Patrick O'Brian - H.M.S. Surprise

A last glance to windward: the forces were exactly balanced: the moment had come. He drew a deep breath, tossed the hairy mango stone over the side, and shouted, ‘Let go there.’ An instant splash. ‘Hard a-​port.’ The Surprise turned on her heel, her yards coming round to admiration, sails flashing out as others vanished, and there close on her starboard quarter was her foaming wake, showing a sweet tight curve. She leapt forward with a tremendous new impulse, her masts groaning, and settled on her new course, not deviating by a quarter of a point. She was heading exactly where he had wanted her to head, straight for the potential gap, and she was moving even faster than he had hoped. The higher spars were bending like coach-​whips, just this side of carrying away.

” Mr Stourton, that was prettily executed I am very pleased.”

The Surprise was tearing through the water, moving faster and faster until she reached a steady eleven knots and the masts ceased their complaint. The backstays grew

a shade less rigid, and leaning on one, gauging its tension

as he stared at the Marengo, he said, ‘Main and fore royal stuns’ls.’

The Marengo was brisk in her motions - well-​manned -but the move had caught her unawares. She did not begin her turn until the Surprise had set her royal studdingsails and her masts were complaining again as they drove her

five hundred tons even faster through the sea hen deck leaning sharply, her lee headrails buried in the foam, the sea roaring along her side, and the hands standing mute -never a sound fore and aft.

Yet when the Marengo did turn she bore up hand to bring the wind on her starboard quarter, settling on a course that would give her beautiful deep-​cut sails all possible thrust to intercept the Surprise at some point in the south-​west - to cut her off, that is to say, if she could not find another knot or so. At the same time the flagship sent up hoist after hoist of signals, some directed, no doubt, at the still invisible corvette to leeward and others to bring the SŽmillante and the Belle Poule pelting down after the Surprise.

‘They will never do it, my friend,’ said Jack. ‘They did not send up double preventer-​stays half an hour ago. They cannot carry royals in this breeze.’ But he touched a belaying pin as he said this: royals or no, the situation was tolerably delicate. The Marengo was moving faster than he had expected, and the Belle Poule, whose earlier mistake had set her well to leeward, was nearer than he could wish. The two-​decker and the heavy frigate were the danger; he had no chance at all against the Marengo, very little against the Belle Poule, and both these ships were fast converging upon his course. Each came on surrounded by an invisible ring two miles and more in diameter - the range of their powerful guns. The Surprise had to keep well out of these rings, above all out of the area where they would soon overlap; and the lane was closing fast.

He considered her trim with the most intense concentration: it was possible that he was pressing her down a trifle aft - that there was a little too much canvas abroad, driving her by force rather than by love. Haul up the weather-​skirt of the maincourse,’ he said. Just so: that was distinctly sweeter; a more airy motion altogether. The dear Surprise had always loved her headsails, ‘Mr Babbington, jump forward and tell me whether the spritsail will stand.’

‘I doubt it, sir,’ said Babbington, coming aft. ‘She throws such an almighty bow-​wave.’

Jack nodded: he had thought as much. ‘Spritsail-​topsail, then,’ he said, and thanked God for his new strong royal-​mast, that would take the strain. How beautifully she answered! You could ask anything of her. Yet still the lane was narrow enough, in all conscience: the Marengo was crowding sail, and now the Surprise was racing into the zone of high danger. ‘Mr Callow,’ he said to the signal-​midshipman, ’strike the Dutch colours. Hoist our own ensign and the pendant.’ The ensign broke out at the mizen-​peak; a moment later the pendant, the mark of a man-​of-​war and no other, streamed from the main. The Surprise was particular about her pendant - had renewed it four times this commission, adding a yard or two each time - and now its slim tapering flame stretched out sixty feet, curving away beyond her starboard bow. At the sight there was a general hum of satisfaction along the deck, where the men stood tense, strongly moved by the tearing speed.

Now he was almost within random-​shot of the Marengo’s bow guns. If he edged away the Belle Poule and the Semillante would gain on him. Could he afford to hold on to this present course? ‘Mr Braithwaite,’ he said to the master’s mate, ‘be so good as to heave the log.’

Braithwaite stepped forward, paused for a moment at the sloping lee-​quarter to see where he could toss it into a calm patch outside the mill-​race rushing along her side, flung the log wide through the flying spray, and shouted ‘Turn!’ The boy posted on the hammock-​netting with the reel held it high; the line tore off, and a moment later there was a shriek. The quartermaster had the boy by one foot, dragging him inboard; and the reel, torn from his hand, raced away astern.

‘Fetch another log, Mr Braithwaite,’ said Jack with intense satisfaction, ‘and use a fourteen-​second glass.’ He had seen the whole line run off the reel only once in his life, when he was a midshipman homeward-​bound in the packet from Nova Scotia: and the Flying Childers boasted of having done it too - the Childers also claimed to have lost their boy. But this was no time to be regretting the preservation of young puddinghead, Bent Larsen - for although it was clear that at this speed they would do it, that they would cross the Marengo and start to increase the distance within a few minutes, yet nevertheless they were running towards the nearest point of convergence, and it was always possible to mistake by a few hundred yards. And some French long brass eights threw a ball very far and true.

Would Linois fire? Yes: there was the flash and the puff of smoke. The ball fell short. The line was exact, but having skipped five times the ball sank three hundred yards away. So did the next two; and the fourth was even farther off. They were through, and now every minute sailed carried them farther out of range.

‘Yet I must not discourage him,’ said Jack, altering course to bring the Surprise a little closer. ‘Mr Stourton, ease off the foresail sheet and hand the spritsail-​topsail. Mr Callow, signal enemy in sight: ship of the line, corvette and brig bearing east, two frigates bearing north-​north-​west. Request orders, with a gun to windward. Keep it flying and repeat the gun every thirty seconds.’

‘Yes, sir. Sir, may I say the corvette is hearing southeast now?’

She was indeed. The lifting rainstorm showed her on the Surprise’s larboard bow, well ahead of the Marengo, and to leeward. The turning wind in the squall had set her half a mile to the west. Grave: grave.

It was in the corvette’s power to bring him to action, unless he edged away into the extreme range of the frigates - the SŽmillante had overhauled the Belle Poule once again. But to bring him to close action the corvette would have to stand his raking fire, and it would need a most determined commander to take his ship right in against such odds. He would probably bear up at long gunshot and exchange a distant broadside or two. Jack had no sort of objection to that - on the contrary: ever since he had set the Surprise for the gap, showing what she could really do in the way of speed, giving away her qualities, he had been trying to think of some means of leading Linois on in a hopeful chase that would take him far to the southward before nightfall. The signal was well enough in its way, but its effect would not last. The drag-​sail would scarcely take again - they must have smoked it; but a yard coming down with a run as though it had been shot away, why, that would answer. And he could give any of them the mizen or even the maintopsail.