The 24-pounder Guldur ships they’d engaged were already within range of the battle, and now so was Fang. But at this distance Melville couldn’t discern friend from foe in the swirling mass of ships in front of him, and he wanted to give his men a breather. Best to use this time for planning and coordination, rather than fire blindly into that mess.
He called out from the quarterdeck rail, “Gun captains, battery commanders, and sailing master rally on me! Lieutenant Broadax, you too,” he said, looking down to his left where the marines waited in reserve. “Quartermaster, relay the command to the lower side, and ask the bosun and the first officer to come as well.” As an afterthought, remembering that Petreckski was in charge of the lower reserve he added, “And the purser also.”
“Aye, sir, gun captains, battery commanders, bosun, purser and first officer to the upper quarterdeck.”
“Good. Mr. Ngobe,” he continued, turning to the midshipman by his side, “Go quickly to the carpenter and ask him to come to the upper quarterdeck.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the boy with puppylike eagerness. His excitement and pleasure at their success was infectious, and brought a smile to Melville’s lips.
Within minutes, his key leaders were present with him on the quarterdeck. “Just at the outer limit of 12-pounder range is when we will open fire.” He was speaking to the leaders, but he knew that many others were listening. “From that range every 24-pounder should be able to get solid hits on their hulls, and even have a fair chance of hitting their Keel and sinking them, like they almost did to our Kestrel.”
He continued with a feral grin, “My friends, we are entering into a ‘target-rich’ environment.” That brought a lot of smiles. “In the absence of any other instructions, you’re free to fire at the closest enemy in your sights, and keep on firing. Be sure they’re enemy, and then hammer them mercilessly.”
He continued, looking at Hans and his bosun, “I intend to yaw to bring the red-side to bear first, then the green-side. I want a spanker and a jib ready to aid in rapid movement.” That brought a grin from old Hans; he loved nothing better than fancy sailing. Melville smiled back. “We’ll use them to bring our broadsides to bear as needed. With our superior guns and superior aiming, we should be able to sink several of the enemy ships. We will repay them, manyfold, for our Kestrel!” That got a cheer, then he concluded, “Quickly now, back to your stations, and when we open fire the bastards won’t know what hit them!”
Minutes later everyone was at their stations. The swirling confusion of battle began to sort itself out into individual ships as they drew nearer. Melville could see two Guldur ships directly in front of him, their flanks exposed, sending thunderous broadsides into a Sylvan ship. Hans gave him a thumbs-up to indicate that the topmen were ready, and Melville gave the command to yaw to the green-side, his left, in order to bring the red-side batteries to bear on the enemy.
Suddenly, above and below, a jib and a spanker appeared. These were sails that ran roughly parallel to the main axis of the ship, directing their thrust to the side. The spanker extended out from their rear and was oriented to catch the downward “wind” of two-space to pull the stern to the red-side, Melville’s right. The jib extending out to their front was oriented to pull the bow to the green-side, or Melville’s left. The result was a rapid “left turn,” combined with considerable slowing of forward motion.
“Fire as they bear!” called Melville. The quartermaster echoed his command into the speaking tube, and the 12-pounders came on target first as the ship spun. His command was answered by a steady, <
She reached our range. Our broadside rang,
Our heavy pivots roared;
And shot and shell, a fire of hell,
Against her sides we poured.
The men cheered as two 24-pound balls punched holes in the enemy’s hull, sending a cloud of debris into the air. One of the two 12-pounders, firing at the extreme end of their range, also made a hit on the enemy’s hull. Through the speaking tube the lower side reported similar damage to the enemy.
“Bring the green-side to bear!” shouted Melville to Hans. Then, to the gundeck, “Green-side batteries serve the same ship again, I want to sink the bastard!”
Again the quartermaster echoed his command into the speaking tube, the ship spun, and once again the guns rang out with joy and malice, above and below. Somewhere within the enemy ship the bracing for the mainmast gave way, and it began to fall, slewing the enemy ship around and bringing her dead in the water. She wasn’t sunk yet, but it was time to deal with the other.
This time they were slightly closer, as they took a series of slow “S” curves toward the enemy. Their cannonballs wrought even more damage on the enemy, sending two of their cannon flying like matchsticks and dropping masts and rigging around their heads. But now the Guldur were returning fire, and a few of the enemy’s 12-pound balls were punching through Fang’s sails and rigging. One punched a hole in the green-side upper bow.
The red-side came to bear again, making a shambles of the same enemy, but still the Guldur fired back. The Sylvan ship the enemy had been attacking was now relatively free from fire and they rapidly moved out of harm’s way, traveling in a wide arc and scrambling to make repairs as they went.
Now the green-side hammered the enemy at close range, close enough that the enemy was able to get a volley of canister into them at the same time, dropping several of Fang’s crew members from their guns and bringing several sailors plummeting down from the rigging. But this was the volley Melville had been waiting and hoping for. Through some combination of luck and skill Fang sent a ball straight through the enemy’s Keel. Almost instantly the ship began to “sink” into Flatland, entering inexorably, silently into the cold hard vacuum of space. The only sound was the bloodcurdling, horrifying screams of the doomed crew.
Now the enemy ship that they’d wounded first was regaining headway and sending fire into their red-side as they progressed toward the Pier. The red-side batteries gave this ship their undivided attention. The enemy ship spun around, out of control and unable to bring any guns to bear.
Now, for the first time, Melville’s four 12-pounders in the stern, two above and two below, could come to bear. They began to hammer the enemy as Fang drew away. The Sylvan ship they’d rescued came around in a long arc, firing at the enemy ship as they went, and then joined in behind Fang, forming a two-ship line of battle.
“Mr. Ngobe!”
“Aye, sir,” answered the eager midshipman.
“Run down to the carpenter, and ask him for a report on the condition of our Keel, and the bracings for our masts.” These were the foundations of the ship, hidden below decks. Their condition was an important factor in his coming decisions.
“Aye, sir!” said the boy over his shoulder as he scampered down the quarterdeck ladder.
Now there were two clusters of ships slugging it out in front of them, one to the left and one a little farther to the right. Melville charted a course between them and began to fire on the enemy as they came to bear. In a few minutes they’d sunk another enemy ship and crippled two more. They had also picked up another allied ship in their ad hoc line of battle. But the enemy was pounding them hard, and the Guldur ships kept trying to come around to engage in boarding actions.
Finally, one enemy ship bore down upon them with relentless fury. The red-side gun crews had taken a disproportionate number of casualties, so Melville swung Fang’s green-side to fire at the approaching ship, whose prow was filled with eager boarders. The green-side gave a volley, but the enemy came on undaunted.
On, on, with fast increasing speed,
The silent monster came;
Though all our starboard battery
Was one long line of flame.
“Yes, Mr. Ngobe?”
“If you please, sir, Chips says . . .”
“What was that, Midshipman?”
“Beg pardon, sir.” He responded, smiling, buoyant and eager-eyed, completely undaunted by his captain’s best reproof. “Mr. Tibbits says that ever’thin’s sound as a pound!”
“Good,” said Melville quietly, “because we may be in trouble here.”
The red-side was reloaded now, so they spun to bring its guns to bear. The aftmost 24-pounder, right in front of Melville, was almost completely depleted of crew. Their captain was being evacuated down to the hospital.