For My Country’s Freedom

Pride and fear, comradeship. He bit his lip. If the worst happened, some of the pressed men might try to surrender. He realised with a start that he was unarmed except for his hanger, which his father had presented to him when he had joined Anemone.

'This will serve you well, my boy, as will your fine young captain!' What would his father think now?

He saw the captain raise his glass to study the other ship, to gauge her approach, the moment of embrace.

Adam said, 'I see him, Dick. It is Nathan Beer right enough. Be ready to put the best marksmen aloft. There may not be much time.' Hudson was about to hurry away when something in the captain’s voice made him turn back.

'If I fall, fight the ship with everything you have.' He looked up at the White Ensign streaming from the peak. 'We’ve done so much… together.'

As he walked around the upper deck Hudson was struck not by the tension, but by the air of resignation. Anemone was fast. If she could break off contact she might easily lose the Yankee when dusk came. Where was the point in fighting and dying for a handful of poxy merchantmen? Hudson was young, but he had heard that sentiment expressed often enough.

He paused by Vicary, who said quietly, 'She’s big.'

'Aye. But Captain Bolitho is just as experienced as this Commodore Beer I keep hearing about.' He clapped him on the arm and felt him jump.

Vicary glanced at the nearest gun crew as they crouched below the gangway behind their sealed port. 'Are you not afraid?'

Hudson considered it, his eyes never leaving the oncoming pyramid of sails. 'I’m more afraid of showing it, Philip.'

Vicary held out his hand, as if they had just met in a street or country lane in England. 'Then I’ll not let you down, Richard.' He stared beyond the vibrating shrouds to the empty blue sky. 'Though I fear I’ll not see another day.'

Hudson returned to the quarterdeck, his friend’s words hanging in his mind like an epitaph.

Adam said to him, 'Pass the word. Just as we discussed it. We will come about and lay her on the starboard tack. Do they all understand?'

'Those who count, sir.'

Surprisingly, Adam grinned, his teeth very white in his face. 'By God, Dick, we shall need everybody, even that oaf Baldwin, stinking of rum in the sickbay though he might be!'

Hudson loosened his hanger and murmured, 'Good luck, sir.'

Adam licked his lips and said, 'I am as dry as dust!' Then he stooped slightly to stare along the quarterdeck rail, using it like a ruler as Unity’s long jib-boom appeared around the tightly packed hammock nettings for the first time.

'Ready ho! Put the helm down!'

'Helm’s a’lee, sir!'

Even as the ship tilted to the thrust of wind and rudder Adam found time to see one of the marines, kneeling beside the hammocks with his long Brown Bess propped beside him, turn to stare at his captain.

'Open the ports!'

As one, the gunport-lids were hoisted on both sides of the ship, the gun crews already ready at the tackle falls, staring aft for the order.

'Run out!'

Like squealing pigs each carriage was hauled smartly to the side, the black muzzles pointing at empty sea and sky while Anemone continued to bear round across the wind.

'Mainsail haul!'

Adam strode across the tilting deck as the waiting marines swarmed up the shrouds and ratlines to the fighting-tops on each mast.

We did it! We did it!

Instead of being on Anemone’s quarter, the big frigate was sliding past the bowsprit, her sails in confusion as she prepared to follow suit. She was running up two additional ensigns. Beer had not been completely unprepared.

'Steady! Hold her!'

'Steady as she goes, sir! Sou’-west by west!'

Adam stared until his eyes felt raw. 'On the up-roll!'

Without taking his eyes from Unity he could picture each gun captain looking aft, watching his raised fist, every man with his trigger-line bar-taut.

'Fire!'

The ship shook as if she had run aground, as the guns hurled themselves inboard on their tackles and smoke funnelled through each of the starboard ports.

All tension was gone in an instant. Whooping like madmen, the gun crews threw themselves into the drill over which they had cursed and sweated for months.

'Stop your vents! Sponge out! Load! Run out!'

The gun was God. Nothing else mattered, and each man in a crew had learned the hard way.

Arms reached up through the drifting smoke. 'Ready!'

But Adam was watching the other ship. The range was about a mile and a half, too far for certain accuracy. But he had seen Unity ’s sails jerking or carrying away as the broadside had hissed over the water and raked her like a deathly wind.

Adam raised his fist. It was working. Three shots every two minutes.

'Fire!'

Wreckage splashed around Unity’s bows as she continued to come around. Smaller weapons were firing from her forecastle and Adam glanced at the main course as a black-rimmed hole smacked through the canvas.

Now Unity was lying across the starboard quarter and continuing to turn, gathering speed as her topmen fought to set the royals on her for extra speed. Not that she needed it.

'Fire!'

Adam grasped the rail as gun by gun the American began to retaliate. With so many pressed men in the English ships, Beer had probably been surprised by Anemone’s agility and confidence.

He winced as he felt the iron smashing into the hull or through the rigging overhead. The boatswain and his crew were running this way and that, marlin spikes and spare cordage already being put to good use. Unity still held the advantage. If Anemone stood away downwind to obtain more distance, Beer would send a full broadside through her stern. If their positions remained the same it was only a matter of time, gun for gun.

'Fire!'

Anemones one advantage was that, by being downwind, her guns could be elevated to the maximum. Every ball was finding a target; and there were wild cheers as the American’s forecastle was blasted into splinters, and one of her bow-chasers was hurled aside on to its crew.

The deck shuddered violently as the quarterdeck nettings were cut to pieces, and scorched and slashed hammocks were flung

across screaming marines who were tossed aside like bloody rags.

Adam pulled a seaman to his feet. 'Get to it, lad!' But the man stared at him emptily as if his mind had completely cracked.

Hudson, hatless, his hanger already drawn, hurried aft. 'Grapeshot, sir!'

'Aye.' Adam wiped his mouth, although it was so dry he could barely swallow. 'He’s a confident one not to use his heavier metal at this range!'

The ship lurched again and he saw two guns upended, tendrils of blood running across the deck where the crews had been cut down.

'Stand-to!' The third lieutenant clapped his hands to his chest and fell kicking to the deck. Vicary jumped forward to take his place. 'Fire as you bear!'