"Um, think you'd better go in the captain's place, sir," Caldwell suggested, interrupting his furious musings. "To the flag, that is."
"Hmm. Me?"
"Yessir, with the captain down wounded, you're in charge for now, sir," Caldwell repeated.
"Damme, I suppose I am, ain't I?" Alan nodded, slowly comprehending it all.
Alan's boat ground against Albemarle's side by the main-chains, with Cony holding fast with a painter and Andrews at the tiller as a temporary cox'un. It was with difficulty that he got up the man-ropes and battens to the deck. He was greeted with the shrill of bosun's pipes and the side-party due a captain, which made him shrivel up with guilt once more. He had not known where the other officers stood in seniority to him, so he was the last aboard, and once he had doffed his hat in return salute he limped over to join the others.
"I am Lieutenant Osborne, first into Albemarle, sir. And you are?"
"Alan Lewrie, first officer of Shrike, brig o' war," Alan replied.
"Sir, allow me to name you to the others. Lieutenant Lewrie of Shrike; Captain James King of Resistance, Lieutenant Charles Cunningham of Admiral Barrington, Captain Charles Dixon of Drake. Our second, Lieutenant Martin Hinton, and our Lieutenant Joseph Bromwich. I believe you have already met earlier, have you not? Captain Nelson shall receive you in a few moments."
It was not exactly a pleasant social gathering. They all looked devilishly grim after being checked ashore and obliged to cut and run from the heavier French battery.
"Get that ashore, sir?" Captain King asked, noticing Alan's slight limp.
"No, sir. A few weeks ago on the Florida coast, when we were still part of Sir Joshua Rowley's Jamaica Squadron," Alan replied.
"Any casualties, Charles?" Dixon asked of Cunningham.
"Six wounded, sir," Cunningham replied. "Including the bosun."
"We suffered two, one of 'em our sailing master," Dixon told them all. "Damned fortunate, for all the damage we took. Gaff shattered, rigging cut up pretty well, and we have an eighteen-pounder ball in the timbers. Thank the good Lord they didn't run to heated shot. And how did Shrike fare, sir?"
"No one aboard is hurt," Alan said. "One wounded ashore with you-our captain, sir, Lieutenant Lilycrop."
"Hurt sore?" Dixon asked.
"He's losing his foot at this moment, sir," Alan stated.
"Ah, I'm damned sorry," Dixon sighed. "I tried to keep our casualties to a minimum ashore. No sense making a useless demonstration against their works and getting men killed for nothing."
"Trevenen says we should have reconnoitered last night, sent a boat ashore," King said. "Might have saved us the trouble."
"Oh, him," Lieutenant Cunningham sniffed. "I'm sure young Jemmy will put pen to paper about this."
"Excuse me, sirs, but Captain Nelson will see you now," Osborne told them, coining back on deck. He led them aft and below to the great cabins. Alan stuffed his hat under his arm and waited to see what their putative "commodore" looked like.
Well, stap me, he thought at his first sight. I do believe if they made me a post-captain tomorrow, I'd look older than this'un.
Captain Horatio Nelson was a skinny little hop o' my thumb, not much taller than some minnikin, slim and coltish as a young whippet, and a good breeze looked enough to blow him right away. His light hair was long, lank and unpowdered, tied back in a Hessian tail of such length that it rivaled Lieutenant Lilycrop's seamanly queue. His captain's coat was the full-dress "iron-bound," stiff with gold lace, and of a fashion more suited to the last war, with over-sized pocket flaps. Altogether, he looked like an actor in some Drury Lane production portraying a Sea Officer, deliberately mis-cast in some parody.
"Gentlemen, well met," he began in a high, slightly nasal voice. "Though I fear we meet not in a victory worthy of British Sea Officers. Lieutenants Bromwich and Hinton inform me they were obliged to cut and abandon the cannonade on the town battery. How many guns?"
"At least four or five twenty-four-pounders, sir," Cunningham said. "And near on five or six six-pounders, by my count. A substantial work. And they were manned by seamen, I believe. Very accurate gunners."
"And Captain Dixon, you encountered at least four more guns, of at least six-pounds shot, at a work blocking your advance?" Nelson asked.
"Aye, sir."
"Quite a packet to be transported by La Coquette and that prize sloop now with the Dugay Trouin frigate," Nelson said, playing with the stock of his shirt. "And how many troops did you encounter ashore, sir?"
"I would estimate over two hundred men, sir," Dixon said evenly.
"I want to commend your sagacity, sir," Nelson told him with a small, shy smile on his long, narrow face. "Another commander would have tried to force the issue against that work, and would have been repulsed with heavy casualties. Obviously, there are a lot more men ashore than the captive French officers in La Coquette told us. Captain King, did you learn any more from them?"
"No, sir," King replied. "They said they'd escorted ships here, and La Coquette had given up five of her twenty-six guns to form a battery. I estimated that they could not have landed much more than one hundred fifty troops, plus seamen gunners."
"But to man that many guns, and provide a guard force for both works, and still leave at least two hundred troops free to operate against Captain Dixon, would make how many, do you think?" Nelson asked, trying not to give the impression that he might like to tear King's head off, even if he did. "If there were other ships escorted here, of which I now am informed."
This is damned interesting, Alan thought, watching the young man grill the older (and, surprisingly, senior) post-captain over the coals. So post-captains can act just as ill with each other as any pack of surely midshipmen fighting over shares of a pudding?
"It would make over five hundred men, sir," Alan guessed aloud. "My captain says there's nothing much on the other islands, so Grand Turk is the key, and they must have located all their force here."
"And you are. sir?" Nelson asked, turning to face him. He didn't look pleased to be addressed, and thrown off the topic.
"Lieutenant Lewrie, sir, of the Shrike brig. First officer. I stand in for my captain, Lieutenant Lilycrop, who's in surgery now."
"The officer wounded ashore with me, sir," Dixon added.
"Yes, Mister Lewrie, over five hundred men, with twenty-four pounders," Nelson said, turning to address all of them. "We put, what, about one hundred sixty-five men up against a French regiment, and a fortification with artillery heavier than any piece we have at our disposal. But, we may still seize the day. I propose to shift the frigates opposite the town to reduce the fortification. If we start now, we may pound upon it all night if need be. As for the brigs, make a demonstration above Britain Bay, at the far end of the island, to get the field troops marching that direction. Then, at first light, we land here, after taking anchor in Hawk's Nest Anchorage, on the other side of the island from the town and battery. They shall have to abandon the work up north, and we may now concentrate our forces against theirs properly."
"Would it not be better to blockade the place for now, sir?" Captain King advised, shaking his head. "Send one of the brigs off to summon Admiral Hood? He must be back on station by now, after watering at Port Royal. Heavy guns and Marines from the liners…"
"Weakening the blockade of Cape Francois, Captain King," the diminuitive "commodore" replied, rejecting the suggestion with an energetic wave of his hands. "Perhaps their expedition had that as a secondary goal. No, we have a chance to confound our King's enemies here and now. With enough energetic action, enough alacrity, we may still prevail."