Tim Severin - Buccaneer

He turned to check what was happening with the other vessels in the squadron. Carabaxal had already passed through the pirate line and was manoeuvring his ship to come back upwind. He appeared to have done little damage to the enemy because the two canoes nearest to him were still afloat. Hopefully, Capitan Barahona would be more successful.

A shout from the foredeck brought his attention back to his own plan of attack. A lookout was reporting that the three remaining pirate canoes were altering course. They were converging on his own barca longa. 'Our target remains that big piragua,' Peralta confirmed. 'No one is to open fire until we are in easy range.' He was worried about the patareros. Mounted on the ship's rail the swivel guns looked menacing enough and, if properly handled, were capable of doing great damage. But the patareros had only ever been fired with blank charges to blast out honour salutes for visiting dignitaries or to celebrate the holy days of mother Church. It was typical of the contadores that they had allowed him gunpowder for ceremonials and to flatter grandees, but not for target practice. Outward display came cheaper and pleased the crowds.

Peralta calculated that another ten minutes of Santa Catalina's sluggish advance should bring the enemy within range. He made a tour of his ship, stopping for a brief word of encouragement with as many of his men as possible. He paid special attention to the gunners, two men to a gun. 'I'm counting on you,' he told them quietly. 'Don't believe the old yarn that the foreign pirates are devils from hell. As you can see, they're men, and a scruffy lot at that.'

As Don Francisco returned to his position by the helm, he eyed the gap between his barca longa and the piragua. It was still too far to open fire with any certainty of success. The swivel guns let loose a cruel hail of scatter shot, but their range was limited. The breeze, though very light, was still holding steady from the west.

He came to a decision. 'Contremaestre! We steer to pass to windward of the piragua. I want all four patareros moved to the starboard side.' The guns were light enough to be picked up by their crews and carried across the deck. Alternative mounts were already fixed at several points on the ship's rail. By shifting the swivel guns so that all four of them fired from the starboard rail, he was creating a ready-made broadside.

The last of his gun crews were still heaving their weapon up onto its Y-shaped mount when the first musket shot rang out from the piragua. Don Francisco had expected the pirates to be good marksmen, but the range and accuracy of that first shot startled him. From a distance of 300 paces the musket bullet struck the ship's rail close to the patarero and sent up a shower of splinters. One fragment embedded itself deep in the chest of one of his gunners. The man gave a sudden, surprised cough and fell back on the deck. A comrade immediately took his place, but Peralta noted the looks of fright that passed across the faces of all those who stood nearby.

'Open fire now you have your target,' he called out as if nothing had happened. It was better that the gun crews went into action now, even if the range was long. Gun handling would distract them, and the patareros were simple enough to use. The gunner only had to find his target por el raso de los metales, 'by the line of metals', squinting along the crude sights on the barrel and tell his companion when to apply a lighted match to the touch hole.

There was a loud hollow thud like the sound of a slack drum skin hit hard. It was the characteristic noise of a patarero. Don Francisco watched a pattern of small white splashes flower in the sea well short of the piragua. The barca longa was still out of range.

He took a few slow steps along the deck, turned and walked back, careful to keep in full view of the pirates, and of his men. He wanted his crew to see that this was a time to be calm.

Now the musketeers in the piragua were opening up a steady fusillade. They went about their business coolly. Their shots were irregularly spaced so it was clear that they were taking their time to aim accurately. Don Francisco heard several musket balls whizz overhead. A couple of small holes appeared in the courses, the lower sails. Four more of his men were hit by splinters.

At last Santa Catalina was in range. A forward patarero fired, and this time the splashes of small shot were all around the piragua. He heard distant cries of pain. The three remaining swivel guns belched their loads of scatter shot. Two of them were poorly aimed, and did little damage. But the fourth gun scored a direct hit, and he saw several of the pirates slump forward.

"Well done!' he shouted as the gunners began to reload. The patareros were of a basic design, loaded by the muzzle, not in the breech. To recharge the weapons, it was safer and easier if they were lifted off their mounts and placed on the deck. There the men sponged out the hot barrel, loaded in a charge of gunpowder and a wad, and finally a canvas bag packed with small shot and broken metal fragments. Minutes later the patarero should be back in place on the rail, and the gunner firing again.

Peralta had to admire the pirates' courage. They did not flinch under the bursts of scatter shot but changed their methods. Only a handful of their men in the bow were still shooting, the rest were straining at the oars, rowing the piragua forwards, roaring and chanting their defiance. They were desperate to close and board.

Let them come, Peralta thought. He had enough men to deal with the onslaught.

A cry from behind him made him spin around. His second mate was running towards the far rail. A hand had appeared at deck level. Someone had climbed up the side of the ship away from the battle. The mate stamped hard on the hand and it withdrew.

Peralta drew a pistol from his belt and hurried to join his officer. Looking over the rail he found himself staring straight down into one of the pirate canoes. It had succeeded in sneaking up, unnoticed, to the stern of the barca longa. There were six men in the canoe, and at least one of them was wounded for he was leaking blood. The faces of the others were turned towards him. Don Francisco thrust his pistol over the rail and fired downwards. It was impossible to miss. The pirate in the centre of the canoe fell back, half in and half out of the canoe.

His second mate was waving a cutlass and screaming curses. Peralta realised that the man had no musket. 'Here, take this,' he shouted, pulling a second pistol from his waistband, and handing it to the man. 'Keep them off.'

He turned and ran back across the deck. He was needed there to direct the patareros. To his dismay he found that the piragua was now far closer than he had expected. Only a gap of a few yards separated the two vessels. A moment later they touched sides and a score of the enemy were clambering on his deck, yelling and whooping like fiends.

Peralta drew his sword, a rapier given him when he first received his commission, and the next instant found himself fending off a haggard, ginger-haired man who rushed at him hefting a boarding axe. Don Francisco felt a heavy jolt as the axe struck his rapier blade. Fortunately it was a glancing blow, otherwise the steel would have shattered. The axe head slid as far as the rapier's hilt and turned aside harmlessly. Peralta took his chance to run his assailant through the shoulder with the point. More and more pirates were climbing aboard, and there was chaos across the entire width of the deck. Buccaneers and his black crew men surged together in hand-to-hand combat. There was an occasional pistol shot, but most of the fight was waged with cutlasses and daggers, cudgels, muskets used as clubs, short pikes and fists. One of his own men was swinging a capstan bar, using it to batter and smash at his opponents. Peralta caught a glimpse of a giant buccaneer who was wreaking havoc with a weapon that the Spanish captain had never encountered before. It was a stubby sword scarcely longer than a cutlass and not as broad in the blade. The giant was wielding it with extraordinary agility, slashing and cutting almost too fast to follow, and he was driving back anyone who challenged him. As the captain watched, the giant cut down two of Santa Catalina's crew.