Under Enemy Colors by S. Thomas Russell

Author:S. Thomas Russell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Naval, Action & Adventure, _rt_yes, General, onlib, Historical, War & Military, Naval Battles - History - 18th Century, Fiction, _NB_fixed
ISBN: 9781101207475
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2007-09-06T05:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

Hart flinched as a shot screamed overhead, half throwing up an arm as though it would ward off an iron ball. He recovered himself quickly and stared off toward the Lucy.

“What is Mr Hayden doing?” Barthe asked aloud.

The officers stood at the Themis’ rail, watching Tenacious converge on the anchored French frigate. To their amazement, the Lucy had changed course and appeared to have given up her intention to attack the French brig.

“Oh, you know our Mr Hayden. He comprehends a great deal more than Captain Bourne or myself. So he has ignored his orders and is going to the aid of the Tenacious, as though a captain as capable as Bourne has need of him.”

“Shall we go after the brig ourselves?” Barthe asked. “I mean, if the Lucy will not?”

Hart shook his head and made a sour face, though he did not deem to look at his sailing master. “By no means. We will lie off here, to keep the transports at anchor, as was planned. I wonder what Bourne will have to say to his precious protégé after this?”

“There must be some reason for Mr Hayden to disregard his orders so,” Archer stated firmly. He had his glass fixed on the British ships approaching the French frigate in the lengthening shadow of Belle Île.

“Mr Hayden has nothing but disregard for orders,” Hart said disdainfully. “And now he is displaying his incompetence for all to see. Imagine, our fire-eating first lieutenant afraid to attack a little brig…”

Hart might have said more, but at that moment the French captain fired his broadside all at once. Smoke enveloped the anchored frigate and at that range the effect on the Tenacious was tremendous. Gear and sails fell, the main-top-gallant mast toppled slowly over the side, and yet the ship only seemed to stagger, then bore on.

“You see,” Hart announced, waving a hand at the ships, “Bourne has not faltered. He has no need of Mr Hayden, whose efforts will only cause offence.”

The two frigates appeared to draw so near that surely they would soon collide, yet there was no reply from the British guns.

“Why does Bourne not fire?” Archer muttered.

“Because he knows his business thoroughly,” Mr Barthe answered. “He will wait until he can inflict the greatest damage—until the Frenchman is about to fire again, and then he will give them the whole weight of iron at once.”

“The Frenchman’s run out a gun,” Landry cried.

And as he said this the Tenacious herself was enveloped in smoke, the deep boom of the cannon echoing off the island, as though the first cannonade was followed immediately by a second.

“There, do you see, Mr Archer?” Barthe asked. “That is how it is done. Never for a moment would Bourne lose his nerve. Never for a moment.”

Tenacious ranged up past the frigate’s stern, but before her guns could be reloaded. Smoke veiled the French ship, only the tips of her masts visible through the dark cloud.

“There, too late for the Frenchman to fire again now. Bourne is by.

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