Chase (ChronoShift Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

meaty arms as he stabbed a finger at one of the cannon and spat out incoherent orders regarding the finer points of its operation.
    They soon learned their cannon was a 32 pound carronade.  It took five men to operate it well during combat, though three or four could manage if needed.  Shank declared Mark to be the "rammer" and Hardy the "loader."  These were the most dangerous, and thus least desired, of the gunner jobs since they required you to stand directly in front of the business end of the barrel a good bit of the time.  If the cannon went off prematurely, both rammer and loader were likely to be decimated.
    Mark's job involved inserting a rod with a damp sponge on the end of it down into the cannon's barrel to clean it out and quench any remaining sparks from the previous charge fired.  Hardy would then load a bag of gunpowder, which was called the charge.  Using the other end of his ramrod, Mark then had to ram the charge down the barrel.  Throughout this, another man, the "ventsman" would cover the firing hole with his thumb to keep air from getting in and fanning any sparks.  His was the critical job that could mean an early end for Mark or Hardy.  This ventsman then pricked the charge and filled the hole with powder.  There was another man in charge of aiming the gun and a fifth would actually light it.
    It was dangerous work.  Mark hoped they'd find a way to get off the ship before they had to actually fight.  He didn't relish the idea of putting their necks at risk for no good reason.
    The days passed uneventfully.  The skin of Mark's hands blistered and cracked from scrubbing the decks endlessly.  The captain was exacting revenge for the damage they'd done to some of his crew members.  Outside of what it was doing to his palms, Mark didn't mind the hard work, except for the very bottom hold. The stench of rotting food and human refuse down there was overwhelming.
    "Ho!"
     
    They heard the cry clearly, even through two decks.  The swab manning the crow's nest had spotted something.
    After several minutes, crew members began flooding the lower holds, slinging open shutters and shoving cannon into position.
    Shank's massive form darkened the open hatch leading to the deck above.  His steps were deliberate and as solid as those of a rhino.  The man had to weigh more than three hundred pounds, and it wasn't all fat.
    "You two!"  He motioned threateningly at Mark and Hardy.  "Man, that cannon.  We're gonna teach those Americans a thing or two today!"
    He moved on, barking rough orders at scrambling men.
    Mark looked to Hardy.  "Don't know about you," he whispered, "but I’m not about to fire on fellow Americans."
    "Me neither.  What are we going to do about it?"
    "Look man, it's a flat-out disgrace that two Special Forces' men can't take over a ship full of amateurs."
    Hardy chuckled.  "Yep.  So, what's the plan?"
    They swiftly formed one.  They needed to secure the captain and as many weapons as they could, but the captain was primary.  Through him they could control the troops.  The ventsman manning their cannon caught Mark's attention.  He was bare-chested, but his pants looked like the ragged remnants of an American-issued uniform.  
    Mark hissed at him, "Hey, you American?"
    "Yeah."
    "We're going to make a play.  You in or out?"
    "I'm in.  They grabbed me six months ago.  I've had it.  If you can do it, there's probably at least seven other men on board who've been impressed and will join you."
    Mark remembered that one of the primary reasons for the War of 1812 had been Britain's illegal and ruthless impressment of Americans into the British Navy.
    On this ship, they were short on men to man all the cannon, and most stations were operating with a crew of three or four instead of the optimal five.  Their senior gunner who would aim the cannon would also act as the "firer," lighting the powder, but he was still distracted helping Shank organize some of the other crews.
    "All