Read Online A King's Cutter by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online Page A

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, sheet all home to starboard then stand by to cut that cable.’
    â€˜Aye, aye, sir.’ Drinkwater felt better. From somewhere inside, fresh reserves of strength flowed through him. The exercise at the halliards had invigorated him. He called the carpenter to stand handy with his axe and found Johnson already at his station. The sails thundered less freely now the sheets were secured.
    â€˜Larbowlines, man your guns, stand by to fire at the lugger!’ Griffiths’s words were drowned as the lugger’s gunfire rent the air. A row of spouts rose close to starboard. ‘Short by heaven,’ muttered Drinkwater to himself.
    â€˜Cut!’
    The axe struck twice at the cable. It stranded, spinning out the fibres as the strain built up, then it parted.
Kestrel
’s bow fell off the wind.
    â€˜Meet her.’ The stern was held by the spring, led from aft forward and frapped to the end of the severed cable.
Kestrel
spun, heeled to the wind and drove forward.
    â€˜Cut!’
    At the after gunport Jessup sawed against the cavil and the spring parted. Leaving her jolly boat, two anchors and a hundred fathoms of assorted rope,
Kestrel
stood seaward on the larboard tack.
    Drinkwater turned to look for the lugger and was suddenly aware of her, huge and menacing ahead of them. He could see her three oddly raked masts with their vast spread of high peaked sails athwart their hawse and he was staring into the muzzles of her larboard broadside.
    â€˜Oh my God! She’ll rake, sir, she’ll rake!’ he screamed aft, panic obscuring the knowledge that they had to stand on to clear the bay.
    â€˜Lie down!’ Griffiths’s rich voice cut through the fear and the men dropped obediently to the deck. Drinkwater threw himself behind the windlass, aware that of all the cutter’s people he was the most forward. When the broadside came it was ragged and badly aimed. The lugger was luffing and unsteady but her guns took their toll. The wind from a passing ball felt like a punch in the chest but Drinkwater rose quickly from his prone position, adrenalin pouring into his bloodstream, aware that the worst had passed. Other shots had struck home. Amidships a man was down. The lee runner and two stays were shot through and the mainsail was peppered with holes made by canister and two ball. Daylight would reveal another ball in the hull and the topsides cut up by more canister.
    Griffiths had the helm himself now, holding his course, the bowsprit stabbing at the overhanging stern of the lugger as she drew out on the beam at point blank range. Drinkwater saw the captain of number 2 gun lower his match and his eyes lifted to watch the result of the discharge. As they crossed the stern of the lugger the priming spurted and the four-pounder roared. Not twenty feet away from him Drinkwater stared into the eyes of a tall Frenchman who stood one foot on the rail, grasping the mizen shrouds. Even in the darkness Drinkwater detected the commanding presence of the man who did not flinch as the ball tore past him. The two little ships were tossing in the rough sea and most of
Kestrel
’s shot passed harmlessly over the lugger, but the flashes and roar of their cannon, firing as they bore, were gratifying to the cutter’s crew.
    Kestrel
cleared the lugger’s stern and Drinkwater walked slowly aft as Griffiths bore away. ‘Get a couple of pairs of dead-eyes and lanyards into that lee rigging Mr Jessup,’ he said passing the bosun who was securing the guns. He said it absently, his mind full of the sight of that immobile Frenchman.
    â€˜Do you think she’ll chase, sir,’ he wearily asked Griffiths.
    He was relieved to hear Griffiths’s reply took notice of reality.
    â€˜Bound to, boy-o, and we must run. Now slip below and shift that wet gear. Major Brown is opening my cognac. Help yourself andthen we’ll trice up a little more canvas and see what she’ll do.’
    She did