Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Coat

It did not appear, however, that Ariadne's bite was quite as impressive as her bark. In point of fact, Alan could see quite a few tall splashes as heavy balls impacted with the sea. Some were far beyond the brig, having passed over her hannlessly, perhaps twitching a sail with the wind of their passage; some struck short, incredibly short, so close to Ariadne that he at first thought it was the enemy that had fired at them and missed! There were a few (frankly, more than merely a few) splashes far in front and far astern of the privateer brig where they may have killed an injudicious fish or two, but had no effect on their foe. ’Goddarnn my eyes!" Roth called as loud as the broadside after the last thunder had died away. "What a pack of duckfuckers. Try to keep your eyes open and aim at something this time. Swab out yer guns!" Ariadne began a ponderous turn to starboard to keep the enemy on her beam and within the arc of her guns. Alan could see a gay flag on the privateer, a red-and-white-striped banner with a blue canton to the upper mast. They were almost close enough to discern a circle of tiny white stars on the flag as the guns were run out again. ’Point yer guns! Handspikes and crows, there!" Hann ordered, "Aim the goddamn things, now!" They let loose a second broadside. It was about as effective as the first. Jesus, how can we miss at this range? Alan thought miserably. He spans two gun ports, so he must be no farther than three or four cables away from us. It's impossible to miss! And then the privateer brig sailed out of their gun ports to the north, outreaching the much heavier and slower Ariadne.

The hands labored at swabbing out their hot barrels, slipping in fresh cartridge bags, ramming home wads and fresh shot, then straining to roll the guns, squealing on their ungreased wooden trucks, back up to the sills.

Beckett appeared once more at Lieutenant Roth's side. "The captain's respects, Mister Roth, and you are to prepare to engage to starboard.’

’Lewrie, supervise the larboard guns and see they're secure," Roth told him, leading all but three of the numbers from each hot gun over to starboard. Alan made sure that no cartridge bags had been pricked, that all vents were covered from sparks, and that the ports were securely closed, and the heavy guns were snubbed in place by the train and side-tackles with no chance to roll about and crush someone.

By the time he and the excess numbers had finished that chore, the starboard guns were speaking, rattling the fabric of the ship. He bent down to see out, and could not detect any improvement in their aim as they fired at a much smaller target, the privateer schooner, which was in the process of cutting out a slow merchantman. And by the time the most experienced gun captains and quartergunners had found their enemy's range and had begun to slap balls close about her, she had danced out of reach and gun-arcs to rush down on another prize. Ariadne now turned about and chased after their earlier target, the brig. The men stood behind the guns in long swaying lines for what seemed like an hour. There were sounds of gunfire far off, light sixand nine-pounders, occasionally the deeper boom of a twelve-pounder. And then it was over; they were to secure from Quarters. Charges and balls were drawn, and the guns were securely bowsed down.

By the time the mess tables were being lowered between the guns, and all the other officers had left, Lewrie shrugged and went up on the upperdeck gangways. Down south to windward, or off to the southeast astern, stood the three raiders, safe as houses with Ariadne and Dauntless now far down to leeward to the north in pursuit of a panicky flock of merchantmen. The privateer ship had a fore-topmast missing and showed a few scars, but was still afloat. More to the point, five tubby merchant vessels that had lately been part of the convoy were also down to windward, prizes of the privateers.

Seven bells chimed from the belfry, and bosun's pipes began to shrill. "D'ye hear there? Clear decks an' up spirits!" the b0sun shouted as loud as a gunshot. Eleven-thirty in the moming; as if to confirm it, Lewrie drew out his gold-damascened silver pocket watch and opened it.

So that was a battle, he thought. I can't see anything we accomplished. If this is the glory of naval life, you can have this nautical humbug! How do you make all that prize money, or make a name for yourself, when you're down below getting bored to death? Lewrie took himself off to the cockpit for their issue of rum, then came back up to perform noon sights, which he got wrong, as usual, resulting in an hour of racing up and down the mainmast.

Later, at dinner, he noticed the many long faces around their mess table. Finnegan and Turner, Mr. Brail, the captain's clerk, a couple of surgeon's mates, Shirke, Chapman, Ashburn and himself. Bascombe was in the Day Watch. Except for the sound of cutlery, it was dead quiet.

Well, perhaps not too quiet; there was the sound of the master's mates, Finnegan and Turner, as they chomped and chewed and gargled and hawked-both of them were what were termed "rough feeders.’

’Um… this morning," Alan said, clearing his throat, which raised an involuntary groan from everyone as they thought of their poor performance. "What happened… exactly?’

‘Nothin' worth talkin' about," Finnegan mumbled. "Bloody shambles," Chapman said with a blank: stare. For him to make a comment of any kind was rare. "We weren't handled at all badly," Ashburn said between bites. "Placed right clever, if you ask me.’

’But the gunnery…" Alan prompted. ’Aye, that was awful," Shirke said. "It's like Harvey was telling us, we haven't spent much time at gun drill. ’

‘We've drilled," Turner said. "Jus' never fired the damn things, 'cept fer salutin' and pissin' off merchant masters. Good gunners gone stale, new 'uns couldn't hit a spit kid if it were tied to their mouths.’

’They were pretty fast, too. I expect that didn't help," Alan said. ’ Dauntless did alright," Keith Ashburn said. "Got hits on her foe, chased her off, and chased off that brig once it got past us. No one could have caught that schooner once she got past us, though. Lost five ships. Not a bad morning's work for 'em, damn their eyes.’

’And there's no way we could get them back?" Alan asked. "Beat up to windward against more weatherly ships, and leave the rest 0' the convoy ta get took?" Finnegan shook his head. "Ye're a young booby, ain't ya? Wot it's all about is, we got beat, see, younker? Them damned rebel Jonathans done beat us!" Alan saw New York again, but only from the anchorage at Sandy Hook. He got to go ashore, but only as far as the fleet landing with a cutter full of demoralized and sullen hands, who had to be watched constantly to keep them from drink or the many brothels. Fresh supplies had to be ferried out, more coal and firewood, fresh water, livestock and wine, and crates of fruit and vegetables. 100 bumboats were out, offering women, rum and gewgaws, but the ship was not allowed Out of Discipline. Only Bales and the purser actually got to step ashore for pleasure.

The officers sulked in their wardroom aft, lolling over long pipes and full mugs when there was no drill, exercise, or working party. The midshipmen and mates stood anchor watch in their stead for the humdrum task of waiting, envying the men in the guard boats who rowed about to prevent desertion, or watch against a hostile move. It was an unhappy existence. The ship lay at anchor for days, stewing in the blustery early spring rains and fickle winds, too wet to stay topside, and too warm and airless to stay below. Ariadne shifted her beakhead to point at the colony, then at England. groaning her way all about the compass. The seeming lack of purpose, and their recent poor showing, began to grate on everyone. People began to put in requests for a change of mess, a sure sign of trouble below decks. There were more floggings for fighting, more backtalking and insubordination, more slow work at tasks assigned. God knew where they got it, but lots of men were turning up drunk and getting their dozen lashes on the gratings every Forenoon watch.