The Flag of Freedom by Seth Hunter

swiftest way of bringing a conflict to a successful conclusion – and thus saving life in the long run.
    Besides, in this case it was debatable whether the murder would be carried out at a safe distance. Not that he found this especially consoling as he led his little fleet closer and closer to the shore.
    The first shot was fired a little after half past ten. And it did not come from the bomb vessel.
    It was a testing shot from one of the guns mounted on the city wall, and though it fell well short, it came skipping across the water like a stone, marked by several white splashes before it finally sank about a half-cable’s length off the
Thunder
’s larboard bow. The defenders clearly considered this a satis factory result, for about a minute later the entire battery erupted in smoke and flame.
    For the next few minutes the shot fell thick and fast. Who ever had determined that this was a blind spot for the city defences had clearly not calculated on the weather conditions, for the combined effect of a near-flat trajectory and a flat calm was to send almost every shot skimming towards the approach ing attackers, greatly extending the range of the guns. Spent of its force, the shot could have had little effect upon the solid hull of the
Thunder
, but it played merry havoc with the boats that were towing her into position.
    So far as Nathan could see, only one of the launches was hit – the round shot ploughing into the bank of oars on the larboard side – but to his consternation he saw that several boats were casting off the tow and heading back out of range. By his calculation the bomb vessel was still some several hundred yards short of the position that had been agreed upon, but whether from choice or necessity, both anchors splashed down into the sea. Moments later,a great gout of flame illuminated her lower rigging and a massive explosion shook the still waters. The
Thunder
was in action.
    Nathan turned to observe the flight of the projectile, marked by an impressive trail of fire – rather like the tail of a comet. Its descent, though, was less spectacular. It fell into the sea about a quarter of a mile short of the lighthouse. Nathan swore he could hear the hiss. This was shortly followed by another spurt of flame – longer, thinner – from amidships, and the sharper report of the howitzer, but the shot left no trail and Nathan had no idea where it fell. Within seconds the
Urchin
opened fire, with much the same result.
    And so the fireworks continued. Nathan watched them with interest, his feckless conscience slumbering upon his shoulder, for there was a childlike fascination in seeing the sudden red and orange flash illuminating the rigging and lower yards of the
Thunder
and watching the trail of sparks ascending into the heavens before plunging down towards sea or shore. One or other of the guns fired every minute or so, and Nathan counted two definite hits as the rooftops and steeples of the city flared into brief incandescence and the sound of the exploding shells rumbled back across the still waters. But the flash of the guns blinded him to his own peril, and the first he knew of it was from the startled shouts of his crew as it bore down upon them. He glimpsed the white surge of water below the blunt, black bow a moment before it ploughed into the starboard bank of oars, hurling the rowers onto their backs and sending him sprawling into the scuppers. From this undignified position he saw the single mast of theirassailant against the starlit sky and the twin banks of oars that must have been raised an instant before impact – and the long bowsprit jutting out across the waist of the cutter with a writhing figure impaled upon the end of it like a gaffed fish.
    As he scrambled up, groping for his sword and pistols in the dark, cursing his idiocy in not keeping them about his person, the Spaniards came leaping aboard, screaming their exultant battle cry of
‘Sant’