The Midshipman Prince (33 page)

      
Douglas walked around the carriage to the gun port. Next to it a small metal device hung out from the hull, and hanging from it was a pendulum.

      
“Then you’ll be glad to see the addition of this device. It’s nothing but a simple pendulum but, if you watch its motion, it will tell you when the ship is dead level. That is the moment to fire. No more guessing.

      
“As you can see, gentlemen, there have been a number of changes which, I dare say, are improvements in what we have been doing. With them, you should be nearly able to double the French rate of fire,
and
be more accurate in the bargain.

      
“Do you have any questions?”

      
No one moved. No one said a thing. Douglas’ presentation had been such a revelation that most of it was still sinking in.

      
Captain Saumarez spoke for the first time. “Thank you Captain Douglas. That was most enlightening.

      
“Woolsey, I want you to organize this group into a training party, and exercise them on the new Douglas System. That’s everyone,” he said looking around, “including the officers. Then, I want you to expand your training to every day, morning and afternoon except Sunday, until every man jack on this ship is proficient in handling the guns under this new approach. Is that clear?”

      
“Aye, sir.”

      
As the two captains retired to the cooler breezes found under the awning over the quarterdeck, Woolsey began shouting orders to form the group into gunnery teams.
A bit of a competition between some of the young officers and the men might be an interesting diversion,
he thought.

      
Susan slipped out of the crowd and looked back at the eager expressions on the men’s faces.
What IS it about men and things that go bang?
She thought.
They are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Yet, we women... we women and our children are the ones who have to live with the consequences for the rest of our lives when they fly too close to that flame.

* * *

      
The French officer spoke more than passable English and was more than passably efficient, for a Frenchman.

      
“You are the captain?” He said to Cornwallis.

      
“I am.”

      
“And you surrender this ship?”

      
Cornwallis paused for a moment, looking up at the mammoth ship riding not 50 yards away with at least 30 workable guns pointed right at him. Nevertheless, these would be the hardest words he would ever have to say, but he got them out. “I do.” And he handed his sword over to the Frenchman, who accepted it.

      
“Very good. Now I wish you to order all your officers up here to the quarterdeck and all your men to the fo’c’sle.” Cornwallis passed the order on to his bosun to handle.

      
“This is a mail packet, is it not?”

      
There was no sense in denying it. “Yes, it is.”

      
“Then you will lead me to where your mail bags and dispatch pouches are located.”

      
Twenty minutes later, the men were arranged on the fo’c’sle as instructed. Walker and Smith stood next to each other along the larboard rail with the other officers near the quarterdeck. The mail pouches were piled amidships near the mainmast. Both groups and the mail sacks were under close guard by the French marines.

      
French seamen were below deck removing anything that could even remotely be used as a weapon prior to locking the
Badger’s
men up. Everyone else was watching several small boats get underway from the
Sibylle
to come and pick up the
Badger
’s officers. Walker spoke quietly.

      
“Sidney, look on top of that pile. There’s the dispatch pouch we were supposed to deliver to Admiral Hood.”

      
Smith looked at the mail pile, then at the marines guarding it. “Yes, I know. So what?”

      
“We need to make a break for it.”

      
“What are you talking about?”

      
“Look, you work your way over to the ship’s wheel and stand in front of it. Go slowly so no one pays any attention to you.”

      
“And then?”

      
“Then, I’ll shoot between those guards, grab Hood’s pouch, and toss it over to you. I’ll then continue to the starboard rail, you throw it back to me, and I’ll toss it overboard.”

      
“You’re mad.”

      
“Yes, we’ve already established that; but, this’ll work. Trust me.”

      
“Trust me,” he says. “Trust me, when he was the one who...” Smith continued grumbling to himself as he causally worked himself over to the wheel.

      
Walker saw his opportunity when one soldier moved out of the way to talk to his sergeant. He shot between the two very startled remaining guards, grabbed the pouch, and backhanded it to Smith. Smith caught it and raised it above his head.

      
As Walker expected, the guards all followed the progress of the pouch and rushed toward Smith. He then ducked between two more guards, banged his shin against a hatch cover, recovered, and arrived at the starboard rail. Smith then lobbed the pouch over everyone’s head to Walker with a two-handed toss. Walker caught it and, in one continuous motion, flipped it into the water. He had a chance to see it bob to the surface once and then slowly sink again before the rifle butt caught him on the back of the head.

* * *

      
When the
Sybille
was moving up on the
Badger
scant attention was paid to her condition. Now that Smith, Walker, and Cornwallis were on board, they could see the pounding she had taken. Several guns had been overturned; and gaping holes appeared where orderly gun ports once stood. The mizzenmast was tottering at a strange angle because of stays and shrouds that had been cut away. Chunks of wood and splinters were everywhere and men, some still bleeding from minor wounds, were furiously trying to repair the damage.

      
A few days later, the
Sybille
fell in with the
Diadem
. The three were transferred on board just before the
Sybille
headed for Martinique to lick her wounds. On board the
Diadem,
they were simply left standing around on deck while the officers and men went about their business. Twenty minutes after that, a somewhat older lieutenant led them down to what proved to be the captain’s cabin.

      
“Gentlemen,” he said upon arrival, “may I introduce to you Capitaine De Vaisseau Jacque De Monteclerc.”

      
Captain De Monteclerc was not what any of them had expected. He and the
Diadem
had gained quite a reputation in the West Indies as a serious foe, yet he looked like anything but a warrior. Thin and effete, he looked more like an unsuccessful tailor than anything else. It wasn’t until you noticed that the slight sneer he wore on his face was a permanent fixture that you realized there might be some nasty steel under his dandified appearance.

      
“Gentleman,” he said in broken English, “welcome to the
Diadem
. As you know, you will be our guests here for a while.

      
“Which of you is Captain Cornwallis?”

      
“I am, sir.”

      
“I see. And your ship is... was... the mail packet
Badger
?”

      
“It was.”

      
“Cornwallis, eh. Are you related to the general?”

      
“No sir, although he has a brother who is serving with Admiral Hood. We are not related, at least not that I am aware.”

      
“But you were on your way to Admiral Hood, is that not correct?”

      
“It is.”

      
“Where were you supposed to meet him?”

      
“I wasn’t. My task was to try and find him.”

      
“You’re telling me, you have no idea where he is but your task was to deliver dispatches to him?”

      
“Yes, sir. We heard he was in these waters but had no idea where.”

      
De Monteclerc’s voice suddenly grew stern. “Lieutenant, do you think for a minute that I actually believe you?”

      
“Believe me or not, sir; it’s true.”

      
“Yes, I am sure.

      
“You then must be...” He looked down at a sheet of paper. “You must be Lieutenant Smith and the other is Dr. Walker.”

      
“I am,” said Smith.

      
“Well, actually I am not really a doctor, you see. I am...”

      
Walker shut up when Smith’s elbow cracked into his ribs.

      
“And, I suppose you both have the same amnesia with regard to Hood’s whereabouts?

      
Neither man said a word. De Monteclerc eyes bored in on Smith, who was placidly gazing at a spot on the wall just above Monteclerc’s head.

      
“That was quite a stunt you pulled with that dispatch pouch aboard the
Badger
. Would you care to explain to me what was in it?”

      
“I have no idea, sir. I just assumed, whatever it was, His Majesty would prefer that you not have it. Because I was entrusted with it, it was a matter of honor that I get rid of it.”

      
This was an argument De Monteclerc could understand. The British and the French had been bitter enemies for generations; but there was a code of honor among and between officers that both sides understood and respected.

      
“I see.

      
“Well, I have to do something with you three. Dr. Walker, I will expect you to report to our surgeons to help tend our wounded. You other two are confined to your quarters until further notice.”

      
“No, sir.” Cornwallis said.

      
“Pardon me?”

      
“I said: No, sir. That’s not acceptable. If you wish our surgeon to help your surgeon, then all of us must be given freedom of the ship.”

      
De Monteclerc thought about it a moment. He had just returned from the cockpit and had seen first hand how overwhelmed his surgeon and his mates were.

      
“Dr. Walker?”

      
Walker wasn’t quite sure what was going on but decided to play along anyway. “Yes, sir. I will not serve unless all of us are given freedom of the ship.”
Whatever that means,
he thought. “Plus, Lieutenant Smith here must be assigned as my assistant.”

      
“What?” Smith wheeled around in surprise.

      
“Be quiet. It’ll do you good.” Walker hissed.

      
“Then I assume I have parole from each of you?” De Monteclerc asked. By giving their parole, each was agreeing on his honor that he would not try to escape nor do the ship or its men any harm.

      
“You do, sir, unless and until this ship comes into armed conflict with one of our own.” Cornwallis replied.

      
“Done. But if that is the case, Captain Cornwallis, then I am assigning you back to your ship. I expect you to serve as a resource to our officers in case any question should arise concerning the peculiarities of handling your vessel.”