Episode 11

Attack!

By now the new recruits were more or less familiar with the various roles, routines, and—admittedly to a much lesser extent— terminology of the ship, and it had been decided it was time for a battle drill.

The drill was elaborate, with a day of preparation and rehearsal to integrate new crew members into the procedures of their team. In fact, teams, as—for reasons practical and grim—almost everyone had more than one role. There were gun crews, with responsibility for the operation of one of the many cannons; fire teams, with responsibility for protecting sectors of each deck from fire; first aid and surgical teams; and emergency evacuation teams, each with their procedures and chains of command. Not to mention more specific roles, like the boarding party, the chippies, and the sharpshooters.

Normally Tortoise was a waister, hauling ropes in the centre of the ship with the other lubbers, but for whatever reason was assigned this time to a gun crew.

“Time to adapt,” Polly said when she made a surprise visit to their room that morning to announce the drill, assigning most of them to the guns. Ibrahim and Miguel remained in their usual roles. Gecko was assigned to the boarding party, much to Penny’s disgust.

“It’s unfair,” she announced, after Polly had gone. “Why do you get special treatment?”

“It’s probably some kind of test,” Gecko said sympathetically. “Maybe if we do well we’ll get to choose next time.”

Ibrahim laughed. “I doubt it. Anyway, everyone has to know the guns.”

Tortoise had been assigned a team on the middle gun deck along with Killara, Penguin, Juanita, and Modura, the deck commander.

Modura the fossa was rough and ready, handsome coiled aggression with an eye-patch and an almost humourless attention to the order of things. His reputation preceded him. “Discipline,” he’d say quietly, as if threatening the enemy rather than the sailor he was chastising. “Discipline.” Everyone worked hard for him.

Juanita was the Armorer and one of the linguists. The capybara was muscular and warm, with a deadpan sense of humour. Tortoise had met her on one of the tours of the ship and had liked her straight away.

The morning sun streamed in through the open gun ports, slicing the darkness into gleaming ordinance.

“Tortuguito!” Juanita exclaimed. “Good to see you again.” She hugged him as well as Penguin and Killara.

The four of them crowded around their cannon while Modura gave the deck a briefing. It was short and to the point.

“Slow crews are dead crews. The key to speed is teamwork and technique. Today we focus on transitions. Gun captains: you have until four bells to be ready for a dry run. We’ll do as many as we need—we only have powder for three live shots and we need to be under five minutes if we’re to beat the other decks. Which we will. Begin.”

Modura joined them. “Two greenhorns and the best. A good challenge. Let’s see what we can do.”

After a detailed explanation and a dozen run-throughs, Tortoise was clear on the sequence, which went as follows:

1. At the start, the tompion was removed from the muzzle of the cannon, and the lead apron and tallowed oakum from the vent, or touch hole. Cannonballs (roundshot, chainshot, barshot, canister shot, and grapeshot), gunpowder, gunners’ tools, and a tub of water were readied. Sven was the powder boy for their section.

2. To load, Modura angled the cannon upward by pulling back the quoin, a wooden wedge under the rear of the cannon that could be moved forward and backward. Killara, the loader, took the ladle, loaded a paper cartridge of powder, and pushed it all the way down the barrel, rotating the ladle to tip it out. Juanita, the sponger, then took the ramrod and rammed home some wadding, sealing the powder in. Finally, Killara loaded the roundshot.

3. Penguin, the primer, then primed the gun. First, she inserted the primer into the touch hole, stabbing the powder cartridge inside, then filled the vent with serpentine from the powderhorn hanging around her neck. This was the fuse.

4. Modura, the gun captain, gave the order to run out the gun. The gun port was opened, and the carriage pulled and pushed into position with the tackle and trucks. Modura, with Killara and Juanita’s assistance, aimed the carriage and gun with handspikes and the quoin.

5. Tortoise’s turn. He was the igniter, and held the linstock. When Modura gave the command, he held out the linstock—basically a long pole with a fork at the end that held the slow match, a kind of smouldering cord that didn’t go out—and, as everyone else plugged their ears and leaned away, lowered it to the touch hole.

6. BOOM!

7. The carriage recoiled, violently jerking backward on the trucks, straining the tackle.

8. Modura quickly watched for the fall of shot, then Killara closed the gun port.

9. Reload. Juanita used the worm, a corkscrew tool, to quickly clear any wadding remains from the barrel. She then sponged the bore, extinguishing any leftover embers of cartridge paper with the wet sponge on the other end of the ramrod. As she finished, Penguin sealed the touch hole with her hand. Killara loaded the next cartridge, Juanita the wadding, and Killara the shot.

10. Again: Prime the cartridge, open the gun port, run out the gun, aim, fire. Reload. Again. Reload. Again. Reload.

The gun deck below them won, but it was close.

“Good work,” Modura said. “Keep working on those transitions.” Everyone glowed with sweat and aching muscles.

That night Tortoise dreamt of cannonfire.

It was the morning of the drill. Polly and Molly were on the quarterdeck discussing the plan for the day when a cry came from above.

“Ship ahoy! Ship at ten o’clock.”

Molly passed the spyglass to Polly. “A warship.”

“Laudanese colours,” Polly said. “The Implacable?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Are we ready?”

“We hold the weather gauge.”

“Crowd on sail and beat to quarters,” Polly said.

“Beat to quarters!” rose the cry as the drums rolled and the this-is-not-a-drill whistle blasted.

The Jolly Roger ran up into the sky.

The scarred rhino stood to Gecko’s left, positively bristling with weaponry and broken teeth. On his right the rooster with his rapier was arrogant and calm. Someone behind him was praying.

The rhino—his name started with a ‘G’—drew and cocked four of his flintlock pistols, returned them to his sashes, and readied a large glass thunderclap. “Here we go,” he rasped to no one in particular.

Gecko drew his cutlass. “Is this going to be a boring one?”

The marine looked down at him. He grinned maniacally. “I don’t think so.”

The two ships closed, relentless and pristine. The sky was blue.

Gecko gripped his sword, and waited for contact.

The gun deck was dim and sweaty.

“Run out the guns!” Modura boomed.

Tortoise held the linstock tightly. Through the gun port he could see the side of the other ship. There was no need to aim. It was a rolling broadside: each cannon blast got closer and louder. Juanita looked like she was about to start a race. The closest cannon roared.

“Fire!” she said.

The linstock kissed the touch hole.

Next episode: The Drill (Part 2)