"Give me a minute to set her, and I’ll wager I can lay a round shot two hundred yards in front of the bow." He turned and barked an order. Seamen hauled the tackles, rolling the gun into position. Then they levered the breech slightly upward to lower the muzzle, jamming a wooden wedge between the gun and the wooden truck to set it in position.
Winston took a deep breath, then glanced back at Bedford. "This may be the most damn foolhardy thing that's ever been done."
Bedford's voice was grave. "It's on my authority."
He turned back to Canninge. "Fire when ready."
The words were swallowed in the roar as the gunner touched a piece of burning matchrope to the cannon's firing hole. Dark smoke boiled up from the muzzle, acrid in the fresh morning air. Moments later a plume erupted off the bow of the English man-of-war.
Almost as though the ship had been waiting, it veered suddenly to port. Winston realized the guns had already been run out. They'd been prepared. Puffs of black smoke blossomed out of the upper gun deck, and moments later a line of plumes shot up along the surf just below the Point.
"They fired when they dipped into a swell." Canninge laughed. "English gunnery still disappoints me."
A fearful hush dropped over the crowd, and Winston stood listening as the sound of the guns echoed over the Point. "They probably don't suspect we've got any trained gunners up here this morning. Otherwise they'd never have opened fire when they're right under our ordnance." He glanced at Bedford. "You've got their reply. What's yours?"
"I suppose there's only one answer." The governor looked back and surveyed the waiting members of the Assembly. Several men removed their hats and began to confer together. Moments later they looked up and nodded. He turned back. "What can you do to her?"
"Is that authority to fire?"