Free The Midshipman Prince by Tom Grundner

the other hand, what if Sidney or Susan was injured or about to be killed? Could I possibly NOT do something to help them? What if it meant killing one of my own countrymen? What would I do if I had to defend my own life?
     
           On the other, other hand...
     
           Sleep was indeed hard for Walker to come by that night.
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
     
     
           THE first indication that today would be “the day” came when the HMS Solebay came streaming back over the horizon, racing for the fleet. As a fast frigate, part of Admiral Graves’ squadron, she was tasked with scouting ahead, and she was now returning flying the signal flags for “Enemy Fleet in the Southwest.” It was 9:30 in the morning of September 5, 1781.
     
           By 10:00 AM, the British ships were running southwest by west and Cape Henry was some six leagues (about 18 miles) west by south of them. At 10:30, Grave’s flagship sent up the signal “Prepare for Action” followed at 11:00 by “Form line of battle ahead” and “two cables separation” (about a quarter mile).
     
           “By God, we’ve got ‘em,” Captain Hudson murmured as he looked anxiously through his telescope. Then, much louder: “We’ve got them, Rooney! Have a look,” and he handed the brass instrument over to his sailing master. Rooney quickly opened it out to the small mark indicating his particular focal length and snapped it up to his eye.
     
           What he saw caused him to smile. The French fleet was clearly visible, still at anchor, and strung out across the entrance to the Chesapeake from Cape Henry to the middle ground. The wind was behind the British and the weather was fair. Even more importantly, the French were taken by surprise. Over 90 officers and 1800 men were either ashore or ferrying materials back and forth to the beach.
     
           “We do indeed, sir,” replied Rooney. “We’ve still got a ways to go, but they’ll never get that herd of cattle underway in time to beat us to the Cape Henry choke point. The tides going in, the wind’s against them... they’ll have to tack like mad to get out and by then we’ll be in position to pick-off each one as she emerges.”
     
           “Exactly! Summon the men to quarters. And place us in our communications relay position two cables off the beam of the Barfleur . And while you’re at it, I’d admire if we took some speed off so we don’t outrun our station. You can start by getting those stuns’ls off her.”
     
           “Aye, aye, sir.” Rooney spun around, walked to the quarterdeck rail, and began exercising his not inconsiderable lung power. “All hands, general quarters. General quarters!” The bosun and his mates began trilling on the whistles they always wore around their necks, and took up the cry. It was because of those whistles and their shrill sound that the bosun’s mates were called “Spithead Nightingales.”
     
           “Starboard watch, stand by to take in stuns’ls,” Rooney cried next.
     
           The maneuver was a simple one. They were going to take in the studdingsails, an extra set of sails that hung off long booms on both sides of the ship to give it extra speed. The orders came from Rooney like a Gregorian chant, only at five times the volume.
     
           “Away aloft... Settle the halyards... Haul out the downhauls... Haul taut... Come on there, damn your eyes, I said haul TAUT on that line... That’s the way... Lower away, men... Lower away... Haul down...” And with that sequence, the starboard sails were on deck, being subdued, and folded by other seamen before the wind could get to them. The quartermaster quietly reminded the helmsmen to mind the rudder. With one stuns’l in and the other out, the ship was going to try to skew around.
     
           The larboard sails quickly followed, which left the booms from which the studdingsails,