Aftermath of a Battle

Chapter 1

He had been traveling aboard the sloop Falcon to rendezvous with the Dauntless when they had run afoul of two first class Spanish Men of War. They had been decimated, and the Spanish ships hadn't even bothered to stay around and look for survivors the slaughter so clear to see, they had just sailed off.

James counted thirteen, thirteen out of the over hundred and fifty that had been aboard the Falcon. Thirteen that had managed to survive the battle and fight their way through the smoke and flaming debris floating on the water, all that was left of that fine ship, to the long boat and either scramble aboard themselves or be pulled aboard. Thirteen survivors out of over a hundred and fifty, the horror of that thought refused to leave him.

"Commodore sir?" one young lad spoke up. As James looked over at him he noticed his face was blackened with soot, and he held one arm gingerly with the other. As he started to answer he looked around at the rest of the men, funny how he hadn't really noticed aboard the Falcon they were really no more than boys. As his eyes went from one to the next he noticed most had injuries of varying degree, some broken bones, some, by the expressions they wore, were in shock.

He recognized the young man as one of the Falcon's older midshipmen, although he couldn't be more than fifteen, "Yes Mr. Taylor?"

"What now Sir?" as he made to give a shrug his face showed the pain that gesture had caused.

James looked around once again and saw almost to a one all eyes were on him. They were looking to him, depending on him and his wisdom and experience to get them through this alive, and James wasn't at all sure he was going to be able to do that. He was used to command and was very good in that capacity, used to urging the men serving under him to do their best in battle despite the odds against them. But now the battle was over and although it wasn't the first battle he had ever lost it was the first defeat that had put him in this position. In a long boat with thirteen boys, most no older than he had been when he first joined the navy, in the middle of a vast ocean with only a slight idea of where the nearest land might be and no food or water to supply them. 'Bleak, very bleak' he thought to himself, but aloud to the boys, in a tone of command he fought to pull off, knowing he couldn't look them in the eye and tell them they were all going to die he said, "Mr. Taylor, you are in charge of making an inventory and collecting any foodstuffs or water that might be aboard." He looked at another young lad sitting next to Mr. Taylor who appeared to have minor injuries, "Jones isn't it?" when the boy nodded he continued, "Mr. Jones, help Mr. Taylor fix up a sling for his arm and then you are in charge of moving the injured to aft, it will be easier to attend to them if they are all gathered in one spot." He looked at another lad who also didn't appear to be badly injured, "Mr. Bloom is it?" again getting a nod he said, "You shall help Mr. Jones." Pausing a moment to look around he was glad to note at least they were fortunate to have the oars aboard, even if they didn't know exactly where they were going the simple activity of rowing would no doubt provide a good distraction, keep them busy, for awhile, until the utter hopelessness of their situation had a chance to sink in. Shaking his head to rid that thought from his mind he continued, "I need four good lads that are able to row to come man the oars, we might as well begin."

"Sir?".

"Yes Mr. Jones." James answered as the boy knelt beside him.

"By your leave sir I need you to come aft." Jones answered.

James looked toward the aft questioningly and not seeing a problem with any of the half-dozen lads that were gathering there asked, "Is there a problem?"

"No sir," then pointing at James' thigh, "You ordered all the injured to one spot sir, you're injured."

James looked down at his thigh and noticed the deep bleeding gash there, with a snort he said, "So I am." He pulled his waistcoat off and tossed it aside, his uniform jacket having been discarded earlier to keep it from dragging him under as he swam for the boat, and then removed his shirt which he wrapped as tightly as he could around his thigh, "Thank you for your diligence in carrying out your orders Mr. Jones but I think I shall stay here at my post."

The boy saluted and headed back for the others.

James, to his extreme chagrin, was not overly familiar with the area, and kicked himself mentally for not being more insistent with Captain Maitland, who like a lot of ships captains was very protective of his charts, when he had inquired several times about their exact position. Captain Maitland had been respectful but had definitely let James know, respectfully of course, that he had been a ships captain for over twenty years and he didn't need, nor was he about to allow some upstart young Commodore to come aboard and start running his ship for him. James didn't really blame him and had let the matter drop, he would have felt the same if someone had come aboard his Dauntless and he had felt they were trying to take over.

He looked heavenward and prayed for a cloudless night. He would be able to get some idea of their position by the stars, although he would almost give his right arm for a good sextant right now.

"Commodore?"

James looked over at the lad sitting at one of the oars. "Yes Mr…?"

"Bailie sir."

"Yes Mr. Bailie, you have a question?"

"Which way…. which way shall we row sir?"

James gave a thin lipped smile as he scanned the vacuous horizon around them. 'Just pick a bloody direction James, and try and sound like you know what you're talking about.' he thought to himself. "That way Mr. Bailie, we shall proceed that way." James said as he picked a random direction.

"Aye sir." The four lads answered as one and began to row.

To Be Continued

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