The Scepters of Time

...The first shot had been fired and the battle was about to be joined.  More columns of smoke rose from the other black ships.  There was no return fire from the frigate; it simply held course for the lead black ship.  The two ships came closer and closer. Jonathan thought that they were going to collide, but just at that moment they both bore off in different directions and the air between was suddenly filled with smoke as they exchanged broadsides.  The frigate had turned to cut between the first and second black ship and was soon giving its port broadside to the second black ship while the first wheeled around to give chase.  The third black ship held course for the refugee fleet and was launching rockets against the trailing vessel.

Cassiopeia was now abreast of the first ship in the refugee fleet with just over a mile between, its decks clearly filled with people, as were those of the others in the fleet.  Jonathan would soon be needed below but he took one more look at the battle.  The frigate had now come round to starboard and was firing a rolling broadside into the bow of the first black ship, raking it from stem to stern.  He marveled at the skill and daring of this frigate’s captain and its crew, how he allowed just enough time to reload the guns on each side while maneuvering the ship to bear on target.  Jonathan then slid quickly down the backstay.

Thomas had taken off the beard and wig.  He gazed nervously at the approaching fleet. “What are we do’in here, Jonathan?  We can’t stand up against one of those ships!”

“No, we can’t!” replied Jonathan. “But it may only take a rabbit to turn the dogs of war!  I want to give those people a chance.” As he spoke, a low rumble of thunder was heard, the sound of the first broadsides.  “Stand by to ware ship!” he called.

They all watched helplessly as the third black ship continued to rain fire down on the straggling refugee ships. Flames and smoke could be seen rising from their decks.  Jonathan waited until the angle to the black ship was just right.  The crew responded quickly when he made the call, and Cassiopeia changed nimbly over to starboard.  She was now heading directly for the third black ship.  “Thomas!  As soon as that ship turns toward us, ware ship back to port and get us the hell out of here!” said Jonathan as he strode forward to command the bow guns.

When Jonathan reached the bow, he had a good view of the battle.  The frigate was locked up with one of the black ships, perhaps snared by grappling lines.  She was still firing broadsides from the lower gun deck into the belly of her captor, no doubt fighting hand to hand on the upper deck.  The other black ship was trailing smoke, with a mast dangling in the water, unable at present to engage in battle.  The third was still in pursuit of the refugee fleet.  It was near enough to see clearly now.  It looked like a cross between a man o’ war and a Chinese junk.  It had three masts and all black sails save the fore main that was deep red with the image of a dragon in black on it.  There were two gun decks, each port trimmed with red, and the bulwarks bristled with rows of pikes.  It was a dreadful sight.

Cassiopeia had apparently gone unnoticed until now.  As the distance closed, Jonathan issued more orders.  Pumps were rigged and fire buckets were placed on deck and also taken aloft to douse the sails if need be.  The masthead watches were told to continue scanning the horizon for other ships.  Arms were issued to the crew and all stood in anticipation.  The black ship held its course, but another column of smoke rose from its deck.  This time the column did not arc but rose in a vertical line: Cassiopeia was under fire. The line of smoke continued to rise until it was quite high in the sky, and then it seemed to stop for several seconds before it burst overhead.  As a rain of fire descended from the sky, the purpose of these rockets now became clear...