For King or Commonwealth by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online Page A

two grim-visaged and pot-helmeted cavalrymen sent to enquire what ship had created such havoc through the Warps, the Oaze and the Nore itself.
    Faulkner, of course, knew nothing of this, nor that questions were asked in Parliament itself as to why ‘a Malignant pirate’ could, ‘in defiance of the might and majesty of the State’s Naval force in the Medway, cause such harm to our trade?’
    The truth was, it had been a simple matter, for the
Phoenix
had had not only a fair wind but a favourable spring tide and had passed through the outer anchorage while the seamen in the anchored merchant ships awaiting convoy had been breaking their fasts. Bringing out only one small bilander, Faulkner had determined not to take any prizes. Prince Rupert’s faith in supposing they could recruit sufficient seamen to man captures and turn them into Royalist men-of-war was hopelessly optimistic and he considered he might do more damage by pure destruction.
    He made his preparations with care, briefing his officers and men with that tone of confidence and conviction that swiftly won their enthusiastic support, giving to individuals especially crucial parts to play and to which occasion they could only rise with enthusiasm.
    Having made his plan, which obliged John Matthews, a former seaman promoted to gunner, to spend some hours of meticulous preparation in the magazine and drew from Mr White the coarse observation that he hoped Matthews could properly charge a shell carcass since ‘he could not shit a sailor’s turd’, Faulkner took the con. The masts and spars of the large convoy, which, he had learned from the fishermen, lay awaiting its naval escort, showed clear above the low fog that rose like the smoke that gave it its name. From the anchored ships and vessels he hoped the
Phoenix
, herself similarly shrouded, would look like a late arrival, delayed by the contrary wind that had blown itself out two days ago. Closer-to he hoped to convince them she was one of the very escort for which they waited and, to this end, she wore again the new ensign of the Commonwealth. Only at the last moment would he break out the red flag at the fore masthead and substitute the King’s for the Commons’ colours.
    As the
Phoenix
crept up on the flood tide, her longboat was hoisted out and, after three men – all volunteers – had climbed down into her, several packages were carefully passed to them by those on deck. The boat was then streamed astern on a long painter and the remaining men were sent to their battle stations.
    â€˜Time, Mr Lazenby, to see what sort of an artilleryman you might make with that coehorn.’
    Acknowledging Faulkner’s order, Lazenby bent to his task over the small mortar which was secured in the larboard waist, behind the main guns which, ready loaded, lay behind closed ports. Lazenby had tried several shots on their way along the edge of the Gunfleet Sand and judged he had the amount of powder exactly correct for the purpose Faulkner had briefed him.
    â€˜I hope you don’t foul yourself with these bombs of yours,’ the taciturn White remarked as he readied his gunners and sharpshooters, himself hefting a matchlock. ‘I should hate you to be hoisted by your own petard!’
    To preserve his deception, Faulkner sailed serenely past the first three ships, hailing each through his speaking trumpet and, standing beneath the listlessly flaunting cross-and-harp, affecting the tone of naval command, called out to each, ‘Pray tell your master to prepare to weigh; the signal will be a red flag and three guns!’ No one aboard any of the three vessels noticed the boat towing far astern of the passing ‘frigate’ – as they supposed – lost as it was in the sea-smoke.
    Faulkner was again imbued with that strange quasi-religious exaltation that he had experienced when conning the
Phoenix
through the reefs west of Guernsey, months earlier. Under