The Ionian Mission (49 page)

   But now here, against all expectation, was the
Kitabi
, coming up fast with the obvious intention of passing between the
Surprise
and the
Torgud
and then presumably of hauling her wind to take the
Surprise
between two fires.

   'That will not do, my friend,' said Jack, watching her approach. 'It is very gallant, but it really will not do. Round-shot,' he called, 'and fire steady from forward aft: fire at the word.' Some minutes later, when the relative positions of the three ships were such that the
Torgud
was directly to leeward of her consort and unable to give her any support, Jack shivered the main and mizzen topsails, slanting down towards the
Kitabi
, making no reply to her high, rapid, nervous, largely ineffectual fire until they were a cable's length apart, no more.

   They gave her six deliberate rolling broadsides, beating five of her midships gun-ports into one and silencing her entirely. At the sixth there was a violent explosion aboard her, and the beginning of a fire: the
Surprise
passed on, leaving her drifting before the wind, her people running with buckets and hose.

   The breeze had faded, perhaps stunned by the cannonade, and the
Surprise
set her topgallantsails to pursue the
Torgud
: not that the Turk was evidently flying—he had no great speed of canvas—but he was steering steadily on his original course, perhaps in the hope of reaching Ali Pasha; and right ahead the mainland could now be seen, mountain-peaks nicking the horizon, while the low Morali islands must be nearer still. In this wonderfully silent pause, while the bosun and his mates sprang about the rigging, knotting and splicing, Jack stared at the
Torgud
for a moment, watching them throw their dead over the side—a trail of dead in her wake—and then made a quick tour of the ship. He found less damage than he had feared: one gun dismounted, the side pierced by three thirty-six-pounder balls and some others, but none of the holes dangerously low, while in Stephen's hands there were no more than six badly wounded men and three sewn into their hammocks, remarkably few for such a furious bout.

   On deck again he saw that the breeze had recovered, and that the
Surprise
was overhauling the
Torgud
fast. They were already within gunshot, but with land in sight it seemed to Jack that so long as he could avoid being boarded close action was called for, and it was not until they were drawing abreast, close enough to see men's faces clearly, that he reduced sail and the hammering began again. This was the
Torgud's
larboard broadside, hitherto unengaged and undamaged, and the Turks blazed away with as much spirit as before: again a thirty-six-pound ball passed so close to Jack's head that it made him stagger—he actually saw the dark blur of its passing—and he said to Driver of the Marines, 'Let your men amidships concentrate on the loader of that damned heavy gun.' Graham, who was just at hand, said 'May I take a musket, sir? I might do some good, and I feel uneasy, useless and exposed standing here.'

   He was indeed exposed. Now that both ships had the wind aft the smoke blew clear away forward; the
Torgud
was shooting more accurately than before and as her shot hit the
Surprise's
bulwark or upper hull so showers of splinters flew across her deck, some trifling, some deadly. Graham had already been knocked over twice, and most of those on deck had been more or less banged about.

   The
Torgud
was still full of fight, and she still had a surprising number of men. After a particularly violent salvo she clapped her helm hard over, meaning to board again, and again her people crowded thick into her bows and along her bowsprit. This time the
Surprise
had no room to tack, but she had her forecourse in the brails for just such an emergency, and dropping it now she shot ahead: though none too fast, since the
Torgud's
jibboom caught in her mizzen topgallant backstays. She shot ahead nevertheless, her stern-chasers blasting grape into the close-packed Turks, a red slaughter that checked even the gun-crew's cheers; and the moment she had way enough she crossed the
Torgud's
stern, raking her as she did so. The
Surprise
let fly her sheets, and the
Torgud
, ranging up, engaged again with her starboard broadside, shockingly ravaged from that first bout, with at least seven guns dismounted, ports blackened and battered in, the scuppers and even the bare sides thick with blood.

   Ravaged, but still dangerous: now, when some opponents might have struck, she let fly with a dozen or thirteen guns and two of these did more damage than all she had fired hitherto. One struck the uppermost pintle and wedged the rudder, and another, the last of her huge round-shot, caught the
Surprise
just as she was on the lift, showing her copper, and made a shocking great hole under her waterline. And a third, fired as Jack was giving Williamson orders to carry forward, took the boy's arm off at the elbow. Jack saw his amazed face go paper-white—not pain but amazement and concern and disbelief—whipped a handkerchief round the stump, twisted it tight, staunched the jetting blood and passed him to a quartermaster to carry below.

   By the time the
Surprise
had dealt with the steering and the leak the
Torgud
was much nearer the land. Apart from a few shots from her stern-chasers as she drew ahead she had not tried to profit by her advantage, still less to board. It was possible that she was unaware of the damage she had inflicted: it was certain that the last encounter, the last raking, had killed a great number of her men. She sailed away, therefore, and in her wake there now sailed the
Kitabi
, she having pursued a course with no turnings since the
Surprise
left her; and both Turks were clearly steering for the same port.

   'All sail she will bear, Mr Pullings,' said Jack, going forward to study the
Torgud
through a borrowed telescope—a musket-shot had broken his own as he held it: the tube shattered, his hand untouched. The
Torgud
had suffered terribly, there was no doubt of that; she was sailing low and heavy and although the
Surprise
was now gathering way fast as Pullings spread topgallantsails and even weather studdingsails in his passionate eagerness, the
Torgud
seemed unwilling and unable to make any increase. And even now the bodies were still splashing over the side.

   'No,' said Jack to Bonden at the starboard bow-chaser as they came within easy range of the Turk's stern, moving faster every moment. 'Do not fire. We must not check her way. Boarding is the only thing for it, and the sooner the better.'

   'Anyhow, sir,' said Bonden, 'that damned fool is in the way.' This was the
Kitabi
. Convinced that the
Surprise
was in pursuit of her, she had cracked on the most extraordinary amount of canvas to rejoin the
Torgud
and now she lay directly between the two.

   Jack walked aft, and as he passed the boarders in each gun-crew smiled at him, or nodded, or said 'Coming up now, sir,' or cheerful words of that kind; and again he felt the rising of that enormous excitement of immediate battle, greater than any other he had ever known in the world.

   He spoke to the Marines, who were now to come into their own, and after a few more turns he ran down the ladders to the lantern-lit orlop. 'Stephen,' he said privately, 'How is the boy?'

   'He will do, I believe.'

   'I hope so, indeed. As soon as we come up, we mean to board.'

   They shook hands and he ran on deck again. Pullings was already taking in the studdingsails, not to overrun the
Torgud
: and there, still absurdly ahead, fled the
Kitabi
, between the two frigates. She fired not a gun: she seemed to have lost her head entirely. 'Forward, there,' called Jack to the bow-chaser guns, 'Send a ball over her deck.'

   'By God,' cried the master, as the
Kitabi
jigged at the shot, 'She'll run the
Torgud
aboard if she don't take care—by God, she can't avoid her—by God, she's doing it.'

   With a rending, crashing sound that came clear to their ears at four hundred yards the
Kitabi
ground slanting into the
Torgud's
starboard side, her foremast falling over the frigate's waist.

   'Lay me athwart her stern,' cried Jack, and then very loud, 'One broadside at the word, and board her in the smoke.'

   As the
Surprise
began her turn he stepped forward to the great gap in the starboard hammock-netting torn by the Turks, loosening his sword, easing his pistols. Pullings was at his right hand, his eyes sparkling, and from nowhere had appeared the grim man Davis, jostling against Bonden on the left, looking perfectly mad with a line of white spittle between his lips and a butcher's cleaver in his hand.

   The last sweeping movement, the easy, yielding crunch of the ship's sides, and the roar of the great guns as Jack gave the word. Then calling 'Boarders away* he leapt through the smoke down to the
Kitabi's
deck. Perhaps forty Turks stood against them, an irresolute line almost instantly overwhelmed and beaten back, and there in the clearing eddies was an officer holding out his sword, hilt first, and crying, 'Rendre, rendre.'

   'Mr Gill, take charge,' said Jack, and as the
Torgud
fired her remaining after-guns straight into the
Kitabi
he raced through the billowing smoke into the bows, roaring 'Come on, come on, come on with me.'

   It was no great leap across, for the
Torgud
was low, low in the water, the sea washing into her shattered midship ports and flowing out red, and one flying stride took him on to her quarterdeck rail.

   Here it was different. Here though her decks were bloody and ploughed with shot they were still full of men: most were facing aft into the smoke, but one whipped round and cut at him directly. Jack caught the blade on his sword and from his height on the rail gave the Turk a great thrust with his foot that sent him flying into the waist of the ship—into the water that swilled over the waist of the settling, almost sinking ship.

   He leapt down on to the deck: he had never felt stronger or more lithe or more wholly in form and when a pike came piercing through the confusion, thrusting straight at his belly, he slashed it with such force and precision that he struck the point clean from its shaft. Almost at once the fight took on a pattern. Jack, Pullings and most of the boarders were crowding into the forward starboard corner of the
Torgud's
quarterdeck, trying to force their way aft from there and the gangway. Some others and all the Marines were doing their best to storm the stern-windows and the taffrail.

   It was the usual furious mêlée, with a huge amount of shouting and striving, very little room to move because of both friends and enemies, little in the way of skill in swordsmanship—an enormous pushing, thrusting, lashing out at a venture, quick stabs in the tumult, short-armed blows, kicking: the physical weight of both sides and the moral weight of both sides.

   The mass heaved to and fro: turbans, skull-caps, yellow bloodshot eyes, swarthy bearded faces on the one hand, pale on the other, but both with the same extremity of naked murderous violence; a prodigiously strenuous, vehement mass, sometimes clearing between the two fronts for a short burst of individual, direct and often deadly fighting: then it closed again, the men face to face, even chest to chest, immediately touching. And hitherto neither had a clear advantage: Jack's hundred or so had won a few yards to fight in, but there they were blocked; and the people astern seemed to have lost their foothold. Jack had felt two or three wounds—the searing lash of a pistol-ball across his ribs, a sword-thrust, half-parried, on the other side, while once Davis had very nearly brought him down with the back-stroke of his cleaver that opened a blunt gash on his forehead—and he knew that he had given some very shrewd blows. And all the time he looked for Mustapha: never a glimpse of him, though his enormous voice could be heard.

   Abruptly there was room in front of him, breathing-space as some of the Turks eased back, still fighting. On Jack's right Pullings lunged into this space, thrusting at his opponent, caught his foot on a ring-bolt and fell. For a fragment of time his ingenuous face was turned to Jack, then the Turk's sword flashed down and the fight closed in again. 'No, no, no,' roared Jack, driving forward with enormous strength. He had his heavy sabre in both hands and taking no guard he hacked and slashed, standing astride over Pullings' body. Now men scattered before his extreme fury; they fell back; the moral advantage was established. Shouting to Davis to stand by, to stand guard, to carry the body under the ladder, he charged aft, followed by all the rest. At the same time the Marines, repulsed from the stern and reformed farther forward, came thundering down both gangways with bayonets fixed.

   The crowd of Turks thinned, some running, most retreating steadily towards the taffrail, and there abaft the tottering mizzen sat Mustapha at a table covered with pistols, most of them discharged. His leg had been broken early in the day and it rested on a blood-stained drum. Two of his officers were holding his hands down and a third called to Jack 'We surrender.' This was Ulusan, who had come aboard the
Surprise
with Mustapha: he stepped forward, hauled down the colours and slipped the ensign free. The others at last made Mustapha give up his sword: Ulusan, wrapping the flag about it, offered both to Jack in the unearthly silence. Mustapha rose up, grasping the table, and flung himself on the deck in a paroxysm of rage or grief, his head striking against the wood like a mallet. Jack glanced at him with frigid indifference. 'Give you joy, sir,' said Mowett at his side. 'You have come it the Nelson's bridge at last.'

   Jack turned a pale, hard face on him. 'Have you seen Pullings?' he asked.

   'Why, yes, sir,' said Mowett, looking surprised. 'They have fairly ruined his waistcoat and knocked his wits astray; but that don't depress his spirits, I find.'