Allen rolled over in the narrow bed. Although his quarters were luxurious compared to what most of the men had, they were cramped compared to his father's house ashore. But that was ashore, and he was at sea! The deck rocked in the swells, the glow of dawn was lighting up the windows of the stern gallery.
For a brief moment he reflected on the fact that his current adventure had begun like this, waking up. Only he felt a lot better this time.
His reverie was broken by the sound of running feet over his head and yelling below decks in the crew's space. Some one started knocking insistently at the door to his cabin.
"What is it!" he yelled as he jumped from the bed and began pulling on his clothes.
"Captain, you're wanted on deck," the man said formally, the added, "I think we have some trouble."
"That doesn't sound good," Allen thought, "what could be going on way out here?"
Even as he moved to the door the ship's drummer began beating "to quarters."
Something big was afoot if the crew was being called to duty without his orders.
He sprinted up a ladder to the quarter deck. The sun was just coming up as he came on deck. He glanced toward the port bow, Mary Jane was still leading the way. He looked aft, and saw the cause for alarm.
"How did he get so close!"
In the middle distance a two masted brig flying a Royal Navy ensign was bearing down on them. The vessel was only a couple of miles away. Even as Allen watched men were climbing into the masts to unfurl more sail. Garibaldi and O'Reilly strode up to him.
"There was no moon last night," Garibaldi said, "We had no way to see him."
Allen waved him to silence.
"It looks like he only saw us a few minutes ago. He's still clearing for action."
Allen bit his lip thinking. The other ship looked like a fast sloop, its crew was rigging studding sails to increase speed. Worse, it had the weather gauge, indeed he was nearly directly upwind of Venus and Mary Jane. Which was not good. Venus was a weatherly ship, but lost much of her advantage in a downwind race, her fore and aft rigging being less efficient than square rig when running before the wind.
Allen had to make a quick choice. He could try to pull his prize crew off his capture and attempt to run for it, or he could stand and fight. For a brief moment it occurred to him that he could simply run for it, but he dismissed the thought. He would not abandon Cunningham.
In that instant he made his decision.
He looked over at the captured merchantman, where he could see Cunningham standing on the poop deck, looking back at him for instructions. He waved his hands in a go-away gesture. Cunningham waved back at him and a few seconds later Allen could see men climbing into the rigging to set more sail.
He could only hope that the men aboard were most interested in avoiding a fight entirely.
"Hard starboard!" He yelled at the helmsman, "O'Reilly have the guns on both sides ready!"
"Already done sir!" The Irishman looked peeved.
"Sorry," Allen said in a calmer voice, "I should have known."
Garibaldi looked up at the sails, and then at the approaching sloop.
"You're going to wear ship and try to engage from across his bow on the starboard tack?"
"Yes, he's got us outgunned, but he'll be trying to get past us. If we can gain the initial advantage with a broadside while he's still head on, we may stand a chance."
Garibaldi looked out over the water and nodded.
"O'Reilly has the guns, I'll see to the sails."
Allen stood at the rail across the front of the quarterdeck as Venus began to describe an arc through the water. There was a good breeze blowing but the water was calm, spray flashed off the ship's bow as she turned. Men stood next to the guns. They looked nervous, but ready. Others worked the running rigging, adjusting the sails as the Venus turned through the wind.
O'Reilly walked aft from the mainmast.
"A word, Captain?"
Allen waved him up and Irishman bounded up the ladder to join him.
"Begging your pardon sir," O'Reilly said, "I think we should fire our first broadside or two into his rigging. The ship will be heeled over to port and shooting up will be easier than shooting down."
Allen nodded.
"I agree, but if you can, hull him with the eighteens."
"Yes, sir. Also I intend to put all the swivels on the engaged side. We'll need to make up for our lack of muskets."
"Yes."
One of the shortfalls of Venus' rig was a shortage of fighting positions in the masts. Only the foremast had true fighting tops where the three sections of the mast were joined. The main and mizzen had only small platforms. Where a square rigged ship would have many men aloft firing muskets and throwing grenades, Venus would have only a few.
"I hope it makes a difference," Allen added.
"Aye," was O'Reilly's only response.
The two men watched quietly as Venus turned through three quarters of a full circle. With the maneuver completed she was on a course to cut across the Royal's bow.
"This should be an interesting dance."
O'Reilly nodded.
"Aye, we wish to avoid a fight, and he wants to get that ship back. Both of us have good reason to try to get this over with as quickly as possible."
Although the sea was reasonably calm, Venus was rolling as she cut across the waves.
"You better get back, the guns will need to be aimed carefully if you're going to hit anything."
"Aye aye."
O'Reilly walked back to his position in the waist of the ship, where he could direct fire from all of the guns. Allen stole a quick glance over his shoulder. Mary Jane was running before the wind, Cunningham getting as far from the coming fight as quickly as he could.
As Venus rolled level with the waves the two eighteen pounder guns fired. The range was still fairly long, but O'Reilly would have time to reload before Venus actually cut across the other ships bow. Allen could not see where either one of the shots went. Seconds later the other ship turned away slightly and shot back, a ripple of fire that started at the bow and ran aft.
Allen had to admire the other commander's technique as the smoke blew forward, downwind. The smoke from his first shots did not obscure the later shots. A couple of splashes rose in the water between the two vessels, other rounds shrieked through the rigging. Somewhere below him a solid "thunk" told him that at least one had hit the hull.
Forward and below Allen, the gun crews raced to reload the two big guns. As soon as they finished O'Reilly ordered a full broadside fired. The guns roared, flames shot from the muzzles and clouds of smoke filled the air. As the smoke blew across the deck the view cleared.
The other ship was turning to larboard, evidently trying to slip past Venus stern and rake her.
"Port helm!" Allen yelled, "Bring her around. O'Reilly..."
"I see, Sir," O'Reilly answered before Allen could even finish the order. Even as he spoke, O'Reilly was leading his gun crews to the other side of the ship. Over Allen's head the sails snapped as the ship turned on to her new course. One thing Venus could do very quickly was turn to a new tack, especially with Garibaldi handling her sails.
The crew of the sloop seemed to be surprised, Allen could hear men yelling across the water as Venus heeled over on to a new tack - taking her back across the sloops bow. On the sloop Allen could see men heaving on lines, trying to reset sails as the helmsmen spun the wheel. The sloop was trying to turn to a course that would bring him up alongside Venus at close range. Allen guessed that the other Captain was hoping to board, he undoubtedly had a much larger crew. But he wasn't going to make it.
Venus cut across his bow at pistol shot distance. At O'Reilly's command the guns fired again, if Venus had a few more guns the raking broadside would have been devastating. AS it was, the damage to the other ship and crew was bad, but he was quite capable of fighting.
The two vessels now ran at a quartering angle across the wind, shot after shot flying over the narrow water separating them. Overhead, the men in the masts shot at each other and the gun crews on the decks. The Royal ship had a big swivel gun mounted on the fighting tops of each of its masts. Venus had only one, on the foremast.
"Get those guns," Allen yelled at the men in the men in the masts, "they're going to murder us."
Seconds later, as if to prove his point, several musket balls smacked into the deck near where he was standing.
"Captain, my I suggest that you not make yourself so conspicuous," one of the men near him said.
Allen ignored the man and looked up at the mizzen mast over his head. A man on the platform aimed his rifle and fired at the fighting top directly opposite him. As clouds of powder smoke were drifting across the deck Allen could not see the result of the shot. He felt a cold lump in his stomach. He had not intended to fight this battle, indeed he didn't want any battle.
But he was here and something had to be done. He just wasn't sure what.
For ten or fifteen long minutes the running gun battle continued. The sloop had a broadside of ten guns, to Venus' eight. But Allen estimated the sloops guns were nine-pounders. His heavier guns might wear down his opponent.
But for the gun crews it was hot back breaking work. Heave the gun out until the muzzle cleared the port. The gun captain poured fine powder into the touch hole and lit it with his slow match. The gunner would try to time the shot with the roll and pitch of the ship to send the ball correctly, but it was an uncertain process. One never knew quite how long it would take the powder charge to ignite.
When it did, the gun would fire, the ball being expelled toward the enemy riding a tongue of fire and cloud of smoke. The recoil would push the gun back, sending its crew scrambling to stay out of the way. Swab the barrel with a wet sponge to extinguish sparks, push in the bags holding the powder charge. Ram them home, put in the wadding and ram it down the barrel, the ball (or chain shot or bar shot as the case may be) ram it all home and run the gun out again.
Then do it all again, all the time with a hail of shot enemy flying around. Several men were hit, in places the deck ran with blood, a screaming man was taken below to see the "surgeon". Allen hated to think of what was transpiring in the cockpit.
"We can't take much more of this," he thought.
At that moment a sharp crack resounded through the air. Terrified he looked up, expecting to see a mast falling on his head. Then he realized the noises he was hearing were coming from the Royal vessel.
As he watched the Royal's upper fore mast toppled toward the ship's bow. Several back stays parted with more cracking sounds, a man in the crow's nest screamed as the mast went down. With a crash; a pile of ropes, canvas, and splintered wood landed on the enemy fo'c'sle. The fore topsail fluttered uselessly, its stays ripped loose. The enemy's headsails were also gone, lost in the tangle.
"Starboard, starboard," Allen yelled.
This was his chance to break off the action and escape. With a mast and his head sails gone it would be impossible for the enemy to catch him.
He hoped.
He looked up at his own rigging. A number of his sails had been ripped by shot, but Venus could still maneuver. As Venus turned away to run down wind to rejoin Cunningham the enemy fired one last ragged broadside. Most of it missed entirely as their guns could no longer be brought to bear.
Allen could see the other Captain trying to turn his vessel. The sound of curses resounded across the water. Garibaldi ran up to him.
"We've got an hour or so, by my estimate," he said, "We'd best make good use of it."
"You think he could repair the damage that quickly,"
"I could," Garibaldi answered simply.
"That's good enough for me. Let's put as much distance between us as possible. I expect he'll be after us."
