Master and Commander - 12. Chapter 12

July, 1794

There was only the slightest hint of light, the beginning of dawn, as the tension escalated to almost breaking point on the deck of the Intrepid. Granger stared down the deck and could start to make out the men at the nearest guns waiting for orders, waiting for another broadside of 18-pound cannonballs to rip through the side. He thought about pacing. It would help him relax, but he'd been on deck almost all night, he'd been awake almost constantly for the past two days, and his tired legs refused to do any movement that wasn't absolutely necessary.

“Frogs usually heave to at night sir,” Carslake observed.

“Not this one. Not when he's after us,” Granger said, sounding like a sage. They'd reduced sail only marginally, enough to keep them steady with the French frigate, but if she'd shown some fluky turn of speed, she could be as close as a couple of hundred yards away. On the other hand, if she hove to like Carslake thought, she'd be a hundred miles away.

Now things were appreciably lighter. He could see the men at the nearest gun clearly, and could even make out the bow of the ship as she rose and fell in these light seas. Lighter and lighter. Granger restrained himself from yelling up at the lookouts. They'd tell him if they saw something. They knew what to look for. He looked over at Calvert, who appeared to be as fatigued as he was. Granger strolled over to his side.

“You know what I want to do when this is all over?” he asked Calvert.

“I have a guess,” Calvert said with a cheeky grin. God, he was cute.

“Take a bath and climb into my cot with you,” Granger said quietly so only Calvert would hear.

“God, I hope this is over soon then,” Calvert said, smiling back. Then he changed the subject. “How is Lennox?”

“It is too soon to tell,” Granger said. “Doctor Jackson has cleaned out the wound to the best of his abilities, but if there are shards of wood there that he missed they could infect his arm. In that case, he'll have to lose it.”

“Bloody bad luck,” Calvert observed. Granger rather agreed, although in truth it was Waring that had it worse. Lennox had power and money behind him, so even without an arm, he'd have a bright future. For Waring, it was not so rosy. “What about Waring?” Calvert asked, reading his mind as he did so often now.

“He's recovering. No sign of gangrene yet, so that's a good thing.” Granger paused and stared at the deck as it got lighter still. “I've never seen such a clean sick bay. Jackson says keeping things clean helps men heal better. He's really quite amazing.”

“Yes sir. Of all the surgeons I've encountered, I'd prefer his knife to any other,” Calvert agreed. “It's much lighter now.”

“It is. We should know something soon enough.” The sky turned red as the sun began to rise, a beautiful sight in any circumstance.

“Deck there! Sail ho, well away, due aft!”

“What is she?” Granger called.

“Can't tell sir, but could be that Frog!” Came the response. The sun would normally blind them as they looked east, but this sharp lookout had caught sight of the sail while the sun was rising, and had outlined it on the horizon.

“Mr. Calvert, see that that man has an extra tot of rum,” Granger ordered. “We'll take in the mizzens and let the Frog catch up. Keep them ready to loose at a moment's notice.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said automatically. Then he called the watch and they took in the mizzens. This way they'd give the Frog time to catch up to them, and if he saw them wallowing about he'd assume they were still having problems with their jury rig. That should excite them even more, as they'd assume Intrepid was still wounded. In any event, it would be a few hours before the Frenchman was close enough to them to clap those sails back on.

“Send the hands to breakfast Mr. Calvert,” Granger ordered. “Winkler!”

Winkler appeared in mere seconds. “Sir?”

“I'll have breakfast on deck,” Granger said. “Mr. Calvert, will you join me?”

“With pleasure sir,” Calvert said. Calvert had the men bring a small table and chairs up while Winkler dashed below to spur Lefavre into action. Granger took a seat across from Calvert and felt his legs cheer with gratitude.

“I think I may not be able to get up,” Granger joked.

“My legs are tired as well,” Calvert said. “So you want the Frog to think we still have problems with our mizzen, sir?”

Granger nodded as he ate. “We need to let him catch up a bit, and this should motivate him, if he thinks we're still crippled.” They shut up then and ate. When they were finished, Granger thought about getting up but changed his mind. Instead he just relaxed in his chair, enjoying the beautiful morning. It was a bit chilly, but other than that, it was perfect.

“Do you think we'll sight the convoy today?” Calvert asked. It was presumptive of him to speculate, questioning his Captain's calculations, but Granger took it in the spirit he intended.

“We angled north to make sure they did not pass us, so we may be a bit ahead of them. We shall have to see. In any event, after we take our noon sights, we'll re-calculate the course.” Granger stood up and almost fell, his legs rebelling against more exertion. He looked back and could see the Frog frigate through his glass now, still very far away. “I'm going below.”

Granger climbed down to the sick bay to check on Lennox and Waring. Waring was asleep, but Lennox was there, staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “How goes it Mr. Lennox?” Granger said quietly so as not to disturb Waring.

“Well enough sir. It still hurts a bit,” he said bravely. That had to be an understatement.

“Well, that Frog that blasted your arm is still chasing us, although he's a way off,” Granger said cheerfully.

“That's very good sir. It's a bit boring down here,” Lennox said.

“Well, that's because you're supposed to be resting, not staring at the deckhead,” Granger joked.

“Yes sir. Did you know there are seven knots in the wood in this sick bay?” he joked back, making Granger laugh, but not too loudly.

“I have to go back on deck. I will see if we can find something for you to read, perhaps?” Granger said.

“That would be marvelous sir. Thank you!” Granger patted his cheek affectionately and headed up on deck. He ran into Winkler on the orlop.

“Mr. Lennox needs something to read,” Granger observed. “Will you take him any of my books he may want from my library?”

Winkler smiled. He liked Lennox. Everyone liked Lennox. “Aye aye sir.” He hesitated.

“Was there something else?”

“No sir,” Winkler said and made to leave, clearly deciding not to ask the question on his mind.

“What is it Winkler?” Granger demanded firmly.

“I was just thinking sir, that he might need more light. Being buried below in the sick bay, that's pretty dark down there, even with lanterns.”

Granger smiled. “You think I should clear away a space in my day cabin for him?”

“I wouldn't presume to say that sir,” Winkler said. “Although it seems Captain Fellowes did that for one of his midshipmen once.” Granger shook his head, remembering how Fellowes had had him moved up to his cabin after he'd been wounded. And how much he'd appreciated the bright surroundings.

“You make a good point Winkler. But we may be in action with that Frog, so the move will have to wait until that matter concludes.”

“Yes sir. Of course sir. I'll make some preparations though, just in case.”

“Very well. And now I must get up on deck before the Frenchman is upon us.” Granger strode back up to the quarterdeck and looked back at the Frenchman. She was appreciably closer now.

“Mr. Calvert, send the watch up the mizzen. I want it to look like they're all working frantically.”

“Aye aye sir.” Granger knew they were within range of French spyglasses, and he wanted it to seem like they were trying desperately to repair their damage. He watched the Frenchman approach and waited until he was almost within range.

“Alright Mr. Calvert. We've played coy long enough. Shake out the mizzen tops'l.”

Calvert saw to that, and the Intrepid began to move away from the Frenchman, but only slightly.

“Deck there!” Came a cry from the lookout in the main top. “Sail ho, off the larboard bow!”

“Mr. Humphreys, take a glass and tell me what you make of that new sail!” Granger ordered. He knew that he was too tired to make the climb, and he figured Calvert was too.

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said, and then scurried up to the main top.

“Deck there!” Humphreys cried. “Sail is Rattlesnake!” Granger smiled at Calvert. “Rattlesnake is signaling, but not to us sir.”

“What is she signaling?” Granger asked.

“She's too far away sir! Wait! She's altered course sir!” Humphreys shouted. “She's seen us. She's on the starboard tack.”

Now all the pieces to the puzzle were there. Intrepid, Rattlesnake, and Emeraude. Now all they had to do was fight. He was trying to decide whether to signal Rattlesnake now, or wait, so as not to alarm the Frenchman. “Sir! The Frog's hauled his wind! He's seen the other sail!” Well, that decision was just made for him, Granger thought.

“Signal Rattlesnake. Enemy in sight!” Granger ordered. “Mr. Calvert, we are no longer the prey, we are the hunter. Turn us into the wind and set a course to intercept the Frog. Keep us out of range for the moment.”

“Aye aye sir!” he said.

“Rattlesnake to Intrepid. Interrogatory,” Fitzwilliam said. Bergland wanted to know what he was up against.

“Make to Rattlesnake: Chase is large enemy frigate,” Granger ordered.

“Rattlesnake acknowledged sir,” Fitzwilliam said. “Rattlesnake is signaling the flagship sir, relaying our message.”

“Very well. Mr. Fleming! Clear away the bowchaser!”

“Aye aye sir!” Fleming called.

“Mr. Calvert, let's close enough to give Mr. Fleming a chance to practice with the bowchaser. Shake the reef out of the mizzen topsail.”

“Signal sir. ‘Flag to Intrepid.’ It's relayed from Rattlesnake. ‘Engage the enemy more closely.’” Fitzwilliam shouted.

“Acknowledge. We're going to be in for a bit of action, it seems,” he said to Calvert with a wry smile. So Fellowes was throwing Intrepid in alone to slow the Frog. “We'll get the mizzen main set as well.”

“What will you do sir?” Calvert asked.

“Try to disable her, and if that doesn't work, we'll have to close with her, slow her down for Rattlesnake,” Granger said. “Mr. Fleming, fire at will!”

“Aye aye sir!” Fleming called back. Granger watched him aim and then the twelve-pounder recoiled. He saw the shot fly well to the left, and short. It would be a pure fluke to hit her at that range anyway. He looked back and saw Rattlesnake barely keeping up with them. There was no way she could catch the French frigate on her own.

“Mr. Calvert, I'd like the larboard guns double shotted, with grape for good measure, but don't run them out. The starboard guns should be loaded with double shot and run out.”

“Aye aye sir,” Calvert said curiously. Granger watched as he closed with the French frigate. They could see the ship clearly now, the details, without a glass. There was her name, carved into her stern and emblazoned with gold leaf. He watched as the bowchaser began to score some hits.

“Mr. Calvert. In a second we are going to tack. Once we are on the starboard tack we will endeavor to cross her stern and rake her,” Granger said. “Man the braces. Pull men from the starboard guns.”

“Aye aye sir.” Men were picked off from the starboard guns to man the braces. Granger gauged the moment, waiting, trying to convince the Frenchman he was going to run alongside and slug it out with his starboard guns.

“Helm's alee!” He shouted. “Larboard battery, run out!” Intrepid began to turn quickly at first, then more slowly as she almost stalled in the eye of the wind. Being set all aback now would be a disaster, and that was the risk of this maneuver. Granger held his breath. But Intrepid was a handy ship with a well-trained crew, and she soon settled sweetly on the starboard tack. No French ship with her untrained crews would risk such a move. There was the Frenchman's stern, exposed and vulnerable... “Fire as you bear!” The maneuver had caught the Frenchman by surprise. Too late she decided to alter course to her larboard, trying to present her broadside to Intrepid.

Granger flinched as the first gun went off. He watched as the balls and grape blasted out her stern windows. Gun for gun as they passed her, Intrepid poured her broadside into the Frenchman's stern. These were the kinds of moves that won battles. “Helm, two points to starboard,” Granger ordered. He had hoped, prayed that they'd knock away a spar, but they hadn't. If he couldn't disable her, he'd have to close.

He waited while Intrepid picked up speed, then tacked again, back onto the larboard tack, and back after the Frenchman, who hadn't changed course at all, had just taken the damage. He glance back to see Rattlesnake, with all her canvas spread, desperately trying to catch up. She was an English ship, solid and sound, but everyone knew that French ship designers were more clever, and French ships were faster.

The Frenchman really was in a quandary. If he altered course to fight Intrepid, he gave up ground to Rattlesnake. If he stayed on his current course, Intrepid could continue to pound him. They were gaining on the Frenchman again. “Mr. Calvert, we're going to do this again, only with our starboard battery.” He waited until they were close to the Emeraude, could see the figures staring over her taffrail at him.

“Starboard battery ready! Helm, hard a port, cross her stern again!” He felt Intrepid turn again. “Starboard battery, fire as you bear!” he ordered. Once again Intrepid slipped past her stern and loosed her broadside; gun for gun, into Emeraude’s stern. Only now the Frenchman had had enough.

“Reload!” Calvert screamed. “Come on men, remember your drill!” Intrepid continued to pour fire into the Frenchman, even as she turned to larboard, her ports open, and those 18-pounders aimed right at them. Granger swallowed hard, and then saw them explode.

It was hard to describe the force of that first, prepared broadside as it blasted into Intrepid. One of the forward guns was completely upended, smashing a man underneath. Splinters flew everywhere, men were screaming as they fell, but they didn't run. The gun crews pressed on gamely despite the carnage around them.

Intrepid wasn't designed to stand in battle against a big frigate like this. Her frail timbers weren't made for this kind of punishment. There was only one option. “Mr. Calvert. We will grapple. Boarding pikes and cutlasses!” Granger called. “Helm, hard a starboard!”

Intrepid turned toward the frigate, still at full speed, guns still blazing, splinters flying everywhere as the French cannon balls blasted through her side, until she rammed the big French ship just behind her bow. Grappling hooks flew to tie the ships together.

“At 'em men!” Granger cried, and stormed down the deck, the sailors lining up behind him. Fleming turned to look at him and smiled. Just before he jumped for the frigate, he fired the bowchaser, loaded with canister. It blasted a hole through the Frenchmen that were massed on her deck waiting to repel them. Granger leaped across the gap and climbed up Emeraude's side, conscious of the other men, his men, all around him.

Granger felt himself carried forward with the tide of men as they surged onto the Emeraude's deck. A man aimed a pistol at him, but a cutlass cut him down. Granger looked to see Jeffers smiling at him after just saving his life. He found himself fighting a French seaman with a cutlass, but Granger was a good swordsman, so it wasn't long before he dispatched the poor man. They were fighting their way back toward the stern now, toward the quarterdeck. The Frenchmen had recovered from the initial assault and were rallying, trying to drive them back, but they were losing ground.

The battle was not individuals fighting individuals; it was two masses fighting each other. Back and forth they fought, each side trying to push the other back, but the French were losing this battle. Each sway took them nearer to the quarterdeck and control of the ship. He heard a musket fire behind him and saw the man in front of him drop. Granger felt the energy leaking from his body as if through a sieve. His tired legs, his sore arms, all aching as he slashed and hacked at the French sailors in front of him. He tapped into his last reserves of energy and lunged forward, gutting a Frenchman with his razor sharp sword.

Then there was a giant crash. Rattlesnake had arrived and had rammed Emeraude's stern. The force of the collision knocked Granger onto his back. He saw a French sailor above him then, his pike drawn back to spear him, when suddenly the man's expression changed and he collapsed next to Granger, dying from the cutlass thrust through his back. Granger looked up to see Holmquist grinning at him as he pulled his cutlass out of the dying Frenchman, and then held out his hand to help him up.

“Thank you,” Granger said. He looked aft and saw Rattlesnake's men and marines pouring over, and then the battle was over. The Frenchmen dropped their weapons and surrendered. He spotted Bergland, who waved at him. Granger waved back cheerfully, giddy now that the action was over. He stepped carefully over the wounded and headed to the quarterdeck to meet with Bergland.

“Captain Granger, that was one fine piece of work. I salute you and your gallant crew,” Bergland said, bowing low.

“Thank you Captain. But for your timely arrival I fear there wouldn't be as many of us left,” Granger said, bowing back, even though he knew in his heart they'd have taken the Frenchman on their own in another ten to fifteen minutes' fighting.

“We'll secure the frigate. I suspect you'll have enough to do, repairing Intrepid,” he said. An order, a kindness, and a relief, all in one. But it was also an opportunity for Bergland to appoint the prize crew and reward one of his own lieutenants. Another opportunity lost for Calvert.

“Thank you sir.” He walked back across the deck of the Emeraude, noticing the timbers that were blasted away where Intrepid's balls had hit her. He looked at his own ship, locked together with Emeraude, her sails still drawing wind despite the holes in them. There were huge holes smashed in her side made by the 18-pound cannonballs, holes that would have to be fixed before they met their next storm. That damage didn't bother him. The damage that bothered him was here, on the deck of the Emeraude, and back in Intrepid. The wounded men, the dead men.

He turned to Jeffers, who had been with him the whole time, had saved his life at least once. “The cost will be high.”

“Yes sir,” he said. “But lower than most captains could have done.” Granger jumped back down onto Intrepid, his legs rebelling at the shock, and headed back to the quarterdeck.

“Mr. Humphreys, get the wounded aboard from Emeraude, then we must get under way.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“Pass the word for Mr. Calvert.”

“Mr. Calvert was wounded sir,” Humphreys said. Granger just stared at him, emotion roiling through his body. Calvert wounded? The shock was almost too much and it short circuited all of his emotions, dulling the pain, and making him calm and cool on the outside.

“How badly?” he asked.

“I don't know yet sir. He was cut down when we boarded the frigate,” Humphreys said. Granger hadn't even seen him fall. Didn't even know he had fallen.

“Very well Mr. Humphreys. Carry on.” He turned to one of the men on the deck. “Pass the word for Mr. Carslake.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said, and ran off to find Carslake.

“Sir!” Fitzwilliam said. Thankfully he was unharmed. “Flagship is signaling. ‘Flag to Intrepid. Captain to repair on board!’”

“Acknowledge. Mr. Humphreys, you have the ship. Separate us from Emeraude and clear away the carnage. I'll be back as soon as I can.” Granger went below to the sick bay, unable to face leaving without checking on Calvert first. It was bedlam down here, men crying and screaming. The stench was almost unbearable.

“How bad is it Doctor?” Granger asked.

“Nine dead so far sir, with fifteen wounded. Hard to tell how many of them will survive,” he said quickly.

“How is Mr. Calvert?”

The Doctor looked at him. “He was sliced by a cutlass across his abdomen. He lost a lot of blood, but no vital organs were damaged. Unless the wound becomes foul, he will recover. He is resting now, if you can call it that. I gave him a good dose of Laudanum.”

“Thank you Doctor. I am bidden to the flagship. I will return as soon as I can.”

“Yes sir,” he said, and then moved on to his next patient. Granger rushed back to his cabin and changed his uniform, putting his appearance to rights, and then dashed up on deck. He'd forgotten to order his gig but Humphreys had done it for him. His crew looked as clean and orderly as ever, although there were a few different faces. Presumably they'd replaced those who were dead or wounded. He nodded to Jeffers who maneuvered the boat away from the side then set the lugsail and started the trek to the flagship.

Implacable was about a mile away. Granger found his eyes closing as the gig bounced along gently on the calm seas, and had to be awakened when they arrived. He looked up at Implacable's soaring bulk, got himself together, and climbed up her side. His legs were numb with fatigue, and for the first time ever, Granger wished he'd taken the Bosun's chair.

The two side boys were there to help him up and there was Fellowes, smiling at him. “It is good to see you Captain! That was a nice piece of work, capturing a French frigate!”

“Thank you sir. Captain Bergland tilted the scales in the end,” Granger said, giving Bergland some credit. Fellowes stared at him knowingly. He'd been in actions before, and he could see the tide of battle through his glass.

Fellowes led him to his cabin. “So what have you been up to Granger?”

Granger explained his entry into Port Louis, the elaborate ruse to fool the French. He explained their attack on the brig and the schooners.

“So how many did you get?” Fellowes asked.

“Eight schooners burned or sunk by guns, and the brig exploded sir,” Granger said.

“You got all but two of them?” Fellowes asked, shocked.

“Yes sir. The other two were out of gun range, and there was a pier blocking the burning schooners from drifting into them, so that saved them.”

“That is a stunning success. I ordered you to keep them from attacking the convoy, and you figured out a way to destroy the lot of them.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger beamed. Then he explained their encounter with the French frigate on their way out of Port Louis and how they'd lured her to the convoy.

“Well Granger, I won't keep you. You're anxious to get back to your ship, I'm sure,” Fellowes said in a kindly way. “You've done very well.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said, getting up and fighting his aching limbs willing them to carry him to the side of the ship and down to his boat. Then he was back in the gig, a feeling of security flowed over him, knowing that his gig was part of Intrepid, and he was among his own men.

He studied Intrepid as they sailed back to her. Humphreys had managed to cast off from Emeraude, and there were men in the rigging re-roving ropes and patching her sails. He watched her grow closer and closer, saw the huge wounds Emeraude had inflicted upon her. As he got closer still he could see the carpenter and his men working to repair the holes, working to get her shipshape as quickly as possible. Intrepid was healing herself.

They piped him aboard, no slacking off there. “Mr. Humphreys, you've done very well,” Granger said.

“Thank you sir. We should have the rigging in order within the hour, but the shot holes will take a bit longer to repair.”

Granger looked at his watch. Dinner time. “Finish repairing the rigging then we'll get sail on her and take our station. Once we're on course, we'll send the hands to dinner.”

“Aye aye sir,” he said.

“With Mr. Calvert wounded, you'll have to rework the watch schedule. You can rotate with Mr. Carslake and Mr. Wilson.”

“Aye aye sir,” Humphreys said.

“Very well. I'll be in the sick bay,” Granger said. He went back down into that hell. He wandered among the wounded, making sure to talk to each man, to encourage him as best he could. Granger had seen the carnage of battle before, had seen men wounded, and had seen men die. He knew that if half of these men made it back to active duty, they'd be doing well. He found Calvert in a corner of the sick bay. Lennox was up and sitting next to him, holding his hand. It was a very touching scene.

“And what are you doing up, Mr. Lennox?” Granger asked.

“I'm sorry sir. I was feeling a bit better and wanted to help if I could,” he said nervously.

“Thank you for watching out for my first lieutenant,” Granger said to him with a smile, but also dismissing him.

“Yes sir,” Lennox said, and walked off to cheer someone else up.

Granger sat next to Calvert and held his hand, watching him sleep, looking so peaceful. He was naked, with a sheet covering his lower extremities. His chest glistened with sweat, and there was a bandage wrapped around his abdomen. Despite the surgeon's work, blood still seeped through. “Francis,” Granger said softly.

Calvert's eyes flickered, and then opened a bit. “George. You did it. We took her.”

“We did it.” Granger leaned in next to his ear. “You went and got yourself wounded and blew my whole plan. You know, the one where we take a bath and sleep for three or four days.”

Calvert laughed a bit, but the pain cut that short. “I'm sorry sir.”

“You'll have to make it up to me when you're better,” Granger said. “I'll be back. I have to go up and tend to the ship.”

“I should be helping you,” he said.

“Yes you should, and you will when you recover. But I need you healthy and fit, for various different reasons,” Granger said.

Granger dragged himself up on deck and found that Humphreys had everything under control. They got sail on the Intrepid and Granger dismissed the watch below for dinner. Intrepid surged ahead then, catching up with the convoy and darting through them with her usual agility, as if she hadn't been in a fight for her life just a few hours ago. As she passed each ship, their men manned the yards and cheered them on. Granger studied the grins of his men, even after this trauma, and felt an overwhelming pride in them.

Finally they were on station at the front of the convoy, and then Granger dragged himself down to his cabin and collapsed, letting his weary body finally rest.