Powder Monkey (27 page)

As we approached the Danish ships I began to feel something close to terror. Standing there in the open, clutching my cartridge box, I expected at any moment to be hit and vanish in a fiery, bloody flash. James could see the fear in my eyes and placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Hold fast Sam, hold fast.'

We reached the first enemy ship and the gunnery officer shouted, ‘Fire at will'. Our carronade exploded into life, lurching back on its wooden runner. The 32lb shot made a terrible mess of the quarterdeck of the ship opposite.

‘That's why they call it the smasher,' yelled James. No sooner had we fired than Tom, James, Vincent and Richard began swabbing out and reloading. I handed over my cartridge, relieved not to be holding something that could blow me into tiny pieces, and then ran for all my worth down the four staircases that led to the after powder room in the hold. Grabbing another cartridge I stuffed it in my box, screwed the lid down tight and was back before Tom and his crew could fire again.

‘Well done Sam,' said Tom. ‘Hold fast now, we'll be firing any second.' I could barely hear him over the noise of the guns.

Each Danish ship passed before us, close enough for me to see their crew. Muskets cracked from their masts, and shots thudded down on to our deck. Close by, one of the marines clutched his shoulder and fell backwards, his musket clattering to the deck and discharging its ball. It buried itself in the wooden rail close by our carronade. I said a silent prayer of thanks. To be shot by one of our own men would have been inglorious.

I thanked God too that we were wearing our dull sailor's slops and not the bright red jackets of the marines. Even through the smoke of battle they made an easy target here on our deck, as did the officers in their blue jackets and gold braid.

Each Danish ship fired its long guns at us as we passed, but the fire was slapdash. Tom was right. The Danes were unskilled in handling their guns. Again our carronade exploded into life. The shot hit home, crashing into the foremast of a Danish 74, causing several men in the fighting top to fall to the deck. Now I could see the work of our gun as it mauled ships and claimed lives with every discharge, I wished again that I was down in the gun deck as I had been on the
Miranda
. But then a sliver of shot landed right at my foot, missing my cartridge box and my toes by a fraction of an inch. That fired me up. ‘Give the bastards one from me, Tom,' I said before I ran off to collect more powder.

We passed a dozen or so of their ships, all firing as the
Elephant
moved forward. Then came the order to stop. Across the sea from us was the Dannebrog, so close we could see the men on her deck, even through the gun smoke.

‘She's a 60 by the look of her,' said Tom, ‘and she's flyin' the Danish admiral's flag.'

Over the top of the gun port I could see she was a handsome man-o'-war, tall in the water and bristling with cannon along her two gun decks and quarterdeck. She was also badly damaged, having suffered the attentions of the British ships who had passed down their line before us.

My ears began to ring from the sound of cannon fire. I was glad of it as I could no longer hear the screams of injured men. Immediately to our stern was HMS
Glatton
, which I had learned was commanded by the notorious Captain Bligh, but I could barely see her through the gun smoke, nor any of the other ships who fought alongside us.

Our carronade fired constantly and I began to tire of my incessant trips to the powder room. The Danish forces, though formidable, seemed to be doing little damage to the
Elephant
. Perhaps we'd been lucky for now.

The battle continued; more of our ships took up position in front of the Danish fleet. Through the smoke I saw a squadron of frigates pass down the line behind us. Although we pounded her steadily, the
Dannebrog
continued to fire back.

As we fought, Lord Nelson walked up and down the quarterdeck behind us – excitedly urging us on. He seemed unconcerned for his safety, and his courage gave me heart. When a shot hit the mainmasts and showered us with splinters I heard him say to an officer, ‘It is warm work, and this day may be the last for any of us at a moment.' Then he laughed and said, ‘Mark you, I would not be elsewhere for thousands!' I could not agree. I would have
given
thousands to be elsewhere.

As a musket shot whistled over my head I heard a midshipman rush up to inform Lord Nelson that Hyde Parker had hoisted a signal ordering him to break off the action. I wondered at first how such a signal could be seen, but perhaps the view was clearer atop our masts? ‘Thank the Lord,' I thought. ‘Let's get away from here before we're all killed.'

I ran to the magazine hoping fervently this would be the last cartridge I would have to fetch for this battle, and by the time I returned we would be calling off the action. But when I got back, Nelson and Captain Foley had come close to the rail by our cannon and I heard almost all of what they said.

‘You know Foley,' said Lord Nelson, ‘I have only one eye – I have a right to be blind sometimes.' Then he put his telescope to his blind eye, turned it towards Hyde Parker's ship and said, ‘I really do not see the signal.'

I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to scream ‘Don't be stupid. Do what you have been ordered you to do! What if the Swedish and Russian fleets are coming?' But I knew such insolence could get me flogged to death or hanged. What had made Hyde Parker make such a signal, though? Whenever I could, I squinted through the smoke to see if there were any more masts on the horizon.

As midday turned to early afternoon the
Dannebrog
began to burn steadily and acrid smoke drifted towards. I could also see that several of the Danish ships had surrendered. Some burned fiercely. I wondered if their magazines would explode and cause carnage on the neighbouring ship in the Danish line. Aboard the blazing ships the sailors who had survived our merciless barrage were trying to escape by throwing themselves from the gun ports or over the side of the upper deck. Some of our ships had launched their boats to try to rescue these poor wretches. Many of them were badly injured and struggled pitifully in the freezing water. But even as we tried to rescue their seamen the Danes still fired upon us from their shore batteries.

Then the
Dannebrog
struck her colours to surrender. All at once I began to breath a little easier and allowed myself to hope I would come out of this battle alive. We were ordered to stop firing, and I sat down on the carriage of the carronade to drink some water. I realised with a twinge of guilt that Lord Nelson had been right not to withdraw. He had sensed, far earlier than me, that we were winning.

Bosun's whistles peeped as some of the
Elephant's
boats were lowered to cross over the narrow stretch of water between us and the
Dannebrog
to help the men who were trying to escape a fiery death. But as they approached they were fired upon with muskets. Lord Nelson, clearly angered, ordered us to start firing again as soon as our boats were out of danger. Vincent Thomas loaded grapeshot into the maw of our carronade and we peppered their deck.

Just after the carronade discharged, while my ears were still ringing, I was thrown to my feet by a violent explosion. When I got up I could see enemy shot had hit the quarterdeck between two guns just down from us and men from the crews were lying dead or dying. They were swiftly picked up by their comrades and thrown over the side. Most of those were beyond caring, but one of them, almost sliced in two by grapeshot, was a young boy who had been powder monkey to the gun next to us. He was clutching at a gaping hole in his belly, trying to stop his insides pouring out, and livid fear danced in his eyes. When they picked him up he started yelling, ‘Mother, help me! God help me! Mother, don't let them do this to me …' The marines hesitated, then their sergeant came over and shouted at them: ‘He's a goner. Let him go over and finish him.' They swung the boy as they threw him, which must have hurt him terribly and he screamed all the way down to the water.

I had seen many men die horribly in battle, but this was the worst. That could have been me, howling in agony for my mother. A lieutenant on the quarterdeck swiftly reordered the gun crews from whoever was left alive. Richard was told to act as powder monkey for the carronade next to ours. He was handed the leather cartridge box that the dead boy had been using, and flinched when he saw there was blood all over one side of it.

‘I'll show you the drill,' I shouted. ‘Whatever happens, keep the lid firmly down. Now follow me.'

We sprinted down the stairwell and ran through the middle of the upper gun deck to the stern. The noise was deafening, the heat unbearable. Then another ladder took us to the lower deck and immediately down to the orlop deck beneath the waterline. From there it was just a few steps to the after powder room. No one else was outside, not even the marine who usually stood guard there. ‘Sometimes you have to wait with several powder boys,' I said, ‘sometimes not. We're lucky this time.' Then I called for a cartridge and a hand appeared through the wet curtains that shielded the men inside from flying sparks. Richard did the same. As I made sure his lid was screwed tight, Oliver Pritchard came running up to us.

‘You two, drop your boxes and follow me now,' he said. We looked at each other in puzzlement, but an order was an order. He said, ‘Quickly, down the ladder to the hold.' We did as we were asked. He did not follow. Instead he stood at the top of the ladder and shouted, ‘Macintosh, come here at once.' Then he turned to us and drew his pistol. A marine, bayonet on the end of his musket, arrived at his shoulder.

‘Caught these two trying to hide in the hold,' he said to the soldier. ‘Lock them in the bread room and make sure they stay there.' He tossed the soldier a key and marched off.

‘But we were ordered down here,' said Richard.

‘And we need to get back to the quarterdeck with our powder,' I shouted.

The marine waved his bayonet at us. ‘Shut up or I'll run this through the pair of you.'

We were bundled into the store room and left there in the dark. ‘What will our crews do without us?' said Richard. He sounded scared. I felt utterly bewildered.

It was bizarre being in the heat of battle one moment, then the next being locked away from it all at the bottom of the ship. My heart was beating fast and I was bursting with energy. I just had to sit there in the dark with the stifling smell of mouldy bread in my nostrils.

There beneath the waterline we could still hear the muffled discharges of the guns, and more clearly, from the orlop deck above us, the screams of men brought down to the ship's surgeon.

‘What the hell is this all about?' Richard said angrily. It was too dark to actually see him.

I began to think more clearly and grew suddenly afraid. Of what I was not quite sure, but I knew we were in terrible trouble.

‘I didn't tell you about last night. We've not had time to talk,' I said. ‘You know I was gone a while fetching that tobacco. I overheard Nathaniel Pritchard and John Giddes arguing. They were both drunk, and were talking about charges for clothes and tobacco they would take from dead men's wages.

‘And then, when they were quarrelling, Pritchard said something to Giddes about him not being who he says he is.'

‘Well, we all thought that,' said Richard. ‘So who the hell is he?'

‘I didn't hear that much –' Then I understood in an instant what was happening to us.

‘Oh Jesus Christ help us,' I wailed, crushed by a terrible certainty.

Richard was alarmed. ‘What? What is it?'

‘Last night – Giddes came to the door. Caught me standing there. I said I'd just arrived and didn't hear a thing. That must have given me away. Now Pritchard has got his son involved, and they're trying to set us up.'

‘Why me?' said Richard. His voice seemed angry, even accusatory, as if it was my fault.

Now I felt angry with him. ‘Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was because you were here with me just now, maybe they thought I'd tell you anyway. They'd know we were friends.'

Silence fell between us. The battle above our heads was winding down. Only occasional cannon fire could be heard and no one was screaming on the surgeon's table. It was so dark in there neither of us could see our hands in front of our faces.

Richard spoke again. ‘So what happens next? We get court-martialled. If we're lucky, we'll be flogged, probably severely. If were unlucky, we get hanged from the yardarm.'

A NCSS-CBC Notable Social Studies Trade Book for Young People

“Readers will be absorbed in the day-to-day life of young Sam, and his vivid tale will keep them on edge as he tries to escape his commission. … Not for the faint of heart, this novel is a brilliant introduction to the likes of C. S. Forester's classic ‘Horatio Hornblower' saga.”
—SLJ