in the clear. Everyone on board breathed a lot more easily for they knew that if just one of those ships of the line had bestirred itself to get underway, the Richmond would now be a pile of floating match sticks. Any one of them would be faster than the Richmond , and their 32-pound guns could easily reach out and touch someone over a mile away with considerable accuracy. They would simply mutilate a small frigate like the Richmond .
“Where to now, sir?” Rooney asked.
“Good question,” Captain Hudson replied. “But an even better one is: Where the devil is Hood?
“He couldn’t have doubled back to the south or we would have seen at least some part of his fleet. Heading east makes no sense. No... I’ll wager he headed north. He probably headed for New York to link with Admiral Graves’ fleet and so, therefore, shall we.
“Let’s fly, Rooney. I don’t know whether he knows that the French have arrived in Yorktown; but, if not, he and Graves, and Governor Clinton, need to know right away. That fool Cornwallis has trapped himself on that peninsula.”
With that Rooney sprung into action, bellowing orders. “All hands secure from quarters. Bosun set the Watch. “Helm, come around to...”
The officers and men of the Richmond were quite right in thinking the stakes were high; but, it would be some time before they would learn how high.
* * *
It would be at least another two days until the Richmond could get to New York. With good winds maybe they could cut it to a day and a half, bad winds maybe three or four, no wind... forever. That’s the way it was on a sail-powered vessel.
The ship settled back into its routine, but now there was an edge to it that Walker had not seen before.
Outwardly, everything looked the same. At dawn, the men were at quarters, followed by scrubbing the decks, lashing up the hammocks, taking their tot of rum at noon, another at supper, down hammocks, lights out, and sleep. It was what he saw in-between those events that had changed.
There were fire drills, sail handling drills, musket loading for speed, and shooting for accuracy. The more skilled were holding cutlass classes for the less skilled; and the ship’s armorer had his wheel on deck and going all day long. Every cutlass, pike, and dirk on the ship was receiving a new and sharper edge. Gun drills were different, too. Besides there being a seriousness of purpose that was not there before, each gun crew was now practicing firing the guns shorthanded. Seven man guns were being loaded and fired by five and four man teams in silent acknowledgment of the reality of battle where comrades could and would fall.
True, the men’s off-hours were much the same. There would be socializing and “make and mend” during the dogwatches. And, as the day started to cool off, fiddles or penny whistles would come out and off-duty men would dance the occasional hornpipe because... well, because they were young and they could.
But, there was another side that Walker also noticed. A lot more people were spending time by themselves reading through prayer books or dog-eared Bibles. Those men in the ship’s company who could write would setup impromptu tables in secluded areas where other men could quietly come and have letters written—perhaps final letters—to loved ones back home.
But, all this paled in comparison with the shock he received the second day out of the Chesapeake.
Susan Whitney had come on deck with a chest of knives and saws and proceeded to the armorer to have them sharpened. Normally, Susan was welcome anywhere on the ship. Her lively personality, radiant smile, sense of humor, and the fact that she genuinely cared for the well being of each seaman, made her easily the most
“Where to now, sir?” Rooney asked.
“Good question,” Captain Hudson replied. “But an even better one is: Where the devil is Hood?
“He couldn’t have doubled back to the south or we would have seen at least some part of his fleet. Heading east makes no sense. No... I’ll wager he headed north. He probably headed for New York to link with Admiral Graves’ fleet and so, therefore, shall we.
“Let’s fly, Rooney. I don’t know whether he knows that the French have arrived in Yorktown; but, if not, he and Graves, and Governor Clinton, need to know right away. That fool Cornwallis has trapped himself on that peninsula.”
With that Rooney sprung into action, bellowing orders. “All hands secure from quarters. Bosun set the Watch. “Helm, come around to...”
The officers and men of the Richmond were quite right in thinking the stakes were high; but, it would be some time before they would learn how high.
* * *
It would be at least another two days until the Richmond could get to New York. With good winds maybe they could cut it to a day and a half, bad winds maybe three or four, no wind... forever. That’s the way it was on a sail-powered vessel.
The ship settled back into its routine, but now there was an edge to it that Walker had not seen before.
Outwardly, everything looked the same. At dawn, the men were at quarters, followed by scrubbing the decks, lashing up the hammocks, taking their tot of rum at noon, another at supper, down hammocks, lights out, and sleep. It was what he saw in-between those events that had changed.
There were fire drills, sail handling drills, musket loading for speed, and shooting for accuracy. The more skilled were holding cutlass classes for the less skilled; and the ship’s armorer had his wheel on deck and going all day long. Every cutlass, pike, and dirk on the ship was receiving a new and sharper edge. Gun drills were different, too. Besides there being a seriousness of purpose that was not there before, each gun crew was now practicing firing the guns shorthanded. Seven man guns were being loaded and fired by five and four man teams in silent acknowledgment of the reality of battle where comrades could and would fall.
True, the men’s off-hours were much the same. There would be socializing and “make and mend” during the dogwatches. And, as the day started to cool off, fiddles or penny whistles would come out and off-duty men would dance the occasional hornpipe because... well, because they were young and they could.
But, there was another side that Walker also noticed. A lot more people were spending time by themselves reading through prayer books or dog-eared Bibles. Those men in the ship’s company who could write would setup impromptu tables in secluded areas where other men could quietly come and have letters written—perhaps final letters—to loved ones back home.
But, all this paled in comparison with the shock he received the second day out of the Chesapeake.
Susan Whitney had come on deck with a chest of knives and saws and proceeded to the armorer to have them sharpened. Normally, Susan was welcome anywhere on the ship. Her lively personality, radiant smile, sense of humor, and the fact that she genuinely cared for the well being of each seaman, made her easily the most
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