The Demi-Culverin
Jan Biddle's face was the image of despairing rage when he saw how he
had been outwitted. But he stuck gamely to the helm. The _Mirandola_
was now carrying every stitch of canvas possible; her only chance, and
that but a slight one, was to fly on before the wind. Dennis was
tingling with excitement. Here was the bark, cutting through the water
at a spanking rate; there the larger galleon, speeding after her under
press of sail, and two other vessels equally large coming up from the
south. He had forgotten that he was a prisoner--forgotten everything
but the fact that the implacable enemy was at his heels.
Suddenly he saw the galleon luff up in the wind, and noticed a lift of
the foresail.
"Now she's at us!" cried Amos at his elbow, scarcely less excited.
From the bows of the galleon came a spout of white smoke, blown back
amid the sails and rigging, and disappearing in a long wispy trail to
leeward. The report of the gun followed close, and the shot plumped
into the sea less than twenty yards astern.
"Be jowned if it do not put me in mind of brave doings on the _Anne
Gallant_" said Turnpenny. "'Twas well aimed; an they get our range,
'tis heigh for our pearls and pieces of eight!"
A second shot came, falling about the same distance short of the mark.
A third and fourth followed at intervals, neither hitting the vessel,
each failure greeted with a yell from the crew, who seemed now to have
lost their terror in the sheer excitement of the chase. On swept the
gallant _Mirandola_, showers of spray flashing over her bows, her
slender masts swaying and creaking under the stress of her bellying
canvas. Then a shot whistled over the masthead.
"Too high, too high!" shouted Amos. "She's got our range now, to a
surety; would they but depress the gun and our cockle-shell would be
shivered to splinters. Jan Biddle be a better man than I took him for;
see the sinews of his arms as he grips the helm. My heart! but he be a
mazy Jack to think he can 'scape that tantarabobs. Ah!"
His final exclamation was occasioned by the effect of another shot from
the enemy's bow-chaser. It struck the taffrail, and cast up a huge
splinter which flew straight across the poop. Next moment Jan Biddle
was stretched senseless beside the helm, and the helm taking charge,
the ship ran off before the wind. The crew were aghast. Biddle was
their captain, but he was more; he was the soul of their enterprise.
Without him they were as a flock of sheep. Not a man of them was fit
to direct. Some cried out for surrendering; the bolder spirits howled
them down, swearing it were better to sink with the ship than to return
to the servitude from which they had but lately escaped. When Biddle
fell, Amos, with the instinct of the mariner, had rushed towards the
unmanned helm.
"Sir, 'tis our turn," he called to Dennis. "Let us do what we can to
save this vessel, and od-rabbit the mutineers!"
He leapt to the helm, seized it in his iron grip, and brought the ship
once more to the wind.
"See!" said Dennis at his side. "Yonder streak on the horizon is
surely the mainland. Is not our only chance to win the coast? We
cannot escape by mere sailing, but there will be shallows amid which
perchance we may slip away as at Maiden Isle. Shall we not attempt it,
Amos?"
"Ay, ay, sir. We'll run inshore, and methinks I know a trick will help
us."
At this moment another shot fell and ploughed up the deck, striking up
a shower of splinters in all directions. Again arose cries for
surrender; but Dennis shouted to the frantic men:
"Amos is at the helm. Trust to him. Remember what he did at the fort.
Never surrender to the dogs of Spain. We will 'scape them even yet."
At his words they plucked up heart; all they wanted was a leader; and
when Turnpenny declared that land was in sight, and that he'd be jowned
if he didn't cheat the don Spaniards, they answered with a cheer.
Outclassed as the _Mirandola_ was in sailing before the wind, it
occurred to Amos that she might show to better advantage in working to
windward. Accordingly he altered her course a few points. The
immediate effect was that the enemy gained a little, and with a broader
target succeeded twice in hulling the vessel. Apparently the shots did
little damage, for she still rode the waters buoyantly, and after some
time, to the joy of the crew, it was seen that the gap between the two
ships was sensibly widening. But now a more serious danger threatened
the gallant bark. The second of the enemy's vessels, which was some
distance to windward when the mist lifted, was rapidly making towards a
point where she might intercept the _Mirandola_ and drive her back
towards the galleon which she had just escaped. Turnpenny's seamanship
was capable of no more. To tack would have been to run into the lion's
jaws; to bear up would have been equally hopeless; all he could do was
to stand on, and possibly weather the vessel ahead.
He explained the difficulty to Dennis, who was still at his side.
Dennis knew no trick of navigation that would meet the case; but
racking his wits to find some means of helping the hardy mariner, he
suddenly asked himself whether it were not possible to use one of the
guns he had brought as trophies from the fort. They were big guns,
quite disproportionate to so small a vessel as the _Mirandola_. To
fire them might do more damage to her than to the enemy. But it was a
moment when something might well be risked, and he mentioned his idea
to Turnpenny.
"Good-now, 'tis a brave notion!" cried the mariner. "Do 'ee grab the
helm, sir; head her straight for the coast; Ise warrant 'ee I'll soon
give the villain a mouthful of iron."
Amos rushed amidships, called all the crew about him, set some of them
to rig up the tackle blocks by which the weapons had been lowered into
the hold, and himself knocked off the hatch and descended. His first
proceeding was to unloose William Hawk and Luke Fenton, the two men who
had been surprised by the mutineers, and had since lain side by side in
no enviable state of mind or body.
"Od rabbit 'ee for a brace of numskulls!" he exclaimed. "Get 'ee up
and come show a leg, now."
With their assistance he slung the demi-culverin by its pomelion, and
the men above hoisted it to the deck; the carriage followed, then its
ammunition, and Amos set about mounting it. There was no time to lug
it to the quarter-deck. Amos ordered the men to place the carriage,
consisting of two "cheeks" or side-pieces held together by thick
cross-pieces of wood, on the waist; then the cannon was slung on to it,
the clamps were fixed over the trunnions, and a quoin was driven under
the gun to prevent it from sagging towards the breech. When mounted on
the fort it had not been secured by breechings, but Amos quickly made
ready a length of stout rope, fastened one end to the gun, and clinched
the other to ring-bolts in the vessel's side. This would check the
recoil when the gun was fired.
Amos was now in his element. He had not been for nothing gunner's mate
aboard the _Anne Gallant_ twenty-five years before. He lost no time in
loading the piece with round shot; then, all being ready, he ran back
to instruct Dennis how to bring the vessel round when he gave the word.
He found that Biddle, who had merely been stunned by the flying
splinter, was now sitting with his back against the taffrail, watching
these proceedings in a sullen envy.
"The Spaniard will draw closer when we yaw, sir," said Amos, "but that
we cannot help; and 'tis a mercy we are out of range of her bow-chaser."
"Is she not beyond range of our gun, Amos?"
"Nare a bit, sir. Our demi-culverin is bigger, I'se warrant, than any
gun she has aboard. Point-blank her range be a hundred fathoms; but I
reckon I can hit the knave at six hundred at the least. Put the helm
down when I call, and then I'll send an apple aboard will be ill to
digest."
He returned to the gun, and sang out to Dennis; he put the helm down,
the vessel yawed, and when she lay broadside to the pursuer, Amos
carefully laid the piece, aiming directly at the fore-mast. He waited
till the vessel rose on the next wave, then gave the word to William
Hawk, who stood by the breech with lighted match. The match was
applied; there was a deafening roar, followed by a sound of rending;
the _Mirandola_ quivered from stem to stern; and through the smoke it
was seen that the gun had jumped clean out of the carriage and was
lying against the step of the mainmast. Amos ran to it in haste,
fearing that it might have burst in the discharge. But it was
uninjured. Several planks amidships had been started; the mainmast was
heavily scored; and a number of round shot were rolling about the
waist. Amos shouted to the men to remount the gun and sponge it out,
while he ran to the side to see what the effect of the shot had been,
calling to Dennis to put the helm up again and head the vessel on her
former course.
The smoke had cleared away, and Amos saw that the pursuer had gained
considerably, and was still coming on apparently undamaged. But a few
minutes later he uttered a shout of glee. There was a bustle in the
forepart of the Spanish ship; men were crowding to the gunwale; and
Amos perceived that they were letting a sail down over the side.
"I hit her betwixt wind and water," he cried to Dennis. "They are
letting down a sail to stop the leak. True, I aimed at the foremast,
but she rose somewhat quicker than I did guess and so 'scaped with a
hulling."
"But she has gained on us, Amos. The hurt she has suffered does not
abate her speed."
"Truly, so it is, but I will give her another so soon as the gun is
righted, and call me a joulter-head an I do not deal her such a blow
that she'll tottle like a man fair buddled."
Dennis called to Luke Fenton to take the helm, while he went forward to
scan the horizon for the hazy streak which he had taken, half an hour
before, for the shore-line. He had barely reached the cut-water when
he heard the roar of a gun and the sound of a crashing blow. For an
instant the vessel's head fell off, and turning hastily he saw Jan
Biddle rushing to the helm. A round shot from the enemy's bow-chaser
had fallen smack upon the poop, smashing the binnacle, and killing poor
Fenton instantly. Only Biddle's prompt action had saved the ship from
yawing and presenting her broadside to the pursuer.
Seeing that the helm was in safe hands, Dennis turned once more and
glanced anxiously towards the shore, which was now beginning to loom
large to windward. Was it possible, he wondered, to reach it before he
could be cut off by the second Spanish vessel? He measured the
distance with his eye, and his heart sank as he perceived that, if she
held her present course, the Spaniard could not fail to run across the
bows of the _Mirandola_ long before she could gain the coast. It
seemed that he must choose between surrendering and fighting against
heavy odds. But certainly one ship would be easier to deal with than
two; might not another fortunate shot from the demi-culverin cripple
the vessel in chase, and so enable the _Mirandola_ to get away from one
of her pursuers? Dennis did not forget that there was still a third
vessel somewhere to leeward, but she was at present out of sight.
By this time the gun had been righted and reloaded. Dennis hastened to
rejoin Amos.
"Shall I take the helm again, or leave it to Biddle?" he asked.
"Fegs, I say leave it to him, and do 'ee take the match, sir. I'se
warrant 'ee'd be quicker than Billy Hawk. Biddle will port the helm
when I give the word; he hates you and me, but he hates the Spaniards
worse."
This time the gun had been loaded with chain shot. At a hail from
Amos, Biddle put the helm down, the vessel swung round, and as soon as
she was broadside to the enemy Amos carefully laid the gun, loosening
the quoin, and thereby elevating the muzzle, which he pointed straight
for the pursuer's foremast. But the enemy was now more alert. At the
first sign of the _Mirandola_ yawing the galleon began to swing round
by the stern, so that the two vessels came broadside on within a few
moments of each other. Those few moments gave time for Amos to resight
his gun. Dennis stood ready, match in hand.
"Now!" said the mariner, as the _Mirandola_ sank on the roll while the
galleon rose.
The gun spoke. Only a second or two later it seemed to the crew of the
_Mirandola_ that the end of all things must have come. With a
thunderous roar the whole broadside of the enemy burst upon them. Some
of the enemy's shots passed clean over the smaller vessel; her masts
almost miraculously escaped harm, but her hull was struck in half a
dozen places, and her long-boat splintered to atoms. And the big gun,
breaking loose from its extemporized breechings, recoiled obliquely
across the waist, smashed through the forecastle, and plunged with a
resounding splash into the sea. Some of the men were groaning in pain;
the Frenchmen were flat on their faces beseeching their saints; Dennis
found himself in a heap by the break of the poop; for the moment Amos
was not to be seen.
Dennis picked himself up and peered through the smoke to see whether
the enemy had suffered any hurt. To his joy he saw that both the
foremast and the mainmast of the galleon had been shattered.
Turnpenny's shot had cut away the shrouds of the foremast, causing this
to snap off, and struck the mainmast fair and square. The enemy's
decks were smothered under a medley of spars and rigging; it was clear
that the galleon was out of action, and already the _Mirandola_ was
rapidly drawing away. This her crew perceived, and the air was rent
with a tremendous shout of triumph.
But their exultation was short-lived. Half a minute later Amos came up
the hatchway and hurried aft.
"Sir, there be three terrible rents in the hull below water. I feared
as much when I felt the shots strike the vessel. The galleon's masts
must have fallen just as the knaves were a-firing, and so the most of
her shots struck us low."
"Can we stop the leaks?"
"I fear, I fear! But we'll try."
In a few minutes a sail was lowered over the side, and at the same time
two of the men ran below and tried to stop the leaks from within. But
in spite of all efforts the water gained, and in the course of half an
hour it was plain to all on board that the vessel must founder unless
she could be run ashore in time.
While the men were still doing their best to check the inrush of the
water, Dennis and Turnpenny went forward to calculate their chances.
"'Tis a good ten mile away," said Turnpenny, "and we be going slower
every minute."
"True. But see, the other vessel yonder, that might have cut us off,
has altered her course. She is standing to her consort's aid."
"God be praised for that, but I fear we shall be water-logged in no
long time, and then she can overhaul us at her ease. In an hour we
must take to the jollyboat. 'Tis a God's mercy that was not smashed up
like the long-boat."
"Then we'll put our stores aboard her at once, so that we lose no time
when the moment comes. And I do not give up hope, even now, of running
the bark ashore."
But in half an hour it was clear that the case was hopeless. The men
came running from below with the news that the water was gaining more
and more rapidly; the vessel was settling down; her motion had almost
ceased. And the situation was rendered the more alarming by the fact
that during this half-hour the uninjured galleon, having found
apparently that her consort was in no immediate danger of sinking, had
again altered her course and was now in hot pursuit. It was to be a
race to the shore.
The jolly-boat had already been stored with provisions, water, and a
number of calivers with their ammunition. At the last moment Dennis
and Turnpenny brought from below the bags of pearls from the cabin in
which they had been locked. Then Dennis ordered the boat to be
lowered, the crew quickly went down the side and entered her. Two of
the men had been so badly hurt by the enemy's shot that they had to be
lowered into the boat. Fenton was dead, so that the whole effective
company now numbered only nine men. The wounded men were laid in the
bows, Dennis took the tiller, and the remaining eight gave way with a
will, knowing that hanging would be their mildest fate if they fell
again into the enemy's hands.