Patrick O'Brian - The Mauritius Command

"Then we will advance quarters by half an hour, and rattle them in and out. We can afford two--no, three--rounds a gun; and I believe we may fire upon targets."

If Hamelin was the man Jack thought him to be, he would surely have Astree and one or two of his corvettes cruising between Mauritius and Reunion by now, and the sound of gunfire might bring them down: so late that afternoon the sky echoed to Boadicea's thunder. The gun-crews, stripped to the waist and gleaming with sweat, plied the massive cannon with even more than their usual diligence, for they too had long since caught their commander's mood: he watched them with a grave satisfaction, a remarkably healthy crew, well fed on fresh meat and garden-stuff, in fine fettle and high training. Good men; a rapid, accurate fire, surpassing anything the Boadicea had yet achieved by a clear eight seconds. Although the Boadicea was not and never could be an outstanding sailer, he need not fear any single French ship afloat in these waters; nor any two, if only he had the support of a well-handled sloop and if only he could bring them to that perilous thing, an engagement in the darkness, when high discipline and true aim counted for so much. Yet when the guns were housed and cool again the sea remained as empty as it had been before, a vast disk of unbroken blue, now fast darkening to deep sapphire: there was to be no action that night.

Nor the next day either, in the twenty miles of sea before the frigate dropped anchor at St Paul's again. No action at sea, but enormous activity on shore. Jack flung himself into the task of getting the Otter and the Windham into fighting-trim. He took little notice of Captain Tomkinson, now perhaps the unhappiest man on La Reunion, but directed the work himself: with the Governor's total, intelligent support, he had a sovereign hand in the yards of St Paul's and Saint-Denis, and there, labouring through the night by flares, every artificer in the island did all that could conceivably be done to turn a sixteen-gun sloop and a decayed, cruelly battered Indiaman with no guns but what the soldiers could afford her into honorary frigates, or at least into something that might have some remote chance of standing the enemy's fire, of holding him long enough for the Boadicea to run alongside and board.

On the Sunday morning, with the Otter in her final stage of refitting but with the Windham still heaved down, he was taking a very late breakfast after four hours of the deepest sleep he had known, taking it in the company of Stephen Maturin, whom he saw but rarely these days: he had resolutely dismissed the problems of the dockyard from his mind for twenty minutes, when Stephen involuntarily brought them back by asking the significance of the devil, among those that followed the sea, as in the devil to pay, a phrase he had often heard, particularly of late--was it a form of propitiation, a Manichaean remnant, so understandable (though erroneous) upon the unbridled elements?

"Why, the devil, do you see," said Jack, "is the seam between the deck planking and the timbers, and we call it the devil, because it is the devil for the caulkers to come at: in full we say, the devil to pay and no pitch hot; and what we mean is, that there is something hell-fire difficult to be done--must be done and nothing to do it with. It is a figure."

"A very elegant figure, too."

"Was you a weak, superficial cove, and feeling low, you might say it described our situation at the moment," said Jack. "But you would be wrong. With Staunch, and Otter and Windham, in a day or two . . . "he cocked his car, and called out, "Killick, who is that coming aboard?"

"Only an army officer, sir."

The clash of Marines presenting arms on the quarterdeck: a midshipman to ask whether the Commodore would receive Colonel Fraser, and then the Colonel himself, his face as scarlet as his coat from galloping under the torrid sun.

"Good morning, Colonel," said Jack. "Sit down and take a cup."

"Good morning, sir. Doctor, how d'ye do?"

"Colonel Fraser should instantly drink something cool, and throw off his stock," said Stephen. "Your servant, sir."

"Happy to do so, sir, in one minute; but first I must deliver my despatch- verbal, sir: no time to call for pen and ink. Colonel Keating's compliments to Commodore Aubrey, and HMS Niicaine is in SaintDenis. Captain Corbett--"

"Corbett? Robert Corbett?"

"I believe so, sir: a little man, looks rather black and cross when put out--the same that was here before--splendid disciplinarian. Captain Corbett, sir, proceeding to Madras, learnt of the state of affairs here from one of your ships when he was putting in to water at Rodriguez, so he turned off to La Reunion. He had some kind of a small engagement with a schooner on the coast of the Mauritius on the way and he is now landing his wounded: Colonel Keating has given him twenty-five men and an officer to take their place, because, sir, two French frigates and a brig are coming in after him. And Captain Corbett charges me to say, with his duty, that he has taken the liberty of hoisting your broad pendant, to amuse "em, that he is clearing for action, and will put to sea the moment all his wounded are ashore."

"Colonel," said Jack, "I am infinitely obliged to you. Killick, light along a jug of something cool for Colonel Fraser--sandwiches--mangoes." These words he called backwards as he ran on to the quarterdeck. "Mr Trollope, all hands from the yard immediately, and prepare to slip the moment they are aboard. Mr Collins, to Otter and Staunch: proceed to sea immediately and enemy cruising east-northeast. Pass the word for the gunner." The gunner came running, for the news was spreading fast. "Mr Webber," said Jack, " how much have you filled?"

"Thirty rounds a gun, sir,'said the gunner, "and twenty-three for the carronades: we been at it all this forenoon." And then, encouraged by old acquaintance and by the glowing change in the Commodore, "May I hope to fill some more, sir, for the right true end?"

"Yes, Mr Webber," said Jack. "And none of your white letter stuff. Let it all be our very best red large grain."

Rounding the Pointe des Galets at noon, the Boadicea, followed by the Otter and the Staunch, made out the French ships in the offing: two frigates. The French brig was already topsails down to the northwards, no doubt hurrying off to tell Hamelin what was afoot. There was a general hum of satisfaction, tempered by the fact that the Frenchmen were no longer standing in, but had gone about on the starboard tack, and by the sight of long white lines far out, which meant that the wind, south or south-east to the leeward of La Reunion, was blowing from the east to the north of it, so that the enemy would have the weathergage. They also saw the Africaine, and the actual sight of her raised Jack's heart still higher: she was a thirty-six-gun eighteen-pounder frigate, French-built of course, and one of the finest sailers in the Royal Navy, particularly on a wind. She must have been the plum with which Corbett was rewarded when he brought home the St Paul's despatches. "He will certainly handle her well," reflected Jack. "A capital seaman. Let us hope he has taught his men how to point their guns this time, and that he has made himself more amiable aboard her." A plum sometimes had that effect upon a disappointed man; and Corbett had often been disappointed.

When he caught sight of her, the Africaine was also on the starboard tack, under a press of sail, about eight miles south of the enemy. The two ships exchanged numbers, no more. Jack had no intention of worrying the Atiicaine with signals: Corbett was a fighting captain; he knew very well what to do; there was no doubt that he would do it; and in the meantime he must be left free to concentrate on making up at least seven of those eight miles. The same applied with even greater force to the Boadicea: although she could hit harder than the Africaine, she could not rival her in speed. Happily one of the Frenchmen was their old Iphigenia, now the Iphigenie once more, and she was no flyer: the other was probably the Astree, whose qualities he did not know.