The Devil's Own Luck Read Online Free PDF Page A

Verite his gunners, now firing from a steady platform, poured a telling broadside into the Frenchman at point-blank range.
    “Man the braces,” he shouted. “Haul away!” The foretopsail was hauled tight again and the Medusa sailed past the Frenchman. Harry let her pay off to keep his ship out of the arc of the enemy’s guns. He saw that they were setting sail again. But now he was ahead of them, and he could see that the last manoeuvre had cost the Verite a good mile. The Magnanime was coming up hand over fist.
    Now the most dangerous part of the game had to be played. He had to slow his opponent down when she had the weather gage. Up until then he had held the advantage of the wind. He loaded his guns with grape. His guns were too light to cause any serious damage to the mainmasts of a warship at this range, but a steady diet of grapeshot across her deck would make them shear away, slowing their progress. As long as they did not take the wind out of his sails he would be able to manoeuvre. If it should happen that the Verite got between him and the wind, he would be at the Frenchman’s mercy, and that, even with poor gunnery, could only have one result.
    He darted in and out firing his guns from a position on her larboard quarter, then turning away and using his speed to get out of harm’s way. And his plan was working. The Verite, faced with his assaults, could not maintain her best rate of sailing, constantly having to shear away to avoid his thrusts. The Magnanime was closing. Four times he stood in towards her quarter and fired his deadly grapeshot. The screams could be clearly heard across the intervening sea. The Verite replied with as many of her forward guns as could be brought to bear, but these were few, and wildly aimed.
    The critical moment was approaching, the time when he would have to actually take station across the bows of the Verite, a time when she would have to turn to meet the bigger enemy bearing down on her. At that moment she would be doomed, for the Magnanime would do as much damage to the Verite as the Verite could do to the Medusa.
    “Bar shot,” he called to the gun captains. He was going in much closer on this attack. So now he would aim at the sails, using two ingots linked by chain to slice through some of his opponent’s rigging. If she was busy splicing ropes, she would have fewer men free to man the guns on both sides. Harry turned to his brother, who stood at the taffrail, sketching madly, as he tried to record the scene for a future series of paintings.
    “We come to the high point of the action, James,” he shouted. “You will observe the Magnanime will soon be shortening sail, reducing to topsails only. She will turn to face our foe, and seek to rake the Verite. If the French captain is wise, he will fire a broadside for the sake of his honour, then strike his flag. I fear I must leave the Navy to take the man’s sword, but I will try to get you over there in time to record the ceremony.”
    James just smiled and waved, then carried on drawing.
    Harry gave the orders that brought the Medusa round yet again. The French captain might be inexperienced, but he was no fool. He knew what was coming, and the action of the Medusa had ceased to interest him. He had manned his starboard guns and was turning to face the Magnanime, himself shortening sail to avoid the risk of fire.
    “Aim high,” shouted Harry. “He’ll be down to topsails soon.” The Medusa was practically stationary, Harry having reduced sail, just like the Verite which lay broadside on to her, her larboard guns unmanned. He could see the topsails of the Magnanime through the enemy rigging. He gave the command and the Medusa ’s guns spoke. He heard the whistle of the bar shot as it sliced its way towards his now vulnerable foe. He was in high spirits, his face flushed; he knew that success was assured.
    At that moment his face froze. The Magnanime should have come on, ready to turn and pour a broadside into