Read Online Across to America: A Tim Phillips Novel (War at Sea Book 9) by Richard Testrake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard Testrake
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officer may also feel the need of tobacco. Therefore, I am leaving a supply of Spanish cigars by the helm. At his discretion, he, as well as the helmsmen, may wish to smoke also. As with the men forward, they may light their cigars from the binnacle lamp, making certain the shutter is closed when finished.”
“Soon after we have disclosed our position to our followers, we will make a course change to port, as if we are attempting to draw away. Before we get too far away however, it will be necessary to ‘accidentally’ disclose our new position once again.”
“While this is going on, I would like our deck cleared of all of our trash. It should be taken down and struck below. I do not wish it thrown overboard just yet for fear of alerting the enemy.”
“Before first light, we will clear for action, and see what we can attempt with the enemy. Are we all clear, gentlemen?”
During the black night, Andromeda made her twists and turns, only to be followed by her pursuer. It was only in the early part of the morning watch that sufficient light discipline was able to be imposed that she could now remain completely out of sight. Phillips, assured the ship was in good hands, got a few hours of sleep. It was still black outside, when he was awakened by the morning watch coming on deck. He was on deck before the crew came to tear apart his quarters as was their duty in clearing the ship for action.
A bleary Lieutenant Daniels greeted him as he gained the quarterdeck. It seemed neither of the watch officers on duty that night were smokers. So the Marine had remained on deck all night, smoking one cigar after another. He reported his mouth and throat were foul and he was never going to smoke another cigar again.
All his officers were on deck, and it was Mister Harding who pointed out the enemy. She had ranged up during the evening, and was now approaching the starboard beam, still well astern. The ship was mostly invisible, but the sailing master pointed out an infinitely small sporadic twinkle at her helm as someone sucked on his pipe. Harding chuckled. “Sir, we aren’t the only ones smoking on duty.”
The enemy was right to windward, so Phillips knew the fresh breeze would blow any slight noise made aboard Andromeda right away. He told his officers and midshipmen he wanted the ship brought to stations with guns run out, as quietly as possible. Matches were not to be lit in the darkness. Instead, the flintlock firing mechanisms would be relied upon until action commenced.
At the point when he judged the lightening sky would begin to reveal him clearly to the privateer, he ordered his ship stripped to fighting sail, with the courses furled, and the fore tops’l laid aback. The ship slowed to almost a halt in the sea and waited for her pursuer to come booming up.
Come up she did, her cutwater throwing the sea at her prow aside in a white mustache, all doubts of her prey’s location dispelled. One of the stranger’s guns up forward slammed, and the ball struck perilously close to Andromeda’s bow.
At that point, Phillips nodded to Mister Gould, and the broadside crashed, all guns firing almost simultaneously. At cable’s length range, most shots struck, and ruin struck the enemy ship. Men were smashed to red jam, guns torn from carriages, and equipment smashed. The surviving members of the enemy crew were transformed instantly from a confident unit expecting to receive the surrender of a helpless foe into crippled, beaten individuals.
A few guns from the privateer’s broadside fired in reply, but it was too little, too late. As guns were reloaded on Andromeda, they began their savage duty, pounding their iron balls into the privateer. With her foremast and bowsprit now down, the helpless ship began drifting toward Andromeda.
Aware of the masses of men often aboard these privateers, Phillips ordered his guns to shift from firing ball to grape, this being more effective against
“Soon after we have disclosed our position to our followers, we will make a course change to port, as if we are attempting to draw away. Before we get too far away however, it will be necessary to ‘accidentally’ disclose our new position once again.”
“While this is going on, I would like our deck cleared of all of our trash. It should be taken down and struck below. I do not wish it thrown overboard just yet for fear of alerting the enemy.”
“Before first light, we will clear for action, and see what we can attempt with the enemy. Are we all clear, gentlemen?”
During the black night, Andromeda made her twists and turns, only to be followed by her pursuer. It was only in the early part of the morning watch that sufficient light discipline was able to be imposed that she could now remain completely out of sight. Phillips, assured the ship was in good hands, got a few hours of sleep. It was still black outside, when he was awakened by the morning watch coming on deck. He was on deck before the crew came to tear apart his quarters as was their duty in clearing the ship for action.
A bleary Lieutenant Daniels greeted him as he gained the quarterdeck. It seemed neither of the watch officers on duty that night were smokers. So the Marine had remained on deck all night, smoking one cigar after another. He reported his mouth and throat were foul and he was never going to smoke another cigar again.
All his officers were on deck, and it was Mister Harding who pointed out the enemy. She had ranged up during the evening, and was now approaching the starboard beam, still well astern. The ship was mostly invisible, but the sailing master pointed out an infinitely small sporadic twinkle at her helm as someone sucked on his pipe. Harding chuckled. “Sir, we aren’t the only ones smoking on duty.”
The enemy was right to windward, so Phillips knew the fresh breeze would blow any slight noise made aboard Andromeda right away. He told his officers and midshipmen he wanted the ship brought to stations with guns run out, as quietly as possible. Matches were not to be lit in the darkness. Instead, the flintlock firing mechanisms would be relied upon until action commenced.
At the point when he judged the lightening sky would begin to reveal him clearly to the privateer, he ordered his ship stripped to fighting sail, with the courses furled, and the fore tops’l laid aback. The ship slowed to almost a halt in the sea and waited for her pursuer to come booming up.
Come up she did, her cutwater throwing the sea at her prow aside in a white mustache, all doubts of her prey’s location dispelled. One of the stranger’s guns up forward slammed, and the ball struck perilously close to Andromeda’s bow.
At that point, Phillips nodded to Mister Gould, and the broadside crashed, all guns firing almost simultaneously. At cable’s length range, most shots struck, and ruin struck the enemy ship. Men were smashed to red jam, guns torn from carriages, and equipment smashed. The surviving members of the enemy crew were transformed instantly from a confident unit expecting to receive the surrender of a helpless foe into crippled, beaten individuals.
A few guns from the privateer’s broadside fired in reply, but it was too little, too late. As guns were reloaded on Andromeda, they began their savage duty, pounding their iron balls into the privateer. With her foremast and bowsprit now down, the helpless ship began drifting toward Andromeda.
Aware of the masses of men often aboard these privateers, Phillips ordered his guns to shift from firing ball to grape, this being more effective against
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