The Middle Sea by Wareham Andrew

Author:Wareham, Andrew
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2023-02-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Now, John Digby, comes the hardest part. The report. All very well to capture a Turkish sixty gun ship, but now we have to justify so doing. The more so, of course, because it was not inexpensive.”

“Rare though, sir. Not a single officer killed, and only two mids wounded, neither showing severe. Beale and Strachan, one cut a little, the other spiked by a splinter in the flesh of the calf.”

“We shall be seeing Bravo Beale with his shirt off, I doubt not. He will not match Smithers and Traddle but has a respectable pair of scars crossing his chest – will have when they heal. Did you hear how he was cut so?”

The Secretary snorted in disgust.

“He chose to take on three at once of Turks armed with swords, he with hanger in one hand, dirk in the other! To give the young idiot his due, he had killed one and wounded a second before he was rescued from the third, sir.”

“Damned young fool! They will think that anything I can do, they can do better, without allowing for not being half-grown yet! No matter! Let us get to composition.”

Two hard hours and the report was done. It contained not a single lie, and not a great deal of truth. The Turk was recognised to be a pirate such as they had heard of on the Spanish coast. The ship was old and ill-maintained and could not be a national vessel. They had set course directly at Alcibiades, ignoring signals and firing a first shot, aimed long rifle fire the moment she had come within range. Alcibiades had returned fire with her chaser and then a broadside across the bows before entering a brief hammering match followed by a boarding.

“Now for our losses, John Digby. Dead, one boatswain’s mate, four able, one ordinary and three landsmen; severely wounded, two able and seven ordinary; lightly wounded and returned to duty, three ordinary and eight landsmen.”

They tabulated the figures neatly in the margin, as was proper procedure.

“Now for the part my lord may find difficult to swallow, John Digby.”

“Yes, sir. Casualties aboard Selim Reis, sir.”

“Right. Counted overboard after the action, two hundred and thirty-nine variously dead from grape and splinter and cannon ball. One hundred and eighty-seven killed by pistol, blade and bayonet, to total four hundred and twenty-six. Double check that addition, John Digby. Returned to Melilla in their own boats, wounded, eighty-three. Sent off by fishing boat, one hundred and three. To make a total of six hundred and twelve bodies aboard.”

The fishing fleet from Melilla had ventured within range after the shooting had stopped and had been co-opted into rescuing the Turkish wounded and surrendered. Nick had very kindly handed over four Maria Theresas to each boat and hoped that might encourage them to take the Turks in rather than throw them over the side as soon as they were out of sight.

“That will need some arguing, John Digby. By rights, I should have hanged them on the spot or brought them into Port Mahon to be put down there.

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