Chapter XIII
Now, handsomely, said Bush. This work was too important to be delegated to Mr. Midshipman James, standing beside him. Hoist away. Handsomely.
The creaking took on a different tone as the weight came on the blocks. The curves of the ropes altered, appeared almost deformed, as the gun began to rise from its cradle on the thwarts. The shallow, lovely catenaries changed to a harsher, more angular figure. Bush had his telescope to his eye and could see the gun stir and move, and slowlythat was what Bush meant by handsomely in the language of the seait began to upend itself, to dangle from the traveller, to rise clear of the launch; hanging, just as Bush had visualized it, from the slings through its cascabel and round its trunnions. It was safe enoughif those slings were to give way or to slip, the gun would crash through the bottom of the launch. The line about its muzzle restrained it from swinging too violently.
Hoist away, said Bush again, and the traveller began to mount the rope with the gun pendant below it. This was the next ticklish moment, when the pull came most transversely. But everything held fast.
Hoist away.
Now the
gun was mounting up the rope. Beyond the launchs stern it dipped, with the stretching of the cable and the straightening of the curve, until its muzzle was almost in the sea. But the hoisting proceeded steadily, and it rose clear of the water, up, up, up. The sheaves hummed rhythmically in the blocks as the hands hove on the line. The sun shone on the men from its level position in the glowing east, stretching out their shadows and those of the trees to incredible lengths over the irregular plateau.
Easy, there! said Bush. Belay!
The gun had reached the cliff edge.
Move that cats cradle over this way a couple of feet. Now, sway in. Lower. Good. Cast off those lines.
The gun lay, eight feet of dull bronze, upon the cats cradle that had been spread to receive it. This was a small area of stout ropenetting, from which diverged, knotted thickly to the central portion, a score or more of individual lines, each laid out separately on the ground.
Well get that on its way first. Take a line, each of you marines.
The thirty redcoated marines that Hornblower had sent along from the fort moved up to the cats cradle. Their noncommissioned officers pushed them into position, and Bush checked to see that each man was there.
Take hold.
It was better to go to a little trouble and see that everything was correctly balanced at the start rather than risk that the unwieldy lump of metal should roll off the cats cradle and should have to be laboriously manoeuvred back into position.
Now, all of you together when I give the word. Lift!
The gun rose a foot from the ground as every man exerted himself.
March! Belay that, sergeant.
The sergeant had begun to call the step, but on this irregular ground with every man supporting eighty pounds of weight it was better that they should not try to keep step.
Halt! Lower!
The gun had moved twenty yards towards the position Bush had selected for it.
Carry on, sergeant. Keep em moving. Not too fast.
Marines were only dumb animals, not even machines, and were liable to tire. It was better be conservative with their strength. But while they laboured at carrying the gun the necessary half mile up to the crest the seamen could work at hauling up the rest of the stores from the launches. Nothing would be as difficult as the gun. The gun carriage was a featherweight by comparison; even the nets, each holding twenty ninepound cannon balls, were easy to handle. Rammers, sponges, and wadhooks, two of each in case of accidents; wads; and now the powder charges. With only two and a half pounds of powder in each they seemed tiny compared with the eightpound charges Bush had grown accustomed to on the lower gundeck. Last of all came the heavy timbers destined to form a smooth floor upon which the gun could be worked. They were awkward things to carry, but with each timber on the shoulders of four men they could be carried up the gentle slope fast enough, overtaking the unfortunate marines, who, streaming with sweat, were lifting and carrying, lifting and carrying, on their way up.
Bush stood for a moment at the cliff edge checking over the stores with James assistance. Linstocks and slow match; primers and quills; barricoes of water; handspikes, hammers, and nails; everything necessary, he decidednot merely his professional reputation but his selfrespect depended on his having omitted nothing. He waved his flag, and received an answer from the launches. The second launch cast off her mooring line, and then, hauling up her anchor, she went off with her consort to pull back round Samaná Point to rejoin Renown in the ship they would be most desperately shorthanded until the launches crews should come on board again. From the trees to which it was secured, over Bushs head, the rope hung down to the buoy, neglected unless it should be needed again; Bush hardly spared it a glance. Now he was free to walk up the crest and prepare for action; a glance at the sun assured him that it was less than three hours since sunrise even now.