A Shot Rolling Ship by David Donachie Read Free Book Online Page A

an’ get him holding somethin’ afore he tips into the briny. And make space for the first boarders.’
    Order was swiftly applied and Pearce found himself holding the thick end of an oar, the wood wrapped with twine to aid his grip. The space between him and the opposite oar was quickly filled by those who would board first. Looking towards the stern he was facing the prematurely lined face of Midshipman Short, who had taken station on the tiller.
    ‘Haul away,’ he shouted, much louder than was truly necessary.
    Pearce could not claim to be efficient on an oar, though that commodity was all around him in the ease with which the true seamen hauled away, but he had competence enough to outstrip Rufus, who could not get his blade into rhythm with the others, it being in the water when theirs were out and vice versa.
    ‘We’s all out of kilter,’ cried one wag, ‘Ginger is showing us how.’
    ‘Happen we should gift him a short blue coat an’ call him mister.’
    Midshipman Short deliberately looked away at what was an obvious reference to the general uselessness of his kind.
    ‘Miss more like, the useless bugger.’
    One of the men set to board took pity, and using only one hand got Rufus dipping and raising in unison. ‘You just watch the back of the man in front lad. Go forrard with him and drop the blade, then haul back hard and lift when he does. Never mind the oar, that’ll do what your body says it should if’n you hold it right.’
    Rufus did not get it right, but that mattered little given that they were not going far from the side. They turned to face the ship, oars now used to steady the cutter. To their left the smaller jolly boat lay likewise, bobbing on the green water as wave after wave ran under the counter. Short passed the tiller to one of the spare sailors, and with some difficulty made his way to the prow where, transferring his own dummy sword to a wrist lanyard, he gave the command to, ‘Haul away.’
    The boats moved forward, gaining speed quickly, oars in and out before Rufus or Pearce had got their sticks into the water. When they did manage they aided progress very little as the boat headed for the side of HMS Griffin , the deck of which was now lined with their shipmates yelling and swearing a blood-curdling invitation.
    ‘Mr Bailey,’ Short shouted, ‘you take the mainchains, and I will assault them amidships, thus splitting the defence.’
    Quick to obey, the oars on one side hit the water while the others were lifted and the jolly boat was sent towards the bow. Pearce, craning over his shoulder, could see little until they came off the crest of a wave, and not much then – the ship wallowing, the side lined by those still aboard yelling and screaming – but he did reckon that what they were about against a real enemy would be hazardous in the extreme. All advantage lay with the defenders, who had height and bulwarks to protect them, while those in the boats had nothing but a few muskets to keep the crew away from the side of the ship. Done for real it seemed like a good way to get a boat load of sailors killed.
    Both Pearce and Rufus failed to react properly when the command came to boat oars. Luckily Pearce was on the seaward side, so did himself no harm, merely trailing a useless oar in the water. Rufus’ stick clattered into the ship’s side, and jumping out of its rowlock sent him flying into the bottom. There, as everyone else aboard reached for the ropes that hung from the now-thrown grappling irons, he was repeatedly stood on until Pearce could get to him and haul him to his knees.
    ‘Come on, Rufus, time to show them our mettle.’
    Not all the sailors were using ropes; a couple had their backs to the ship’s side and, hands cupped, were propelling their mates up towards the deck. The way the boat was dipping because of this sent both Pearce and Rufus off balance and they were last to the side, the only people in the thing except those tasked to keep it pinned in