Day of Deliverance

lined up in turn to pummel the San Martin. They now saw other ships of the Armada rallying to protect the San Martin, but the English cannons pounded relentlessly in a progressive rumble as the cannons fired successively along the length of each ship.

Suddenly, a round of chain shot from a Spanish ship spun through the upper rigging of The Revenge. It hit the upper mast and sliced through the rope that tethered the crow’s nest. Jack and Angus felt the barrel lurch violently as the securing ropes fell away. The barrel inverted itself, although somehow it remained hanging by a single thread. Jack and Angus could do nothing to save themselves. Sliding out of the upturned barrel, Angus was propelled through empty space, but before he could reach any speed, he slammed into a cross-spar that broke his fall. He clawed desperately at a flapping rope secured from the mast above, which he finally managed to reach and cling on to. But then, a second shot shredded the cross-spar, which promptly collapsed, leaving Angus suspended in the rigging, twenty metres up, swinging from side to side like a human pendulum.

Jack was only slightly luckier. As he was launched deckwards, the furious assault from the Spanish ship dislodged the upper gallant and its huge billowing sail floated seawards like a giant parachute. Jack, accelerating rapidly through the air, landed square on top of the rolling canvas as it floated down. The sail deposited him gracefully on the foredeck of The Revenge, before folding in on itself and floating gently into the sea. Jack had no time to reflect on his incredible escape. The deck of The Revenge was alive with men fighting for their lives. He craned his neck upwards, searching the rigging for any sign of Angus, but he could see nothing.

“You there!” a man shouted. “Gun deck!”

With no time to think, Jack found himself being bundled below. The gun deck was a single, low-ceilinged cavern. The massive trunks of the ship’s masts passed directly through it, rising from the floor and up through the roof. Inside the gun deck, Jack could see that every timber was black with spent powder. There were huge iron guns decorated with coats of arms, which rested on massive carriages held on wheels cut from whole sections of tree trunk. The oak planking around them was grooved where the guns had been run in and out time and again. Piles of shot and cartridges of black powder were stacked in the lockers by the guns alongside ramrods, powder scoops and match cord. Suddenly, a cannon ball from a Spanish ship ripped though the planking of the gun deck, unleashing a blizzard of splinters. Jack saw one man collapse, impaled by a shard of wood. But his comrades kept grimly to the routine of their work. As the men sweated, the master gunners barked orders. It was a scene from hell, and Jack knew that if he stayed he would die. Nobody noticed as he bolted back up on deck.

But the deck of The Revenge was more nightmarish than the scene below. Jack gagged on the smell of gunpowder, which was heavy in the air. The smoke from the guns cloaked the water in great billows of dark mist causing ships to appear and disappear like hulking beasts. The bodies of the injured and dying lay across the deck of The Revenge, but it was nothing compared to the damage to the Spanish ships. Some ships were close and Jack could see that their sails were tattered and torn and their splintered decks strewn with the dead, blood pouring from the scuppers as they heeled in the wind.

“Down here!”

Jack swivelled round. “Angus!”

“How did you…?”

“Never mind about that. I found the others — come on!”

Jack followed Angus into the aft-castle of The Revenge and down into the captain’s cabin. It was strewn with broken furniture, books and the half-emptied bags that Jack had seen at the safe house. Tony was near the shattered rear windows wrestling with some sort of large tubular device. To one side, Joplin knelt by Gordon, who groaned in pain.

“What happened to him?” Jack asked.

“Gun shot — got him in the shoulder,” Joplin said. “Keep your heads down — the cabin has already been hit twice.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Think so — if we can get him home quickly while we still have the time signal.” Joplin nodded towards Tony. “But you two need to help over there — we’ve got a problem.”

Then Jack heard it. Over the sound of the cannon, gun fire and sailors’ cries, they could hear the shrill whine of an aircraft engine and a loud mechanical whirring. Jack and Angus peered gingerly through the windows at the rear of the captain’s cabin. Emerging from the billowing clouds of gun smoke, a black military helicopter appeared, hovering a mere ten metres above the water. The machine was utterly incongruous with the great sailing ships of the Armada.

Joplin had said that Pendelshape would require a ‘decisive military advantage’ to defeat the English fleet and give the Spanish the naval superiority they would need to stage the invasion of England. It was now clear how that advantage would be achieved and how the Armada would snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. In a final throw of the dice, Pendelshape was about to give Philip II his day of deliverance and change the course of history for ever.

“What is that?” Jack said.

“Helicopter gun-ship,” Tony answered. “Pendelshape and the Revisionists have transported it back on the time signal. We got here at the right time.”

“It’s a what?”

“A Westland WAH-64 Apache — the British army version. It’s got the Rolls-Royce engines, a chain gun that will fire over six hundred rounds a minute, and those pods on the side carry hellfire and CRV7 rockets. It’s a beast,” Angus said in admiration.

“Never mind that — Pendelshape is inside with a co-pilot and God knows what else. We haven’t got much time before he takes out the whole of the English fleet — and us with it.”

Jack and Angus looked at the strange device that Tony was wrestling with as he spoke. It was like a fat steel tube. There was a large sight attached to the top and a trigger underneath.

“What is that thing? Looks like a bazooka.”

“It’s a MANPAD,” Tony said.

“Is that a real word?”

“Does it really matter?” Tony replied in frustration. “It’s a Man Portable Air Defence System. One of the toys we brought back with us. There…” Tony said triumphantly, “we’re ready.”

Angus nodded through the window. “Well, I hope so, because we have incoming.”

The helicopter pirouetted on its vertical axis, sniffing out its first prey. The English flagship seemed a good place to start and the machine was directly level with the stern of The Revenge. Suddenly, the chain gun hanging from its belly exploded into life and bullets ripped into the upper part of the cabin unleashing a blizzard of splinters over the heads of Jack and Angus, who hugged the floor. Tony was not so lucky. One second he was holding the MANPAD by the window, the next he was gone — flung from one side of the cabin to the other by a single round from the helicopter gun. He lay on the floor, clutching his upper arm, cursing bitterly. The firing stopped and the helicopter hung in the air, gathering itself for a final assault. Jack and Angus rushed over to help Tony.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Get him before he kills us all.”

Angus rushed back, grabbed the launcher and heaved it up onto his shoulder. He staggered towards the window, which had been completely obliterated by the storm of bullets. He aimed at the helicopter, closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Jack was now at his side and they could both see the helicopter inching forward for the final kill.

“I think you need to switch it on.”

Jack flicked a switch on the side of the launcher and it hummed into life.

This time, Angus kept his eyes open and aimed. He fired and the rocket fizzed from the muzzle of the launcher and smashed into the housing beneath the rotor blades. There was an explosion, but then the smoke cleared and, incredibly, the helicopter was hanging in the air.

In desperation, Jack turned to Tony at the back of the cabin. “He’s still there!”

But then the tone of the engine changed and the rhythmic whirring of the blades seemed to falter and slow