Part the One Hundred Sixty Ninth: The Guns are Spiked
The volley was fired so quick the Gale barely had time to respond beyond all hands hitting the deck.
Jean Herbert’s guns delivered a broadside with near perfect precision with round shot that shook the timbers of the Gale and splintered the gunwales to port.
“Of all the-” Hope started to say.
Abigail rose and spat, “If ye even suggest I should have slept with him, I’ll have ye keelhauled!”
Hope responded by trying to get Samuels to starboard and away from the damage.
“Full sail!” Abigail commanded. “Get us some room and away from her!”
At that moment, Hope saw what Abigail was seeing, the rends in the mainsail from two of the round shot piercing her, and cursed under her breath like a silent choir following Abigail’s loud exclamations.
“Mister Collins, I want us to respond in kind! Fire at will!”
“Ready!” Collins commanded, walking the line of the port guns as Abigail worked the tiller to keep the battery trained on Jean Herbert’s vessel.
Hope stood up and watched as the old Roundhead smartly walked the line to get his crews set for a response. She could see in how he walked the deck amidst the chaos the man he must have been in the heat of battle against the Cavaliers, unwavering in his focus to fire the cannon.
Abigail did what she could to keep the Gale’s port to port with the other ship, giving her vessel as good a chance as possible to respond with her own anger.
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!” Collins commanded as the guns were rolled forward to deliver their reply.
Only a few matches were lit, however, before three of Jean Herbert’s guns rolled out and got another chance to inflict damage, making the most of their chance…
Hope watched as one of the guns, filled with grape shot, fired audaciously at Collins. The shrapnel obliterated his arm as he commanded his guns to fire, and managed to shear off the right side of his face with a fountain of blood splaying the deck.
The barrage that came forth from Collins’ last command caught the other ship between the gun deck and the gunwales, leaving holes in her decks to port that at best would keep her crew from falling over into the sea. Collins’ last volley hurt the ship from Tortuga much the same way a bee’s dying sting makes its recipient remember well the insect’s last act.
Yet Jean Herbert’s ship continued to go hard to port, trying to close on the Gale. He could be heard calling to them, “Stand ready! Prepare to be boarded!”
She heard Abigail growl like a wounded bear as she drew her sword. “You heard him!” she commanded. “Prepare to be boarded! And be ready to send them to hell for trying!”
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