Pitt introduced himself as Giordino climbed aboard and joined them.
“You boys were pretty lucky,” Valero said, eyeing them inquisitively. “One of my men said you were shot down.”
Pitt pointed over the rail at the tug and barge passing in the opposite direction. “Would you believe that barge is headed to Baltimore with a bomb aboard?”
“I’d believe it from two men who just swam out of a burning NUMA helicopter,” Valero said.
“We could use your help to stop them.”
Valero puffed out his chest. “That’s what the Constellation was built for. Tell us what we can do.”
Under Pitt’s direction, the old warship made a sweeping turn to port. The veteran crew of sailors expertly worked the sails and rigging, turning the ship around and onto a northwesterly heading up the Patapsco River. With the sails on all three masts billowing, the ship moved briskly. Pitt could see they would soon overtake the tug and barge.
As the city of Baltimore appeared off the ship’s prow, he approached Valero. “The Connie’s guns—are they operational?”
Valero pointed to the stern. “There’s a twenty-pound Parrott gun on the aft spar deck that’s fired in demonstration all the time. We’ve got quite a bit of powder stored below, leftover from the Fourth of July celebrations.”
“How about shot?”
Valero thought a moment. “The Parrott’s a rifled gun, so it fires a shell. There’s a display case on the gun deck with a couple of samples for a twenty-pounder.”
He led Pitt and Giordino down a level to the gun deck, where rows of eight-inch cannon lined the gun ports. They approached a wall display covered in an acrylic sheet that contained weapons and shot that would have been used aboard the Constellation after her launch in 1854.
Giordino grabbed the acrylic covering and, with a heave, tore it from the wall. “My apologies to the museum,” he said to Valero, “but if we don’t stop these guys, there may not be any future visitors to the ship.”
“I’ll take the heat,” Valero said. “You’ll want to grab the two shells on the lower left. The ten-pound round shot can also be used in a pinch. I’ll get the powder and primer and meet you topsides.”
Giordino nodded toward Valero as he disappeared across the deck. “Lucky we found a guy who’s with us.”
“Does seem like a kindred spirit,” Pitt said, prying a pair of cutlasses from the display.
They hauled the swords and ammunition up to the spar deck and the Parrott gun at the aft rail. In 1860, Captain Robert Parker Parrott had designed his first rifled cannon, and copies in multiple calibers were used extensively by both armies during the Civil War. Known more for their accuracy than their durability, Parrott guns like that aboard the Constellation could fire a nineteen-pound shell over two miles.
Valero arrived at the gun with a limber chest full of black powder bags, then called to some of the volunteers. “Vinson, Gwinn, Campbell, Yates—come over and help man this gun. I’ll take the helm.”
“We’ll fire from the port rail,” Pitt said. “Have your men keep their heads down. They have weapons.”
“No worries. I’ll bring her right alongside.” Valero stepped to the helm, ahead of the mizzenmast.
Pitt and Giordino, with the help of the volunteers, rolled the Parrott gun to an opening along the port rail. Pitt placed a two-pound aluminum cartridge of powder into the muzzle, and one of the men shoved it to the breech with a ramrod.
Giordino pointed to the armament lying on the deck. “What’s your choice?”
“Let’s start with a solid shell.”
Giordino placed a ten-inch-long solid shell in the muzzle, and it was rammed down to the powder. The crew shoved the gun’s carriage to the rail and secured it with ropes. Pitt jammed a friction primer into a vent on the cannon’s breech, puncturing the powder bag. He tied off the end of the primer to a thin lanyard and stepped away from the carriage with the other men.
The tug was barely a hundred yards ahead, with Valero making straight for her. The tug seemed to notice the Constellation’s approach and veered to port.
“They’re trying to elude us in the shallows,” Giordino said.
The Constellation heeled to port in pursuit.
“Apparently, we have a captain lacking in fear,” Pitt said.
The Constellation closed on the tug. When it was less than twenty yards off, the ship swung slightly to starboard to bring the loaded cannon to bear. Pitt stood behind the gun and waited until the tug’s pilothouse came into view, then pulled the lanyard.
The Parrott gun erupted with a boom and a belch of smoke, launching its projectile at point-blank range. The blunt-nosed shell blew through the tug’s wheelhouse, shattering the helm in a shower of wood splinters and severing the pilot’s left arm.