Heart of Steele by Brad Strickland, THOMAS E. FULLER Page A

they arrived. “Steady, lads, steady! Crouch down! We’re in for it now, we are!” Mr. Adams ran up our Spanish flag, but it looked a puny thing, not crackling and snapping with vengeance like the ones behind us. I didn’t see how it could fool anyone. It didn’t, of course, but it didbuy us a few heartbeats of time, and that was what we most needed.
    The flag and our disguise made the pursuing barks hesitate, but only for a moment. Then they were coming on again, closing on us rapidly. We would pay dearly for the missing sections of our masts and the sails they had held. The
Aurora
was simply not as fast as she had been before her alterations.
    As we turned downwind, they were suddenly bracketing us, coming up one on each side, with ourselves trapped between them. And both of them but a few hundred yards off. Grim sailors stared at us. Not a word was spoken, not a curse hurled, just eyes that burned with cruel promises. They gave not a signal that I saw, but suddenly the bark on our left opened fire.
    It was no warning shot, but a great roaring broadside. The cannonballs either fell short, skipped, or bounced ineffectively off our sides. The other Spanish ship, a little farther off, held her fire.
    “The Spanish flag has failed, Mr. Adams!” Captain Hunter called out over the noise. “Run up the Union and see if that gets us anywhere!” Asquickly as he spoke, the gaudy red-and-gold flag ran down and the solid old Union was hoisted up in its place. It made me feel good to see it fluttering where the Jolly Roger had flown so often. It did nothing for the dons, however. The two barks came angling in, ranging for better shots.
    “So much for flags!” Captain Hunter shouted. “Mr. Jeffers, I suggest you run out your guns, and be quick!”
    “Aye, aye, Cap’n! Stand to, lads! Get all that artwork off the sides! It’s ball and powder now and the devil take the hindmost!”
    With a deadly speed, men were ripping away the painted canvas gunports from the sides of the
Aurora,
exposing the real ones underneath. The second our gunports sprang open, both barks opened fire on us! They were now so close that they could not miss, and their shot pounded against the hull. The valiant
Aurora
shuddered as ball after ball struck home.
    “Why are we not returning fire?” I demanded of Uncle Patch. He stood there grim as death. There was nothing my uncle hated more than battle. He considered it a waste, and I had often wondered, ifthat was his opinion, why he had ever gone to sea for the navy.
    “Mr. Jeffers is getting a feel for them, Davy. It takes a cold, steady man to calculate cannons. If you do it right, it costs you. If you do it wrong, it costs you even more!”
    I watched Mr. Jeffers and realized that he was counting. I could see his lips move and his head nod. The Spanish barks fired again, the port one first, the starboard one mere seconds later. The first was firing solid shot, the second chain, meant to cut through our lines and men. Neither had any effect on Mr. Jeffers.
    “Brave they are, but slow, lads! Roll ’em out and we’ll touch ’em up good! Starboard fire!”
    Our starboard guns roared out and the crews immediately began to reload. As they feverishly worked, Mr. Jeffers literally skipped across the deck to where the other crews awaited his orders.
    “Larboard fire!”
    Now the port guns blazed away, and for the briefest moment their Spanish target disappeared in billowing white clouds, only to reappear as their own guns fired. Barely a minute and a half passedbefore Mr. Jeffers was back with his original guns.
    “Starboard fire!”
    From where Uncle Patch had stuffed me, I watched the starboard guns hammer their target. Then I turned, my eyes following the sprinting Mr. Jeffers.
    “Larboard fire!”
    This time our guns came home on the heavy Spanish ship. Our broadside blew gaping holes into the rails of the bark, and I saw at least two of their great guns upset and crashing back across their decks.