The Midshipman Prince (26 page)

Admiral George Rodney

Captain Sir Charles Douglas

The Battle of Frigate Bay

The Battle of the Saintes

CHAPTER SEVEN

      
THE sun came up over Hog Island in a most unusual way. Because it was low in the sky, it was a large, brilliant, orange ball; but off in the distance some high thin clouds bisected the sun making it look like it had rings, like Saturn.

      
Hayes used the traditional nautical definition of “dawn”; namely, it’s dawn when you can “tell a gray feather from a white feather held at arms length.” By that definition, or any other, it was now dawn and orders were being given to get the
Trojan
underway.

      
Hayes set the topsail and jib, started the ship slowly running toward the
Cardinal
, and called the four refugees together.

      
“All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” Hayes began. “We have one card I want to play before we resort to those… whatever they are… things you made. We’re gonna approach the
Cardinal
slowly, like we’re giving up. Then, at the last minute, I am going to drop the Mainsail and sheer off on a starboard tack. The wind is easterly again so I am hoping I can get by him and into the wind before he can react. By the time he comes around to chase us, we’ll have a lead—one that I hope I can significantly increase.”

      
Everyone nodded agreement.

      
The
Trojan
closed to 200 yards. Then 150… 100… “Stand-by to raise mainsail,” Hayes quietly ordered. At 75 yards, Hayes was going to sheer off, but he never got a chance to do it. Without warning, three red lights blinked along the starboard side of the
Cardinal
. Before a curse could escape anyone’s lips, a hole appeared in the
Trojan
’s mainsail, a chunk disappeared from the mast about 10 feet up, and a corner of the captain’s cabin exploded in a shower of splinters. A split second later the retort of three 12-pound guns could be heard, followed by confused voices simultaneously saying things like: “He’s opened fire!” “Get down!” “Jesus Christ!” “That son of a bitch” and other observations that need not appear in this record.

      
“Up mainsail,” Hayes screamed as he shoved the tiller over. The sail filled with a loud bang and the
Trojan
surged off on a tangent away from her tormentor. The
Cardinal
, however, was expecting the move and raised her canvas as well.

      
The two ships fell into a race to see which would reach the mouth of the Great Machipongo Inlet first. If the
Cardinal
could get there, the
Trojan
would be trapped in the bay where they could force the surrender of the prince and then pick the
Trojan
apart at their leisure.

      
Both ships put on all the canvas they could, given the tack they were on and the
Trojan
indeed proved to be faster to windward; but, the
Cardinal
had two advantages on the
Trojan
. First, she had the angle on any race to the inlet mouth; and, second…

      
The back quarter of the captain’s cabin came apart with a crash, another hole appeared in the mainsail this time closer to the mast, and the first hole appeared in the jib.

      
“He’s got one gun trying to take out our tiller and two trying to bring down our mast; but he knows he’s got to shoot carefully because he doesn’t want to hurt or kill the prince. Now’s the time, folks. If those things you cooked up actually work, now’s the time to use ‘em,” yelled Hayes above the sounds of the ship.

* * *

      
Hayes assigned sail handling tasks to his crew while Hanover picked up the case of rockets and, with strength no one knew he had, carried them forward to the swivel gun. Susan raced ahead of him and threw the cover off the gun revealing the rocket tray, and Smith followed with a lit slow match.

      
Hanover pulled the first rocket out and placed it in the tray. Susan, who had sandwiched herself between the swivel gun and the jib, now made last second sight adjustments and slid a wooden wedge into the gun’s swivel thus locking the barrel in position. She stepped back and Smith touched off the fuse.

      
Walker looked on in horror as the fuse sputtered to a stop without igniting the rocket motor.

      
“Damn,” Walker exclaimed, and ran forward to throw the rocket over the side just as the next volley came in from the
Cardinal
. Two more holes appeared close to the mast and one more ball whizzed by Hayes’ head back at the tiller.

      
“Any time now, folks, would be just fine,” yelled Hayes while getting up off the deck.

      
“Bill, give me another one.”

      
Susan checked the sighting on the swivel gun. “Sidney! Now!”

      
The fuse was lit and the rocket took off with an amazingly satisfying WHOOSH. It fishtailed toward the
Cardinal
, passing over her deck and landing in the ocean beyond.

      
When Walker turned around, Hanover had already placed another rocket in the tray and Susan, unleashing a string of oaths that would have done a bosun proud, was re-sighting the swivel gun. Smith stepped forward and… WHOOSH…

      
The third rocket hit and stuck in the hull near the bow. A few seconds later, a huge B-O-O-M echoed across the bay and Walker did his best to keep from dancing.

      
Hayes broke up the celebration, yelling from the stern: “Could you people act like maybe you’ve done this before and send another one?”

      
The
Cardinal
and the
Trojan
then settled into a slugfest while racing for the corner of the inlet. Both ships were suffering. The
Cardinal
had huge gouges taken out of her hull and superstructure. The
Trojan
’s aft hull was not in much better shape. In addition, the top 10 feet of her mast, along with the topsail, was hanging down and the jib was in tatters.

      
The climax of the battle, when it finally occurred, happened by accident.

      
The
Trojan
was heeled over when a round shot hit low on her hull on a spot that normally would be underwater. When she righted herself, water started pouring in. As all this was happening, the
Cardinal
tacked, exposing a similar stretch of vulnerable hull and was nailed by one of Susan’s rockets. Nether gunner planned the hit. Neither was aiming at that particular spot; yet, both ships were now seriously damaged.

      
As water poured into each ship, they both slowed down and further heeled over, exposing even more areas for target practice. The difference in the battle finally turned on the
Trojan
’s ability to fire her weapons so much faster than the
Cardinal
.

      
With only three rockets remaining, Susan stuck two into the
Cardinal
’s exposed hull before the
Cardinal
could get off another volley, and it was all over. The
Cardinal
was sinking and had put boats over to take the crew to nearby Hog Island. However, the
Trojan
wasn’t in much better shape. The
Cardinal
had blown a hole in her side, which might have been managed, but it also opened up seams all over her ancient hull. The
Trojan
was sinking too, it’s just that she was sinking slower than the
Cardinal
and could sail on—at least for a while.

      
At first, the four weren’t sure what to do; they just looked at each other. Susan was standing next to the gun, her hair disheveled with strands sticking out in all directions, sweat was pouring down her face making rivulet lines through the soot from the rocket exhaust, dress seams were torn in several places from unaccustomed exertions and, peeking through it all was her smile. Walker thought he had never seen a woman look more beautiful.

      
Hanover finally broke the silence: “Way to go gunner!” And they fell into a group embrace, hugging and backslapping.

      
The
Trojan
exited the inlet and swung north. Some of the ship’s crew were working the pumps while others were bailing with buckets, but there was no hope. The
Trojan
was a river sloop, great for rivers and sheltered bays like the Chesapeake; but not designed for open ocean travel with holes in her hull. Several hours later Hayes called them together.

      
“Well, the one thing I can guarantee you is that we’re not going to make it to New York. We’re a couple miles off Chincoteague Island and I am pretty sure I can get us there. We can ground the ship and everyone will be perfectly safe; but you’ll be stuck on Chincoteague. There are no towns or villages there, at least none that I know of, and there may or may not be water.

      
“Or, we can try to make the Delaware River and put into Lewes. I have some friends there that, I think, will help us out. The problem is that I don’t know if we’ll make it. If those seams get worse and we take in more water, or if the wind shifts to the north or northwest, we’re dead.

      
“Name your poison, folks.”

      
The group was quiet for a long moment. Finally, Susan spoke up. “Hugh, if we ground the ship on Chincoteague you’ll loose it. If we make it to Lewes will you be able to save it?”

      
“Probably. There’s a good shipyard there and I can charge the repairs to the owners. However, if we don’t make it and sink, we’ll not only loose the ship but will probably drown in the bargain.”