to make such a thing possible.’
Knowing Emily would speak and wishing to think he held up a restraining hand; there was scant chance of help from the conditions so he had to think of something else. If he could not evade the pursuit, how could he slow them down, which would increase the time available to make a land fall.
As of yet, nothing really serious had been done to lighten the ship; he had been waiting for darkness to act on that so as to increase the gap between him and the brigantines, which would become apparent at dawn, the idea being that the sight of the greater distance might persuade them the pursuit was useless. It was not a boundless hope, more a desperate one.
‘Mr Dorling, your presence if you please?’
The master obeyed his loud call at no great pace, as Pearce called for the gunner and the carpenter too, Emily moving to the very stern so as not to cramp them.
‘Mr Kempshall, what is the supply of slow match?’
‘Yards of it,’ Sam Kempshall replied, with something close to a sneer, the lack of any acknowledgement of Pearce’s rank very obvious but the temptation to check the man had to be put to one side. ‘Don’t use it so, seein’ as we got flintlocks?’
Pearce nodded, for slow match was only carried as a precaution against flints not working, or to cause explosions ashore when the navy went raiding. ‘And slow match burns at a steady rate, am I correct?’
‘Can be timed to near the minute.’
‘Good,’ Pearce said before turning to the master. ‘The water barrels?’
‘Empty, ‘Dorling replied, ‘and broken up.’
‘Well,’ Pearce said, addressing Brad, the second of the twins, ‘I want then reassembled and let’s have them filled with seawater to seal the seams.’
The looks he was getting were of a fellow who had lost his wits and, oddly, that cheered Pearce; he loved nothing more than confounding his fellow man and he was clearly doing so now.
‘I want bases made for rafts, to be supported by those barrels and then we will put powder and lengths of slow match upon them.’ They did not get it. ‘Do you now see, gentlemen, how we might give pause to out pursuit?’
Dorling got there first, though even he was not swift to the conclusion and when he did it was with a look of doubt that the plan would do any good. Pearce knew what he was thinking: the chances of a raft of powder blowing up near enough to damage either of the brigantines was wishing for the moon.
‘And I agree with you,’ Pearce said, when he too had advanced that thought. ‘The aim is to give them pause. Would you sail blithely on with what amounts to bombs you cannot see going off around you?’
‘You reckon they will heave to?’
‘They must, for they will have no idea of how many there are in the water. Now I suggest that matters be put in hand at once but out of sight, for it may be that they will have good view of our deck from their tops. This has to come as a surprise so it will do no good if they can discern what we are about.’
Pearce nearly added, ‘And perhaps we will blow one of them to hell, and that will lay to the same place your damned superstitions.’ He held his tongue.
These not being tasks the warrants could undertake themselves, they had to be explained to others and it was obvious whatever doubts affected their superiors, the crew shared them. This made the work painful to watch, given it was carried out with little enthusiasm and him being below decks was seen as unwelcome. There is nothing more frustrating than the desire to interfere, to chivvy the men along, while at the same time knowing it would be likely to slow not hurry them.
Pearce had to go on deck once more, to occupy himself with a telescope, dammed hard with one good arm, seeking to give the impression that he was making fine calculations about speed and distance when it fact it was merely showing away to no purpose. Yes the Barbary brigantines were gaining, but it was not so swift that matters
Knowing Emily would speak and wishing to think he held up a restraining hand; there was scant chance of help from the conditions so he had to think of something else. If he could not evade the pursuit, how could he slow them down, which would increase the time available to make a land fall.
As of yet, nothing really serious had been done to lighten the ship; he had been waiting for darkness to act on that so as to increase the gap between him and the brigantines, which would become apparent at dawn, the idea being that the sight of the greater distance might persuade them the pursuit was useless. It was not a boundless hope, more a desperate one.
‘Mr Dorling, your presence if you please?’
The master obeyed his loud call at no great pace, as Pearce called for the gunner and the carpenter too, Emily moving to the very stern so as not to cramp them.
‘Mr Kempshall, what is the supply of slow match?’
‘Yards of it,’ Sam Kempshall replied, with something close to a sneer, the lack of any acknowledgement of Pearce’s rank very obvious but the temptation to check the man had to be put to one side. ‘Don’t use it so, seein’ as we got flintlocks?’
Pearce nodded, for slow match was only carried as a precaution against flints not working, or to cause explosions ashore when the navy went raiding. ‘And slow match burns at a steady rate, am I correct?’
‘Can be timed to near the minute.’
‘Good,’ Pearce said before turning to the master. ‘The water barrels?’
‘Empty, ‘Dorling replied, ‘and broken up.’
‘Well,’ Pearce said, addressing Brad, the second of the twins, ‘I want then reassembled and let’s have them filled with seawater to seal the seams.’
The looks he was getting were of a fellow who had lost his wits and, oddly, that cheered Pearce; he loved nothing more than confounding his fellow man and he was clearly doing so now.
‘I want bases made for rafts, to be supported by those barrels and then we will put powder and lengths of slow match upon them.’ They did not get it. ‘Do you now see, gentlemen, how we might give pause to out pursuit?’
Dorling got there first, though even he was not swift to the conclusion and when he did it was with a look of doubt that the plan would do any good. Pearce knew what he was thinking: the chances of a raft of powder blowing up near enough to damage either of the brigantines was wishing for the moon.
‘And I agree with you,’ Pearce said, when he too had advanced that thought. ‘The aim is to give them pause. Would you sail blithely on with what amounts to bombs you cannot see going off around you?’
‘You reckon they will heave to?’
‘They must, for they will have no idea of how many there are in the water. Now I suggest that matters be put in hand at once but out of sight, for it may be that they will have good view of our deck from their tops. This has to come as a surprise so it will do no good if they can discern what we are about.’
Pearce nearly added, ‘And perhaps we will blow one of them to hell, and that will lay to the same place your damned superstitions.’ He held his tongue.
These not being tasks the warrants could undertake themselves, they had to be explained to others and it was obvious whatever doubts affected their superiors, the crew shared them. This made the work painful to watch, given it was carried out with little enthusiasm and him being below decks was seen as unwelcome. There is nothing more frustrating than the desire to interfere, to chivvy the men along, while at the same time knowing it would be likely to slow not hurry them.
Pearce had to go on deck once more, to occupy himself with a telescope, dammed hard with one good arm, seeking to give the impression that he was making fine calculations about speed and distance when it fact it was merely showing away to no purpose. Yes the Barbary brigantines were gaining, but it was not so swift that matters
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