Dewey Lambdin - THE GUN KETCH

"Helm up hard aweather," Lewrie ordered to assist the current.

"Knot and a quarter, near as 1 can make it, sir," Parham told him a few minutes later.

"Thankee, Mister Parham. That'll require we steer a point, or point and a half to loo'rd to make due east, Mister Neill."

"Aye, aye, sir," the senior quartermaster responded stolidly.

There was a shudder, a faint groan, and a rushing noise over the side as the bows came off at last, and Alacrity began to sail to the south once more, leaving behind a swirling eddy of mud and sand.

"Due south, nothing to larboard for now. Sheet home courses for a run, Mister Ballard. Mister Fellows, do you think we should let her have her head for at least a mile before we try that again?"

"Aye, sir," Fellows replied. "And sou'east at first, sir, not due east. Just in case."

"Very good, Mister Fellows. Carry on, Mister Ballard," Lewrie replied. "Oh, one more thing, Mister Ballard."

"Sir?"

"Damned odd, but it's so dark tonight, I thought I could see a trail of blue or green fire in the water, where the shoal was, right along the edge. As our wake appears in tropic waters sometimes. Do you see it out there, sir?"

"Uhm… not really, sir."

"Who among the hands has remarkable eyesight?"

"Mister Early, the quartermaster's mate, sir," Ballard replied, shivering with a touch of awe.

"Post him amidships on the larboard gangway to windward, facing the shoal out yonder. Have him sing out should we have to bear away if it gets too near. Summon him, and I'll point it out to him."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Ballard gulped. He'd heard tales of such feats, the uncanny lore of the truly great old seamen, had thought he had some touch of the gifts sometimes, such as in almost being able tofeel the return scend against the hull of waves rebounding from unseen land.

But he never thought to see them in such a casual captain as their idle, devil-may-care "Ram-Cat" Lewrie!

"Damme, but we got away with one that time, did we not, sirs?" Lewrie chuckled, breezy with relief and filled with good humor still.

"Aye, sir."

"Hellish good fun, for a time, too, damme if it wasn't!"

"Oh, aye, sir," Mr. Fellows groaned. "Fun!"

"Hands is eat, sir. Galley fire's doused overside. An' it lacks a quarter-hour to proper sunrise at six bells, sir," the bosun Harkin reported.

"Very well, and thank you, Mister Harkin," Lewrie replied as he hitched his sword's slim baldric into a more comfortable position under his coat "Mister Ballard, hands to stations to hoist anchor and get under way."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Alacrity had been anchored with her bows pointed north towards Walker's Cay, three miles south of the island, a mile short of where the southern channel narrowed. They hauled her up to her bower with muscle power on the capstan and the help of the current, letting out the stream hawser as they went Sails were hoisted and sheeted home, and as she strained to begin sailing, they buoyed the bitter-end of the stream cable, let it slip, and were under way in a twinkling.

The winds were more nor'westerly that morning, which would be a "dead muzzier" for any ship attempting to flee out the channel that led west from the anchorage and into Walker's Cay Channel. To short-tack in such a narrow gut would be an invitation to disaster, so one escape route was effectively blocked already, and Whippet would have the winds large on her larboard quarter when she drove down the passage with her nine-pounder carriage guns run out and loaded.

"Mister Ballard, beat to Quarters," Lewrie snapped. His men were ready, knowing what the morning would hold. They were blooded by one success, and trained by constant practice to a high level of proficiency. They were almost cheerful as they cast off the lashings of the artillery, rolled them back to loading positions inboard, and prepared their pieces for firing.

"Wind's backed a piece," Fellows commented, eyeing the commissioning pendant aloft as it swung to stream more abeam. "And holding. Might have westerlies once the sun's up and hot."

"Better that than heading us and short-tacking up this damned channel," Lewrie agreed, smiling in anticipation. He felt there was something most agreeable about having Rodgers in command, with none of the awesome burden of decision upon his shoulders this once, and a clear and subordinate role to play. After his independent cruise in the Caicos, this was as easy as sailing with a full squadron.

"Whippet!" the lookout shouted from aloft. "Four points off the larboard bows, 'bout three mile off, sir! Enterin' the pass!"

"Got 'em, by Jesus!" Fellows cheered.

"That puts us about… four miles south of their anchorage?" Lewrie guessed. "Speed, Mister Mayhew?"

"Uhm…!" the midshipman stalled as he cast the chip log in haste. "Six knots, sir!"

"Half an hour to close-broadsides, then," Lewrie calculated in his head. "A quarter-hour if they get under way and try to fight their way out. Aloft, there! What's happening in the anchorage?"

"They be makin' sail, sir! Both ships!"

"Pity there ain't no prize money for captured pirate ships," Fellows sighed. "A full-rigged ship of theirs'd bring a pretty penny."

"Shoals to starboard! Five cables!"

"One point to windward, Quartermaster," Lewrie said with a nod. "Keep her in deep water, well as you may."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Shoals to larboard, five cables! Clear water ahead!"

"Center of the channel, then, Quartermaster," Lewrie beamed.

Whippet came gliding east down her channel, flags flying and under all plain sail, a marvelous sight against the dawn. The suspect vessels were now underway, having cut their cables andhoisted courses and jibs, not trying to free any tops'ls. Perhaps short-handed, Alan wondered, with half their crews ashore for some reason? The larger ship could find no escape over the southern route into the Little Bahama Banks. According to the charts, south of Walker's Cay there were Triangle Rocks, Double-Breaster Bars, and the Barracouta Banks, where the depths shoaled to ten feet or less.

"Damned fool!" Lewrie spat as he used bis spyglass from his perch on the after shroud lines, halfway up to the fighting top. The full-rigged ship was turning west to challenge Whippetl And a moment later, he could espy ruddy blooms of gunfire from her! "Idiot!" She fired-a hanging offense!

Whippet veered northerly, wearing ship to bare her starboard battery. Before the dull bangs of the strange ship's artillery had even reached them, Whippet's side lit up orange and red in a gush of powder smoke, the broadside tolling steady as a gun salute from bows to stern. The unidentified ship quivered and pulsed in the round ocular of his telescope as she was hulled. Her main yard leapt free of all restraints and came crashing down in silence, her lower mizzenmast jerked and splintered, sheering off the upper masts to fall like a sawn tree and drape over her stern and leeward side. She bore off to the south to seek refuge.

"She'll be on our shoal if she shaves the southern bank of the channel that close!" Fellows was hooting in derision.

"She'll hope to get past before Whippet can come about," Alan heard Ballard state calmly.

But Whippet wore once more, this time pointing her bows toward Alacrity, heeling over with the press of wind as she gave her foe one more timed broadside. The range could not have been half a rnile, and Alan could see pieces of timber, bulwarks and decking flying in puffs of dust and smoke. The ship bore away even steeper, looking as if her master was trying to tack across the wind, even as Whippet bore down on her for another broadside.

"Schooner dead ahead, fine on the bows, sir!" a lookout called.