Once there he consulted the signal book. He left it open, on the binnacle head. He looked up at the weathervane, and the set of the sails.
"Hands to braces, Mr. Scull," he said. "I want to change the trim of the sails. Lay your course north-northwest. We'll need the wind at our heels."
Macgregor had been watching the "Sybil." He blurted, "I thought we had fooled them, sir!"
Barney said, "If we'd kept on our course, she would have been able to come about and have the weather gage, Mr. Macgregor."
Macgregor swallowed. "Is she—"
Barney tapped the signal book. "If I'd had those orders, I'd do just as she did." The thought made him ponder. Macgregor looked
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down at the book, and where Barney's finger pointed. He read three brief words: "Engage the enemy."
Barney's voice was going right on. "Hands to dinner, Mr. Scull."
There was time to eat. What was coming was a ship-to-ship battle, between ships evenly matched. But by the time they met, he would still have the weather gage; he had it now; and he would keep it. It would probably mean the difference between defeat and victory.
He paced the deck, back and forth, back and forth. The crew came up from dinner; they were talking and laughing. It made Barney smile a little himself. He had trained them well, but baptism by fire was coming now. It had been years since a British ship of the line had hauled down her colors. The battle about to be joined would be bitter, long and bloody. And only a few of his crew were aware of it. The officers knew, well enough. Except perhaps Jerrell. Barney found himself hoping nothing happened to him. Then he said, "Perhaps you had better escort our prisoners to the cable tier, Mr, Macgregor. And remove that uniform, sir. I doubt if you'll need it again today."
Once again he looked down at the signal book. "Engage the enemy." He closed the book. He decided he had better get out of British uniform himself. Canning the book, he made his way to his own cabin.
Chapter 31
THE MAGNIFICENCE OF THE SUNSET WAS FADING IN THE DARKENING sky and the "Athena" was alone on an empty sea. The battle which had lasted four hours was over.
It was difficult for Mr. Scull to hear the first order Barney gave him, almost the same second as the "Sybil" had exploded and sunk. The vision of it was imprinted on Scull's mind; the mighty roar, the flash of a sheet of fire, extinguished quickly by the lapping water that had seized the "Sybil" and drawn her down. And Scull couldn't hear well because his ears were deafened by the continuous gunfire. Barney repeated sharply:
"Hoist out a boat to pick up survivors!"
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"Aye aye, sir," said Scull, wondering dimly if they had a boat. "Lower a boat to pick up survivors," he bellowed.
All eyes in the "Athena" were on the empty waves where the "Sybil" had been just a few seconds ago. The sight of a man in the water brought forth a yell; the boat crew, acting instinctively, worked fast.
Marines still clung in the tops and held muskets motionless along the rail; the gun crews sat back on their haunches, ears ringing; they wouldn't need the cannon balls piled beside them; stale smoke and powder smelled acridly.
The boat was lowered, pulled away. Voices called out to the boat crew, in instruction. Topmen clambered high to look out over the waves for a sign of other men struggling in the water. All their energies now were directed at saving the few survivors who had been shooting at them, and who were now at the mercy of their mutual foe, the restless sea.
Barney let them go. He let them watch. There would be no rest for men tonight, but they could watch until the last of the "Sybil's" crew had been picked up. Then they could eat. He heard Jerrell's voice, fore, telling the cook to hurry and get fires started. Barney was conscious of the sound of the pumps. His eyes went over the "Athena" slowly, marking her hurts; damage below had been sustained, but it was still under control. Macgregor and Scull had lost their cabin; there must have been at least a hundred shot holes in the mizzentop; spars, yards, the foretop royal, half the bowsprit, were gone. Martinique was about a day's sail. They must try to make it.
His own head still rang with the sound of the guns. He tried to segregate the different phases of the action just past; it was the speed of the "Athena" which had weighed in his favor, the speed gained by having the weather gage, which had allowed him to seize the offensive and force battle when he chose. The gun crews had worked well.. From a broadside every minute and a half, they had reduced it later, under fire, to twenty seconds less, he was sure. He watched the cruising boat.
There were few cries now from the "Athena." No more men's heads could be seen in the darkening seas. And a sudden silence prevailed aboard, as it was thus borne in upon them that of a gallant ship and a crew of three hundred and fifty, this handful of men remained, dragged from the sea. They surveyed their own ship.
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More than fifteen minutes had passed. Jerrell stuck his head into the hatchway; he smelled coffee. He asked a question which was answered in the affirmative. He went aft, fast as he could.
Barney nodded in approval as he relayed his message. "Hands to supper, Mr. Scull," he said.
"Aye aye, sir," Scull answered.
"Mr. Jerrell, see to those Englishmen, Send them to the surgeon, then fore to supper. But I want to question one of them. I'll leave it to your judgment, sir, to pick out a man."
"Aye aye, sir."
"And Mr. Jerrell, after that I Nvant you to see the surgeon and get that arm rebandaged."
"Aye aye, sir," said Jerrell, and flew down the gangway; the boat was pulling up alongside again, while Macgregor's voice suddenly pierced across the decks.
"Goddammit, what are you doing with those hoses? Leave them rigged there; do you think you're going to leave the decks this way?"
Barney noticed Absolom at his elbow. He was carrying a cup of coffee. He knew Barney wouldn't leave the deck now.
Two hours later Barney asked Scull and Macgregor to have supper with him. Scull, bending his head to enter the aftercabin, after washing up hastily, could hardly believe the last six hours had been. There was cold chicken and pork, and a big bowl of fruit on the table, and Absolom moved about as imperturbable as ever. Scull grinned at him.
"Looks good, Absolom," he said.
"Thank you, sir," Absolom said, serving him coffee from the captain's heavy silver pot.
The three men sat for just a moment in silence. Then Macgregor said, "I know that the purpose of naval action in wartime is to sink enemy ships, sir, but it always gives me a shock to see her go—that last bit of mast."
Scull said, "But even if we hadn't hit the powder magazines, she wouldn't have lasted much longer, sir."
"Yes," said Macgregor, "but did you notice, sir, that the firing improved?" He broke off; he and Scull were doing all the talking.
Barney smiled. "Go right ahead, Mr. Macgregor."
He listened to them as they recapitulated the battle past; putting in a word here or there. In a few minutes, Mr. Jerrell knocked.
"Bring the prisoner in, Mr. Jerrell," Barney ordered.
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Jerrell did so. "This man is John Butler, foretopman of the 'Sybil,' sir."
Barney nodded. "You may join us, Mr. Jerrell." He transferred his gaze to John Butler, from his bare feet to the top of his still wet head. "I see you received dry clothes, Butler."
Butler said, low, "Aye aye, sir."
Barney turned to Jerrell again. "Has Butler had anything to eat?"
"Aye aye, sir," said Jerrell.