Free Soldiers of Conquest by F. M. Parker

men to handle them in half an hour or so.”
    â€œI’ll get my men ready.” Grant said.
    Grant descended into the shadow filled lower decks of the Trader and found Sergeant O’Doyle. “Sergeant, we’ve got ships washed up on the beach. Muster the men and get them prepared to go ashore to help with salvage. We’ve a lot of work to do and won’t be coming back here any time soon so have them carry enough food for a couple of days and a blanket. ”
    â€œYes, sir,” O’Doyle replied.
    â€œProbably be at least half an hour so have them eat something. I’ll call you when its time to come on deck.”
    â€œYes, sir.” The sergeant turned and shouted at the men in the tiers of bunks. “Up and dressed you blockheads. You’ve been wanting to go ashore and here’s your chance. We’re to help the lieutenant salvage cargo.”
    *
    Grant’s men climbed up from the hold of the ship and stood squinting in the light of the upper world. They spread their legs and braced on the heaving deck. Sergeant O’Doyle came to Grant and saluted.
    â€œLieutenant, all the men are accounted for and ready to go ashore.”
    Grant returned the salute. “Just waiting for Captain Lyford to give the signal to load the boats.” He turned to watch the seamen at the davits and lowering boats.
    A young quartermaster with a face strained with fright was eyeing the turbulent, wave tossed sea lying between the ship and shore. He called out. “Sergeant, I can’t swim. If the boat sinks I’ll sure as hell drown.”
    â€œNow, Crowley, buck up. Trust Lieutenant Grant for he’ll call it right.”
    Crowley gave Grant a questioning look.
    Grant winked at him and grinned, and hoped he was making the correct decision in putting his men onto the sea in small boats.
    Crowley smiled weakly back.
    Grant returned to surveying the angry sea. The north wind had slowed to a quarter gale and the waves had decreased to six feet or so. Even so to try to row a small boat across the heaving water appeared extremely dangerous. The captain must know what seas a boat could withstand for him to be willing to risk his seamen. Grant could do no less with his men.
    â€œLieutenant Grant, I have the boats alongside,” Captain Lyford called. “Load your men.”
    Grant raised his hand in acknowledgement of the captain’s words. Then he called to O’Doyle. “Let’s get the men over the side.”
    He led to the railing above the ship’s boats riding the waves along the lee side of the Trader. Four oarsmen and a coxswain were already in place in each boat.
    Grant climbed over the railing and led the way down one of the swaying ladders hanging along the hull and into the nearest bouncing boat. His men followed.
    The coxswain of Grant’s boat called out above the water noise of the sea. “You soldiers stay seated and stay low. Now hear me! Don’t stand up for any Goddamn reason. You sailors, cast off forward. Push clear and man your oars. Pull on my calls.
    â€œPull! Pull!”
    The coxswain threw the tiller over, the rudder bit water, and the boat pivoted away from the ship and plunged into the sea of waves. The soldiers hunkered low and gripped the gunwales with white knuckled hands. Grant glanced to the side and saw the other boat had shove clear of the ship. The die was cast.
    Grant’s boat fought one tall wave after another. When it sank to the bottoms of the troughs and water towered above on all sides, the shore and the other boats disappeared from view. At times the oarsmen on one side or the other missed a stroke as the sea fell away from under their oars, the boat would yaw and slide into the trough and take on water before the coxswain could swing the rudder and right it. By the time half the distance to the shore had been made good, water was sloshing back and forth over the bottom above the men’s ankles. Still the