Dewey Lambdin - The King`s Coat

‘Duty watch to the braces! Quartermaster, put your helm down and lay her two points closer to the wind!" Alan shouted. "What's this about a strange sail, Mister Gwynn?" Treghues demanded, emerging on the quarterdeck. ’Here, sir, take a squint. Ship-rigged an' runnin' without a light, sir. Thus, quartermaster! 'Vast heavin'! Belay every inch 0' that, Mister Toliver!’

‘Harden up on the heads'l sheets," Lewrie called to the foc's'le captain. "Now belay!’

‘Mister Gwynn, I have the deck," Treghues said, still dressed in a nightshirt. "Lewrie, stop that caterwauling like you know what you're doing. Judkin, fetch me up my breeches and sword.’

’Aye, sir.’

’Shall we clear for action, sir?" Gwynn asked as Railsford and Peck joined them. "Aye, load and run out the larboard battery," Treghues told him. "I'll need Mister Lewrie forrard, sir…" Gwynn said. ’Robinson's lost his leg, ya remember, sir.’

’Oh, very well," Treghues sighed, after a long pause. ’Mister Lewrie, do take charge 0' the forecastle an' the carronades, ifya please." Gwynn was smiling in the darkness. "Aye, Mister Gwynn.’

’All hands to Quarters!" Treghues shouted.

It was hard to see how the men could even see what they were doing as they unlashed the guns and rolled them back to the centerline, overhauled the side tackles and freed the train tackles, brought gun tools up from below and began to light fuses in the slow-match tubs. ’Damn fool," Lewrie said, hearing Treghues' musicians get going at "Heart of Oak.’

’Afternoon wadd'n enough fer ya, Mister Lewrie?" the larboard carronade captain joshed with him as they removed the tompion of their gun, and freed the lashings of the swivel platform. ’Wanted to see what they looked like going off in the dark," Alan shot back. "Here, can we manhandle the other gun over here?’

‘Take some doin', Mister Lewrie, but I kin lash the breech ropes ta the cathead, iffen ya want it. ’

‘Load yer guns," Gwynn called from aft on the main gun deck. A squad of Marines under their sergeant carne trooping forward along the gangway to take station from the forecastle aft. The strange ship came awake. The wind brought them the faint sound of bosun's pipes playing unfamiliar calls, and the sound of men running to stations. The wind also brought a brassy aroma mixed with the smell of a barnyard. ’Lord, what a stink," Lewrie said. "What's he carrying?’

‘Moight be a slaver, sor," the starboard gun captain said. "He's putting about," Lewrie broke in, almost able to see a faint shadow that was darker than the night. "Going on the wind on the starboard tack.’

’Stations for stays!" Railsford ordered. "Stand by to come about.’

’Helm alee!’

‘Rise tacks an' sheets!" Toliver yelled. "Clew garnets!’

‘Mains'l hau\!" Desperate carne up to the eye of the wind, sails shivering and yards creaking as the hands leaned almost parallel to the deck to fetch her around without missing stays. The foc's'le captain shifted his heads'l sheets to larboard, and the backed fore yards provided enough wind resistance to force her bows off the wind as the other yards drove her forward. She tacked smoothly, losing little speed in the dark, and hardened up on the same tack as the other ship, laid within six points of the winds and beginning to beat hard to weather. ’Waisters, harden up the tops'l braces. Now belay!" Railsford called, wanting to put a slight spiral set to the yards, the tops'ls more acutely angled to the wind than the courses for the most efficiency.

The stranger was now off their starboard bows, perhaps a mile off. Lewrie could barely make out ghostly specks of light like tiny candles along her leeward side. ’Slow-match," Alan said. "They'll make a fight of it. ’

‘Hope they ain't like that last batch," someone said. ’Gun captain, prepare the starboard carronade. Shift the larboard gun up abaft the roundhouse. Breech rope to the hawse buckler and the cathead," Alan ordered, wanting to put both his "Smashers" to work.

He looked aft now to see an amber light burning on the taffrail, a fusee that smoked and flared like a holiday rocket, the night signal for danger. It would also warn the other prizes in convoy of where they were so as to avoid collision in the dark. Hurriedly, the rest of the ships began to light their taffrail lanterns. ’That's Roebuck or VIXen out there, sir," a hand shouted, waving a hand at a distant light to windward. "Bet he'll tack agin. ‘

‘Belay shifting that carronade.’

Within moments the dark shape of their quarry shortened and put her masts in line, tacking across the wind once more, but Desperate performed her own tack at the same time. And had the chase missed stays on that maneuver? They suddenly seemed much closer to her. ’Give me a point free," Treghues ordered. "Stand by the larboard battery." Lewrie's men secured the starboard gun and shifted once more, lashing the larboard carronade back into position. ’Can you reach him yet?" Lewrie asked. ’ 'Bout another cable, sir," the gunner said, squinting at their spectral foe. ’Number one larboard gun… fire!" Gwynn called, and the six-pounder closest to them below the larboard gangway fired. It was a spectacular sight at night to witness the tongue of flame that stabbed out through a nimbus of gunsmoke, and the sound seemed much louder than during the daytime. Lewrie was almost blinded by the flash. When he looked for their target it had disappeared for him, though the experienced gunners still peered at it intently.

The enemy ship returned fire, a single gun from her sternchaser, and the ball moaned into the night without hitting anything. By then Desperate was rapidly closing on the other vessel. The main guns began to bark regularly, though it was hard to tell if they were achieving any better results on their target than the enemy had. ’I kin hit him now, sir, I think," the gun captain said. "Blaze away!’

‘Stand clear.’

The carronade lurched inboard on its slide. Seconds later the sure sign of a solid hit on the hull flashed into life, and the night was full of the thin sound of screaming. "Jaysus," a hand said. ’Mules, sir. Or horses. No wonder he stinks. ’

‘ God help the poor beasts," Lewrie said, and the men around him echoed his sentiments. For the enemy, they would have no mercy, yet could weep real tears over their birds and dogs and manger animals.

Desperate was now within a cable, and one could discern the foe clearly in the starlight well enough to aim true. They put another ball from the carronade onto the poop of the enemy, and this time the screams were men, not dumb beasts. There was a hail of musket and swivel fire from the quarterdeck, and the ship's guns, sounding like nine-pounders, began to fire irregularly, but their aim was incredibly poor and did little more than raise great splashes close aboard.

Close enough to see people… Lewrie could make out a mass of men in white uniforms on the quarterdeck. almost a full company of troops that were firing by volley with their muskets. A ball from the carronade took a third of them down like a reaper. Desperate's guns were speaking as regular as a tolling bell from bow to stem, about ten seconds apart, each shot painting the water between the two dueling ships blood red and amber and lighting up their sides. The carronade fired again, providing enough of a light as the ball exploded to see the men with muskets writhing in agony as another third were scythed down and the remainder were faltering in their musket drill, falling back from the rails as Desperate's own Marines began to volley into them.

Once more that day, musket balls began to buzz about Lewrie's ears, and strike the decks and rails with solid thuds. There were more men across the way in white uniforms, now on the gangways and forecastle, loading and firing their muskets regular as clockwork. Their own Marines were taking a toll of those people with musket and swivels. ’That bunch, gun captain," Lewrie ordered.