The King`s Commission

The boats were having a lively time of it, even inside the reefs that should have protected them from the worst of the offshore rollers that swept in, driven by a fresh Sou'east Trade Wind. They rocked bow to stern, with the oarsmen slaving away to keep them moving.

Then the first stems were grounding on the sands, and Captain Dixon was ashore and waving back at the frigates. A signal went up from Albemarle, ordering 'Cease Fire' so their broadsides would not hurt their own landing parties.

'Cease fire, Mister Cox!' Alan shouted down into the waist. 'Mister Biggs, water butts for the gunners.'

'Aye, sir,' their weasely purser replied, sounding as if he even begrudged issuing 'free' water.

'Looks like the landing is unopposed,' Alan said. 'Might be some French troops up in those woods, but they couldn't form for volleys under our fire.'

'Marines are going in, sir,' Caldwell pointed out.

Through the glass, he could see the thin red ranks form shoulder to shoulder, open out in skirmish order, lower their bayoneted muskets and start off for the interior, being swallowed up by the thick undergrowth almost at once, with the seemingly disordered packs of seamen in their mis-matched shirts following.

From then on, it was anyone's guess as to what was happening inland. There was no mast available for flag signals from the men ashore. Muskets popped, sometimes a whole squad fired by volley, and the rags of spent powder-smoke rose above the greenery, perhaps just above where they had been fired or perhaps blown through the trees before rising. It was impossible to know which side had fired, or where the true positions of whoever had done the shooting were. All in all, it didn't sound or look like much of a battle so far; just a little skirmishing and skulking, very desultorily conducted.

'Can't see a damned thing from the deck, sir,'' Caldwell growled.

'Aye,' Alan agreed. 'Nothing for it, then.'

'Oh, send the lad, do, sir. Mind your leg,' Caldwell replied, and, was it perhaps Alan's imagination, but he felt from Caldwell's tone that he was 'on to him' about his earlier malingering.

'I told the captain I was spry enough, and I am, sir,' Alan shot back, going to the main-mast shrouds. He ascended slowly, but he gained the fighting-top; though instead of trusting his leg's strength to go outboard on the futtock shrouds where he would have to dangle by fingers and toes like a fly, he took the easier path up through the lubber's-hole like a Marine or landsman.

Damme if I'm acting, he thought, massaging his thigh as it complained loudly at the demands made upon it. He sat down on the edge of the top facing inland, legs and arms threaded through the ratlines of the top-mast shrouds, and rested his telescope on one of the dead-eyes. Even from there, sixty or more feet above the deck and higher than the low hills of the island he could see nothing of note. The sun was up high enough to show him the small town on the western side, further down the coast. Was there a battery there, he asked himself, or was that a row of houses with their blank backsides to the offshore winds for comfort?

Mister Edgar came up soon after, scrambling and puffing at the exertion of ascending the shrouds (properly using the futtocks) and the concentration necessary to coordinate his body and mind to the task. He went on up past Alan to the cross-trees with the lookout, saying, 'Mister Caldwell sent me, sir,' on the way up.

As if his clumsy arrival had set events in motion, the lookout shouted not five minutes later. 'Sail ho, to seaward!'

'Where, away?' Alan demanded, getting to his feet with a thrill of dread. Perhaps Lilycrop had been right, and a French ship had come back to check up on her new base. 'Mister Cox, prepare the starboard battery to engage!'

'There, sir!' Mister Edgar called with excitement in his voice.

The ship headed for the anchorage was a brig, about five miles off, but she had the wind free and was making good progress. Perhaps a privateer or a French-what did they call them, corvette?

'Think you she's French, sir?' Edgar called down from his higher perch.

'If she is, we'll serve her like Hood did de Grasse at St. Kitts,' Alan answered him. 'Keep an eye on her, Mister Edgar.'

'Oh, I shall…' Edgar replied as Alan glanced up at him, and Alan winced and sucked in his breath as Edgar, in swiveling back to gaze seaward, almost lost his seat on the slight support of the thin timbers of the cross-tree platform. Only the lookout's quick action in grabbing the lad by the collar had saved him from a deadly tumble to the deck. 'Do have a care, Mister Edgar! Remember where you are!'

'Aye, sir,' Edgar said, red with embarrassment and fright. He put his telescope back to his eye, then looked down once more. 'One of ours, sir. Blue Ensign, and a private signal flag.'

'Saying what?' Alan demanded.

'I, un…' Edgar stammered, searching his pockets for his sheaf of notes and almost over-balancing again. 'Here it is, sir.'

Alan shared a look with the lookout while Edgar thumbed through the papers, almost losing them to the fresh winds, until he found the month's private signals. The lookout raised his eyebrows and sighed heavily, making Alan grin back at him in a moment of secret amusement.

'Admiral Barrington, sir, hired Brig O' War,' Edgar announced at last. 'Lieutenant Charles Cunningham in command.'

'Thank you, Mister Edgar. Why do you not go down to the deck and inform Mister Cox that he shall not have to engage her for now, but stand easy. I'd feel much easier with you there, sir.'

'Aye, sir.' Edgar nodded, and fumbled his way to a stay which he rode down to the quarterdeck bulwarks.

Admiral Barrington exchanged signals with Albemarle, then took course to Britain Bay, and anchored about an hour later. She was much like Shrike, a brig of only twelve guns, and from the looks of her decks, had only seventy or eighty men aboard total; not much reinforcement.

As she did so, there was more firing from inland, some volleys quite substantial, though they still couldn't see where they were coming from, or from which side. To Alan's ears, though, it sounded as if there might be more firing from higher up and inland, after a while. And more firing than about one hundred fifty French soldiers could make. There were, finally, some larger puffs of smoke and louder cracks of sound that could only come from field- pieces. So the French had artillery on the island, perhaps in some well-sited works, to deny the landing party any further progress towards the town.

Sure enough, around ten in the morning, a runner appeared on the beach and took a boat out to Albemarle to report. And a few minutes after that, small boats made their way from the flagship to the brigs. Alan slung his telescope and stepped out of the top. If his leg was quarrelsome this morning, there was nothing wrong with his arms. He rode a stay to the deck in proper sea-manly fashion, making sure to land on his good leg. Even so, the shock made his game limb twinge.

'Ahoy the boat!' Fukes called.

'Passing!' the bowman shouted.

'Ahoy, Shrike!' an officer in the stern-sheets demanded. The hands eased their stroke to loiter near her side. 'Have you an officer aboard?'

'Lieutenant Lewrie!' Alan replied, using a speaking trumpet.

'Lieutenant Bromwich, sir, second into Albemarlel Lieutenant Hinton and I are to take charge of the brigs and direct them to weigh. Captain Dixon is checked by a strong work, and requests we make a diversion with artillery opposite the town, sir. Do you need any assistance in so doing?'

Goddamn the man! Alan thought cynically. Do they think aboard Albemarle that we're cripples? 'No, sir, we shall weigh directly. I think we may cope, sir,' Alan drawled back.

'Very well, sir!'

'Mister Cox, secure from Quarters. Mister Fukes, hands to the capstans and prepare to weigh. Veer out on the stream anchor and heave in to short stays on the best and small bowers. I'll have the kedge served out for later use. Slip the stream cable once we've loosed tops'ls, and buoy it. We'll pick it up later.'

'Aye aye, sir,' Fukes replied, knuckling his thick brows.

Within half an hour, their evolutions were complete. They got up the bow anchors, and were held in check only by the smaller stream anchor off their stern. The fresh winds made the ship strain down from that anchor, and when they loosed tops'ls to put a way on her, and let slip the stream cable, they were underway and under