keep scraping off the deck above, to help clear our way.”

It was dangerous beyond belief for two vessels, firing as they were, to come up cheek by jowl with each other. The noise of battle pounded on everyone’s eardrums. Eyes watered, temples throbbed, sweat streamed along with blood, and fear was something you could smell.

The two ships were close enough now to see faces. Richards ducked, for all the good it would do, as a final blast came from Hector. More crashes, more screams, and he nearly puked in relief as felt the woosh of something pass safely over him. He turned to Coppy, who’d once again been running back to his captain, and saw the man speared neatly through his chest with a piece of wood. The man looked down at himself, almost in surprise, and worked his mouth as if to speak, then collapsed bonelessly to the deck. A thin trickle of blood came from his mouth, and the light of life died in his eyes.

Richards hawked up a gob of spit and got his own mouth working. “Goddammit, I needed you!” he screamed, before turning back to the coming close fight.


Through the port Gun Crew #3 could see how the two vessels were coming close, with the renegade obviously getting into position to board. The other ship had taken serious hits from the gunwork of the Hector, but still appeared manuverable and seaworthy.

#3 had been lucky, they were still complete, having only minor hurts. Only one of #6 still lived, an he probably not for long. A shell had struck almost dead on through their port. Caleb had a small burn on his cheek, from where a stray spark had caught in his hair. But he’d managed to brush it out quickly. Now, with the guns ceasing, he dug in his ears and wondered if the ringing would ever stop. At least that stinking black smoke from above was lessening , but still he coughed some as he yelled to Atkins “Now what?”

The air of wildness that had enveloped Atkins had lessened somewhat, but there was still a dangerous gleam in his eye as he turned to the American. "What now? " he said, mocking the strain in Caleb’s voice. “Why, we go up to meet our visitors, and then we kill them!”

Surprisingly, Caleb found he didn’t feel afraid any more. His heart was racing and he felt slightly sick, but if anything he felt rage and determination rather than fear. Lieutenant McVicar’s voice was bellowing, urging all hands on deck as fast as their legs could carry them, as the bulk of the Yarmouth loomed large in the gunports, showing that a boarding was imminent. He rushed to one of the stacks of cutlasses and grabbed one, and a hatchet from a nearby barrel. Those were his arms listed on the watch-bill, and while Caleb would as soon have had a pistol, he’d had some practice throwing the wicked little axe and reckoned he could probably as soon hit his mark as with the crude Sea Service pistols, which were generally held to be fit only for jabbing in an enemy’s ribs before pulling the trigger – although it was heavy enough to make a fair cudgel once it was fired.

The stench below decks was beyond description – a hellish melange of blood, shit, gunpowder and smoke – and so was the noise. Inevitably there had been casualties in the gun-duel as the ships closed. It was astonishing that any one voice could make itself heard in the racket over and above any of the others, but Caleb heard a familiar one as he was about to climb the steps. To the right, he saw a couple of men preparing to lift Jose Fiuza. A ricochet had smashed both his legs below the knees and he was being taken below to the surgeon, whose awful operating theatre was sited in the safest place on board. Fiuza was screaming and begging in Portuguese, too far gone in fear to remember a word of English. He had reason, Caleb knew. There was no cure for a man as badly injured at that except as quick an amputation as the surgeon could manage, and nothing to stand between him and the agony of the operation except the minuscule relief that rum could provide. Caleb shuddered. It was all too easy to imagine himself in Fiuza’s place, knowing what was about to happen and unable even to make himself understood to his torturers. But it was that or a slower and more hideous death by gangrene.

Feeling his gorge rise, Caleb hurried on deck. There were only a handful of yards of green water between the two frigates now. The renegade’s decks were swarming with men, thoroughly outnumbering the Navy ship’s company. Even without half her men away on the Passamaquoddy the Hector would have been suffering the permanent manpower shortage that bedevilled the British Navy. A last shot fired from far astern as a gun-crew got rid of their charge, and a splash in the water showed that it had fallen short. Then there was something like silence for a few moments. It was punctured by the lighter crack of muskets as the Marines picked their targets, and an answering rattle of small-arms fire from the Yarmouth. Moments later the two ships were alongside. Grappling irons flew through the air between them, seizing the Hector firmly to the other frigate. Roaring and bellowing, the renegade’s men followed. Caleb hurled his hatchet into the press without even needing to take a careful aim; there were so many of the enemy that it couldn’t possibly miss. He was aware of Atkins to one side and Isaacs to the other both discharging pistols, and then a bearded renegade charging at them at the head of a swarm of his fellows, cutlasses slashing as they came.

Desperately he blocked, parried, and slashed, forced to give ground and finding himself driven across the deck. He lost sight of Atkins at once. Isaacs was still there, fluently cursing the attackers in some weird-sounding language. Maybe it was Hebrew. Jews were rare in Boston and Caleb didn’t know any. Irrelevant thoughts flickered across his mind, at the diversity of languages to be found on this English-speaking ship. He remembered Fiuza’s pleasant tenor voice entertaining the evening watch with his store of Portuguese love-songs, and wondered if he’d heard the last of them. The steel in his hand clashed with a renegade’s, and without really knowing how Caleb found himself parrying, disengaging and slashing below his man’s guard, opening a horrible belly wound. The renegade fell, screaming and trying to hold in his intestines with his hands, and mercifully the battle swept Caleb away before he got to see the full horror of it.

The crack of musket fire was still there, though sporadic now. Some Marines on the quarterdeck had found time to reload and were able to lean over the rail and discharge into the mass of bodies below. A deeper roar told that one of the carronades had opened up onto the crowd of renegades aboard the Yarmouth, still waiting their turn to board. Someone in the press was furiously yelling something about giving no quarter. He didn’t recognise the voice.

But now there were few men around him of either ship’s company. In the smoke and the confusion he’d found a few yards of breathing space, time enough to recognise that he had killed another man for the first time in his life, and time to see how horribly outnumbered the Hector’s men still were. He set himself to rejoin the fray, then felt his foot catch on something yielding. Looking down, he saw the American colours, hastily discarded before the Hector opened fire; and automatically he bent to pick them up. He didn’t see another of the renegades spot him and charge towards him with cutlass upraised for a smashing stroke.

Who knew it was possible to misspell “Tyldesley” as comprehensively as that? :smack:

An angry, shrill shriek sounded in Caleb’s ears as he was suddenly smashed, sprawling awkwardly, onto the deck, with the thrashing body of the renegade atop him. There had been no warning, and Caleb felt his teeth click shut on his tongue, and his chin thump hard as he went down. He tasted blood in his mouth and his head seemed to ring like a bell. Another thought flickered through his head, “Who the hell is dancing on my back?”

For the pirate atop him was most definitely alive and angrily doing his best to dislodge a shorter, more slender frame that had fallen atop him as he had drawn back his arm to split Caleb wide open. But the smaller assailant had managed to pin his legs around the renegade’s waist, and one arm had latched itself, with tightly clutching fingers, onto the pirate’s sword arm, hampering his ability both to use it and to work himself back onto his feet.

Caleb felt the tangle of weight fall off of him as the renegade suddenly rolled over, using his greater weight to turn turtle onto the deck in an attempt to dislodge whoever it was that had spoiled his kill. The American heard another angry shriek, this time with a thread of pain in it. Scrambling, the Caleb pushed himself up to his feet, shaking his head to clear it, and cursed again as the effort cut his hand on the edge of the cutlass that had been knocked from his grasp as he fell. Unthinking, he wrapped his hand with his country’s flag, and, taking hold of the grip of the blade he turned to the struggle at his feet.

The pirate had managed to dislodge his attacker, who lay inert on his back, with his breath knocked out of him. Eyes wide with fear he watched as a ham-like fist was raised to smash into him, then they crossed almost comically as only the fist itself fell onto his face. The pirate howled in pain and surprise as his left hand grabbed the blood spurting stump of his right arm, then yelled even louder as a foot propelled him past a spot of broken railing and into the churning waters below. Caleb didn’t watch his possible second killing, but turned instead to the one who had helped him. Quickly reaching down he grabbed the young man’s hand and dragged him to his feet as he gulped for air.

Caleb wiped his bloody chin and mouth. “Mr. Callow” he shouted above the din, “we have got to stop this business, because sooner or later we’ll lose our luck.” Callow, eyes tearing, nodded then managed to gasp out his first words, pointing as he did so.

“Signal” he choked throatily, gesturing towards the Yarmouth. “The signal has been given!”

“What signal?”

“For…other ship.” Callow gagged and spit, which seemed to help. “For the Gudrun to return. It was part of the plan, for them to pretend to run and leave us.” The young midshipman took another deep breath to fill his lungs completely.

“How soon?” grated Caleb, trying to get a respite amid the still swirling chaos, and looking out across the Yarmouth, hoping to see Gudrun. He could tell that Hector needed help soon, being outnumbered by the crew of the renegade.

A Frog couldn’t have managed a better Gallic shrug than Mr. Callow gave. “Don’t know. We’ll have to try and hold on though” he said “what other choice do we have?”

Caleb looked at the young midshipman with beginning of a gleam of respect in his eyes, and remembered the words of O’Reilly about his being “green as spoiled meat.” Then they both automatically ducked, for all the good it would do them, as they heard a cannon firing again. Then, over renewed shouting; a voice bellowed “Mr. Callow!” and Lt. Merriott was seen, beckoning.

“I have to go!” Callow yelped, and scurried off, dodging the debris of battle on deck. “I think you’re a little fresher now”, Caleb muttered, as he turned to see what the sound of the gun portended.


Arthur Sedgewick, aboard the Yarmouth had felt no shame at hiding as best he could from this particular battle. While no place on the ship was truly safe, the location of the galley below decks was better than nothing.

He’d been a part of the renegades battle before, of course, his mangled leg attested to that, but some little nursing skill he had had consigned him mostly to medical aid during fighting. Of course he’d worked to arrange that too, ingratiating himself with the Yarmouth’s so-called “surgeon”. And it was from that worthy that he had filched his means to dope Capt. Richards.

Arthur could tell that Richard’s growing suspicions of him would probably soon lead to a final accident for “Lucky” Sedgewick, a death that wouldn’t arouse the ire of a crew that regarded him with something of a superstitious respect.
Battles were just the thing for settling accounts, and so Sedgewick was working to survive this one, betting his life on the defeat of the Yarmouth.

His mission had gone on longer than planned, and he’d paid dearly for the hidden notes he had, and all the information he kept as best he could in his head. But it would be gold to the admiral who had sent him out.

Arthur turned, as the cook he’d intimidated into silence began to whimper in fear again at the sounds of fighting that had gotten even louder. A timid soul, Arthur wondered what in hell he was doing on a pirate’s ship. “Shut up, you” he said tiredly, “I’m not the captain, I’m just looking for a bolt hole like you are.”

But it wasn’t just the sounds of battle that had renewed the little man’s panic.

Behind him he heard a voice, from the opened hatch of the galley, growl “Bolt hole, eh?”, and he turned to face the bosun Remmy.

“Mr. Remington,” he said mildly, “what a surprise.”

“Surprise is it?” sneered the bosun. He was battered and bruised looking, and on lip was puffy, but overall seemed to have no major injury. “Noticed I hadn’t seen ye around above, and I wondered where ye could be. Oh, the capn’s going to love this, it’s what he’s been thinkin’ for a while now.”

The bigger man saw Sedgewick turn back into the galley, by the kettles, as if looking for a place to hide, and his sneer, aided by the swollen lip, became positively magnificent.

“Now don’t be thinkin’ there’s a place in here for ye to hide anymore, it’s too small for the both of us. Come quiet and maybe the capn’ will be merciful, and just shoot ye quick.”

“I don’t think so” answered Arthur.

“I don’t think so” mimicked Remmy, in a mocking tone. “What are you goin…AArgh!” he cried, and he dropped his weapons and clawed at his face, the almost boiling water Sedgewick had suddenly flipped from the kettle at him scalding him. Then he made a very satisfying thump as he hit the floor, knocked unconscious with the heavy pan that had held the water.

“Idiot” Arthur murmured, “always underestimating me.”

Again with the :smack:

In my post above, read Passamaquoddy for* Gudrun*. Guess I got caught up the the chaos of the battle.

McVicar nodded grimly and lowered the telescope. “We’re ahead of you, Captain,” he muttered. “The signal, Mr Harding. From the Hector. Time for us to join the fun.”

“We’re getting there as fast as we can,” Harding answered. The Passamaquoddy was surging through the water under as much sail as she could carry and still be able to slow enough to grapple with the two frigates presently locked in their deadly embrace. There was just time for him to address a few words to the men before they had to shorten sail, but there was nothing that needed to be said. His own company had their account to settle with the renegade for their criminal assault on his ship, and the Englishmen were doubly eager, by what he’d heard, both to avenge the beating their Hector had been given last time it met the Yarmouth and to make amends for the wrong done under their flag. It was like those outlaws who disguised themselves as Indians; if they were run down, they couldn’t expect mercy from white man or red. He tersely gave the order for the grapplers to stand to their stations and snapped back the hammer on his musketoon.

In contrast to the anticipatory silence aboard the merchant vessel, the tumult aboard the locked-together frigates was hellish, almost deafening. The roars of rage and screams of agony mingled with the sporadic crack of musket and pistol in a symphony of hatred and death. Over it all hung the pall of smoke, reeking of brimstone as though fresh from the jaws of Cerberus. Harding’s stomach was strong, but he’d have had to be made of stone not to be revolted. It was almost as if the two ships themselves were pawing at each other like some great beast from before the Flood, and he half-expected to see the scuppers running with blood.

The Yarmouth’s freeboard was higher than his own and it would have been no treat to board her if the renegades hadn’t been fully occupied with crushing the Hector’s outnumbered crew. But thanks to Captain Pearson’s plan, he had a blessed half-minute of surprise that they wouldn’t have had if the renegade captain hadn’t been so stupid and greedy. With a bare three or four ship’s lengths to go, he let the sails stop drawing and had the helm put up to lay alongside the Yarmouth. The Passamaquoddy slid into the blanket of smoke like an assassin vanishing into the dark of an alley-way, and moments later Harding gave the signal for the grapnels. Then, for good or ill, they were alongside and made fast.

Moments later the silence broke as the Passamaquoddy’s contingent poured in a torrent over the frigate’s side. There was a mass of men on the far side of the Yarmouth, still pushing and shoving in their eagerness to drive back the Hector’s meagre company. Yelling and screaming, the allied seamen rushed on them with cutlass, axe and pike, while the Marines presented and fired in a disciplined volley like a rattle on the drum. Harding closed to within three or four yards of the pirates before letting the musketoon’s murderous load go where it would do the most good, and drew his own cutlass with a savage oath.

But, by Satan and all his little imps, there were still a lot of the Yarmouths to deal with!


A gaggle of the renegades swarmed out of the gloom and reek, driving a smaller number of the Hectors before them. Caleb swore and, without further pause for thought, shoved Callow behind him. There was a pike lying on the deck and he grabbed it, yelled and made for the end of the line where one of his crewmates was desperately trying to keep two men at arm’s reach. “Cook’s mate here!” he snarled, ducking a wild swipe and thrusting at one of the renegades with more hope than science. He didn’t connect, but forced his man to give ground.

There wasn’t time to see who was who. He didn’t recognise either Atkins or Johansen, both of whom stood out in a crowd, and he found himself hoping that they were both all right. And even with his help, plus the theoretical assistance of the midshipman at his back, they were badly outnumbered. Try as they might, they were being forced back at a brisk rate, and that was only going to end one way once they got boxed into a corner and couldn’t give ground any more. The pike had reach, but it was an unwieldy weapon to match against a cutlass or an axe and would have been better used over the ship’s side, either to force a way onto a boarded ship or to repel an attacker boarding their own. Once his man got inside the pike’s reach, well, he could try to parry with the haft, but he sure couldn’t hurt anyone that way.

He heard the tramp of booted feet to his right. That meant Marines. Renegade and loyal man alike, seamen went barefoot aboard ship. Seconds later, a blur of uniforms crashed into the flank of the renegades. The Marines were using the butt-ends of the muskets, and using them well to judge by the horrid sounds – like the noise the coconut-sellers made in English Harbour when they opened their wares with a machete, Caleb thought. The renegades broke and fled, and Caleb got a good look at their rescuers: the Captain, the First Lieutenant and the Marines from the quarterdeck.

“How’s the battle going, sir?” said Caleb, unsteadily. The thought that he’d killed two men within the last few minutes sat uneasily at the back of his brain, and he deliberately didn’t think about it any more closely for now. He’d have time later, if he was lucky.

“It’s yet to be won or lost, Wynton,” Pearson replied. The question seemed to amuse him; maybe this was an odd sort of time for the conversation. “Passamaquoddy is alongside, but even with her men, we’ve the odds against us. Apart from yourselves here, there’s barely a Hector aft of the mainmast. The rest are getting boxed into the bows; and there’s still plenty of the Yarmouths left to mop us up.”

“Sir,” said Merriot calmly. He gestured forwards, where there was a snarling, yelling mob of the renegades emerging from the smoke. They didn’t seem to have a pistol or musket to their name, but they had plenty of hand weapons that were mostly dripping with blood. Pearson nodded.

“Mr Wynton,” he murmured. “I see you have a boarding pike.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have some more?”

“Here, sir.” There was a stand of pikes at the foot of the mizzen-mast.

“Everybody take one. Now, as they come past the captain’s cutter? You see?”

Yes, sir!” There was just room there for three men to stand abreast and swing a cutlass.

“Then stay together… down pikes… and charge!”

Where three men could stand side by side and swing, there was room for twenty men in a knot, behind twenty iron pike-points reaching further ahead than a man could stab with a cutlass.

At the command charge! the phalanx surged forward. Something primitive in their souls brought out a full throated yell of fury as they advanced on the renegades. The thought of a split second flitted through the mind of the First Lieutenant, “Damnation! Maybe those fool exercises back when will work at that!”

With so many pikes, in such a confined space, and against a crowded enemy, it would have been surprising not to hit something. The arms of Hector’s men felt the jar, as pike head met living flesh and bone, and then were borne down by their writhing, shrieking burdens. Those renegades who could manage it began to give ground before the pikes, the Hector’s men driving them back into the narrow space beside the cutter.

But the pikeholders who made the advance didn’t think that this left them confined as well, with a rear virtually unguarded. The pikes were a little too long to be brought about in the narrow space, and if they were raised straight up, to be able to reverse, they would be giving the renegades an opening to run in closer and engage them more closely.

As the back ranks of the pirates reached the far end of the cutter, one man, a little brighter than the rest, realized that there was now some open space at their back. If they moved to the right, to the other side of the cutter, it might be possible to run around it and come up on the backs of the phalanx, and have it pinned off before and behind. Screaming at some of his mates to follow they began their circuit.

It wasn’t the total surprise the pirates had hoped, for the pike bearers who had actually speared someone had fallen behind and had just enough time to rip their bloody weapons out of flesh still warm and twitching. These turned to face the attackers. The now surrounded knot of Hector’s phalanx didn’t form a classic hedgehog, but it was close. But they were hemmed in, with no way to advance or retreat, and sooner or later some of the pirates would manage to bring up loaded firearms, and that would be that.

One of the Marines, Sgt. Marston was the tallest man aboard Hector, over six and a half feet. His extra height was just barely enough now let him catch swift glimpses of the Passamaquoddies advance onto the Yarmouth.

“Sir!” he bellowed, to get the attention of the officers. Both Merriott and Pearson turned their faces to him. “I think the Americans are coming!” he yelled, understandably lumping together the joint force of men coming from the American vessel.

The men who heard him felt a sudden sense of hope rise up, and almost as quickly fall. They were so tired, and it seemed there was still so much space for the new force to cover, to reach them. And besides, how to let them know they even needed help?

It was Lt. Merriott who first got the idea “Wynton!” he bawled at Caleb, “Work your way over here to me!”

Startled at the command Caleb managed to shift his place over to the First Lieutenant. “Sir?” he queried, on reaching Merriott, who hurriedly explained his idea to his captain and the American seaman.

A wide grin split David Pearson’s face. “Splendid!” he said, turning to Caleb, whose grin matched his own. “Can you do it? You’ll be exposed you know.”

“Sirs, just try and stop me!” was the cheeky rejoinder.

The three men were directly by the cutter, and now the Lieutenant and the Captain let go their weapons for a moment, and bent down, cupping their hands for Caleb to step into. The American was quickly lofted to the top of the small boat.

Taking as steady a stance as he could he unfurled the American flag that he’ used to staunch to cut on his hand, and had managed to keep draped over one shoulder ever since. The bloody Stars and Stripes caught in the breeze, providing a flowing beacon of red, white and blue.

Lieutenant McVicar didn’t come from a wealthy family. Money had been tight all his life, what with being one of nine children, and as a midshipman he’d had to make everything last as long as he could. But when he’d passed his lieutenant’s examination, the whole family, parents and siblings alike, had scraped together every shilling they could to see that he had a really good sword from one of the best cutlers in London. If its maker could have seen it now, he’d have been glad to see the use to which it was being put and how well it was lasting. Not being of a background that could afford the services of a fencing master, McVicar had to rely on brute strength and aggression, but that put him on the same footing as the enemy and up to now his muscles and his guts were proving up to the job. So were his men, Marines and seamen alike. Most of his command were working hard on settling scores against the Yarmouths, and if some were down, they’d taken plenty of the enemy for company.

But the Americans… He heard lots of screaming and yelling to his right. Men were falling back away from the fight, daunted by the savagery of the close-quarters combat. The renegades were locally outnumbered but they were fighting like cornered rats, lent desperate courage by the growing knowledge that if they were taken alive by the Navy they could expect nothing save hanging. And the merchant crewmen couldn’t stand it. They were a generation removed from the revolutionaries who’d fought the British and they were used to a life of peace. Captain Harding was bellowing at them, his face purpled to the point that McVicar feared he’d suffer apoplexy at any minute, but even he couldn’t keep them at their task.

McVicar snapped a command to the Marines. The fool Americans would be cut down in droves if they broke and ran, far worse than if they stood to and took their punishment like men, and he had barely enough men to hold his own line and still spare a few to cover their rout. But he had to try. Grimly he kept his own contingent of seamen together. They were torn between their wrath at the renegades and their concern at seeing the Americans folding up. McVicar knew only one way to lead them: by example. With a yell that was starting to grow hoarse, he waved his bloody sword in a circle over his head and charged afresh into the press, trusting to his Hectors to cover his back.

Seeing their officer plunging headlong into the enemy ranks, the Hectors roared defiance at the enemy and hurtled after him. But there were too many of the renegades now, and their right was unguarded without the Marines. Despite their furious endeavours they were forced to their left, towards the Yarmouth’s stern. They were still cut off from their outnumbered shipmates aboard the Hector; and now more of the renegades aboard the Hector were pouring back onto the Yarmouth. McVicar hadn’t enough men on hand to stop that; all he could do was give ground and make it as hard a fight for the enemy as he could.

He heard a still louder bellow from Captain Harding. In the tumult it was hard to make out the words, but it was something about a flag. And as the smoke was swirled away by a gust of wind, Lieutenant McVicar saw what he meant. Wynton! Perched atop the captain’s cutter, the young American was waving the Stars and Stripes from side to side, and his show of defiance was waking something in the Passamaquoddies. Harding’s bellow was echoed by a score of throats and more, and a sudden surge from the Americans saw the renegades driven back en masse. It was a sight to see. Harding’s crew were on fire for the flag of their young country and their panic of a minute before was forgotten and cast aside. With a wild yell of his own, McVicar spurred his tired command into yet another charge, and the three contingents, Hectors, Marines and Passamaquoddies, hit the Yarmouths in unison.

The renegades couldn’t take it. There were seamen and Marines down, and several of the merchant crew, but the Yarmouths were hurting worse and now they were being hit from in front and in flank at the same time. The Americans were fighting like berserks to cut a path through to their flag, as though mere flesh, blood and steel was too puny to bar their way. Men were crying for quarter, or being driven back onto the Hector, or were cutting and running to the Yarmouth’s bow. The way to the Hector was being cleared and they could come to the aid of their outnumbered shipmates at last.

McVicar rallied the remains of his men about him and shepherded them about the flanks and rear of the Americans. He’d paid dearly in blood to keep them alive just now, but they were like men possessed now and he was more than willing to let this berserk rage run its natural course. Ahead, the surge of men aboard the Hector shifted direction. Renegades were setting themselves to meet this new threat; but the momentum was with his party for now.


Lieutenant Tyldesley could barely see. Blood was running freely from a wound that started somewhere up on his scalp and well down onto his forehead. He couldn’t work out either where he’d got the cut from or why it hadn’t laid his skull open. Someone had patched up a bandage from somewhere and stanched the flow to a degree, but his face was still wet and he didn’t care to guess what he must look like.

There was nowhere left for them to be pushed back. A mixture of cutlasses and boarding pikes presented a wall of points to the enemy, but they were trapped in the bows of the ship and hadn’t an inch to move in any direction. There were more and still more of the renegades gathering, readying themselves for the final charge and desperate close-quarters fight that would crush the remnant of his command. Well, they’d got some good licks in this time, at any rate. Atkins was down, somewhere nearby, but Johansen was standing astride his fallen gun-captain with a cutlass in each hand and an expression that promised nothing but pain for anyone who tried to move him. Many more of his Hectors would never move again. But there wasn’t a foot of deck that the Yarmouths hadn’t had to win the hard way.

His head swam. With a curious detachment, Tyldesley realized that he was losing enough blood to put him down in a few minutes, maybe for good if the Surgeon didn’t see him soon. Part of him felt as though he ought to be frightened; the rest felt as though if only he lived long enough for that to matter, he’d be doing better than he seemed to have the right to expect at the moment. But it would be a shame not to have one more crack at the enemy while he still could.

The yelling from aboard the Yarmouth became abruptly louder. He heard the screams of fighting and dying men quite close by. At the same time the smoke parted and, far along towards the Hector’s stern, he saw a blaze of red, white and blue. Odd. The American colours should have been struck by now. He thought they had been. But at the same time as the smoke was shifting, the enemy’s mood seemed to change. They didn’t seem as confident as a while ago. They were giving ground, as though distracted by some new threat to their rear. That was enough for Tyldesley. His intended battle-roar came out feeble and faint, but his men caught the order. They flung themselves on the wavering Yarmouths, all that was left of them, a ragged cheer coming out of their exhausted throats.

Tyldesley himself managed three paces forwards before he stumbled and fell to the deck. He thought for a moment that perhaps he ought to have got to the Surgeon a little sooner.


Atop the captain’s cutter, Caleb spread his arms as wide as he could, the star-spangled banner fluttering in the mounting breeze. He swayed from side to side, hoping to draw the Americans’ eyes to him. Somehow this wasn’t a time for yelling, not for him. Instead he felt as though he was willing the Passamaquoddies to notice him. From his vantage point he saw them giving ground, Captain Harding shouting and screaming for all he was worth. He saw the allies aboard the Yarmouth split and driven apart; and he saw the sudden charge from the Americans and the turn of the tide aboard the renegade frigate.

Still he held up the colours of his country. That was his part to do. It felt as though the battle would turn on his upholding the flag in his arms – like Moses at some battle or other he’d read about in the Bible. And there was something moving down towards the bows as well. That was where Tyldesley and the rest of the crew were hemmed in. He stood as straight and tall as he could. Even passing on the good news to the Captain didn’t seem as important.

And now the Americans were almost close enough to reach out and touch the flag he was holding…

From down on the deck a hatchet spun through the air with a noise like an enraged hornet. Caleb felt the shock of the blow, fell to one knee and rolled off the cutter amid the pike hedgehog. Something broke his fall. He seemed to feel hands turning him over and the Captain shouting his name. He knew he had something important to tell the Captain, but he couldn’t think what it was.

Capt. Richards had not left the Yarmouth, as had the greater part of his crew. This was not due to cowardice, for whatever faults Richards had(many, that is), he was not a craven.

But after the death of Coppy Richards had found it needful to work at trying to be in several place at once, attempting to organize his men as they pushed to board the Hector. While it seemed that the Yarmouth’s crew held the upper hand, Richard’s blazing anger at having been tricked had been damped down.

Now, only a skeleton crew was left aboard, and seeing that the tide of battle was definitely turning against him, he felt his temples starting to throb, and his gut spasm in a wrenching pain.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!" he howled internally. The man who had ordered that a defenseless plague ship be fired on ground his teeth in frustration at how unfairly fate was treating him.

Hearing a change in the tone of the battle’s roar, he began to see how the renewed zeal of the Passamaquoddy contingent was finally putting the Yarmouth’s crew on the defensive. “God curse you all, you whoreson bastards!” he screamed, as spittle flecked from his mouth, and something inside of him snapped. “You won’t have my ship, unless you want to die too!”

Turning, he bolted for the companionway that led belowdecks and tumbled down. Hurriedly he made his way to the guns, where chaos still reigned. Splintered wood and blood, and body parts made footing treacherous, and the moans of the
dying were somehow easy to hear, in spite of the din of conflict. A very few remaining members of some of the gun’s crews were still fairly hale, and trying to give aid, but there was little they could do by now, except perhaps to give a sip of water, and to close eyes.

Richards stopped dead as he saw Sedgewick going amongst the wounded as well. Arthur had finally left the galley, fairly certain his back was clear, as he’d left the bosun Remmy trussed up like a Christmas goose.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing here?” snarled the captain.

Sedgewick rubbed a grimy hand across his forehead. “Just my job, captain” he sneered, an open tone of contempt in his voice. “I might ask you the same question.”

With an effort Capt. Richards managed to push his anger into a mental corner. Turning away he began abruptly barking orders at the rest of the able-bodied crew, and managed to scrape together enough to cover three of the guns that remained in working condition. When one of the crew had the temerity to ask why they were training the guns on the Hector, "because, sir, it’s too close to fire safe, Richard’s smashed his jaw with a balled up first.

The renegade prepared to give the order that would gut the Hector. If that ship went, and her magazine with her, the Yarmouth could go as well, but Richards had meant what he’d said earlier.

“You may…ARGGHH” Richard’s exclaimed as he was knocked to the deck. With only one good leg Arthur Sedgewick hadn’t moved as quickly as he once had, but he managed to reach the captain before he could finish his command. Screaming and cursing the two rolled around, biting, kicking and gouging. The bindings for Arthur’s peg leg were loosened, hampering his balance agan.

Before this weakness could be exploited Arthur brought his arms up and just managed to have his hands clamp onto the other man’s ear. He pounded the renegade’s head up and down on the deck until the whites of his eye’s turned up in his head, and he went limp.

Getting back to his feet was awkward, without the peg, but before he pulled it back on he turned to the rag tag gun crews, and in a chill voice, grated out “I’m the new captain, right?” He met the eyes of each man in turn, and waited for each one to drop his eyes.

He was being carried.

Caleb couldn’t tell how many pairs of hands there were. He tried to count them, but the searing pain in his head would not let him concentrate. There were still noises of battle, but they were far off. And there was a pain in his leg too, and he felt sticky. The redness in his vision pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He wanted to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t work. The world around him wouldn’t stay in focus; sight and sound kept growing and fading, growing and fading again.

Now there was screaming, muffled as of men who were gagged, and a stench of blood and spew and shit. In the flickering lamplight he recognised the tall figure of the Surgeon, bent over a man. Perhaps that was who was screaming. He jerked his eyes away and they immediately fell on a large wooden tub with raw meat in it. Abruptly his own stomach turned as he saw what the raw meat was: the smashed remnants of human arms and legs, torn to pieces by shot or splinter. Before he could fetch up, he lapsed gratefully into unconsciousness.

But it was only for a minute or so, before he found himself supine on the table in front of Mr Archer, being surveyed by the man’s wall-eyed gaze. The Surgeon’s expression was unreadable. He cut at the leg of Caleb’s trousers with a rough-looking knife, exposing the wound beneath. Caleb’s tongue – he felt the Biblical phrase run through his mind as though he were himself an observer – clave to the roof of his mouth. He wanted to beg the Surgeon for mercy, but it was as though he had forgotten how to speak – had never been but a brute beast to whom words were only incomprehensible noises. For sure Archer was going to call for the saw, and then there would be agony the human mind could hardly conceive, and then it would be either death by torture or life as a cripple for Caleb.

He heard Archer speak to one of the men who had carried him. He didn’t understand the question, and caught only a few words of the answer: “…cutter … flag … hit him, fell among the pikes… gashed… tied it up”. But it all seemed plain enough to Archer. He held out his hand and snapped something that Caleb didn’t catch, then someone else bent over him with a mug of rum, forcing a tot between his teeth. The taste was terrible. Caleb hadn’t acquired the taste for Navy rum, and the horror of knowing that this was being given him to deaden the pain didn’t sweeten it any. He hesitated only for a moment, though. A kind of rage swept over him. If his only way back to home was through the agony of amputation, and he was going back to Boston a one-legged man, then by God he’d do what it took to live through it and reclaim his rightful inheritance – and if the rum would help him stand the shock, then he’d take his medicine like a man.

Still he lay shuddering when the draught had gone down, unable to keep back the tears but silently willing Archer on: Get it over with. Get it over with. He still yelped at the first sting, though. Then it struck him that the pain was too little for a saw-cut and Archer wasn’t working with the desperate energy of a surgeon making haste to sever flesh and bone before the patient died of shock or haemorrhage. It was only pin-pricks, and Caleb had all he could do not to cry like a child with relief. He was only being stitched up.

There were a couple of dozen stitches in his leg, and another dozen in his scalp, before Archer was done with him. And the pain in his head was as though someone had hit him with an axe, which might well have been the case. But these were fleabites next to what might have been. He felt hands help him off the table and he was stowed to one side in the gloom, almost fainting but alive and whole. Caleb closed his eyes and bowed his head, hearing the groans of the wounded to either side. Oh, my God in heaven, he thought. What did I ever do, that I should be let off so lightly?


Harding’s face was purple as though with apoplexy, enough that Pearson genuinely feared for the merchant captain’s heart, but there was triumph written all over it. The Yarmouths were giving ground before the Americans’ charge and it was the work of moments to reform the phalanx. Bristling with pike-points, it set off up the deck at a trudge, and the Passamaquoddies fell in around it, to the sides and the rear, joining in with a chant the Hectors spontaneously struck up: “Watch out! Here we come!”. It resonated in time with their march, like the chants they used when they weighed anchor or warped the ship away from the quayside, building gradually in tempo and volume. Watch! Out! Here we come! And the Yarmouths couldn’t stand it. Men were swarming into the phalanx from all sides, those with pikes taking their places in its ranks, those with cutlasses guarding it against being outflanked, and the renegades couldn’t think of a way to counter it; especially not when there was a howling mob driving at them from the other direction, the Hectors who’d been so lately penned into the bows of the ship.

It was hardly even a battle any more. It was degenerating into a slaughter, bloody enough even to satisfy those Hectors who’d fallen foul of the renegade so many months ago, bloodier by far than anything Pearson had ever seen or imagined. He only prayed that he’d be able to call his men to order by the time the renegades saw sense and cried for quarter.

“Sir!”. It was Merriot’s voice, and it must be something important, even in the thick of a battle, for his First Lieutenant to be raising his voice. He followed Merriot’s point onto the deck of the Yarmouth. There was a small group of men there holding a dirty white cloth on the end of a stick. Pearson called for a halt, and slightly to his surprise he got it. The remainder of the Yarmouths were cowering just a yard out of reach of the terrible pikes, all except this little knot of men. One of them was bound hand and foot, his face a mask of bafflement, hatred and rage. But it was another man who caught Pearson’s eye. He was a one-legged man and he looked dead tired – he looked like he’d been living on the first circle of Hell for a measureless time – but he looked satisfied. That was it. Whatever he’d been doing in Hell, he’d brought it to a successful conclusion. Perhaps it had something to do with the thick leather wallet he was carrying under his arm.

“You’re the captain of this ship?” he asked Pearson. Receiving Pearson’s nod, he went on, “As of ten minutes ago, I’m the captain of the Yarmouth, late in His Majesty’s service and recently a pirate and a renegade, and I ask for quarter for such of her hands as yet live.

“And then,” he added, “I’d like a few words with you, Captain.”