Silence, there! snapped Bush.
Another cry from the leadsman, and then a bellowed order. Instantly the lower deck seemed to be filled solid with noise. The maindeck guns were being run out; in the confined space below every sound was multiplied and reverberated by the ships timbers so that the guntrucks rolling across the planking made a noise like thunder. Everyone looked to Bush for orders, but he stood steady; he had received none. Now a midshipman appeared descending the ladder.
Mr. Bucklands compliments, sir, and please to run your guns out.
He had squealed his message without ever setting foot on deck, and everyone had heard it. There was an instant buzz round the deck, and excitable people began to reach for the gunports to open them.
Still! bellowed Bush. Guiltily all movement ceased.
Up ports!
The twilight of the lower deck changed to daylight as the ports opened; little rectangles of sunshine swayed about on the deck on the port side, broadening and narrowing with the motion of the ship.
Run out!
With
the ports open the noise was not so great; the crews flung their weight on the tackles and the trucks roared as the guns thrust their muzzles out. Bush stepped to the nearest gun and stooped to peer out through the open port. There were the green hills of the island at extreme gunshot distance; here the cliffs were not nearly so abrupt, and there was a junglecovered shelf at their feet.
Hands wear ship!
Bush could recognise Roberts voice hailing from the quarterdeck. The deck under his feet steadied to the horizontal, and the distant hills seemed to swing with the vessel. The masts creaked as the yards came round. That must be Samaná Point which they were rounding. The motion of the ship had changed far more than would be the result of mere alteration of course. She was not only on an even keel but she was in quiet water, gliding along into the bay. Bush squatted down on his heels by the muzzle of a gun and peered at the shore. This was the south side of the peninsula at which he was looking, presenting a coastline towards the bay nearly as steep as the one on the seaward side. There was the fort on the crest and the Spanish flag waving over it. The excited midshipman came scuttling down the ladder like a squirrel.
Sir! Sir! Will you try a ranging shot at the batteries when your guns bear?
Bush ran a cold eye over him.
Whose orders? he asked.
MMr. Bucklands, sir.
Then say so. Very well. My respects to Mr. Buckland, and it will be a long time before my guns are within range.
Aye aye, sir.
There was smoke rising from the fort, and not powder smoke either. Bush realised with something like a quiver of apprehension that probably it was smoke from a furnace for heating shot; soon the fort would be hurling redhot shot at them, and Bush could see no chance of retaliation; he would never be able to elevate his guns sufficiently to reach the fort, while the fort, from its commanding position on the crest, could reach the ship easily enough. He straightened himself up and walked over to the port side to where Hornblower, in a similar attitude, was peering out beside a gun.
Theres a point running out here, said Hornblower. See the shallows there? The channel must bend round them. And theres a battery on the pointlook at the smoke. Theyre heating shot.
I daresay, said Bush.
Soon they would be under a sharp crossfire. He hoped they would not be subjected to it for too long. He could hear orders being shouted on deck, and the masts creaked as the yards came round; they were working the Renown round the bend.
The forts opened fire, sir, reported the masters mate in charge of the forward guns on the starboard side.
Very well, Mr. Purvis. He crossed over and looked out. Did you see where the shot fell?
No, sir.
Theyre firing on this side, too, sir, reported Hornblower.
Very well.
Bush saw the fort spurting white cannon smoke. Then straight in the line between his eye and the fort, fifty yards from the side of the ship, a pillar of water rose up from the golden surface, and within the same instant of time something crashed into the side of the ship just above Bushs head. A ricochet had bounded from the surface and had lodged somewhere in the eighteen inches of oak that constituted the ships side. Then followed a devils tattoo of crashes; a wellaimed salvo was striking home.
I might just reach the battery on this side now, sir, said Hornblower.
Then try what you can do.
Now here was Buckland himself, hailing fretfully down the hatchway.
Cant you open fire yet, Mr. Bush?
This minute, sir.
Hornblower was standing by the centre twentyfourpounder. The gun captain slid the rolling handspike under the gun carriage, and heaved with all his weight. Two men at each side tackle tugged under his direction to point the gun true. With the elevating coign quite free from the breech the gun was at its highest angle of elevation. The gun captain flipped up the iron apron over the touchhole, saw that the hole was filled with powder, and with a shout of Stand clear he thrust his smouldering linstock into it. The gun bellowed loud in the confined space; some of the smoke came drifting back through the port.