If the two sloops were close together, the battle would be more difficult. But as he rounded the bend of the harbor under the cover of the soon-ending darkness, he could see the two sloops were anything but close together. So much the better.
"Lieutenant Bergman, hard a lee. My intentions are to pin the nearer sloop to shore, dismast her, and leave her no hope chance to maneuver. Make ready the port side guns with chainshot."
The guns were run out in short order and the decks were sanded. One almost forgot after so many years in command at sea why such a morbid practice was undertaken before battle...at least until afterwards. The sails were shortened to "battle sails," about half of what they would normally be deployed to, so that there would be less chance of shot ripping and shredding them.
"A keg of rum if the first broadside drops her sails," the Captain called. "Lt Ulrich, what do you make of the other enemy?"
"She's just now seen us, if indeed she has yet. By the time she gets close enough to fire at extreme range even, we ought to have this first one at our mercy."
"Very well Lieutenant, run out the starboard guns with solid shot. We'll fire on the turn after our first pass on the near enemy."
"So polite of her to pin herself to the shore for us, wasn't it Captain."
"Indeed, so let's be rude and let the gift get away. She's going to try to make a run past our port side. If we miss her mast the first time, we'll be in a running fight against them both, and that will be far more difficult."
"She'll no' git by, Cap'n," the Scottish Ensign had "volunteered" for duty, if you heard his tale. In truth, most believed, he had been mistakenly pressed into service when his ship had put into repairs in Antwerp before the war. But the Captain had quickly seen his value and given him an officer's rank.
"Very well, Ensign Kirk, fire as your guns bear," Lebeof called out.
"Ready Port Side!" The Officer of the Deck called out. "Fire on my order. Train your guns at the rigging!" Steadily the van Doesberg bore in on her adversary. The Portuguese tried to get the first round in, finally noticing her peril. The rounds were hurriedly fired and ill-aimed, flying through the rigging of the Dutchman, threatening no one except the lookout in the crow's nest. The Frigate could now see the men scurrying about the deck, still trying to fully man battle-stations.
"Port Side, FIRE!" The Deck Officer called, and the port side guns roared in unison, the smoke rose up and the ship heeled to starboard. But the results were quickly seen and heard. The ripping and shredding of rigging was followed by the creaking crash of the single mast of the sloop as it slumped to the deck.
"Reload with grape!" The Captiain ordered, he intended now to sweep the deck so that the crew would not be able to quickly replace the mast. Meanwhile the Frigate made its turn and fired at the other enemy. The shells whistled through the air, but landed long of the target. Within a minute both sides were reloaded and ready to continue the bloody work.
The port side guns fired again at the the gunner's orders. The grapeshot ripped through the crewman desperately trying to restore the mast that would give them a chance of making flight from the superior enemy. the second shot of the Portuguese had been aimed to return the favor and demast the Frigate, but it only did minor damage, and besides, she sported two masts and both would have to be taken down to render the same treatment to her.
"Lieutenant Bergman, hard a lee. My intentions are to pin the nearer sloop to shore, dismast her, and leave her no hope chance to maneuver. Make ready the port side guns with chainshot."
The guns were run out in short order and the decks were sanded. One almost forgot after so many years in command at sea why such a morbid practice was undertaken before battle...at least until afterwards. The sails were shortened to "battle sails," about half of what they would normally be deployed to, so that there would be less chance of shot ripping and shredding them.
"A keg of rum if the first broadside drops her sails," the Captain called. "Lt Ulrich, what do you make of the other enemy?"
"She's just now seen us, if indeed she has yet. By the time she gets close enough to fire at extreme range even, we ought to have this first one at our mercy."
"Very well Lieutenant, run out the starboard guns with solid shot. We'll fire on the turn after our first pass on the near enemy."
"So polite of her to pin herself to the shore for us, wasn't it Captain."
"Indeed, so let's be rude and let the gift get away. She's going to try to make a run past our port side. If we miss her mast the first time, we'll be in a running fight against them both, and that will be far more difficult."
"She'll no' git by, Cap'n," the Scottish Ensign had "volunteered" for duty, if you heard his tale. In truth, most believed, he had been mistakenly pressed into service when his ship had put into repairs in Antwerp before the war. But the Captain had quickly seen his value and given him an officer's rank.
"Very well, Ensign Kirk, fire as your guns bear," Lebeof called out.
"Ready Port Side!" The Officer of the Deck called out. "Fire on my order. Train your guns at the rigging!" Steadily the van Doesberg bore in on her adversary. The Portuguese tried to get the first round in, finally noticing her peril. The rounds were hurriedly fired and ill-aimed, flying through the rigging of the Dutchman, threatening no one except the lookout in the crow's nest. The Frigate could now see the men scurrying about the deck, still trying to fully man battle-stations.
"Port Side, FIRE!" The Deck Officer called, and the port side guns roared in unison, the smoke rose up and the ship heeled to starboard. But the results were quickly seen and heard. The ripping and shredding of rigging was followed by the creaking crash of the single mast of the sloop as it slumped to the deck.
"Reload with grape!" The Captiain ordered, he intended now to sweep the deck so that the crew would not be able to quickly replace the mast. Meanwhile the Frigate made its turn and fired at the other enemy. The shells whistled through the air, but landed long of the target. Within a minute both sides were reloaded and ready to continue the bloody work.
The port side guns fired again at the the gunner's orders. The grapeshot ripped through the crewman desperately trying to restore the mast that would give them a chance of making flight from the superior enemy. the second shot of the Portuguese had been aimed to return the favor and demast the Frigate, but it only did minor damage, and besides, she sported two masts and both would have to be taken down to render the same treatment to her.
