A Divided Command (25 page)

‘Get Mr Dorling on the wheel, we must come alongside
Sandown Castle
.’

‘Take it easy, John-boy, you’re hurt.’

‘Tell them to lash us off to their side and if they wish to do so fire through our rigging, but to avoid the mast.’

Michael was heading him for the companionway, which would take them below, but Pearce steadied his feet, dug them in and refused to budge. Looking down at his useless arm Pearce actually shouted at his friend.

‘Get me a line and lash this bastard to my body, then stay by my side, for I will need you.’

‘What in the name of Jesus do you intend?’

‘To win, Michael, what else?’

Dorling was by his side now. ‘Orders, Captain?’

‘Get us tied to that dammed merchantman, then get everyone aboard with all the weapons they can bear. We are going to invite these swine to board and, by Harry, if they do it will be a bloody deck that we drive them off.’

Without orders, the likes of Charlie and Rufus had got grappling irons ready and as soon as they were close enough these were cast to hook the side of
Sandown Castle
and men hauled heartily to bring the two vessels together, which they did with a horrible crunch. Lines came down from the higher deck and like something from a fairground show the men of the armed cutter swarmed up onto the deck of the merchantman, having thrown up every weapon they could before they left.

Michael O’Hagan lifted his friend bodily and so high that he could be taken by the armpits and hauled onto his companion deck. This was not without agony, and Pearce bit his lip so hard it bled; better that than he should bleat. It took a moment for Pearce to contain his pain, this when he stood holding onto a hammock netting, but he still saw himself in command and he was not prepared to relinquish that responsibility.

‘If they board you cannot fight, John-boy.’

‘Put a weapon in my left hand.’

‘Christ in heaven, the number of times I have wanted to do this.’

It was not the complete Pelican punch, but it was enough to floor John Pearce, who never saw the attempt to board, missed the fight on the deck that saw the corsair soundly beaten and forced to withdraw, did not hear the jeers of his crew and that of
Sandown Castle
. When he woke his arm was in splints and he was being administered to by Emily. He had no idea that half the night had passed and if those same enemies were trailing the ship, which was towing
HMS
Larcher
now, they were not seeking to close.

‘You are a hard man to leave, John Pearce.’

‘Then,’ he replied, ‘would it not be best to cease to try?’

‘A conversation, my love, for the time we are safe in harbour.’

‘I cannot see myself parted from you, Emily, and I have a notion—’

‘Enough!’ she commanded. ‘Put it aside for now.’

The ships that entered Palermo harbour the next day, at noon, looked a sorry sight, none more so than
HMS Larcher
, much damaged and her rigging in tatters. Worse was the butcher’s bill, with ten of his crew dead, while the lazaretto held two dozen more with wounds of various severity. John Pearce, ambulant if weak, was depressed by his examination of both and said so.

‘Some of my men have perished and many more bear wounds. I will have to explain this somehow, Emily, which I feel I could do with Lord Hood, who would see that if I suffered harm I saved a British merchant vessel.’

‘Surely you will not be censured?’

‘If Hotham has taken command, I will struggle to avoid it.’

‘This is no time to fret on that, John. There is only one thing I fret on, and you know only too well what that is, so damn Sir William Hotham.’

In San Fiorenzo Bay, the heart of that admiral lifted as he saw the topsails of
HMS Victory
finally disappear. He was now in command of the Mediterranean Fleet and Hood could whistle to confound him. He had many avenues he wished to explore and he was sure that in time he would find a way to bring the French fleet to battle and inflict on them a resounding defeat, one that would assure him a place in the peerage of England. Yet there were other matters equally pressing and so he called in his clerk.

‘Toomey, fetch me the correspondence relating to that Pasha fellow in old Illyria, Mehmet I seem to recall is his name. A capricious fellow and murderous too, I am told. I have a feeling there are one or two coves to whom I feel the need to introduce him.’

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D
AVID
D
ONACHIE
was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as well as the Roman Republic, and, under the pen-name of Jack Ludlow, has published a number of historical adventure novels. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.

T
HE
J
OHN
P
EARCE SERIES

By the Mast Divided

A Shot Rolling Ship

An Awkward Commission

A Flag of Truce

The Admirals’ Game

An Ill Wind

Blown Off Course

Enemies at Every Turn

A Sea of Troubles

A Divided Command

Written as Jack Ludlow

T
HE
R
EPUBLIC SERIES

The Pillars of Rome

The Sword of Revenge

The Gods of War

T
HE
C
ONQUEST SERIES

Mercenaries

Warriors

Conquest

T
HE
R
OADS TO
W
AR SERIES

The Burning Sky

A Broken Land

A Bitter Field

T
HE
C
RUSADES SERIES

Son of Blood

Soldier of Crusade

Prince of Legend