HMS Diamond (29 page)

      
Some time later Smith turned the deck over to Lt. Pine, noted that Mr. Wilkie was firmly anchored by the wheel and compass, left orders that he was to be summoned if there was any substantial change in the ship or the weather, and retired to his cabin.

      
Smith wasn’t trying to be cavalier about their situation. He was fully aware of its gravity. But at the moment everything was done that could be done and he wanted to give Lt. Pine some time alone as Officer of the Deck. Someday he would be a captain with a ship of his own. Someday he would undoubtedly be in a storm like this. Someday he would need the confidence that can only come from having "been there before." Smith wanted to give him that experience without anyone looking over his shoulder.

      
On reaching his cabin Smith intended to go through the mountain of paperwork that was the bane of every captain’s existence. The tension of fighting off a lee shore in the face of a horrendous storm was bad enough; but what made any serious work truly impossible was the noise. No place on the ship was unaffected by the howling of the wind, the pounding of the rain, the clanking of the chain-pumps, and the squealing of the timbers as the ship worked its way though the waves.

      
He tried reading a book. No good. He tried taking a nap. That wasn’t going to happen either. So, after a few hours, Smith gave up and rejoined the quarterdeck. The rain had almost stopped but the wind had not, and everyone was still anxiously glancing aft to see if they were still in danger.

      
"On deck thar, land on ta starboard beam!" came the call of the mizzenmast lookout. "It look like some kind’er peninsula, sor."

      
Wilkie looked through his telescope for a long moment and then pounded the hammock rails in frustration. "Damn it, Captain. The only progress we’ve made has been sideways."

      
Smith too was concerned but for a different reason. "Right now I am not as worried about our drift as I am that point," he said in a distracted voice.

      
"Midshipman Knight, up with you into the main top. Take your glass with you and examine that peninsula, if you will."

      
A few minutes later Knight reported. "On deck! Sir, I see the peninsula. It’s about two points for’ard of the starboard beam.

      
"And is there a large hill just behind it, rather shaped in the form of a castle turret?"

      
"Aye, sir. There is."

      
"Very well, you may come down, Mr. Knight."

      
Smith turned to Wilke, but Wilke had already stepped over to the binnacle box and opened its lid just enough to glance at the chart. "Point Dacier! My God, Captain, I forgot all about it."

      
During the past six hours the
Diamond
and the storm front had fought to a draw. The ship had made no significant headway, but the storm had not pushed it any closer to the land. That is not to say there was no movement, however. Because of the direction of the wind and waves, the vessel had been crabbing sideways so that it was now miles up the coast. Again, if there had been open water all around, this would not have been a problem. But there was no open water. In the distance there was only the black mass of lichen-covered rock that surrounded the tip of Point Dacier.

      
Smith studied the peninsula for several minutes, consulted his chart, and looked again at the rocky point. He finally came to a decision.

      
"Mr. Wilkie, I’ll have the mainsail set, if you please."

      
"The mainsail, Sir?" Wilkie could not believe he had heard him right.

      
"Indeed, the mainsail. And I want your best men on the buntlines."

      
"But Captain, the masts are already strained to the limit. If we drop the mainsail in this wind it will almost surely carry off the mast."

      
Smith nodded then placed his hands behind his back and slowly walked with Wilkie to the lee side of the quarterdeck, out of earshot of any crewmember. "John, as we are now we can not go forward and we dare not let the wind push us back. If we do nothing our leeway is going to put us upon those rocks before the day is out. We have no choice. We have to try it."

      
"And if the mast snaps?"

      
"If the mast snaps, then we’ll lose all control of the ship and a few hours from now the fish will be feeding on our carcasses."

      
The squeal of pipes could be heard throughout the ship as the bosun and his mates turned up the watch for sail handling. When the main course dropped and was sheeted home, the effect on the
Diamond
was immediate and dramatic.

      
She reacted like a thoroughbred horse to a whip, madly plunging through the waves instead of riding over them. She was leaning over so far that her lee channels were under water; and, as she forced her way through the seas, torrents of water were rushing from the fo’c’sle down the lee gangway and pouring onto the upper deck.

      
Four men were at the wheel struggling to maintain control of the ship. As the
Diamond
heeled over, shot was rolling out of lockers; ropes were spreading themselves across the decks, and all hands were watching the main mast, hoping and praying that they would not hear the cannon-shot crack that meant the mast had parted.

      
In the midst of all this, a freak wave, much larger than any of the others, caught the
Diamond
on the larboard bow. It was as if the ship had been hit by a punch. She staggered and lurched, seemed to pause for a moment, then continued on—goaded by the thousands of pounds of pressure being placed on her by the mainsail.

      
After about a half-hour Lieutenant Pine stumbled over to where Smith was standing and tried to make himself heard over the shrieking wind and sobbing wood. "Captain, she’s not going to hold together!"

      
"I think she will," Smith replied.

      
Pine’s shoulders sagged. "Captain, please understand me. I am not questioning your orders or your judgment in the slightest; but..."

      
Smith turned and looked Pine squarely in the eyes. "Lieutenant, were those masts properly stepped back in Deptford?"

      
Pine was taken aback by the question. "Yes, sir. Of course."

      
"And what is the condition of her sails and rigging—especially her standing rigging."

      
"It is all in excellent shape."

      
"Has the ship been properly secured for foul weather?"

      
"Yes, sir. Absolutely."

      
"So, she is seaworthy in all respects, even in the teeth of a storm?"

      
"Yes, sir."

      
"And aboard one of His Majesty’s ships, who is responsible for all that?"

      
"Why, the First..." and Pine stopped right there.

      
The person directly responsible was the First Lieutenant—
him
. The implication of Smith’s questions now hit him like a hammer. Smith was staking his ship, his life and the lives of everyone on board on his belief that
he
had done his job properly. The enormous importance of what he previously thought of as the "little things" struck home. He flashed back to the hours he spent supervising—they called it harassing—the workmen as they fitted out the ship. He remembered all the times he had insisted that a job be done right, or done over until it
was
right. He remembered the sullen looks he sometimes got; but also remembered the voice inside him that would not allow him to do things any other way. And now he understood why none of it was "little." He saw how easily lives could depend on the standards that only he could set for himself and those around him. And in the process of that realization, Pine took another huge step toward eventually assuming the mantle of command.

      
When Smith saw that Pine had grasped his point, he turned and walked over to the wheel.

      
There were two large oak wheels on the Diamond, one mounted directly in front of the other. It was designed that way for times such as this where the strength of one, or even two, men might not be enough to fight wind and sea. Manning the aft wheel and facing forward were two experienced quartermasters who were desperately trying to hold course. Manning the fore wheel and facing aft were two of the largest and strongest men on the ship. Their job was to provide additional muscle and they took their steering cues from the quartermasters.

      
To the sound of the wind and ship, a new sound was detected, one that became louder and louder as time went by. It was the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks of Point Dacier. Pine saw Captain Smith walk over to the taffrail at the stern of the quarterdeck and stand with his hands clasped behind his back like he was taking in an amusement at the St. Bartholomew Fair. Pine joined him, looked over the side and was horrified to see the rocks less than 30 yards away. He felt like he could have spit and hit them.

      
Even though foam was boiling all around the stern of the ship, Pine was becoming convinced that they would miss. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge gust of wind came up and laid the ship over on her beam-ends. Her progress stopped and she was being pushed backwards. Pine clung to the taffrail to keep from going overboard, when another large wave dashed against the rocks. They were so close that the spray from this breaking wave drenched the young lieutenant. When he cleared his eyes of the salt water, he saw that the closest rock was less than ten yards away as the
Diamond’s
stern drifted past it.

      
On the other side of Point Dacier, the land mercifully fell away sharply to the northeast. With each passing minute this fact was giving the
Diamond
more and more sea room. Even better, the storm was starting to let up. It was as though Mother Nature saw that she had missed her chance to destroy the
Diamond
and saw no further reason for expending all that fury.

      
Within a half hour the decreasing storm and increasing sea room allowed Smith to order storm sails to be set and for the ship to now run before the wind.

      
As he passed by Lt. Pine on his way to his cabin he quietly said: "You see, Lieutenant, she
did
hold together just as I knew she would."

***

      
Six bells into the forenoon watch on the following day Cape Frehel was sighted in the distance and just on the other side was the harbor at Herqui. Strangely, the cape was first sighted not by a seaman but by Midshipman Wright, who had spent all morning in the maintop as a lookout. What made it strange was that Wright was not on duty. When the morning watch changed, he just grabbed a telescope and up the ratlines he went. After reporting the sighting to the quarterdeck, he climbed down from his perch and disappeared into the midshipman’s berths. About a half hour later he emerged and found Sidney Smith, as usual, on the quarterdeck.

      
"Captain, may I have a word with you?" Wright asked.

      
"Certainly, Mr. Wright. What is it?"

      
"May we speak over by the aft rail, sir?"

      
Smith thought that was a bit unusual, but he acquiesced. "Now, what is it that requires all this privacy, Mr. Wright?"

      
"Captain, I need you to put me ashore."

      
At first, Smith simply assumed the young man was joking; but one glance at his face told him he was not. "Are you being serious?"

      
"I am, sir. Quite serious."

      
Smith looked at him for a long moment. "Let’s assume for a moment that you are. May I ask why you suddenly feel a need to stretch your legs on hostile enemy territory?"

      
"No, sir. You may not."

      
Smith was thunderstruck. To hear a mere midshipman utter those words was beyond his comprehension. When he recovered sufficiently, he asked, "Is there some reason why I should not throw you in irons this very moment?"

      
"Yes, sir, there is."

      
"And that would be?"

      
"Because I need to get ashore."

      
Smith was about to call for some marine assistance when he caught the look in Wright’s eyes. Suddenly, they were not the eyes of a somewhat disorganized, mild-mannered, superannuated midshipman. They were the eyes of a hardened professional soldier.

      
"This is important, isn’t it?"

      
"Yes, sir. It is. More important than I can tell you."

      
"How do you plan to rejoin the ship?"