Richard Bolitho – Midshipman

5. Change of Fortune

WITH the order to open fire being yelled from deck to deck, each gun captain thrust his slow-match to the vent and jumped aside. A split second, and yet to Bolitho, who stood between a pair of thirty-two-pounders, it seemed like an age. A long-drawn-out moment when everything was crystal-clear and unmoving, as in a painting. The barebacked seamen crouching at tackles or holding handspikes. Individual gun captains, grim-faced and concentrating only on their own ports and aim. And through each square port the sunlight-on the fortress, the sky very pale without even a puff of cloud. And then everything changed. The lower gundeck exploded to the thunder of cannon fire, the hull and timbers bucking as if caught beneath an avalanche. Gun by gun crashed inboard on its tackles, its crew running to sponge out, to ram home a charge and another gleaming ball. Taken by the wind, the dense clouds of smoke drifted away from the hull, shutting out the fortress, masking the sky in brown fog. Tregorren was yelling, 'Stop your vents! Sponge out! Load! ' But his voice seemed to be coming through a curtain, the first broadside having rendered eardrums and minds almost senseless. But the effect of firing the starboard battery was plain to see. The first nervousness was gone, instead there was a sort of wildness as gun crews peered at each other, grinned and gestured like children. It was not just another drill, it was real, and they were firing in earnest. 'Run out! ' Once more the trucks squeaked on the deck, the crews hurling themselves on their tackles to be first through the open ports. Bolitho heard Wellesley say excitedly, 'They'll pipe another tune now, by heaven! ' Tregorren rasped, 'Whoever they may be, dammit! ' In the pause, as each crew peered along the angled muzzles, Bolitho heard the clatter of movement from the deck above. Gorgon must make a brave sight if there was anyone to care, he thought. Under shortened sail, no doubt, her guns bared to the early sunlight, she must be heading close inshore. He did not even know who had fired on the ship, or why, and he was surprised to discover that it did not seem to matter. In these brief minutes the men around him, the ship around all of them, had become one. 'Stand by! As you bear! ' The suspense was breathstopping.

'Fire! ' Again the hull shook like a mad thing, the planking jarring under the feet as the guns crashed inboard, their smoke belching like a curtain beyond the ports. Eden was cheering, despite several angry glances from Tregorren, and some of the seamen were actually laughing. Dancer called, 'I hope they can see what we are about on the quarterdeck! We could be shooting at the sky! '

He winced as something jarred against the hull, followed immediately by a chorus of shouts from overhead. Bolitho nodded towards him. It was a direct hit. They, whoever they were, had struck back. Somewhere a pump began to clatter, and he guessed that a heated ball must have penetrated the timbers and water was needed to quench it before the wood took light. A seaman near him gestured towards the deckhead.

'Give they lazy dogs summat to do, eh?' But nobody laughed, and Bolitho saw Wellesley rubbing his chin in quick nervous movements as if he was unable to believe that someone should dare to fire at a King's ship. 'All loaded, sir! ' A messenger appeared on the companion ladder, his voice shrill. 'We are going about, sir! Prepare to engage with the larboard side! ' He vanished. Fairweather peered at Bolitho, his teeth white in the eddying smoke. 'We'm hitting 'em proper, eh, sir? Giving t'other guns a chance! The gun captain darted a quick glance at the breechings and snapped. 'They've got us beat. We're runnin' away, you soft fool! ' Bolitho saw the amazement on Fairweather's face and felt the gun captain's blunt words moving to the other men nearby. Tregorren strode past, his head dipping between the massive beams. 'Stand to your guns! Prepare to run out! ' He paused and glared at Bolitho. 'What th' hell are you staring at?' 'We're coming about, sir.' He kept his voice steady, aware that there was more gunfire from the far distance. Whoever commanded the fortress had plenty of artillery. 'What a masterly appraisal, Mr Bolitho! ' Tregorren gripped a deckhead beam as Gorgon began to tilt steeply, the sea lifting towards the open ports as she swung heavily into the wind. 'Was the din of battle too much for you?' 'No, sir.' He met his hostility and added, 'I think we may have been too close inshore. That fortress has our exact range.' Men, who seconds earlier had been hurrying to the opposite side, paused to watch. The towering bulk of the lieutenant and the slim midshipman, angled to the deck, their arms at their sides like antagonists meeting for a duel. Wellesley said nervously, 'The captain knows best.' Tregorren stared at him. 'Do you have to explain to a midshipman?' He looked from one to the other. 'Now stand to your guns! ' But the order to fire the larboard was not given. Instead there was a long and uncertain silence, broken only by the occasional movement of seamen on the upper deck, the twitter of calls as the hands went to braces and halliards for altering course. The gun captain near Bolitho said darkly, 'Told you. Cap'n's standin' out to sea. Just as well, if you asks me.' During the long and tiring gun drills Bolitho had never found time to consider how cut-off this deck could become. Now, as seamen and their officers stood or lounged beside the ports, he felt a growing sense of apprehension and uncertainty. He could tell from the slant of the sun that the ship was heading away from the land, but apart from that there was nothing to break the frustrating sense of being quite apart from the world above. 'Secure guns! ' The messenger's white breeches caught the filtered sunlight on the ladder. 'All officers lay aft, if you please, sir! ' Bolitho said to Dancer, 'I think the captain has been worried all along, Martyn.' Dancer looked at him grimly. 'But surely he would not run from a damned pirate?' 'Better than be left swimming without a ship, eh?' Bolitho tried to cheer him up. 'I know which I'd rather have.' But if the lower gundeck was remote and as before, the quarterdeck was not. Bolitho stood blinking in the harsh glare, seeing the two great holes in the main topsail, a streak of scarlet on the planking to mark where a man had fallen, or died. He stared over the rail and saw the land shimmering in a blinding haze. Already the island and its fortress had merged with the mainland and the anchored ships quite lost from sight around the same point which they had so confidently rounded a few hours earlier. Of the barquentine there was no sign at all. Dancer asked anxiously, 'Where is the City of Athens, do you think?' Little Eden said, 'She's s-standing off t-to keep an eye on the d-devils.' Dancer nodded. 'Bit of luck getting hold of her.' They fell silent as Verling dismissed the hands from the quarterdeck nine-pounders and beckoned the other officers to close around him. He appeared as irritable as ever, Bolitho thought, his beaky nose checking who was present and who was yet to arrive. Captain Conway crossed from the weather side and stood by the quarterdeck rail looking down at the eighteen-pounders below him, their crews checking their equipment and refilling the shot garlands. There was a rank smell of powder in the air, of heated metal and charred wood. Verling said, 'All present, sir.' The captain turned and regarded them thoughtfully, his back against the rail, his palms resting on the polished wood. 'We are standing offshore and will anchor further along the coast. As you know, we were fired on, and fired on with a confidence I dislike.' He spoke calmly and unhurriedly, with less emotion than when he had awarded a flogging. 'The enemy is well prepared, and our bombardment, such as it was, made no impression. But I had to be certain. To gain some knowledge of what we are against.' Bolitho could tell from the expressions of some of those nearby, who had been on the upper deck throughout the biief engagement, that there was something more to come. Captain Conway continued in the same tone, 'Some months ago it was reported that one of our brigs, a new vessel which was employed in these waters, was overdue and therefore presumed lost. There had been some foul weather, and several merchantmen were also wrecked.' He glanced up at the masthead pendant, his eyes shining in the glare. 'When we rounded the point this morning the City of Athens was well in the lead. The lookouts reported sighting two vessels at anchor. There may have been more under the island's protection.' His voice hardened for the first time. 'But one of them was the missing brig, His Majesty's Ship Sandpiper of fourteen guns. Because of her, the City of Athens must have imagined that all was well, that Sandpiper's captain had already done our work for us.' Dancer gave a gasp as he added, 'The brig was the bait which we, but for our prize, would have taken. We would have laid under the guns of the fortress, and without the speed and agility to beat clear, would have been destroyed. As it was, the barquentine was hit several times. I doubt if any of her people survived.' There was absolute silence. Bolitho was remembering the din on the lower gundeck, the importance and excitement they had all felt. He recalled the unsmiling face of Midshipman Grenfell, a face which had hidden a warmer and kinder nature than many imagined. And it had all happened without a word being passed from the quarterdeck. It would have changed nothing, could have done nothing to help. And yet… The captain added slowly, 'When we took the City of Athens, Mr Tregorren suggested that the pirates made off upon sighting another vessel. It now seems very possible that the other sail was ours, and the reasons for the pirate's haste was that he did not want to be seen for what he is! A captured British man-o'-war. Imagine, gentleman, what havoc he may have been wreaking in our country's name?' He spat out the words like poison. 'No master of any peaceful vessel would challenge a ship so obviously British and in the King's service! That is not piracy, it is cold-blooded murder! ' Mr Verling nodded. 'It would be simple, sir. Whoever commands these scum has a sharp mind to attend him! ' The captain did not seem to hear. 'Some of our prize crew may have survived.' He glanced down at the dried blood by his feet. 'We may never know. However, our next task is to seize the brig and discover all we can of what is happening.' Bolitho looked at the others. Seize the brig. Just like that. 'A cutting-out operation must be done tonight. No moon, and the weather favours us at present. The marines will provide a distraction. But I want that vessel retaken, the shame she has been made to endure and promote wiped out! ' He turned as the surgeon appeared on the ladder. 'Well?' 'The lookout died, sir.' Laidlaw's hooded eyes were expressionless. 'Broke his back.' 'I see.' The captain turned to the silent officers. 'The lookout was the one who first sighted Sandpiper. The balls which passed close above us from the battery ashore must have thrown him to the deck.' Bolitho watched the surgeon for some sign, knowing he was remembering that same lookout was the man who had been flogged. The captain licked his lips. It was very hot on the quarterdeck, with the worst of the day yet to come. He said, 'Mr Verling will give you your instructions.

There will be two boats for the cutting-out. More would lessen our chances.' He walked away adding, 'Carry on.' Verling watched him go. 'Two lieutenants and three midshipmen will take charge of the attack.' He eyed Tregorren coldly. 'You will command. Take only trained hands. This is no work for ploughmen.' Eden whispered, 'What does it m-mean, Dick?' He looked very small beside the others. The sulky midshipman named Pearce said, 'We board the brig in the darkness and cut 'em down before they return the compliment! ' He added harshly, 'Poor John Grenfell. We grew up together in the same town.' Verling said, 'Return to your duties. The hands can fall out from quarters and secure. Keep 'em busy, I want no bleating and sobbing for what has happened.' They began to break up, each man wrapped in his own thoughts on the suddenness of death. Tregorren said, 'Thirty men will be needed -' He hesitated as Midshipman Pearce called, 'I'd like to volunteer, sir.' Tregorren regarded him calmly. 'Mr Grenfell was a friend of yours. I had forgotten. A pity that.' Bolitho watched him, sickened. Despite all that had happened, even the sudden likelihood of his own injury or death, Tregorren still found delight in taunting the grim-faced Pearce. The lieutenant said abruptly, 'Request denied.' His eyes settled on Eden. 'Tou will be one of the lucky midshipmen.' He smiled as Eden paled. 'A real chance to prove yourself.' Bolitho said, 'He is the youngest, sir. Some of us have had more experience and…' He faltered, seeing the trap opening. Tregorren shook one finger. 'I forgot about that, too. That our Mr Bolitho is always afraid that someone else will steal his thunder, deny him of honour, so that his high-and-mighty family might frown a bit! ' 'That is a lie, sir. And unfair! ' Tregorren shrugged. Ts it? No matter. You are also going, and the clever Mr Dancer.' He put his huge hands on his hips and looked at each in turn. 'The first lieutenant said only trained hands should be detailed. But we need experienced midshipmen for handling the ship. On a cutting-out raid we only require the right number! ' He took out his pocket watch. 'I want the full party mustered in an hour. Mr Hope will be my subordinate. Report to him when you are ready.' Dancer said bitterly, 'Better Hope than Wellesley. He is as weak as watered milk.' They walked along the weather gangway, thinking of Grenfell and the others who had been lost in the shattered barquentine. Eden said fiercely, 'I – I'm n-not afraid! R-really I'm not! ' He looked at them wretchedly, his eyes filling his face. 'It's just that I d-don't want to go with Mr T-Tregorren! H-he'll be the d-death of us all! ' Dancer looked down at him and tried to smile. 'We'll be with you, torn. It may not be too bad.' He turned suddenly to Bolitho. 'What is it like, Dick? You've done this sort of thing before.' Bolitho stared across the nettings towards the misty hump of land and the glittering expanse of water. 'It's quick. Everything depends on surprise.' He did not look at them. What could he say? Tell them of the fearful cries and curses of men fighting with cutlasses and knives, with axes and pikes. Of the touch of an enemy, the feel of his breath and his hatred. It was not like a sea fight, with the enemyjust another ship. It was people. Flesh and blood. Dancer said quietly, 'I can tell from your silence. Let us hope we are lucky.' Down on the orlop they found Pearce and two other midshipmen restoring the chests and well-used chairs to their proper places, the surgeon's mates having removed their instruments and medicines as soon as the secure was piped. In its place against one of Gorgon's great frames was Grenfell's chest, his best hat and dirk hanging above it. Pearce said, 'He always said he'd never rate lieutenant. He never will now.' Bolitho looked round as Midshipman Marrack entered, impeccable as ever in a clean shirt. Marrack said shortly, 'Leave his gear alone. There may still be a chance.' He threw his coat on a chair and added, 'You should have seen her go. The City of Athens never stood a chance. She was actually shortening sail to close the brig when the fortress battery took her.' He stared at nothing. 'She took fire and then turned turtle. I saw some of our people swimming. Then the sharks came.' He could not go on. Dancer looked at Bolitho. 'I remember reading something about the Sandpiper. Marrack said, 'One thing is certain. Our captain will never allow a King's ship to remain in enemy hands, no matter what it costs to recover her.' He reached into his chest and took out a leather case. 'Take my pistols, Dick. They're better than any others aboard. My father gave them to me.' He turned away, as if annoyed at showing a softer side to his nature. 'See what confidence I have in you?' The small servant scuttled into the berth. 'Beg pardon, sirs, but the fourth lieutenant is lookin' for you, and yellin' murder! ' 'That Tregorren! ' Dancer was unusually bitter. 'I agree with little torn here. The damned bully is too full of himself for my liking! ' They made for the companion ladder, and only then realized that Eden was still by the side. He was staring at Grenfell's chest and his dirk which swung easily to the ship's movements, Bolitho said gently, 'Come on, torn. There's a lot to be done before sunset.' To himself he added, and after.