well have to fight her soon.”
The crew said not a word. No emotion played on their faces to show their thoughts. They just turned away and went to their watch chores or off-watch rest. Rork’s face transformed from serious contemplation to his normal easy smile.
“Aye, Captain Wake. A rougher row to hoe we’ve not had, but this one will smooth out. I’ll see about getting some more rags aloft to catch this breeze an’ speed the little darlin’ up a bit.”
***
Three hours later they sighted a low blur ahead. Both vessels had borne off the wind slightly and were now rushing on a broad reach over the port quarter, heading more westerly. The blur started to stretch across the entire horizon, with a few bumps scattered along it. The news cheered the men, particularly the younger men who were new to the navy and had not sailed this far away into foreign waters.
The schooner ahead maintained a distance of around a half mile, which fluctuated periodically. McDougall stood by the foremast and eyed the other vessel from the moment land was spotted. Half an hour later he came aft, put a knuckled hand to his brow, and respectfully requested permission to speak to the captain. Rork walked over and joined them.
“Beggin’ ye’s pardon, Captain, but I’ve been a thinkin’ on that one over there. With our new point o’ sailin’, maybes we could alter course, ju’ a wee bit to windward, an’ I could get off a shot. We’d lose ground, sure as a whore smells rotten, sir. But not too much, I’d wager. What’ve we lost, sir?”
Wake nodded and glanced at Rork.
The bosun sighed. “Worth a try on the gun, sir. But McDougall, my good countryman, what would the bishop say o’ your blashemy against the fairer sex. Aye, methinks you’re wrong lad, for I once knew a trollop down Wexford way, in Rosslare to be precise, who smelled of roses from her sprit to her counter, an’ all between!”
The three of them broke into laughs. Even old sour McDougall chuckled, his face crinkled into an unaccustomed gap-toothed grin as he retorted to his brother Gael.
“Rork, you son o’ Eire, ye’ve got the advantage of youth upon me, lad. For I’m not able to even remember a trollop, rotten or sweet, so many years have passed since that pleasure was mine. So I’ll bow to your lordship’s wisdom on that one, an’ spare a laugh on it too!”
Laughter subsided to smiles, with the rest of the crew staring aft in curiosity at the three men. Not a few of them were smiling too at the sight of old McDougall showing humor during this most serious of times. Wake was grateful to both of the Irishmen for their ability to lighten the tension and return the focus of the crew to the enemy. McDougall soon had the gun crew searching the shot locker for the best specimen. The entire crew grasped the idea at hand and went to their stations for sail handling or gunnery.
The boy Kane at foremast lookout let out a squeaky shout. “Deck there! Her crew’s moving about. Somethin’s happenin’, but I don’ know what yet!”
Wake grabbed Rork’s arm. “Quick Rork, now before she does something! Head her up!”
“Aye, Captain. Head her up, lad. Stand by ta haul your sheets an’ lifts! Haul in!”
Immediately the St. James swerved to the left three points and headed farther up toward the eye of the wind. She quickly heeled over and picked up speed. Now they were crashing along, the wind over her deck increased, which made the noises of the sails and rigging louder also. Every man was intently eyeing McDougall and his deck gun crew. The old man was sighting along the barrel now, calmly issuing orders to his crew of six men to adjust the traverse and elevation of the gun. No one else was talking, though all were wishing he would get on with it and fire, for though they were going much faster on this point of sail, they were also heading slightly away from the other ship. It had to be done to free up the gun’s ability to fire forward since St. James had not altered course, the forward mast and rigging would have continued to mask the gun’s sights. But it was taking too long.
Boom!
Smoke covered the schooner for an instant before being blown away on the wind. Twenty-five minds willed the shot to go to the enemy ship. Twenty-five pairs of eyes never left the target. The splash was a satisfactory hundred yards to the starboard of the prey. A cheer of “Hurrah!” went up on the St. James as all hands waited to see what the other ship would do. This was when most blockade runners would heave to and accept their fate. But nothing happened.
“Bring her back down to the course and stay on her tail, Rork. McDougall, good shot, man. Make another one even better.”
As she came back down to her previous course and lost speed, the gun crew reloaded. McDougall got everyone ready and nodded to Rork.
The order was given again to head up into the wind, and once more the ship sped up and heeled over. This time the gunner didn’t need as long to aim, and the gun went off before most in the crew anticipated it.
Boom! . . . and another splash in line but two hundred yards too far aft of the target. It earned another cheer, this one more hoarse.
Kane shouted down from the foremast. “Deck there, sail bearing broad on the looward bow! On the horizon line. Comin’ out from shore. Schooner or lugger, sir.”
Wake didn’t care at this point about any other intruder in his battle. He wanted that ship.
“Keep firing, gunner!”
The gun crew reloaded as fast as they could, with McDougall slowing them down to do it properly. Rork surveyed the approaching ship from a perch in the starboard main shroud ratlines.
“I can see her, sir. Beating out from shore. Be a long while afore she’s out to us. By my reckon, we’re in open waters anyway, sir.”
Boom! Another cheer announced that McDougall had gotten closer.
Wake had to admit after this shot, however, the need to get St. James back on course behind the target to close the range again. This was all taking too long. They slowed down back on the original course as the gunners reloaded.
Kane yelled out again. “Deck there! There’s another one of ’em coming from that big point o’ land to port, sir! Ship four points on the port bow. Looks like a lugger rig, like we seen off’n Cuba, sir!”
The large point of land to port, still probably eight miles away, was Cozumel Island, according to Wake’s determinations. What looked like a point of land was actually an island. On it was the largest town on the coast. He now wondered if it also had a naval presence there. The sail coming from that direction could be seen from the main deck now. It was coming on fast downwind. The St. James had to capture that ship ahead now, before the others arrived to protect her.
Rork landed on the deck from aloft with a thud and strode over to his captain.
“Getting’ jus’ a wee bit interestin’ sir. A bit like the marriage party o’ a orange an’ a green Irish when the two families finally meet. Could be drinkin’. Could be fightin’. No way ta’ tell till you’re right in the middle!”
“Good God, Rork. How does Eire ever get along without you?”
“A wee bit more boring, sir!”
In spite of the situation, Wake laughed. He then told the helm to bring her up again. McDougall was ready and bent over his
