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Monday, September 14, 2009

STOB 43

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By now she was a total wreck, with her foretopmast gone, her mainsail full of holes, and her hull half-filled with water. She had slowed to two knots or less, so her grounding on the soft, sand bar was gentle enough that the men didn’t even stagger as she came to a halt. “Into the boat,” said Philip, and as his men piled into the cutter he found a lantern and tinderbox, lighting the lantern and then using it to light the frayed ropes, smashed barrels and crumpled canvass at the base of the mainmast. A bucket of tar caught, and by the time he raced across the deck and into the cutter the flames were already climbing the mast.

They pulled for the Badger, which had slowed to allow them to catch up and dropped a line over her stern. The bowman made the line fast and they pulled in under the counter, climbing aboard through the stern gallery of the officers’ dining cabin.

Philip found the master on deck, conning the ship at the sloop. “Welcome aboard, sir,” he said, saluting. He paused to shout an order forward, to the group of men working about the foremast rigging prior to sending up a new yard, then, “welcome aboard. What course, sir?”

“Northeast by east. Wilkins,” he called, “where is Wilkins? How are you both manning the con and seeing to the foreyard?”

“In the waist, sir, with the cannon that were unseated, like,” said South.

“Well,” said Philip. Rogers and Adams, the other true midshipmen (as opposed to supernumerary boys, though the difference was at times difficult to discern, particularly when relieving the watch early in the morning), were aboard the Chasseur, leaving only himself, the Master, and the two men at the wheel on the quarterdeck, aside from the usual Marine. “You,” said Philip, “What’s your name?”

“Crowe, sir,” said the Marine, saluting stiffly.

“Crowe, hail the Chasseur and tell them to follow. Take a speaking trumpet from the binnacle - the binnacle, man, where the compass is, and tell them to follow.”

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GLOSSARY

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