Dagan cried down from the masthead, “One of the schooners has come together with the barque and appears to be grappling, sir. The other’s closing in fast.”
“Very well. Mr. Earl?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Soon as you think proper, fire a ranging shot and see if we can give the buggers something else to think on.”
“Aye, sir,” Earl answered, and then went forward.
“Do you want Dagan down, sir?”
“No, Mr. Buck, not yet.”
The air was tense and everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath. This would be their first action under a new captain. The gun captain assigned to the cannon nearest to where Anthony was standing bent over to peer out the gun port. As he did so, he loosened a thunderous round of flatulence.
Anthony, taken aback by the man’s “outburst,” cried out, “Damme sir, but I don’t recall having given the order to fire!”
The crew roared with laughter.
“Silence,” Buck ordered, but even he couldn’t keep a straight face.
The offender sheepishly said, “I beg the captain’s pardon, sir.’’
The long nine rebounded against its lashing.
“A hit,” Dagan called down.
“Damn if Mr. Earl doesn’t know his business,” Anthony said to Buck.
“Aye sir. That’ll get the whoresons’ attention all right.”
“Another hit,” Dagan called down again. “They know we’re about now, sir.” No sooner had Dagan spoken than the windward schooner returned fire.
“That was damn quick,” said Peckham, wiping spray from his face. The schooner’s first ball had been just short of its target.
“A bit too accurate for my liking too,” said the quartermaster at the wheel. Anthony called to Mr. Earl, “Let them taste a complete broadside if you please.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Earl said. Then, turning to the gun crew he said, “Let’s give ‘em what for lads. On the uproll now fire, fire as you bear.”
An entire broadside was unleashed as Drakkar’s cannons breathed fire. Earl had fired on the up roll to try and prevent as much collateral damage as possible to the barque. Still, the shots fell like a raining hell, and several balls found their mark. Great pieces of bulwark were seen flying through the air. Anthony knew the schooners were fragile and could not take such an onslaught much longer.
The wind had veered to directly astern. It carried the smoke from Drakkar’s broadside with it, making visibility difficult.
“Hands to braces, Mr. Buck. We’ll close with them now”
“Aye, sir. Bosun-hands to braces!”
Drakkar swung around and was now on a converging tack with the three ships. Dagan, still at the masthead, called down, “One of the schooners has loosened her grapnels and is casting off but she’s dragging her bowsprit.”
Anthony had a sudden notion. “Mr. Buck, have a couple of boats made ready with a sizable boarding party. We’ll drop them off as we pass by the schooner that’s still grappled to the barque. Have the boats lowered on the larboard side. Now put the best gunners on the starboard side and have them load with grape. I want to cut down on the blackguards we pass to make it easier for our boarding party. Tell the gunners to fire as they bear! Then we’ll beat down to the other cutthroat.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Buck said and turned to organize the boarding party.
“Oh, Mr. Buck.”
“Yes sir!”
“Have Dagan come down. I’m sure we have a better use for him at this point.”
Buck couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t see Gabe getting into a boat for a boarding party without Dagan.
The fleeing schooner fired again. They were closing the gap quicker than Anthony realized. Drakkar’s fore topgallant mast came tumbling down. Part of the jib ripped and flapped in the breeze with a loud pop.
“Damned feist,” cried Peekham.
“That feist’s still got teeth,” Anthony responded.
Drakkar made her own response with another broadside. The schooner seemed to shudder as Drakkar’s 24 pounders struck home. The main mast was carried away and acted like a great sea anchor almost stopping the schooner in her wake. The remaining sails were full of shot holes. The fo’c’s’le and bulwark had great gaps thanks to Drakkar’s gunners.
“Give the bastards a taste of grape, Mr. Buck. Then we’ll board and see if there’s any life left in them.” Anthony had to give the pirates credit for their bravery. He knew the loss of life on board the schooner had to be great…but better them than his crew. They had already condemned themselves.
The range was now less than two cables. One by one the guns discharged their load of steel death as they came to bear. When the guns were silent, Anthony realized he’d been holding his hands over his ears to protect them from the deafening sound of cannon fire.
The schooner was now along side. Anthony could see tiny splinters leap up from the deck as musket balls were being fired from the pirates’ rigging. One of the gun captains cried out, and then clenched his teeth as a ball tore into his shoulder. His mate was not so lucky. A ball tore into his face and plucked out one eyeball and part of his skull.
“Sharpshooter. Has the damnable fellow got sharpshooters, Mr. Buck?”
“I don’t know ‘iffen there are sharpshooters, Cap’n, but the foretops is full of them. Whatever they be.”
“By the volley fire!” Lt. Dunn’s marines were responding. He was pointing to the foretops with his sword. The pirates fell from the marines’ accuracy. Dunn, in his Scottish accent, could be heard directing his marines to their next target. Because the schooner alongside was a smaller ship, Drakkar’s marines were having a heyday firing down onto the pirates below them. The last volley cleared a mob of pirates that had gathered in the waist.
“Boarders, away!” Anthony had his sword out, as did Buck. Bart had armed himself with a tomahawk and his cutlass. The freshly sharpened blade glinted in the sunlight. Grapnels had locked the ships togetheer and Drakkar’s boarders half-slid, half-jumped down on the schooner’s deck.
Anthony landed with a grunt. He slipped and, peering down, saw he’d landed on a dead pirate’s innards. A huge pirate took his mind off the gore by screaming obscenities and attacking him with a boarding pike. Bart dispatched the pirate with his tomahawk, but no sooner was the man down than Anthony found himself facing two more pirates. One was a foul-smelling, hawkish man. Anthony shot him at point blank range with his pistol. As the man’s face turned to a bloody pulp, his mate was upon Anthony with a boarding pike and cutlass. The man was strong, but slow. He reeked of rum, perspiration and death. Fighting the brute, Anthony found himself in the center of a melee. He was being bumped, prodded and lashed from a number of directions. A wounded pirate fell from the rigging and slammed into Anthony, causing him to fall to one knee. As he did, he raised his blade to deflect a blow from another pirate’s cutlass. The shock numbed his shoulder. However, swinging with such force threw the big oaf off-balance, opening his guard. Anthony thrust upward, driving his sword through the man’s neck. A fountain of blood gushed out, spraying Anthony. Shouts, groans that turned into screams, the thud as a boarding pike crushed a skull, gunshots, and metal against metal as men fought with blades. Desperate men fighting to live.
Drakkar’s boarders now had the upper hand. They had pushed the remaining pirates to the alt rail. Lt. Dunn’s marines held them at bay with muskets and bayonets. The defeated pirates finally threw down their weapons in surrender.
The two schooners were LeFoxxe and LeCroix. Both were French-named, but crewed by a motley group of various descriptions. Some wore jackboots while others were barefooted. A few sported colorful sashes tied about their waist while others were naked from the waist up. All appeared to be vicious brutes, now doomed for the hangman’s knot. The barque was a private ship, The Royal Chatham, bound for Barbados. Her captain, officers and many of the crew and passengers were dead. Anthony could still recall the look of dismay on their faces as Gabe and Earl described the scene they’d encountered as they boarded the ship.