Mr. Paul stammered. "I thought you said, sir—"
"I said," Barney growled, "to assemble all available crewmen, issue rifles and send them aft. Get them down out of there!"
The men slid down onto the deck. The last one had no sooner hit the deck than the corvette's fore guns roared. Low shots ploughed through the mizzen sails, bringing two spars hurtling down onto the deck.
"What the hell were you doing, Mr. Paul? Running a shooting galleon for the British?" Barney watched as the wreckage was quickly cleared away. The dawn was almost upon them. The corvette was
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narrowing the distance between the two ships rapidly now. In five minutes she would be on them. Her guns roared again, sending a section of the rail across the deck. The "Pomona" shook.
"Now you may send the men aloft, Mr. Paul," Barney said.
Joshua's hands were tight around the rifle. He began his climb. He could see now, plainly. All sails set, the corvette was dipping gracefully as she came toward her prey. As he climbed higher, Joshua saw the men massed on her forecastle; men ready for boarding. Then Barney had been right. Joshua's heart pounded. He swung over a yardarm and perched there.
Twenty feet separated the two ships. There was not a sound aboard the "Pomona." She fled on, before superior strength. But she couldn't escape. Ten feet separated the two ships. In a minute the command aboard the Britisher to heave the grappling irons would come. Joshua could see them. And there must be two hundred men massed for boarding fifteen feet from him.
There was a sudden shock as the two ships touched, prow to stem. At the same moment the most awful sound rent the air. The three-pounder strained madly as she poured forth her ammunition. The crowbars flew into the massed men almost under her nose. Then whizzing grapeshot, murderous, poured into the massed boarders. Joshua calmly sighted down the barrel of his rifle at the face of a man only eighteen feet away whose eyes were bulging from surprise and fear. Joshua heard, as though far away, the firing of the men around him as they poured lead into the men so near them. Barney had reloaded the gun; it raked the enemy forecastle again, spitting death.
Screams rose from the corvette's forecastle. It was emptying fast, as the officers shouted vainly. The corvette's jibs were hit; they tangled and fell into wrecked spars and torn canvas. All the foresails and weather shrouds were cut away. Joshua brought down an officer with his next shot. He could hear even above the cries of wounded men the orders aboard the corvette. As he was loading the rifle again, he remembered what Barney had said. The corvette was going to do just as he had said; she was being compelled to wear to save the foremast. Joshua fired again. As he did he felt the "Pomona" shake with the explosion of her own guns, in a blazing broadside that caught the corvette full in her helpless position. The sound had not died away when Barney's voice cut through.
"Hard to starboard!"
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The "Pomona" heeled. Viciously she was eager to come about. Her larboard guns raked the corvette with another full broadside. Frantically Joshua reloaded. He fired once more at the receding corvette. It was his last shot. The "Pomona" was pulling away fast from the scene of her victory, leaving behind her a crippled ship.
For a moment Joshua sat there, on the yard, unable to believe it was over. He was sorry it was over. He looked reluctantly at the gun in his hands. He looked at the corvette. Was she listing, or did he want to think she was? He climbed down onto the deck. The crew were all yelling madly. They were cheering and dancing up and down. They had not lost a man; they had hardly a scratch to show for the swift encounter. They were almost out of control.
Barney let them go without reproval, as he stood there, his back to the three-pounder, his pistols in hand with smoke still curling from them. He waved them. The men yelled harder. Barney raised his voice.
"A ration of grog to every man!"
There was another cheer and then, drawn by the magical lure of grog, the boatswain could get his men to listen.
Joshua took a last look at the corvette. He realized it would be the height of folly to expose the "Pomona" to her heavy guns again. All that could possibly be done had been done. He walked toward Barney, still carrying the rifle.
Joshua didn't know what to say. Dimly on the horizon he could see the Delaware Capes. They were almost home. He heard Barney say:
"You may lower the colors, Mr. Paul." Joshua watched as the flag came slowly down. He watched as Mr. Paul handed the stars and stripes to Barney. He held out the rifle.
"I guess I don't need this any more," he said.
It was not easy to go back to being a merchant again.
PART TWO
Chapter 12
ABSOLOM JONES HEARD THE KNOCKS PLAINLY, soft though they were. He hurried to the door. It was an early hour, too early to call. The man outside might be the bearer of an important message.
It was therefore with surprise that he regarded the morning visitor. He stood for a moment, speechless, his dark face puzzled. He scratched his woolly curls.
"Bon jour," said the visitor.
Absolom bhnked. "Yes?" he asked.
"I intend good morning. I speak with no thinking." The smile that accompanied this sentence changed suddenly into a sigh. She asked, "Should I come to that door?" She pointed to the back panel.
"Why," began Absolom, and hesitated. She was wearing a very plain woolen cloak of some grey stuff. Beside her on the step rested a brassbound box. "You come to see the captain? You know him?"
Her blue eyes looked into his with solemnity. "No," she admitted. Then she blurted, "May I see him?"
Absolom swallowed. He leaned over and picked up the box. "Come in," he muttered. He closed the door, and found himself alone with the stranger in the familiar hall. The big clock chimed eight. "Wait here, please."
Under the wide staircase was a door that opened on a pair of curving steps. He had to bend his head to negotiate the turn. At the foot of the steps, he paused and turned his head. She was right behind him.
"I told you to wait."
His voice had been low, but it had also been heard. Barney looked up from a plate of pink ham and omelette. He said lazily, "With whom are you having the whispered colloquy, Absolom?" - Absolom came down the last step. "What, sir?"
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"Innocence ill becomes you, rascal. Who is behind you?"
At this, Absolom stepped aside. With some of the pride of a conjurer he permitted the sight of the morning visitor to come into Barney's view. "But I told her to wait. Captain!"
"Well," said Barney appreciatively.
She made him a little curtsey. Her eyes in the heart-shaped face were appealing. Her cloak was still close around her, and her ungloved hands were clasped over a worn reticule. All this he noted instantly. He cut a piece of ham and chewed it thoughtfully. The fire hissed behind him as flames whipped at green wood.
"Your name, Mrs.?"
"Ma'moiselle," she corrected. "Lucie Magnin, sir."
His dark eyes rested on her appraisingly. "I do not know you, Lucie."
"No, Captain."
There was another silence in the small white-walled room. Behind it stretched the kitchens; she could hear the activity out there, the clatter of pans, the clang on an iron stove door.
Barney spoke to the Negro. "Absolom, you may bring me another cup of coffee." He did not wait until Absolom had left the room. "Now, ma'moiselle, why are you here? What do you want from me? Speak up."
She hesitated. She was looking for the right word. "Work." That was the right word, and she smiled, her dimples showing plainly. "Work," She repeated it.