HMS Diamond (31 page)

      
"Edmund, this might hurt a bit."

      
Carter looked up at Walker and through gritted teeth said: "That’s what you said last time, and you lied."

      
"I lied? How?"

      
"It hurt a lot."

      
"Well, this won’t be bad at all," Walker lied again. He nodded at several marines to hold down the arms, legs and torso of their fallen leader; then plunged the instrument into the wound and started moving it back and forth feeling for the ball.

      
As he did so, Walker looked into Carter’s face. It was pale, even a bit bluish; but Walker expected that. The instant the ball stops, the body begins responding to the trauma. It sends the heart rate into overdrive and, at the same time, shuts down various veins in an attempt to both limit the damage and keep blood flowing to the most vital organs. That was why Carter had grown so pale.

      
Walker also knew that the chances of a man surviving a chest wound were remote. Most men died either of shock from the effects of the ball’s shock wave, or they simply bleed out into their own chest. If Carter had been shot in the arm or leg, he could apply a tourniquet to stop the bleeding and perhaps remove the limb, but a chest wound...

      
After a few moments Walker’s probe struck something solid. He opened the forceps, eliciting another gasp from Carter, slid the end around the ball and wiggled his way back out.

      
With a sigh of frustration, Walker dropped the piece of lead into a metal tray that Susan was holding. He turned back to Carter and was about to plunge the forceps back in when Carter shrugged an arm free. He grabbed Walker’s hand and raised his head. "No," he gasped.

      
"I am sorry, Edmund. Truly, I am. But I only got the ball that time. I am afraid there’s still some cloth from your shirt or jacket still in there. I’ve got to go back and get it. If I don’t, the wound will fester and you’ll die." Walker suspected he would die anyway, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

      
With a look of resignation, Carter released his grip and dropped his head back down on the table.

      
It took longer this time. Walker had to root around to find the patches of cloth. Twice he thought he had them, only to find out that he had latched on to pieces of flesh. Tears were welling in Carter’s eyes, but he said nothing.

      
Finally, the forceps emerged with a wad of bloody cloth attached to the end. Walker held it up and looked at it admiringly. "See? What did I tell you? It hardly hurt a bit, did it?"

      
But, Carter had no reply. He had passed out.

      
Susan began to place a standard cotton bandage over the wound, but Walker stopped her. "Wait just a minute, Susan. I want to see something."

      
He studied the entrance hole for a minute or two then, taking advantage of Carter’s lack of consciousness, ran his finger back in. Pulling it back out, he studied it, then bent over to place his ear close to the wound. Standing upright, he again looked sharply at the bloody entrance. He was looking hard for signs of major bleeding, or for the bubbling froth and sucking sound that came from a punctured lung. Finally, shaking his head, he said: "Susan, I believe this is one very lucky young man. The ball cracked one of his ribs, to be sure, but somehow it managed to miss his heart and his left lung, as well as missing all the major arteries. I can scarcely credit it."

      
Wiping his finger in a towel, "If we can keep it from festering, he just might live," he said with a bit of wonder in his voice. "Susan, I want you to put a bandage dampened with a water and carbolic acid solution on that wound. Then assign a loblolly boy to change it every four hours, without fail, 24 hours a day. Give him laudanum as needed for the pain, but only enough to take the edge off. This Marine is liable to have a long life ahead of him yet, and I don’t want him living it as a laudanum addict."

***

      
The
Diamond
had rounded the second peninsula and could now see into the harbor. The closest vessel was a 16-gun corvette. Beyond her he could see a merchant brig and three luggers. All were swinging at their anchors.

      
Smith darted to the ratlines running up to the mainmast platform, climbed halfway up, opened his telescope and anxiously scanned the luggers. "I’ve got you, you bastard." He said as he made out the
Vengeur,
the last ship in the line. But before coming down from his perch, he scanned the corvette more closely. She had 16-guns, 12 pounders, and would have to be dealt with first.

      
"Pass the word for Mr. Pearson, Mr. Sandsbury and Mr. Knight to meet me on the quarterdeck," he said to a midshipman hovering nearby. In moments the three appeared with ill concealed curiosity at their summons. Lord Howell had also emerged from below deck, seeing as how all the firing had stopped, and stood quietly off to the side listening in.

      
"Mr. Pearson, it seems Mr. Pine has been wounded—I don’t know how badly yet. So you are now acting First Lieutenant. Mr. Knight, as senior midshipman, I am making you the acting Third Lieutenant; and Mr. Sandsbury you’re my new second.

      
"Pearson and Knight, I want you to gather two boarding parties and go after those vessels." He nodded toward the bow. "Sink them or burn them, I don’t care which. You’ll have to start with that corvette, however. She got some 12-pound teeth you will have to pull first. Any questions?"

      
Pearson and Knight didn’t, but Sandsbury did.

      
"Sir, I thought I was just made Second Lieutenant?"

      
Smith knew what he was driving at. "You were. You were. But I can’t afford to have both you and Mr. Pearson off the ship. I need an experienced officer with me here." Sandsbury didn’t like it but he knew Smith was right.

      
Smith looked on like an expectant father as his young officers with their boatloads of men stormed the corvette. Fortunately, most of the crew was either ashore or had fled, and a few minutes later he could see smoke rising from the gun ports. The second ship, the merchant brig, was even easier as the crew could be seen getting in boats as soon as the smoke started rising from the first ship. The luggers, however, proved to be more difficult.

      
With two ships aflame, the soldiers had repositioned themselves further down the beach and had a clear shot at the boarders as they approached the luggers. Pearson’s boat took the first ship in the line and Knight took the second, but they were met with heavy fire both from the shore and from the third lugger, the
Vengeur
. Despite that, they managed to get on board and start their fires.

      
Smith was standing on the quarterdeck with his glass glued to his eye when a call came down from the lookout.

      
"On deck, thar. The third ship... she’s gettin’ underway, sor!"

      
Smith quickly readjusted his telescope and saw that it was true. Wilkie came up to stand beside him.

      
"What’s she trying to do? Surely she’s not going to try to get past us."

      
Smith pulled the telescope down and slowly slid it shut. "She doesn’t have to," he said with anguish in his voice. "All she has to do is sail deeper into the bay, then swing around, hug the far coast and sail out of here."

      
"But then all we have to do is..." and Wilkie’s voice trailed off as he remembered the nautical chart of the bay. The
Diamond
couldn’t go anywhere. She had to stay in the channel, whereas the shallow drafted lugger could sail wherever she pleased.

      
Night was falling as the
Vengeur
glided along the far coastline and Smith gave her one last look. On her quarterdeck he could see their captain, a tall thin man, looking back at him. Suddenly, the man snapped his telescope closed, took off his tall black hat, and gave Smith a deep bow of contempt.

      
Smith turned to see Lord Howell looking at him accusingly.

***

      
Smith’s mood was no better the following afternoon. Even though the storm had abated, it was scant consolation. Because of the possibility of high winds and seas again, the
Diamond
had to stand well away from the shore. Complicating matters, they also had to do a tricky pick-up of Wright who was returning in a fishing smack. There was no way they could shadow the
Vengeur.
He broke out of his foul mood only when he heard a lookout call: "Sail Ho!!"

      
He made his way to the quarterdeck and saw Wilkie and Knight trying to make out the ship. "What do you make of her, Mr. Wilkie?"

      
"She’s one of ours. I am not sure which one, but it’s a packet heading back to England."

      
Smith turned. "Mr. Sandsbury, have the signal midshipman run up a recognition flag with our number. Mr. Wilkie, set a course for that packet." Looking for the midshipman runner, Mr. Wright, have Dr. Walker report to me on the quarterdeck."

      
Walker turned up a few minutes later.

      
"Lucas, what’s the butcher’s bill as of this morning?"

      
"It’s still at two dead, and seven wounded—including Lieutenants Pine and Carter."

      
"How bad are Pine and Carter? Can they be put on that packet and taken back to England?"

      
"Pine can but Carter can not. He would never survive the trip."

      
"What about the other seamen that are hurt?"

      
"Two should be sent back and three I am sure will recover on board."

      
"Very well. Prepare everyone to be moved that you think should go." Smith then disappeared down the ladder and into his cabin.

      
About an hour later the two ships were hove to and the patients had been moved aboard. Walker and Whitney were supervising, Lord Howell was looking on and Pine was hanging back.

      
"Captain, I really must protest," Pine sputtered, while struggling with his sling, trying to gesture with his bad arm. "I am not so seriously injured that I can not resume my duties here."

      
Smith smiled. He liked to see that kind of spirit in his young officers, but today it would do Pine no good. "I know you can, lieutenant. But I have another task for you."

      
Smith reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick sealed envelope. "This is an account of all that has transpired so far with regard to the
Vengeur
. I want you to see it safely delivered to Lord Spenser at the Admiralty in London.

      
"Oh yes, there’s also this."

      
Smith walked over to the binnacle box, opened it and pulled out the French flag Pine had retrieved from the fort. "This is not for Lord Spencer. I want you to keep it."

      
Pine still looked downcast, so Smith spoke to him softly.

      
"Don’t look so sad, Horace. You’re taking back news of a victory, and that’s always welcome at the Admiralty. Besides, in my dispatch I have described you as a ‘most meritorious officer’ and strongly recommended that you be given a command for your heroics in attacking those batteries. Why, it wouldn’t surprise me if the king made you a knight right on the spot." Smith smiled at the young man.

      
Pine smiled back, looked at the package, then looked up at Smith with gratitude in his eyes.

      
"Off with you now," Smith said.

      
He started toward the quarterdeck ladder when he spied Lord Howell.

      
"Are all your belongings on the packet, my Lord?"

      
"Belongings? Why, no. Why should they be?"

      
"Are you not going back to England on that packet? I would have thought..."

      
"That’s your problem, captain. You think too much. No, sir. I am staying on board this ship so I can fully and completely document your irresponsibility."

      
With that, he turned for his cabin leaving Smith, Walker and Whitney dumbfounded in his wake.

***

      
The
Diamond
was in the third day of tacking back and forth before the harbor at Le Havre and Smith’s patience was coming to an end. He could see the
Vengeur
, but he couldn’t get to her.

      
In many ways Le Havre de Grace was a stepchild of Paris. From time out of mind there had been two towns bracketing the mouth of the Seine River, Harfleur and Honfleur. In 1571, however, the harbors in both towns became nearly useless because of the constant build-up of silt caused by the Seine. Given the unparalleled growth of Paris, 100 miles up stream, King François I decided that a new city and harbor was needed. That city was Le Havre de Grace.