Mutiny (51 page)

_{High screams close by — a young powder
monkey with his lower body soaked in blood, pulling himself helplessly away on
his elbows. Kydd motioned to an opposite gun-crew to carry the lad below.}

_{A wrecked gun, its
barrel askew and carriage in pieces, its crew in a moaning, bloody heap, was
being cleared of its dead, tumbled out of the gunport to the sea below.}

_{Then, unbelievably, a
messenger appeared, shrilling urgently, 'Cease firing!' The crews, working like
automatons, checked their fire and subsided into a trembling stillness. Kydd
ran to the side and looked out. Roiling gunsmoke still hid much of the enemy,
but there was an unnatural quiet aboard their adversary. Confused shouting from
behind caused Kydd to turn round — but then came cheering, and maniac roars of
jubilation. The enemy had struck!}

_{It was ironic, thought Renzi, that
when he had been reassigned to another ship at the last minute it had been this
one, Tenacious, and within weeks of his final retirement from the sea he was
headed into his second major fleet action in a year.}

_{He knew Kydd had been
shipped in Triumph, and there she was, the other side of Duncan's Venerable. He
hoped that the lottery of war would spare his friend, whom he had not seen
since their farewell in Sheerness — but this was going to be no stately fight
against unwilling Spanish allies.}

_{The Dutch were rightly
proud of their maritime past, yet at the same time would be fearing the
submergence of their national identity following their defeat and occupation by
the French. If they could rise victorious over a field of war on their own,
this would be preserved. It would be a sanguinary conflict indeed.}

_{Renzi's post was at the quarterdeck
nine-pounder battery. He would see what was developing, a mercy compared to the
hell of a gundeck below, but he would be a target for enemy musketry. At least
if he survived he could retire to the estate with as unique a claim to fame as
any in the county set, he mused.}

_{The enemy opened fire.
It would be a hard thing to achieve, a breaking of the line, but Venerable led
the division nobly, her signal for close action seemingly nailed in place. The
fire got hotter. A ball slammed through a file of marines and left bloody
corpses in its wake. Twice Renzi staggered at the vicious slap of wind from a
near miss.}

_{He forced his mind to float free,
calmly observing his actions and freeing his thoughts of a vortex of anxiety —
it was the only rational course.}

_{Venerable was close to
starboard, clearly heading for the enemy flagship. Tenacious kept faithful
station on her, and when they were closer Renzi could see she was going round
the stern of de Winter's ship to deliver a crushing, raking fire - but her next
astern bravely closed the gap and Venerable had to bear away to round her
instead.}

_{Tenacious, a humble 64,
found herself alone in taking on the big Dutch flagship. As she swung to bring
her own broadside to bear, the space between the two filled with acrid powder
smoke and a devastating storm of shot. The enemy were not, like the French,
aiming for rigging and spars to disable the ship. Instead they were smashing
their shot home directly into the hull of their opponent in a brutal
prize-fight.}

_{There were no
broadsides now: both ships at less than a hundred yards' range pounded to the
limits of endurance. The air was torn by the whir of chain-shot, the heavy slam
of thirty-two-pound balls, the vicious wasp-like hum of bullets - the whole
against the continuous noise of guns and shattered timbers and the dry reek of
gunpowder smoke.}

_{Men struck by balls
were blown into pieces like sides of beef in a butcher's shop or were
disembowelled in an instant; those hit by splinters shrieked in agony as they
were skewered. Renzi saw a midshipman, then the signal lieutenant drop in their
tracks, and over at a disabled nine-pounder a corpse exuded blood that made
tracks on the deck as the ship rolled and heaved.}

_{The captain dropped to
his knees with a bloody graze on his head, then crumpled to the deck; a midshipman
started weeping, the pain from a crushed foot overcoming his young attempt at
bravery. Renzi paced along the deck, watching his nine-pounder crews throwing
everything into a frenzied cycle of violence, and ferociously excluded the
logical probability that his own survival was in doubt.}

_{He turned, and started
to pace back the other side. Something like a horse's kick from behind threw
one of his legs from under him. He fell to the deck. There was no immediate
pain, and he scrabbled about trying to locate the source of a growing numbness,
then noted spreading blood on the scrubbed deck. He sat up, trying to rise, but
then the hot pain began and he flopped down again.}

_{'Get yez below, mate,'
said an out-of-breath gun captain, who lifted his arms. In shock, Renzi fell
back while another took his feet in an awkward carry-and-drag to the
blood-smeared hatchway. They bumped him down the ladder and staggered round to
lower him down the next.}

_{On the orlop it was a
scene from hell. The entire deck was carpeted in wounded, an operating table
contrived from midshipmen's chests in the centre. But the surgeon was not
there: he with his lob-lolly boys could only move about the stream of wounded,
as they came down, trying their best to ease their suffering.}

_{Renzi was placed on an
old piece of canvas, which was rapidly soaked with blood from his wound. He lay
light-headed in the infernal gloom, listening to groans and cries. But there
were also cheers of encouragement and bravery from some of those who would soon
face the knife and saw. The back of his leg throbbed with increasing pain and
he wondered abstractly if he would lose it.}

_{A lanthorn bobbed
nearer. It was the surgeon and his helper. In the navy way men were seen in the
strict order they were carried below, no matter the severity of their wounds.
Renzi waited for his turn, hearing the noise and shaking of the gundeck in
action above.}

_{The surgeon in
his black smock, stiff with bloodstains, turned to him. His eyes were glazed.
'Where is the wound, if you please?' he said, kneeling beside Renzi.}

_{Renzi tried to turn over but could not.
The two lob-lolly boys - older men no longer suitable for work on deck —
rotated him. He felt the surgeon's hands rip away clothing and tensed for the
knife, but after a pause and cursory poke the surgeon straightened. 'You're
lucky, my man. Superficial tissue loss but we'll need to staunch the blood.' He
probed the area. Renzi could feel the man's breath around the wound. 'Yes, fit
for duty in weeks. You know what to do,' he told the lob-lollies; then he was
gone.}

_{The excruciating pain
of a vinegar solution on the raw flesh brought tears to his eyes, but relief
was unfolding in a tide of emotion — he would not suffer under the saw. A
dressing, a tourniquet; additional pain came from the biting cord. Then the
indignity of being dragged to a further corner to recover — or die.}

_{Somewhere outside the
battle's fury continued; the fabric of Tenacious shuddered with savage blows.
On deck it would be chaos, but the cruel logic of war meant that duty must be
done and the battle fought irrespective of the hideous scenes.}

_{Renzi rolled to his
side in discomfort. Then he noticed the glint of gold lace being carried down
the hatchway. It was the first lieutenant, his head lolling ominously to one
side. The quarterdeck was being cleared fast.}

_{Possession of their prize — Wassenaar—
released Triumph for hotter work. Passing Venerable and Tenacious she rounded
into the enemy line again, laying herself bow to bow with a yellow-sided
man-o'-war.}

<sub>Her guns opened again
with a thunderous broadside, which was answered with equal venom by their opponent
- but having practised over long weeks at sea the English guns spoke faster and
truer. Kydd, below, drove on his men with bellows of encouragement as the side
of their opponent bulked just yards away.</sub>

_{But Triumph was coming
under fire from another quarter. A previously untouched Dutch ship had
approached and opened up on her opposite side. Kydd was taken by surprise at
the sudden irruption of cannon fire — but almost immediately the sea was lit by
a flash, and a sullen boom rolled over the waves.}

_{The enemy fire
slackened and stopped. A ruddy glow tinged the sea. Fire! Kydd stooped to look
out, and saw, only a few hundred yards off, the attacking warship lit by a
spreading blaze near the base of the mainmast. Something must have touched off
powder on deck, and if the flames reached tarred rigging and sails she would
turn into a fire-ship, a danger to friend and foe on the crowded sea.}

_{Kydd turned back
to his task and saw that the yellow-streaked ship's angle away had changed and,
after another exchange of fire, she could be seen gathering way: she was
fleeing! Triumph continued on to wear round; it was clear she was keeping away
from the burning ship and falling back to support the hard-pressed Venerable. Kydd
set about clearing away and squaring up.}

_{In the lull a midshipman messenger
hurried down the ladder to Kydd. 'Captain desires your report, if y' please.'}

_{Kydd tried to
keep his mind calm as he emerged on deck. Triumph was cut about grievously,
wreckage strewn about, ropes trailing from aloft, blood smears on the deck.
This was his first sight of the open battlefield. While he hurried aft, his
eyes took in the vastness of the scene: ships in every direction at every
angle, boats in the water, cannon splashes around ships still under fire, an
immense pall of smoke over the whole area.}

_{'You, er, Kydd?'
The captain was obviously in pain, his arm in an improvised sling, his face
blackened and red.}

_'Sir.'

_{'Lieutenant
Monckton?'}

_{'Regret he's still unconscious,
sir. I have him on th' gratings 'midships so if he comes to . ..' 'Quite right.
And the guns?'}

_{'Number seven larb'd dismounted, number
nine larb'd has a blown vent bushing. Lost a truck off number six stb'd, but
the crew is managin'. Er, we lost six men on number seven, an' there's a total
of — let me see - thirteen been taken below.' Kydd added, 'We c'n still give ye
a full broadside less two t' larb'd, an' all to starb'd, but could be pressed
t' fight both sides. But, sir, we're in fine spirits, don't worry of us.'}

_{Captain Essington nodded
slowly, looking closely at Kydd.}

_{'Sir,
may I know — f'r the others — how's the day?'}

_{Essington smiled
grimly. 'You see there,' he pointed to the south, 'the starb'd division has
taken all five of their opponents and are bearing up to join us. And there,' he
indicated the ships they were steering for locked together in the throes of
combat, 'that is their flagship, and she has lost all her masts, and fights
three of our ships. I rather fancy she will strike soon — and the day will then
be won.'}

_{Kydd touched his hat
and went below. Monckton was still unconscious, breathing heavily, so Kydd
tried to make him comfortable and turned back to the task of clearing away the
debris of battle.}

_{A swelling roar of
cheers sounded on deck followed by a shout at the ladderway: 'She's struck! The
Dutchy admiral threw it in!' The cheers were instandy taken up on the gundeck
by Kydd's men, smoke-grimed, bloody, but victorious - and in that moment all the
emotional tensions of recent events melted away for Kydd. He punched the air
with rediscovered pride.}

_{The deck heeled once
more, staying at an angle. They were wearing round to the north again, seeking
new opponents. Kydd leaned from a gunport two or three vessels could be seen
away to the north, but the guns of all those nearer were silent. The background
rumble and thunder of heavy guns was no longer there.}

_{The
battle was over.}

_{It was hard, having to work at the
pumps, repair the shot-torn rigging, and sluice the decks of blood smears and
endless smoke-stains without the urgency of batde. But it was very necessary,
for if the Dutch had any reinforcements they might descend on the weary,
battered English and quickly reverse the verdict of the day.}

_{Lines of batde dissolved. Beaten
ships, now the prizes of war, bent on sail and set course for England while the
men-o'-war lay together, working repairs for the voyage home.}