Mutiny

_{He knew what to look for: the match tubs next to each gun for use in case of misfire would be useless without slow-burning match ready alight and drawing. The gunners' pouch of each gun-captain must contain tools and spare flints for the gunlock, and quill ignition tubes checked that the tallow cap had been removed.}

_{The sound of a grindstone came from forward: pikes, cutlasses and tomahawks were getting a fine edge. A cook's mate carried a scuttled butt of water to place on the centreline for thirsty gun-crews. It was well spiked with vinegar to slow their drinking.}

_{Activity slowed, the ship was cleared fore and aft. It now only required the enemy to appear and the ship would beat to quarters. During the wait, biscuit and cheese were issued, and a double tot of rum to all hands. It was nearly time ...}

_{The enemy fleet was sighted at nine, sail upon sail startlingly pale against the dark grey clouds, occupying half the horizon. Beyond lay the flat terrain of Holland. Men came up from the gundeck to catch a glimpse of the enemy; once in action they would not see them again until they closed and grappled.}

_{At half past, de Winter formed his line of battle. On the quarterdeck Kydd heard the officers' conversation: the taut enemy line was heading to the north - the Dutch, still apparently hoping to reach safe harbour, were sailing close to the land.}

_{Duncan's strategy was simple: braving the massed broadsides of the enemy he would without delay throw his fleet at their line in two groups, one to larboard under himself to take the Dutch van, the other to starboard under his vice admiral, Onslow, to fall on their rear. Triumph would go with Duncan.}

_{More signal flags soared up on the flagship, but Kydd never found out what they were for the urgent thunder of a drum sent the ship to quarters.}

_{With an iron resolution, he clattered down the main hatchway past the marine drummer madly rattling out 'Hearts of Oak'. Of one thing he was certain: he would do his duty to the limit.}

_{Touching his hat to Monckton, he verified the presence of the young midshipman and three men standing by the centreline grating, then turned his attention to the guns. If they fought both sides at once they would be short-handed; some gun numbers would have to cross the deck to work the opposite gun.}

_{He stepped up on the grating while the wash-deck hose swashed across the deck. A seaman followed, scattering sand to give grip to the feet. Powder monkeys brought up the first cartridges in their long wooden salt boxes, and he watched as the quarter-gunner settled ear-pads on the young lads. Gun-crews made do with their bandannas, tying them tightly round their heads.}

_{Kydd took his broad cross-belt, settling it to take the weight of his cutlass, which, as a boarder, he would wear for the rest of the battle. When the order came, he would seize a brace of pistols from the arms-chest and lead the second wave of boarders.}

_{He paced slowly along, checking and rechecking: the middle of a battle was not a good time to be finding missing spares. Tucked in along the sides of the main-hatch, beside the ready-use shot lining it, were ranged spare breeching, complete training tackles, gun lashings, all becketted up neatly.}

_{As he walked, he saw the gun-crews looking at him, eyes flashing. They would be forced to stand idle for all of the time it took to reach the enemy, their own guns unable to bear, while the Dutch could concentrate their whole fire unopposed. After their line was reached it would be another story: as they passed through they would blast a storm of balls down the length of an enemy ship from each side.}

_{But first they had to reach them. Triumph was as ready as forethought and devotion to the sea crafts could make her. Now the fortune of war and the courage of her men would decide the day.}

 

_{The enemy began to fire just after midday, the thunder of their guns loud on the inactive gundeck. Kydd joined the gun-crews leaning out of their ports to see. The whole line of the enemy ahead was nearly obscured in gunsmoke, the sea between torn by shot. To starboard}

_{Vice Admiral Onslow's division was diverging, his flagship, Monarch, in the lead of a straggling group. Duncan must be anxious to start the fight, thought Kydd, that he did not form line of battle.}

_{He crossed to the other side of the deck. As he did the first cannon strikes thudded home. These were longer-range shots and taken on the ricochet: closer in they would crush and splinter. Out of the gunports Kydd saw their own flagship, Duncan's Venerable, streaming out ahead, her blue ensign defiantly aloft, others coming up on her flank.}

_{The sea hissed past a few feet below. They were running large, direcdy to leeward in the stiff wind — their time to fight would not be long delayed. Kydd pulled himself inboard. A sudden crash sounded somewhere forward. Something hissed past him, striking a deck beam then angling down to a gun, which it hit with a musical clang.}

_{Then came the welcome smash of their own carronades on the deck above. Kydd dared a quick last look out of a port and saw, in a single flash ahead, Venerable bearing down on the big Dutch flagship, and at the same time the Dutch next astern courageously closing the gap to prevent Venerable passing through and breaking the line.}

_{He pulled in and took post, conscious that his duty was to make sure Lieutenant Monckton's orders were carried out — whatever the circumstances.}

_{'Point your guns!' The enemy were very near now. Gun-captains scrambled to sight down their pieces, signalling for handspikes to muscle the heavy guns round to train on target, then tracking it, waiting with gun lanyard extended for the word to fire.}

_{So close. Smashing strikes and cries of injured men were general now, the moments seeming to last for ever. But then it died away and the sea outside shadowed suddenly. It was the enemy line.}

_{'Fire!' came the order. In a rippled broadside from forward the twenty-four-pounders crashed out in a vengeful smash straight at the unprotected stern of the unknown Dutch ship — thirty-seven heavy iron balls at point-blank velocity in a merciless splintering path of destruction right down the length of the ship. The noise was overwhelming, going on and on as they passed through.}

_{Kydd bent his knees to see. Through the smoke he caught sight of an ornate stern gallery riven into gap-toothed ugliness. Wreckage rained down and turned the sea white with splashes. He wheeled round, still bent, and briefly glimpsed, through the opposite side, the tangled bowsprit of another ship.}

_{Crews flung themselves at their guns: sponging, the lethal grey cartridge and wad, then the deadly iron ball. Kydd felt the deck sway over to starboard and realised they must be coming round to lock into their opponent. He yelled hoarsely at the crews: doubling the rate of fire was as good as doubling the number of guns, and once around they would be facing an equal broadside from their opponent.}

_{It came early, before they were fully round — and at ten-yards range the effect was lethal. The iron shot tore through the sides of Triumph, the balls rampaging the whole width of the gundeck before smashing through the far side, tearing and shattering. The deck trembled as more balls struck below.}

_{Monckton raised his speaking trumpet and was thrown violendy along the deck. He did not move. Kydd ran to his body: there was no mark on it, but a red rash was spreading on the side of his face. He put his hand inside the officer's coat and felt for the heart it still beat.}

_{'Bear a hand!' he roared at the men hovering around. They dragged Monckton to the centreline gratings and laid him out on his back. He had been knocked unconscious by the close passage of a round-shot. If he recovered he would want to be at his post, but for now Kydd must perform his duty.}