Under Wellington's Command: A Tale of the Peninsular WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
Under Wellington's Command: A Tale of the Peninsular War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Historical fiction; Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Juvenile fiction
There was a haze on the water, but a light wind was stirring, and
the vessel was moving through the water at some three knots an
hour. As soon as her course had been changed, so as to bring the
wind forward of the beam, which was her best point of sailing, the
men were sent to the guns; the first mate placing himself at a long
eighteen pounder, which was mounted as a pivot gun aft, a similar
weapon being in her bows. All this took but four or five minutes,
and shot after shot from the sloop hummed overhead.
The firing now ceased, as the change of course of the lugger had
placed the sloop dead astern of her; and the latter was unable,
therefore, to fire even her bow chasers without yawing. It was now
the turn of the lugger. The gun in the stern was carefully trained
and, as it was fired, a patch of white splinters appeared in the
sloop's bulwarks. A cheer broke from the French. The effect of the
shot, which must have raked her from stem to stern, was at once
evident. The sloop bore off the wind, until her whole broadside
could be seen.
"Flat on your faces!" the captain shouted.
There was a roar of ten guns, and a storm of shot screamed
overhead. Four of them passed through the sails. One ploughed up
the deck, killing two sailors and injuring three others with the
splinters. Two or three ropes of minor importance were cut, but no
serious damage inflicted.
The crew, as they leapt to their feet, gave a cheer. They knew
that, with this light wind, their lugger could run away from the
heavier craft; and that the latter could only hope for success by
crippling her.
"Steady with the helm!" the captain went on, as the pivot gun was
again ready to deliver its fire. "Wait till her three masts show
like one.
"Jacques, aim a little bit higher. See if you cannot knock away a
spar."
The sloop was coming up again to the wind and, as she was nearly
stem on, the gun cracked out again. A cheer broke from the lugger
as her opponent's foretop mast fell over her side, with all its
hamper. Round the sloop came, and delivered the other broadside.
Two shots crashed through the bulwarks, one of them dismounting a
gun which, in its fall, crushed a man who had thrown himself down
beside it. Another shot struck the yard of the foresail, cutting it
asunder; and the lugger at once ran up into the wind.
"Lower the foresail!" the captain shouted. "Quick, men! and lash a
spare spar to the yard. They are busy cutting away their topmast,
but we shall be off again before they are ready to move. They have
lost nearly half a mile; we shall soon be out of range. Be sharp
with that gun again!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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