hands’, the cries of ‘Bundle up’ urging all
men below to the deck, he stretched behind the sea chest and brought out the rifle for which he’d traded five flagons of rum
with the Niantic Indians of Newport.
Not
all
the sharpshooters will be on their decks, he thought.
– FIVE –
The Sea Fight
A detour to the galley kept Jack from the deck. With the hot water and some rough soap he found there, he plied his straight
razor, taking off his beard, as voices rose and fell above him, words indistinct, disagreement clear. He took his time, for
he wanted no nicks and, as with his dressing, there was something soothing in this attention to ritual. Finally, he pulled
a stock from his waistcoat pocket, the material cut from the same dark cloth as his regimental facings, and bound his long
black hair into a cue.
On his way up to the deck, he spared a moment to duck into the Captain’s cabin, to the only mirror on the ship. It showed
him an officer who would disgrace neither name nor regiment. Sticking out his tongue at this other self, cap tucked under
his arm, he climbed the steep stair.
He emerged onto the quarterdeck, but the officers were gathered on the poop, facing that majority of the crew who were not
aloft in the rigging. His movement through them brought silence, many regarding him as if they had never seen him before.
He ascended to the poop deck and stood behind Link’s left shoulder, just as Red Hugh flanked him on the right.
The Captain gestured to him immediately. ‘You talk of thefiercesome French, Williams. But we have bold warriors ourselves, do we not?’
‘Not doubting their courage, Cap’n,’ the tattooed Welshman replied from the wheel, ‘but courage itself fires no shots. And
the Frenchie will fire plenty.’ He looked to starboard. Jack could see how much the French ship had closed. Half the distance
at least. Two glasses gone, no more than two remained. One hour.
‘He won’t, as I have told you,’ Link said, his voice strained. ‘He’ll want us fresh and unhurt. He’ll come for the grapple,
sure. And that’s how we’ll beat him.’
‘With him double or triple our men?’ It was the Scandinavian, Ingvarsson, who spoke.
‘You know the way of it. Christ, most of you have served under a letter of marque or for the King yourselves.’ Link leaned
over the rail. ‘He’ll board with half, leave half on his ship. So we’ll kill the half that comes, and then go get t’other
over there.’
‘And that’s where the gold will be,’ said Engledue. ‘Remember, lads, she’s the
Robuste,
sure, and heavily laden with booty. Look how she lies down in the water.’
All looked again. She didn’t seem to move so sluggishly to Jack. But various of the seamen nodded.
‘So how will we kill the half that comes?’ McRae had stepped forward. ‘Most of us have fought before, right enough, but we
had less grey in our pigtails then. And if their ship is ever so full of gold, they got it by fighting. The odds are still
long against us.’
A murmur echoed agreement to this. It was an Irish voice that cut through it. ‘Well then,’ Red Hugh said, ‘won’t we just have
to shorten them?’
He stepped around Link, bent at the knees, drew his hand back. Something black flew over the rail, landing with a distinct
thud on the deck.
‘Grenade!’
Men yelped, scattered. As they did, Red Hugh turned to Jack. ‘Did you see the bend at the knee, the gentleness of the lob.
All in ease, Jack, all in ease. Your first lesson.’ He winked, then, turning back, he shouted, ‘What do you think of those
odds now, fellows, with an Irish Grenadier and an English Dragoon to back ye?’
Heads lifted. Link recognized the moment. ‘And I’ve an issue of rum now and fifty pounds later, aside from your shares, for
each man who plants his feet on the enemy deck. What say ye?’
It was handsome enough. With a cheer, the men crowded around the cockswain who stood before a rum barrel
men below to the deck, he stretched behind the sea chest and brought out the rifle for which he’d traded five flagons of rum
with the Niantic Indians of Newport.
Not
all
the sharpshooters will be on their decks, he thought.
– FIVE –
The Sea Fight
A detour to the galley kept Jack from the deck. With the hot water and some rough soap he found there, he plied his straight
razor, taking off his beard, as voices rose and fell above him, words indistinct, disagreement clear. He took his time, for
he wanted no nicks and, as with his dressing, there was something soothing in this attention to ritual. Finally, he pulled
a stock from his waistcoat pocket, the material cut from the same dark cloth as his regimental facings, and bound his long
black hair into a cue.
On his way up to the deck, he spared a moment to duck into the Captain’s cabin, to the only mirror on the ship. It showed
him an officer who would disgrace neither name nor regiment. Sticking out his tongue at this other self, cap tucked under
his arm, he climbed the steep stair.
He emerged onto the quarterdeck, but the officers were gathered on the poop, facing that majority of the crew who were not
aloft in the rigging. His movement through them brought silence, many regarding him as if they had never seen him before.
He ascended to the poop deck and stood behind Link’s left shoulder, just as Red Hugh flanked him on the right.
The Captain gestured to him immediately. ‘You talk of thefiercesome French, Williams. But we have bold warriors ourselves, do we not?’
‘Not doubting their courage, Cap’n,’ the tattooed Welshman replied from the wheel, ‘but courage itself fires no shots. And
the Frenchie will fire plenty.’ He looked to starboard. Jack could see how much the French ship had closed. Half the distance
at least. Two glasses gone, no more than two remained. One hour.
‘He won’t, as I have told you,’ Link said, his voice strained. ‘He’ll want us fresh and unhurt. He’ll come for the grapple,
sure. And that’s how we’ll beat him.’
‘With him double or triple our men?’ It was the Scandinavian, Ingvarsson, who spoke.
‘You know the way of it. Christ, most of you have served under a letter of marque or for the King yourselves.’ Link leaned
over the rail. ‘He’ll board with half, leave half on his ship. So we’ll kill the half that comes, and then go get t’other
over there.’
‘And that’s where the gold will be,’ said Engledue. ‘Remember, lads, she’s the
Robuste,
sure, and heavily laden with booty. Look how she lies down in the water.’
All looked again. She didn’t seem to move so sluggishly to Jack. But various of the seamen nodded.
‘So how will we kill the half that comes?’ McRae had stepped forward. ‘Most of us have fought before, right enough, but we
had less grey in our pigtails then. And if their ship is ever so full of gold, they got it by fighting. The odds are still
long against us.’
A murmur echoed agreement to this. It was an Irish voice that cut through it. ‘Well then,’ Red Hugh said, ‘won’t we just have
to shorten them?’
He stepped around Link, bent at the knees, drew his hand back. Something black flew over the rail, landing with a distinct
thud on the deck.
‘Grenade!’
Men yelped, scattered. As they did, Red Hugh turned to Jack. ‘Did you see the bend at the knee, the gentleness of the lob.
All in ease, Jack, all in ease. Your first lesson.’ He winked, then, turning back, he shouted, ‘What do you think of those
odds now, fellows, with an Irish Grenadier and an English Dragoon to back ye?’
Heads lifted. Link recognized the moment. ‘And I’ve an issue of rum now and fifty pounds later, aside from your shares, for
each man who plants his feet on the enemy deck. What say ye?’
It was handsome enough. With a cheer, the men crowded around the cockswain who stood before a rum barrel
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