The Hawk (40 page)

'I tell you, there ain't – '

'That will take forty-five minutes at the very least.' Over
him. 'During which time, eggs, bacon, toast and coffee for
you, m'dear fellow, and for Captain Rennie and me. – You
there, Corporal!'

At Bucklers Hard Lieutenant Hayter said to Redway Blewitt
that he must have the
Hawk
today, as a matter of extreme
urgency.

'She will not be ready until the morrow, Mr Hayter, as I
told you very specific last time you was here.' Jamming his
pipe into his mouth.

'I do not care about that, thank you. I must have her
today
.'

'And I cannot do it.'

Below them the contingent of Marines, and the Hawks,
waited at the boat under a cloudless, gull-tilting sky.

James drew a determined breath, but Captain Rennie had
now stepped forward, and he took James's elbow and
murmured something in his ear. James frowned, and then
moved away to stand at the side of the slip. The smell of
adzed timber floated on the air, and tar, and tide.

'Mr Blewitt.' Rennie smiled at him.

'I am here.' Puff.

'I am willing to pay you a handsome bonus.'

An exasperated sigh, pulling the pipe from his mouth. 'And
I have said, repeated, it ain't a question of money!'

Rennie smiled again, nodded, moved a step closer. 'An
hundred guineas over the agreed sum, as a boon. Gold
guineas.'

'One hundred . . . ?' In astonishment. 'Ye'd pay that?'

'I would. I will.'

'But . . . but that is half as much again as we agreed.'

'Aye, it is. – Well?'

'I don't know . . . my artificers are working at full speed,
and – '

'Was they working at midnight last night?'

'Eh? Midnight? Nay, in course they was not.'

'I was. So was Mr Hayter. And we was being paid nothing.
Nothing, sir. While you are being paid handsome. With an
hundred guineas offered, extra and above, if you will only
grant us this small favour.'

'Well . . . you put it very persuasive . . . but I do not think
it can be managed. No. No. I think it cannot.' Shaking his
head. 'My artificers – '

'Oh, very well.' Rennie shook his head in turn, with a wry,
downturning mouth. 'Stop the work. Stop it at once.'

'Eh?' The pipe poised halfway to his mouth.

'If we cannot have our cutter by this evening then we will
not need her at all. Our duty must be abandoned, and our task
go by the board.' He turned away, paused as if on an afterthought,
and: 'In course, there may then be a dispute as to
moneys owed.'

'Dispute!'

'Indeed, dispute, Mr Blewitt. Perhaps Mr Hayter and I will
like to call down a quarterman from Portsmouth Yard to
examine the work in all particulars, at some later time. In a
month, say, or six weeks. It may then become a matter for the
Admiralty Court – who can say? Well well, good day to you.'
A few steps down the side of the slip, and he called: 'Stop the
work, at any rate. Stop the work, Mr Blewitt.'

'Wait! Wait a moment!'

'What in the name of Christ our Saviour and Comfort did
y'say to him, sir?' James had asked, chuckling and shaking his
head in admiration as they walked together down to the boat.
'What made him change his mind?'

'Well well . . . I showed him where his best interests lay.'

'Yes, but how?' Still chuckling.

'By calling his bluff, James.' And he would say no more
than that.

They had sailed at dusk, not heading toward Wyrefall
Cove direct, but south-west in a long sweep, then west, then
at length north, then east, until they stood off the coast half a
league, immediately to the west of the cove, having described
nearly a full circle in several hours of sailing. Now, standing
off a little, the wind in the west, they had the wind gauge.
When
Lark
made her run into the open sea she would be at a
disadvantage.

James had ordered
Hawk
darkened. No lights of any kind
were to be shown on deck, or aloft. Every man aboard had
been obliged to blacken his face, and to wear the darkest coat,
jacket or jerkin he possessed. The Marines had not made the
trip from Portsmouth in their scarlet coats, but in blue jackets
found for them at James's request. Even Colonel Macklin, in
usual very smart in his appearance, had been persuaded to
shed his scarlet and don a plain blue frock coat lent him by
James. There was absolute silence on deck, fore and aft.
Orders were to be conveyed by relayed hand signals, or in
whispers, until battle was joined.

Hawk
's carronades were loaded with roundshot for the first
broadsides, and were to be reloaded with more roundshot.

'Not grape, James?' Rennie had asked. 'I thought you had
a preference for grape as a man-killer, did not y'tell me?'

'I do not want to kill men, sir, this action – for fear of killing
Aidan Faulk. I want to disable
Lark
and take her, and him.
We must produce the fellow alive.'

'Yes, in course you are right . . . only, will not eighteenpound
roundshot smash
Lark
so heavy that she will likely
sink? Surely it will be better to cut across her stern and rake
her with – '

'Sir, if you please.' Firmly, over him. 'Allow me to know
best how to handle my ship and fight my guns. Will you?'

'Indeed, indeed – forgive me.' And Rennie had then shut
his mouth, contrite.

The
Lark
made her run in the first faint glimmers of dawn.

And at first,
Hawk
's lookout did not see her. James had
insisted that
Hawk
should not remain hove-to or lying at
anchor during the hours of darkness, but should continue to
tack by the wind, go about and run before, &c., in order to
keep the watches on their toes, since
Lark
could appear at any
time. He had not, however, insisted that his guncrews should
stand by their guns. He wanted them fresh and eager when
the time came.

When the lookout did see
Lark
she was already slipped
clear of the cove and begun to head south-east on the starboard
tack. She was in disguise. She was again painted black,
and her canvas was also very dark. Against the dark line of the
coast she was nearly invisible.
Hawk
had been sailing west,
and was coming off the wind to go about, and the lookout –
forgetting all notions of silence – bellowed:

'D-e-e-e-e-ck! Cutter standing away to the east!'

James raised his glass, saw the
Lark
and recognized her,
and:

'Mr Love! We will beat to quarters! Mr Dumbleton! Set
me a course to intercept!'

The calls, thudding feet, and the deck heeling as
Hawk
came round on the new heading, the heavy mainsail boom
swinging over the heads of James, Rennie and the afterguard
at the falls. The urgent sighing and creaking of a weatherly
sea boat answering the helm. A glitter of spray like liquid fire
against the dawn. The hissing, seething rush of the sea. The
shouts of guncrews, and powderboys with cartridge. The
clatter and fury as tompions came out, and:

'Larboard battery ready, sir!' Midshipman Wallace.

'Starboard battery ready, sir!' Midshipman Abey.

'Has she seen us, d'y'think?' James, his glass to his eye.

'Certainly.' Rennie, at his side. 'That is why she is
running.'

'Then we will run, too. Run right at her, by God.'

Hawk
closed the other cutter, running on the port tack
with the westerly wind on her quarter.
Lark
ran steadily sou'-
east on the starboard tack, the wind on her beam. She could
not run due east to make her escape, because if she did she
would wreck herself on the Needles. Although
Lark
was a
fast, weatherly cutter,
Hawk
was faster running before, and as
she came within range the
Lark
's starboard battery spoke, a
stutter of orange flashes and ballooning smoke preceding the
deep concussive thuds of her guns over the sea.

Roundshot ploughed into the swell just astern of
Hawk
in
multiple eruptions of spray. All the shots had missed, but
James was not in any way relieved.

'By God, he has got carronades! Twelve-pounder
carronades!'

'Aye, the guns hid under the canvas on the shingle in the
cove,' nodded Rennie. 'I should have looked under that
canvas, but I did not.'

'He has sixteen carronades to my ten! Eight twelvepounders
in each broadside!' James was aghast. 'Christ Jesu,
we cannot best him now.'

'We must try, James.'

'Aye, we must. Mr Abey!'

'Sir?' The whites of his eyes in his blackened face.

'Stand by your guns until we cross his stern.' A long,
heeling, sea-hissing moment, and:

'Fire as they bear!' James.

'Starboard battery! Fire! Fire! Fire!' Richard Abey.

BOOM BOOM-BOOM BOOM BOOM

Hawk
trembled her whole length. Gritty smoke boiled out
and wafted away on the wind, and James saw that only one of
his shots had struck home. The
Lark
's stern was damaged,
but not shattered, and her helm and rudder were intact.

Hawk
came about on the starboard tack in order to chase
her quarry south-east. As she tacked,
Lark
's guns spoke again
– her larboard battery.

THUMP THUMP THUMP-THUD
MP-THUD THUD THUD

Twelve-pound roundshot struck the
Hawk
in four places.
She shook horribly, and there was the sound of splintering
timber. Then moans, and a harsh, agonized scream.
Repeated. And repeated.

Half the forrard rail on the starboard side had been
smashed away, and hammocks hung trailing in tatters in the
sea. Two of the starboard carronades had been hit, and torn
off their carriages. There were dying men, and dead men.
There was blood streaming along the deck, and spattered
across the reef points of the mainsail.

The scream came again.

James picked himself up, staggered on the tilting deck, and
lurched aft to the tafferel. Peered over and down in an effort
to examine his rudder. It appeared to be intact. But the
helmsman was absent, the tiller beginning to swing free.

'Mr Dumbleton! . . . Mr Dumbleton!' Taking the tiller
himself until a new helmsman could be found – or the missing
one.

The red-gleaming, yellow-glittering sun seemed to pierce
his head when he glanced east. The low-sitting, fiery light
burned across the swell, across the restless, living sea. He
looked south and saw that
Lark
had altered course to run
sou'-sou'-east, and was already nearly half a league distant,
making good her escape. How long had he lain there on deck,
James wondered.

'Mr Dumbleton! We must give chase!'

But Garvey Dumbleton did not attend him. The scream
came again, fierce and piteous in the same moment.

'Mr Abey!'

'Sir . . . ?' The youth came aft, pale with shock.

'Who is hurt? Who is that screaming?'

'It is Mr Dumbleton, sir. He . . . he has been very horribly
injured . . .'

'Find Dr Wing, and ask him to come on deck at once.'

Thomas Wing was already on deck, kneeling far forrard,
tending to the wounded there. James gave the helm to
Richard Abey, went forrard himself, and found Garvey
Dumbleton trapped in a splintered shot-hole in the decking
and side. He was hanging head down over the side, one arm
half submerged in the rising and falling sea. One of his legs
was caught deep in the hole, and the other lay useless beside
it, with a dreadful injury below the knee. The injuries to his
legs were not the most severe he had sustained. At his midriff
was a mass of blood and bloodily pulped tissue soaking under
and through his shirt. He screamed again, his eyes staring, his
mouth gaping in a savage desperate grimace. James looked at
him, turned his head away a moment, looked at him again.

'Ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh, God . . .' pleaded the wounded man.

James reached and tried to free the trapped leg. But this
made him scream again, and then again came the helpless,
panting 'ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh, Christ . . .'

'Doctor! Dr Wing!' shouted James, half-standing, halfkneeling.
The sea sucked and lifted along the damaged wales,
and submerged Dumbleton's dangling arm up to the
shoulder.

And now Thomas Wing was at James's side, a bloody saw
in his hand.

'We must release him, Thomas, and get him below.'

Dr Wing took it all in with the careful, detached gaze of a
man who cannot allow emotion or delicate feeling to dictate.
A swift intake of breath, and leaning close to James:

'There is nothing can be done for him. We must end his
suffering.'

'What? We must get him free, and – '

'No, sir. No. We must end his suffering.'

'But how? How, if we don't release his leg?'

Quietly: 'Have you a pistol?'

'What?'

'I cannot reach down to give him a lethal quantity of
physic. Your pistol must answer.'

'Good God, Thomas . . . Good God, I cannot . . .'

'Then give the pistol to me.' Calm and grim.

'Nay – nay, if you are entirely certain it must be done . . . ?'

'Yes.' With finality. 'I am.'

'Then I will do it.'

He took his pistol from his coat, cocked it, and as Garvey
Dumbleton moaned 'Ohh . . . ohh . . . ohh, Christ . . .'

crack

James ended it, and threw the pistol far out into the sea. Felt
Thomas Wing's hand grip his arm, a brief, strong, heartfelt
squeeze, and then the doctor was gone, hurrying forrard.

James stood still a moment, steadied himself with a deep
breath, and was about to turn aft when he became aware of a
seaman staring at him in shocked disbelief. James briefly met
the seaman's gaze, then the man turned away. However,
James had seen the accusation in the man's eyes, and opened
his mouth to speak, to say some quick word of explication and
reassurance. No words would come. He stood irresolute a
moment longer, then swung round and strode aft. Another
breath, as if to cleanse his breast, and: