The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
And, without saying another word, he proceeded forwards. On reaching
the swivel gun he had it unlashed and carefully loaded, adding a ball
and a grape shot to the ordinary charge. Bending over the sight he
seized the screw placed under the breech, then making a sign to the men
who stood on either side with handspikes, he began laying the gun slowly
and with the utmost precaution, scrupulously calculating the distance
that separated the two ships, and the deviation caused by the rolling.
At length, when he believed he had attained the desired result, he
seized the lanyard, fell back, and made a signal to the Captain, who was
impatiently awaiting the termination of his proceedings.
"Attention!" the latter shouted; "Stand by, all."
There was a moment of supreme expectation.
"Is all clear?"
"Yes," the lieutenant replied.
"Ready about," the Captain ordered; "down with the helm! Ease off the
jib sheets! Sheet home top sails! Sheet home lower sails! Haul the
bowlines taut!"
The sailors hurried to the running rigging, and the ship, obedient to
the impulse given it, majestically swung round. At the moment when it
fell, and had its bows turned toward the broadside of the corvette,
Master Lovel, who was watching for a favourable opportunity to carry out
the orders he had received, sharply pulled the lanyard and fired. The
Mexicans, confounded by this sudden aggression, which they were far from
anticipating from an enemy apparently so weak, replied furiously, and a
shower of iron and lead hurtled over the deck and through the rigging of
the American ship. The fort and battery continued to preserve the
strictest neutrality, and Captain Johnson did not take the trouble to
reply.
"Brace up closer to the wind!" he shouted. "Haul down the sheets! We
have had fun enough, lads."
The brig continued its course, and when the smoke had dispersed the
Mexican corvette could be perceived in a pitiable condition. The shot
fired by Master Lovel had carried away her bowsprit close by the head,
which naturally entailed the fall of the foremast, and the poor
corvette, half rendered unserviceable, and unable longer to pursue its
audacious enemy, bore up to repair hastily the worst of the damage.
On board the brig, owing to the hurry in which the Mexicans had returned
the fire, only one man had been killed and three slightly wounded. As
for the damage, it was trifling; only a few ropes were cut, that was
all.
"Now," the Captain said, as he came down from the quarterdeck, "in ten
minutes, father, you will tack, and when we are abreast of the fort you
will lie to, let down a boat, and let me know."
"What!" the lieutenant could not refrain from saying, "You mean to go
ashore?"
"Hang it," said the Captain; "why, I only came here for that purpose."
"Are you going to the fort?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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