Free Thunder On the Sea: A Tim Phillips novel (War at Sea Book 11) by Richard Testrake Page B

and the flintlocks quickly fitted. Again on command, the firing lanyards were pulled, and three of the dozen guns on that broadside fired. The gunners of the remaining guns being told to disregard their flintlocks and fire manually by linstock, they inserted new powder-filled quills into the gun vents and touched the glowing embers of the linstocks to the quills.
    Soon the guns were firing with proper regularity and through their night glasses, the officers were able to see the dressed stone facing of the battery’s parapet being pounded into gravel. As he watched, a ball from one of their guns struck one of the battery’s four guns, sending it spinning from its mounting.
    Not a single shot had yet been fired at their tormentor and now the Marines were at the back gate. This battery had been protected by a stone wall, which might have slowed an attacker, but someone had obligingly left a gate open, and the Marines surged through.
    Bentley had them form line inside the gate and fire a volley at the gunners who were now pouring from their huts. Only about half of the muskets fired but that was still amazing in this wet weather.
    Bayonets were fixed and the Marines charged forward. The sight of those cold steel points coming at them made the enemy troops remember they had other matters to attend to, and most of the defenders made their escape.
    A drum was sounding in the encampment, but most of the recruits had had little or no training at this point and were not inclined to go out into the rain with useless muskets to fight these hardened killers. Bentley’s men found some light field guns and pushed them into position around the encampment. There was no ammunition, but a store of French musket cartridges was found and the charges broken down to charge the little 4 pounder guns. 
     
    The rain had stopped and the sun came out by mid-morning. Any thoughts of resistance by the prisoners had evaporated. A supply of French hard bread meant to sustain the recruits on their long march was issued to the captives, and they soon finished the food that had been planned to last them for days.
    The French guns were spiked and all captured military gear was burned or otherwise destroyed. Given the last of the hard bread, the recruits were told to go their own way. Some of them might still find their way to join Napoleon’s army, but the majority, having seen the realities of military life, would doubtless try to find their way home.
    Reporting back aboard HMS Prince Rupert, Lieutenant Haynes brought Sergeant Henderson with him when he met with his captain. Both looked much like drowned rats, but still possessed the aura of trained fighting men. Sergeant Henderson stood silent while Haynes praised him and his men for the exemplary work they had done.
    As a reward, Captain Phillips poured brandy from a decanter and passes a glass to the sergeant. Surprisingly, the man refused the offering. “Don’t need it, sir. Maybe later.” he said.
    Both Captain Phillips and Major Bentley judged the Marines had had enough war for a bit, so all were loaded aboard their transport and all set out for Malta. Wishing to avoid un-necessary wear on his rigging, Captain Phillips set a slow pace and they were overtaken a few days later by a fast packet out of Gibraltar. The packet refused to stop, but an officer shouted over something through a speaking trumpet. Phillips himself could not understand a word, but Midshipman Benson, standing by the helm, was sure he said, “Fighting is over. Boney surrendered.”
    That statement was substantially true, as was found when they entered harbor at Valetta. Major Bentley’s Marines were sent ashore until it was determined what was to be done with them. HMS Prince Rupert was determined to be inconsequential now in the new scheme of things and it was decided she could be best used to deliver news and dispatches to London.
    Accordingly, as soon as she was provisioned, she set sail for