The Jamaica Station: The Third Carlisle & Holbrooke Naval Adventure (Carlisle & Holbrooke Naval Adventures Book 3) by Chris Durbin

The Jamaica Station: The Third Carlisle & Holbrooke Naval Adventure (Carlisle & Holbrooke Naval Adventures Book 3) by Chris Durbin

Author:Chris Durbin [Durbin, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-12T04:00:00+00:00


16: Counter-attack

Thursday, eighteenth of August 1757.

Medina, at Sea. West Caicos Island northeast 3 leagues.

Holbrooke stood uncertainly beside the binnacle and for a moment looked bewildered. He doubted his readiness for this responsibility. Was he just acting a part? What would happen if he failed? He looked around at the deck of the frigate, at the Dutch pirate moving aggressively towards them and he caught Chalmers’ eye. The chaplain was already covered in his captain’s blood, and yet he had the time to look up from his task, and he stared meaningfully at Holbrooke. ‘Take command!’ his look said, ‘we’re all relying on you now.’ It was only a momentary exchange, less than a second, but it stiffened the lieutenant at the time when he most needed it. Holbrooke nodded at Chalmers and turned to face his responsibilities.

It had been less than half a minute that the frigate had no clear command, but so much had changed. Medina, bereft of orders, had continued south-westwards, away from the stricken pirate ship but now dangerously close to the leader. He could see the Dutchman’s boarding parties mustering at her waist; he could see the rapidly closing gap between the frigate and the pirate ship. There was little time left, in a minute the two ships would collide. If he tacked, Medina would slow down enough for the Dutchman to get his grappling irons across onto the quarterdeck; there was no room to veer, and if he merely hauled his wind, the Dutchman would luff and come crashing into the frigate’s larboard side. There were no good options. He looked at the wild men gathering on the bow of the pirate ship and made his decision.

‘Bring her about, Mister Hosking,’ he shouted. ‘Boarders to the quarterdeck,’ he roared down at the waist. ‘Swivels, clear that ship’s fo’c’sle. Mister Hook. Concentrate your fire on those men in her waist.’

Holbrooke had laboured long and hard at the watch and station bill, allocating men to their stations in any of half a dozen situations, so that each man knew that as well as his station at quarters, he had to be ready to respond when specific orders were given. Now those hours of preparation paid off. Some ran from their guns to the sails, some took up boarding pikes, some cutlasses, tomahawks or pistols. In a few moments, Holbrooke had a hard core of armed men at the quarterdeck ready to repel the inevitable invasion.

Medina swung swiftly through the eye of the wind, but her speed through the water diminished, and the Dutchman seemed to accelerate towards the frigate’s stern. The noise was tremendous as Medina’s swivel guns poured their lethal charges of canister into the packed masses. The Dutchman’s jib-boom came past Medina’s taffrail and jutted menacingly towards the starboard side of the quarterdeck. Holbrooke could see a few daring men perched on the bowsprit swinging grappling irons. At least six were thrown at Medina. Two fell short, two or three bounced off the hammock nets,



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