Patrick O'Brian - The Nutmeg of Consolation

Yet the Corn�e had lost distance by her double turn and she did not even fire her chasers before the debris was cleared away, before the carpenter and his crew were busy on the heel, and before the opening by which Jack had hoped to elude the Frenchman lay broad on the starboard beam. It was then that the cry came down from the foretopgallant yard: 'Sail ho.'

'Where away?'

'On the larboard bow, sir. I see her royals just behind the headland, sir. Another. Two sail of ships, sir. Three. Four. God love us. You will see 'em presently, sir.'

'Topmast ready, sir,' said Fielding to Jack.

'Sway it up, Mr Fielding, if you please,' said Jack. 'The topgallant after it, and cross the yards as soon as possible.'

He walked with a composed step to the forecastle and fixed the headland with his glass. Minutes passed; one of the stern-chasers fired a ranging shot and the duel began again -his prohibition against hurting a hair of the Corn�e's head had lapsed long since, and the Nutmeg's one desire was to cripple her before she knocked away a mast. 'You'll see 'em directly minute, sir,' said the lookout in a conversational tone.

The first ship glided out from behind the cover of the high ground. She was not much more than a mile away, and with the breeze on her beam and a press of sail she was steering south-east at perhaps ten knots - a fine bow-wave. Against the young sun he could not make out her armament, but her American colours were plain enough. Two followed her, both steering the same urgent course, both of about the same size, heavy sloops-of -war or small frigates, both wearing American colours. Signals were exchanging at a great pace. A fourth ship and his stony heart broke into flower. He walked back fast, not running, to the quarterdeck: 'Mr Richardson and the yeoman of signals,' he called, and Richardson, the signal lieutenant, came hobbling from the waist, his leg thick with bandages. Titus the yeoman followed him, racing aft from the heads. 'Colours, jack at the jack-staff, private signal, Diane's number, and Ghase to the north-west. Then telegraph Well met Tom. All from topgallant and stay; and a couple more jacks on the yard.'

Richardson repeated this; Adams wrote it down; the yeoman ran to his colour-chest; Jack called 'Mr Reade, pray jump down to the sick-berth and tell the Doctor with my congratulations that the Surprise is in sight.' He looked into the waist, where the hawser to the lower capstan was tautening to sway the topmast up to the trestle-trees, and he was about to tell Fielding to send up the pennant as soon as the topgallant was in place when a thought froze his heart once more: had the Surprise been captured by an American squadron?

He walked forward. Colours, private signal and direction to chase were already flying; he watched the Surprise with rigid attention. She had hauled her wind and she was running past the other three with her familiar greyhound ease. Behind him the firing had stopped. He heard the orders for swaying up the topmast and the cry 'Launch ho' when it was home and fidded; but all this came from a great way off. Titus composed the message to be sent by telegraph, muttering T,O,M; and at last the Surprise's colours gave a twitch and raced down. They were replaced by her own to the cheering of far more of the Nutmeg's hands than had any business to be looking about them; and glancing aft Jack saw that the Corn�e had worn and was heading for the heavy rain-squalls in the north-west.

'The Doctor's compliments, sir,' said Reade. 'He gives you joy of the meeting and will come on deck as soon as he is free.'

Dr Maturin was free by the time the Nutmeg, with her maintopsail, maintopgallant and man-of-war's pennant restored, had turned in pursuit of the Corn�e; she was close-hauled to the wind and she was tearing along at a splendid pace, throwing the water white and wide, but the Surprise, coming up to leeward, had had to ease off her sheets not to pass too fast. Stephen came running up in the black coat and apron he wore in action, and the contrast between the drying blood on the dusty blackness and his shining face was particularly striking.

'There she is!' he cried. 'I should have recognized her anywhere. What joy!'

'Yes, indeed,' said Jack. 'And I am so glad you came before we had to clew up the crossjack. You may never see another.'

'Pray point it out,' said Stephen.

'Why, it is this sail just above our heads, set on the crossjackyard,' said Jack.

'A very handsome sail too, upon my word: ornamental to the last degree. How she comes along, the brave boat! Huzzay, huzzay! There is Martin in front of the thing - I forget its name. I shall wave my handkerchief.'

The Surprise ranged up within pistol-shot, and shivering her foretopsail she paused abreast of the Nutmeg, travelling at much the same pace. Her rail was lined with happy, grinning faces, all well known to Jack and Stephen; but there was an etiquette in these matters at sea, and not a word did they utter until the two captains were opposite one another, Jack Aubrey still in his vile Monmouth cap, Tom Pullings in working clothes with a uniform hat clapped on for the ceremony: beneath it his dreadfully wounded face was ablaze with joy.

'Tom, how do you do?' called Jack in his powerful voice.

Blooming, sir, blooming,' replied Pullings, pulling off the hat. 'I hope I see you well, and all our friends?'

Jack returned the salute and his long yellow hair streamed away to leeward. 'Never better, I thank you. Go ahead now and get into her wake; it will not take you long - she turned very heavy. But do not close till I come up. She will strike to the two of us: no powder wasted; nobody knocked about. What are your consorts?'

'Triton, sir, an English letter of masque, Captain Goffin, twenty-eight twelve pounders and two long nines; and the others are American prizes.'

'So much the better. Carry on, then, Tom. You are in for a ducking,' he added, still in the same steady roar, as the first drops came sweeping across the deck.

The Surprise filled her foretopsail, forging ahead directly, and now that the official words were done greetings flew to and fro in spite of the rain. 'Captain Pullings, my dear, how do you do? Pray take care of the damp. - Mr Martin, how do you do? I have seen the orang-utang!' 'What cheer, Joe? What cheer, shipmates? What cheer, Methusalem?' And from some facetious hands far forward, 'What ho, the crossjack, ha, ha, ha!' with antic gestures.

The Nutmegs stared in amazement at this familiarity, for although Killick and Bonden - Killick particularly - had regaled them with accounts of Captain Aubrey's importance and wealth (a glass coach with gilded wheels and two puddings a day in the servants' hall) and Dr Maturin's supernatural skill and fashionable life (calls the Duke of Clarence Bill and takes tea with Mrs Jordan), they had never spoken of the Surprise.

Yet there was little time for amazement, since as soon as the Surprise was beyond the range of a moderate call, they were required to furl and unbend the hated crossjack and set the valuable driver, which gave the Nutmeg an additional knot; and even before it was cracking full the Surprise had vanished into the squall, a grey blur of tearing water.

The next half hour was exceptionally anxious, and its minutes stretched out beyond all reason. It was not merely the decks all awash, water shooting from the lee scuppers, nor even fear of the ironbound coast, since Jack had his bearings clear; it was his dread that the Surprise, misled by the Corn�e's slowness, might suddenly find herself alongside, facing her heavier guns at close range. In the middle of this unhappy time thunder cracked and rolled with enormous force at masthead height, continuous thunder shutting out any possible gunfire; and of course lightning to and fro in the even stronger deluge.