"Hard to starboard!" McKay barked at the quartermaster, as the spray crashed onto the bridge.
McKay brushed past boatswain Gallagher, shouting to the mate on the foredeck, "Mr. Taylor, keep me informed of our depth! I don''t want it to go below fifteen feet!"
The young man, still gazing in fear at the frothy water where the cannon balls had fallen, glanced nervously at the bridge. "Aye-aye, sir!"
The boatswain shook his head in amazement as Captain McKay coolly went about issuing orders while his world was exploding all about him.
The next spread of shots burst in the water where the ship would have been if she hadn''t turned. The warship continued to swing around, exposing her cannon, which gleamed in the night like formidable teeth.
"Quartermaster, I want you to turn hard to port when I give the signal."
McKay leveled his telescope, studying the Federal gun crews as they loaded their cannon for another broadside. The men ran out the carronades, then awaited the gunnery officer’s command to fire. This was the signal McKay was waiting for.
"Now! Hard aport!" McKay shouted, motioning quickly with his arm.
The quartermaster spun the spoked wheel until it became a blur, causing the ship to lean sharply into the turn.