Chapter 1: Glory and Agony

Lt. Jeremiah Anson took one last look around the dimly lit gun deck. All port side guns had a full crew of eight whilst the starboard side 18-pounders were manned by crews of five, the minimum. Then again, the looming action would be to the port side. He crouched low to peer through the nearest gun port and saw the damaged French two-decker trying to make its way to safety. She would be their target.

His presumption was confirmed when a runner came down from the quarter deck.

"Mr. Anson, sir! Captain Merle's compliments and will you open fire to port as soon as your guns bear!"

"Very well, Mr. Snell. My compliments to the Captain and I shall open fire in a minute or two."

"Aye-aye, sir!" the young volunteer shouted and ran back up the companionway.

HMS Odin was part of Lord Nelson's rearguard, a 36-gun frigate with 18-pounders on her gun deck and large bore carronades on her fo'c's'le and quarter deck. Her class was among the most powerful of the British frigates, but it was still craziness to attack a ship of the line, even if she was a damaged 74-gun Frenchman.

Yet, Captain Merle was ambitious and he had not yet won a knighthood. A successful action against a superior foe would earn him the coveted star and sash of a Knight Companion of the Bath.

Again looking through the gun port, Anson could see that the Frenchman was altering course to larboard. Instead of showing its towering stern, the two rows of gun ports came into view. Anson stood up.

"Port side gun captains! Enemy a half cable length athwart! Quoins out! Take aim!"

He waited for the gun captains to raise their arms. "On level keel, fire!"

Thirteen 18-pounder guns discharged within a few seconds causing a horrible din in the confined space of the gun deck. Anson had wax in his ears to protect his eardrums, but his ears were still ringing. The roar of the quarter deck and fo'c's'le carronades came only seconds later. The smoke from the guns was wafting across the deck and out to port masking the enemy for almost a minute. By then, the guns were swabbed, reloaded and trained again. The French ship was showing her broadside now with her guns run out. Better not wait!

"Take aim! Stand back! On level keel, fire!"

Again, the thirteen guns of the port side battery discharged, overwhelming the men with their thunder and dense smoke. Into that thick smoke crashed the French broadside. Bursting wood, ringing metal, and screaming men formed a cacophony of sounds that shook Anson deeply. He forced himself to function.

"Loblolly boys! Get those wounded down! Gun crews! Swab out and load! Come on you men! Let's show them what gunnery is!"

It was a weak enough effort at cheering the men up, but they responded. The constant gun drills and the iron discipline made them perform their duties in spite of the terror in their hearts. Like a precise machine, the gun crews kept loading and firing whilst the frigate drew closer to the enemy.

The young volunteer must have been tugging at Anson's sleeve for some time, but he only noticed it now.

"Sir, sir! Captain Merle's down. He took a wood splinter to the groin, sir."

"Where's Mr. Croft?" Anson shot back. Croft was the First Lieutenant.

"He was smashed by a round shot! Torn to pieces he was, sir! There's nobody on the quarterdeck save for the master."

Anson looked about. His second in command on the gun deck, the third lieutenant Mr. Carlin, was only a boy of eighteen, a recent promotion, but he would have to take over.

"Mr. Carlin, take command down here! I'll be on the quarterdeck."

He made his way along the gun deck and up the companionway to the quarterdeck. Mr. Tully, the sailing master, was standing beside the wheel. The marines were manning the sides, and the gun crews of the quarterdeck guns were busy loading and firing. Things were not as bad as he had feared.

Tully was doing his duty. The Odin was crossing the Frenchman's stern, and there was nothing the French captain could do about that. Time to hit them hard!

"Mr. Snell! My compliments to Mr. Carlin, and we're crossing the Frogs' stern at pistol shot range. Will he double-shot the guns and give passing honours!"

"Aye-aye, sir!" the boy shouted and ran down into the inferno of the gun deck.

The French ship was badly handled as Anson could see. Not even two thirds of her guns were operated properly, and the sails were not well trimmed. She must have been in action against one of her British counterparts and made her escape badly damaged.

Not for long though. Odin was now crossing her stern at half pistol shot distance.

"Back the tops'ls!" Anson roared.

Odin slowed, and starting with the foremost 18-pounder, her main deck guns and carronades opened up. Again, smoke was billowing around them, but here on the quarterdeck it did not block the view altogether. The stern gallery of the enemy took a punishment as every shot found its mark. The 32-pounder carronade on the quarterdeck bellowed, and the grapeshot hit the stern at main deck level, probably wreaking terrible havoc.

Now they were past the Frenchman.

"Ready to go about!" Anson shouted.

Odin had barely enough speed for the rudder to bite, but she gibed nicely, and then they prepared to pass the Frenchman a second time, now with their fresh starboard battery. The frigate handled much better and was much faster than the heavily damaged ship of the line, and they were able to deliver another series of crippling blows into their enemy's stern.

Through the dense smoke came the shape of another ship. Anson recognised her as one of their own, HMS Undine, 32. She was coming up to the starboard side of the French ship. Anson saw that she was preparing for boarding. It was indeed time to finish the enemy.

"Port side gun crews! Arm yourselves and prepare for boarding! Starboard battery, load canister!" he ordered almost giddy with excitement. They would board and take a 74-gun ship, and he was in command! Glory and advancement were only a narrow strip of water away. One last time, he checked the priming in his pistols and stuck them back into his belt. Then he unsheathed his utilitarian sword and dropped the scabbard to the deck. Now they were close, and Anson could see French sailors ready to repel them.

"Starboard battery, fire!" he almost screamed with suppressed excitement. A staggered broadside followed, and the French either took cover or were swept away by the hailstorm of musket balls.

"Mr. Tully, lay her alongside! Topmen, ready to lock the yards! Grapnels ready!"

The approach seemed to take an eternity, but once they were alongside, things happened at dizzying speed. They bumped against the much higher side of the 74, the grapnels were thrown, and then Odin's crew scrambled like madmen up the Frenchman's side, with Anson in the lead as was proper. They made it to the upper gun deck and turned aft. Only a handful of French sailors blocked their path and were overwhelmed, and then they had taken the quarterdeck.

A quartermaster took the wheel and started to turn the ship into the wind while Odin's crew began to sweep the upper gun deck. Here, the French crews were more numerous, but now Undine came alongside and spewed a boarding party onto the Frenchman's deck. In a matter of minutes, the waist was clear of organised resistance, but a pocket of brave French still held the fo'c's'le.

They were closing in on them when suddenly a smoke cloud billowed from the fo'c's'le. Anson had received a minor cut on his thigh and was holding it with his left hand when a load of canister from a swivel gun hit him. In horror, he looked down at what had been his left hand and at the now gaping wound in his thigh. It took all his strength to remain on his feet, but he had to keep going. Young Carlin would never get the Odin away, and their hard-won victory would disappear like the smoke of a gun.

"Get those men on the fo'c's'le!" he croaked, and a bunch of seamen stormed up and dispatched the small crew of the swivel gun. "You there, tie up my arm!"