Alexander Kent - Honour This Day

Jenour coughed in the smoke, then shouted, 'Obdurate is in collision with a Spaniard, Sir Richard!' He winced as a musket ball slammed into the deck nearby and added, 'She requests assistance!'

Bolitho shook his head.

Keen said tersely, 'Inability!'

The flags bearing Keen's curt signal lifted and vanished into a great pall of smoke which came surging inboard as the lower battery roared out to starboard.

Parris shouted, 'We're through, we're through!' He waved his hat wildly. 'Huzza, lads! We've broken the line!'

More sails loomed like giant ghosts astern. Crusader, and Redoubtable, the latter almost colliding with another Spaniard which had either lost her steering or had her helmsmen shot down.

'Stand by to alter course to larboard!' Bolitho tossed his telescope to one of the midshipmen. 'I don't need this now!' He could feel his lips set in a grin.

'Deck there!' Someone up there above the smoke and shrieking iron was keeping his head. 'Benbow's through the line!'

There were more wild cheers and coughs as the larboard battery fired a full broadside through the smoke, some into the Castor's side, while the rest fell on and around the second ship in the enemy column.

'Lay her on the larboard tack, Mr Penhaligon! Afterguard, man the mizzen braces there!' Selected marines put down their muskets and ran to help, while some of their comrades squinted above the hammocks, their weapons cradled to their cheeks, seeking a target.

Bolitho looked up and saw lengths of severed cordage dangling on the protective nets, while above it all there was still the same peaceful sky.

A ball slammed into the larboard side, and crashed amongst the men by one of the forward eighteen-pounders. Bolitho gritted his teeth as two were smashed to bloody ribbons, and another rolled across the deck, his leg held on by a thread of skin.

He tried to concentrate. All his ships must be engaged now. The roar of battle seemed to roll all around, as if vessels were on every hand, masked from each other by their own smoke. Sharper gunfire, like the staccato beat of drums, echoed over the water, as if it were another part of destiny.

Bolitho shouted, 'General signal. Close on the Flag. Reform line of battle!'

How they could work with their flags was a miracle, Bolitho thought.

'All acknowledged, Sir Richard!' Jenour tried to grin. 'I think!'

'No matter!' Bolitho strode to the rail as he saw a Spanish two-decker standing out from the others as she made more sail. Her captain either wished to rejoin his own flagship, or he had increased sail to avoid hitting the crippled Castor.

Bolitho pointed, 'There, Val! Engage her!'

Keen yelled, 'Stand by to starboard!'

The newcomer seemed to gather speed as the distance fell away, but Bolitho knew it was the illusion made by smoke. He watched the Spaniard changing tack so that she would cross Hyperion's bowsprit; he could see the scarlet and gold banner of Spain, the huge cross on her forecourse.

Keen's sword rose in the air. 'As you bear!'

The other ship fired almost at the same time. Iron and wooden splinters flew across the maindeck, while overhead the sails flailed and kicked, shot through so many times that some could not hold a cupful of wind. Bolitho wiped his face and saw the other ship's foremast going down in the smoke, rigging and pieces of canvas vanishing into bursting spray alongside.

But he could ignore even that. Hyperion had been badly wounded. He had felt part of the enemy's broadside crash into the lower hull with the weight of a falling cliff.

He made to cross the deck but something held his shoe. He looked down and saw it was the young seaman, Naylor. He was lying against his upended gun, and was trying to speak, his face creased with pain, and the effort to find words.

Keen called, 'Over here, Sir Richard! I think we may -' He stopped, his feet slipping on blood as he saw Bolitho drop to his knee beside the dying seaman.

Bolitho took the youth's hand. The Spaniards must have used extra grape in their broadside. Naylor had lost half of his leg, and there was a hole in his side big enough for a fist.

'Easy, Naylor.' Bolitho held his hand tightly as the deck seemed to leap beneath him. He was needed, probably urgently. Around them the battle raged without let-up. Obeying his instruction. No matter what.

The seaman gasped, 'I -1 think I'm dyin', sir!' There were tears in his eyes. He seemed oblivious to his blood, which poured unchecked into the scuppers. It was as if he was puzzled by what was happening. He almost prized his broken body away from the gun, and Bolitho felt a sudden strength m his grip.

The youth asked, 'Why me, sir?' He fell back, blood making a thin line from a corner of his mouth. 'Why me?

Keen waited while Bolitho released his hand and let it fall to the deck.

Keen said, 'Capricious is in support, Sir Richard! But there is another Don breaking through yonder!' He stared at his own raised arm. There was a strip torn from his sleeve. Yet he had not even felt the ball hiss past.

Bolitho hurried to the side and saw the second ship already overhauling the one which had fired the last broadside.

Bolitho nodded. 'Trying to join her admiral.'

Keen waved his hand. 'Mr Quayle! Pass word to the lower battery 1We will engage this one immediately!'

The fourth lieutenant was no longer pouting disdainfully. He was almost beside himself with terror.

Keen turned. 'Mr Furmval!' But the midshipman had fallen too, while his companion stood rigidly beside Jenour, his eyes on the flags where his dead friend lay as if resting from the heat of battle.

Bolitho snapped, 'Get below, Mr Quayle! That is an order!'

Keen dashed the hair from his forehead and realised that his hat had been plucked away.

'God damn,' he said.

''Ready, sir!'

Keen sliced down with his sword. 'Ftre!'

Gun by gun the broadside painted the heaving water between the ships in the colours of the rainbow. It was possible to hear Hyperion's weight of iron as it crashed into the other ship's side, smashing down men and guns in a merciless bombardment.

The smoke swirled away in a rising breeze and Keen exclaimed, 'She'll be into us! Her rudder's shot away!'

Bolitho heard a splash and when he turned his head he saw some of the boatswain's party hurrying from the upended gun. Naylor's corpse had gone over the side. There was only blood left to mark where he had fought and died.

Bolitho could still hear his voice. Why me? There were many more who would ask that question.

He saw Allday with a bared cutlass in his fist, watching the oncoming Spaniard with a cold stare.

Parns yelled, 'Stand by to repel boarders!'

Major Adams went bustling forward, as the other ship's tapering jib-boom rose through the smoke and locked into Hyperion's bowsprit with a shudder which made even the gun crews pause at their work.

Keen shouted, 'Continue firing 1''

Hyperion's lower battery of thirty-two pounders fired relentlessly across the littered triangle of smoky water. Again, and yet once more, before the enemy's jib-boom shattered to fragments and with a great lurch she began to sidle alongside, until the gun muzzles of both friend and enemy clashed together.

Muskets cracked from the tops and a dozen different directions. Men dropped at their guns, or collapsed as they ran to hack away fallen rigging and blocks.

The swivels barked out from Hyperion's maintop, and Bolitho saw a crowd of Spanish sailors blasted away even as they swung precariously across the boarding nets.

Keen shouted, 'We've lost steerage way, Sir Richard! We'll have to fight free of this one, and I think the other two-decker is snared into her 1'