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Authors: David Donachie
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the match had been extinguished by a freak wave. They would never know and slowly the deck cleared as the men went below to their slumbers, or in some cases to their rumblings of discontent.
Pearce lay in his cabin, still stifling from the daytime heat, listening to Emily’s even breathing. If he had succeeded in what looked like a hare-brained enterprise, how would that affect the crew? Would wiser counsels overcome the Jeremiahs predicting doom and would the level of trust they had in him be on the way to being restored? On consideration he doubted it; only when they were in a safe harbour would anything of that nature happen and perhaps not even then.
He was on deck before anyone was roused out, there to see the gun crews man their cannon as was required, though this time Pearce had ordered them loaded with powder and shot and the flintlocks put in place – normally a precaution avoided given the worming of a loaded cannon was time-consuming and wasteful. It was always silent on deck at dawn, yet this time it seemed oppressive as the first hint of light began to grey the eastern horizon.
Slowly it spread towards them and no cry came fromthe masthead. Then the first tint of gold began to appear, swiftly rising until it filled the sky with deep blue, that fading to duck egg as it rose. Still no cry came from aloft and that lasted until they could say with certainty the sun was full up. Pearce began to feel his chest hurt, so much was he holding his breath and he released it in a thankful sigh; he had humbugged his enemies!
‘Sail Ho!’
That cry dashed his hopes and that of all on deck, every one of whom was looking to see how he would react as the cry came to tell of the second enemy still on their tail, with Pearce forced to remind himself that the aim had never been to lose the pursuit but to delay it.
‘Have we made any gain?’ he shouted.
‘Hard to tell, Capt’n,’ came the reply.
This was nonsense; either those brigantines were as close as they had been the day before or not, indeed, if they had not hauled their wind they should be much closer. Again he was prevented from doing what he needed by his dammed arm and he had to make a call that he would rather have avoided.
‘Mr Dorling, will you please go aloft and tell me if the chase is as close as it should be? Indeed have they gained on us at all?’ Looking around the deck he then shouted. ‘The rest of you get about your duties.’
‘You’re going to hell, Pearce, and taking us with you.’
Having turned away, Pearce could not place the voice when he spun back, for every head was down and the order he had just given was being carried out. The guns were being run in to be wormed, the balls removed and the barrels cleaned. To stand and stare, to glare and let his furyshow would do no good and he fought to make his tone humorous.
‘Lucifer may be looking for your company, fellow, but he will scarce want mine for fear he might lose his kingdom.’
One or two laughed, not enough but at least some kind of reassurance that not everyone was wholly taken in. Dorling came to his aid when he called down that the enemy had lost way overnight; they were further off now than they had been at dusk, so his ploy had worked. That occasioned some nodding heads and a few looks at the quarterdeck that did not have within them any hint of animosity. But it was not all and, for once, upset by that shouted prediction, Pearce did nothing to supress the bile that rose within him.
‘It is my intention to get us to safety, lads, that I will do despite the wiles of Satan and his naysayers. When I do, I promise you this. I will find out who it is has been spreading falsehoods and then they will discover that I am not the kindly soul you reckon me to be, for the sight you will see is their back entirely lacking in skin! I will have them flogged round the fleet for stirring up mutiny.’
CHAPTER FIVE
If there had been a gain it did not seem to persist for long and
Pearce lay in his cabin, still stifling from the daytime heat, listening to Emily’s even breathing. If he had succeeded in what looked like a hare-brained enterprise, how would that affect the crew? Would wiser counsels overcome the Jeremiahs predicting doom and would the level of trust they had in him be on the way to being restored? On consideration he doubted it; only when they were in a safe harbour would anything of that nature happen and perhaps not even then.
He was on deck before anyone was roused out, there to see the gun crews man their cannon as was required, though this time Pearce had ordered them loaded with powder and shot and the flintlocks put in place – normally a precaution avoided given the worming of a loaded cannon was time-consuming and wasteful. It was always silent on deck at dawn, yet this time it seemed oppressive as the first hint of light began to grey the eastern horizon.
Slowly it spread towards them and no cry came fromthe masthead. Then the first tint of gold began to appear, swiftly rising until it filled the sky with deep blue, that fading to duck egg as it rose. Still no cry came from aloft and that lasted until they could say with certainty the sun was full up. Pearce began to feel his chest hurt, so much was he holding his breath and he released it in a thankful sigh; he had humbugged his enemies!
‘Sail Ho!’
That cry dashed his hopes and that of all on deck, every one of whom was looking to see how he would react as the cry came to tell of the second enemy still on their tail, with Pearce forced to remind himself that the aim had never been to lose the pursuit but to delay it.
‘Have we made any gain?’ he shouted.
‘Hard to tell, Capt’n,’ came the reply.
This was nonsense; either those brigantines were as close as they had been the day before or not, indeed, if they had not hauled their wind they should be much closer. Again he was prevented from doing what he needed by his dammed arm and he had to make a call that he would rather have avoided.
‘Mr Dorling, will you please go aloft and tell me if the chase is as close as it should be? Indeed have they gained on us at all?’ Looking around the deck he then shouted. ‘The rest of you get about your duties.’
‘You’re going to hell, Pearce, and taking us with you.’
Having turned away, Pearce could not place the voice when he spun back, for every head was down and the order he had just given was being carried out. The guns were being run in to be wormed, the balls removed and the barrels cleaned. To stand and stare, to glare and let his furyshow would do no good and he fought to make his tone humorous.
‘Lucifer may be looking for your company, fellow, but he will scarce want mine for fear he might lose his kingdom.’
One or two laughed, not enough but at least some kind of reassurance that not everyone was wholly taken in. Dorling came to his aid when he called down that the enemy had lost way overnight; they were further off now than they had been at dusk, so his ploy had worked. That occasioned some nodding heads and a few looks at the quarterdeck that did not have within them any hint of animosity. But it was not all and, for once, upset by that shouted prediction, Pearce did nothing to supress the bile that rose within him.
‘It is my intention to get us to safety, lads, that I will do despite the wiles of Satan and his naysayers. When I do, I promise you this. I will find out who it is has been spreading falsehoods and then they will discover that I am not the kindly soul you reckon me to be, for the sight you will see is their back entirely lacking in skin! I will have them flogged round the fleet for stirring up mutiny.’
CHAPTER FIVE
If there had been a gain it did not seem to persist for long and
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