Those three that had landed on the peninsula were still there, their crews just falling back in disorder from a charge against the troops on the crest. He could see red-coated soldiery rising from the rocks and beginning to advance in two lines with their bayonets winking in the sun. And all the while, their light guns were spraying canister and grape-shot into the pirate band.
Ashore by the main encampment, it was impossible to tell what was going on for all the smoke, but he thought he could espy at least four praos grounded on the beach, one of them well alight and pouring out greasy black smoke. There were three more boats that had sailed for the far eastern headland, and were mucking about in a quandary of doubt: flee for the harbor entrance against those guns on the point, rejoin the fight ashore or tackle the ships again?
A glowing ember dashed from the rising pillar of smoke ashore, soared in a sinking arc and struck one of the praos, making her shake like a kicked kitten. Within half a minute, the boat was aflame and her crew abandoning her! If it accomplished nothing else this day, his father's heated-shot battery had proved its worth!
"There, sir!" Hogue shouted as some praos came reeling out of the smoke from the shore, bent on escape.
"Larboard battery, load and stand by!" Lewrie shouted through his brass speaking-trumpet. "We clear aft, Spears?"
"Aye, sir, fer now!" the man shouted back as he reloaded the now-hot swivel-gun for another shot.
"Clear forward, Cony?" he asked.
"Fairly well, sir!" Cony said with a fierce smile.
"Bloody hell, what does that mean?" Lewrie fumed.
Whatever it had meant, it would have to do, for there were now six praos headed their way, rowing madly to get out of the gun-arcs of Lady Charlotte's twelve-pounders. Between Culverin's anchorage and shore there was a half-mile of water. With careful aim and gun-laying, Lewrie could expect his carronades to scour only half that distance, for a carronade was a very low-velocity gun for all its hitting power. The "Smashers" were close-in weapons.
"Here they come!" Hogue yelled. "Stand ready, gun-captains! Aim for the two lead boats! One and two, take the one on the right! Three, four and five, take the one on the left!"
Good for Hogue, Lewrie thought! A sensible young man who could see that the lead boat to their right was poorly manned and not much of a threat, while the one to the left had so far missed out on what horrors they were dealing out this day. Lewrie traded his Ferguson rifle for his telescope and saw that the boat on the left had what looked to be eight- or nine-pounders on its foredeck, and the pirates were swarming over those guns, readying them for firing.
"Fer what we're about t' receive, may the good Lord make us joyful," Murray sighed as the prao got her guns into action. A ball hit Culverin low on her larboard side, making her shudder heavily, while the second struck the bulwarks between number 4 and number 5 larboard guns and turned the wood into a burst of flickering teak splinters, cutting down the gun crews and raising a great howling among his crew.
"Fire!" Hogue shouted once the praos were within their limited range. Culverin lurched sideways as the guns lit off. The first boat on the right almost leaped out of the water as she was struck, mast and large, leaf-bladed paddles flying in all directions, along with some of her hull. Arabian building techniques with rope and butt-joined board could not take such punishment, and she dropped back into the sea with a great splash as she came apart like an artichoke, spilling her crew into the water.
The second boat to the left had her foredeck cleared by a hit, guns and men flying as the heavy twenty-four-pounder ball shattered amongst the barrels. Her mast came down and some powder cartridge bags went off with a great burst of dirty yellow smoke and flame. She came to a dead stop and began to sag down off the wind toward the western shore, right into Lady Charlotte's guns.
"Well, damn them," Lewrie spat. The other four praos were now bearing off under human power, their paddles or oars slashing the sea as they fled east, out of range of the car-ronades that had smashed up their leaders' boats like a giant's fist.
Lewrie turned to look seaward once more. The battery on the point had sunk one prao, but it looked like at least four would get out through the channel. And the two surviving pirate boats to the east were working their way along the line of the breakers in shallow water beyond the reach of even the high battery's guns. Which was where the four that had challenged him were going.
"Mister Murray?"
"Sir?"
"They're going to get away from us if we sit here," Lewrie said, feeling grim about it and more than willing, if given any kind of excuse, to let them do so. But it was his duty. "Fix buoys to the anchor cables and prepare to let slip. We'll pursue them."
"Aye, sir," Murray said with a sharp intake of breath.
"Mister Hogue! Secure your guns for a while. We shall hoist sail, let slip the cables and get underway."
"Thank God for a simple rig," Lewrie said scant minutes later. It would have taken a square-rigger half an hour to hoist sail, but little Culverin could simply hoist her jibs and gaff-sails, haul in on the sheets to angle those sails to the wind at the proper angle and she was moving ahead and under control. It made him wonder if a way could be found to rig a larger warship so simply, even if it took four masts instead of three. A fore-and-aft rigged ship with a deep, full-run keel for a good grip on the water so she could go to windward like a witch, with no courses… well, maybe a forecourse to lift the bows, and nothing higher-mounted than large tops'Is. Armed with carronades for the most part, with a few long-ranged muzzle-loaders amidships for…
"Course, sir?"
"The mind can do the oddest things at the worst moments," Lewrie murmured, laughing at himself. He might not be alive half an hour from now if he took Culverin into that desperate pack of bloody-handed murderers now intent on escape, and even more dangerous than before. And here he was speculating on naval architecture!
"Close-hauled on the larboard tack for the harbor," Lewrie said. "We'll have to tack east or end up running aground, but that'll give us a chance to fire into those boats running along the reef line."
Culverin could point high, but the wind was solidly out of the sou'east, and the best she could do was a little west of due south to approach the harbor entrance on a long board. Leadsmen swung chains to sound the depth ahead of her as she clawed her way seaward.
"And a half, two!"
"Helm alee! Off fores'l sheets!"
Culverin tacked across the eye of the wind, onto a short board back to a heading of about 1 point, about 11 degrees, north of east. But she had gotten close enough to threaten those fleeing praos along the reef line inside the breakers.
"Ready, sir!" Hogue called to him. "I make it about two cables."
"Try your eye, Mister Hogue!" Lewrie nodded. "Blaze away!"
The guns on the starboard side came reeling inboard one at a time. The heavy balls, fired at maximum elevation and laid so close to the edge of the port-sills they almost singed the wood, failed to hit. They landed short, raising great feathery plumes of water into the air. But the praos checked their frantic pace and paid off the breaker line, stymied by fear.
"Hands to the sheets! Ready to come about? Helm alee!" Alan commanded. He did not want to get too far to the east inside their harbor, for that would put him too close to the reefs to be able to tack to windward to reverse course. To wear ship downwind would lose him every inch of ground he had gained south for the entrance channel.