Pirate Latitudes by Michael Crichton

Author:Michael Crichton
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

THEY WERE STILL in Spanish waters, and they moved southward quickly, under every inch of canvas they could muster. The galleon normally carried as many as a thousand people, and crews of two hundred seamen or more.

Hunter had seventy men, including prisoners. But most of the Spanish prisoners were garrison soldiers, not sailors. Not only were they untrustworthy, they were also unskilled. Hunter’s crews had their hands full managing the sails and rigging.

Hunter had interrogated the prisoners in his halting Spanish. By midday, he knew a good deal about the ship he now commanded. She was the nao Nuestra Señora de los Reves, San Fernando y San Francisco de Paula, Captain José del Villar de Andrade, owner the Marques de Canada, a vessel of nine hundred tons, built in Genoa. Like all Spanish galleons — which were invariably cumbersomely christened — this ship had a nickname, El Trinidad. The origin of the name was obscure.

El Trinidad had been built to carry fifty cannon, but after formal departure from Havana the previous August, the ship had stopped along the Cuban coast, and most of the cannon offloaded to permit the ship to carry more cargo. She was presently fitted with only thirty-two twelve-pounders. Enders had gone over the ship thoroughly and pronounced her seaworthy but filthy. A party of prisoners were now clearing some of the refuse from the holds.

“She’s taking on water, too,” Enders said.

“Badly?”

“No, but she’s an old ship, and bears watching. Not kept in good repair.” Enders’s frown seemed to encompass the long tradition of shoddy Spanish seamanship.

“How does she sail?”

“Like a pregnant sow, but we’ll make do, with fair weather and no trouble. We’re short, is the truth.”

Hunter nodded. He paced the deck of the ship and looked at the canvas. Fully rigged, El Trinidad carried fourteen separate sails. Even the simplest task — such as letting out a reefed topsail — required almost a dozen strong backs.

“If there’s heavy seas, we’ll have to ride it out with bare poles,” Enders said, shaking his head.

Hunter knew this was true. In a storm, he would have no choice but to reef all his canvas, and ride out the foul weather, but that was a dangerous thing to do on a ship so large.

But even more worrisome was the prospect of an attack. A ship under attack needed maneuverability, and Hunter lacked the crew to handle El Trinidad smartly.

And then there was the problem of the guns.

His thirty-two twelve-pounders were Danish cannon, of recent vintage, and all in good repair. Together they represented a reasonable — if not formidable — measure of defense. Thirty-two cannon made El Trinidad the equivalent of a third-rate ship of the line, and she could be expected to hold her own against all but the largest enemy warships. At least she could if Hunter had the men to work the guns, and he did not.

An efficient gun crew, a crew capable of loading, running out, aiming, and firing a cannon once a minute during battle consisted of fifteen men, not including the gun captain.

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