The words were swallowed in the roar as the gunner touched a piece of
burning matchrope to the cannon's firing hole. Dark smoke boiled up
from the muzzle, acrid in the fresh morning air. Moments later a plume
erupted off the bow of the English man-of-war.
Almost as though the ship had been waiting, it veered suddenly to port.
Winston realized the guns had already been run out. They'd been
prepared. Puffs of black smoke blossomed out of the upper gun deck, and
moments later a line of plumes shot up along the surf just below the
Point.
"They fired when they dipped into a swell." Canninge laughed. "English
gunnery still disappoints me."
A fearful hush dropped over the crowd, and Winston stood listening as
the sound of the guns echoed over the Point. "They probably don't
suspect we've got any trained gunners up here this morning. Otherwise
they'd never have opened fire when they're right under our ordnance."
He glanced at Bedford. "You've got their reply. What's yours?"
"I suppose there's only one answer." The governor looked back and
surveyed the waiting members of the Assembly. Several men removed their
hats and began to confer together. Moments later they looked up and
nodded. He turned back. "What can you do to her?"
"Is that authority to fire?"
"Full authority."
"Then get everybody back up the hill. Now." He watched as Bedford gave
the order and the crowd began to quickly melt away. The Irish
indentures waited behind Winston, refusing to move. He gestured a few
of the men forward, to help set the guns, then turned back to Canninge.
"Is there range?"
"Aye, just give me a minute to set the rest of these culverin."
Winston heard a rustle of skirts by his side and knew Katherine was
standing next to him. He reached out and caught her arm. "You've got a
war now, Katherine, whether you wanted it or not. It'll be the first
time a settlement in the Americas has ever fired on an English ship. I
guess that's the price you're going to have to pay for staying your own
master. But I doubt you'll manage it."
"We just might." She reached and touched the hand on her arm. Then she
turned and looked out to sea. "We have to try."
Winston glanced toward the guns. Canninge and the men had finished
turning them on the _Rainbowe_, using long wooden handspikes. Now they
were adjusting the wooden wedge at the breech of each gun to set the
altitude. "How does it look?"
"I know these eighteen-pounders, Cap'n, like I was born to one. At this
range I could line-of-sight these whoresons any place you like."
" How about just under the lower gun deck? At the water line? The
first round better count."
"Aye, that's what I've set them for." He grinned and reached for a
burning linstock. "I didn't figure we was up here to send a salute."