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

Up and down the line of orders echoed, the bosuns’ pipes shrilled out. The ships began their turn, bringing the wind aft, right astern, on the larboard quarter, on to the beam and beyond, the yards coming round, round, and harder round until the whole line, with scarcely an irregularity, was close-​hauled on the larboard tack, each having turned in its place, so that now the Ocean led and the Alfred brought up the rear.

A beautifully-​executed evolution, almost faultless. ‘Mr Lee: make more sail: hoist colours.’ Blue, because Admiral Hervey in Bombay was a vice-​admiral of the blue. The Surprise, being under Admiralty orders, wore the white. Handsome colours, and imposing: but the speed of the line did not increase: ‘Signal: Ocean make more sail: repeat Ocean make more sail,’ cried Jack. ‘And give him two guns.’

Ahead of them now, and broad on the larboard bow, there was the French squadron in a rigid line, colours flying: the Admirals’ flag at the mizen. The two lines were drawing together at a combined speed of fourteen knots: in less than five minutes they would be within range.

Jack ran forward, and as he reached the forecastle Linois fired a gun. But a blank gun, a signal-​gun, and its smoke had hardly cleared before the French ships hauled their wind, heading north-​north-​west and declining the engagement.

Back on his quarterdeck Jack signalled tack in succession, and the line came about, stretching towards the setting sun. In the depths the ‘cello was still singing away, deep and meditative; and all at once the elusive name came to him - it was the Boccherini suite in D minor. He smiled, a great smile filled with many kinds of happiness. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘that was pretty creditable in the Indiamen, hey, hey?’

‘I should scarcely have believed it, sir,’ said Stourton. ‘Not a single ship fell foul of another. It was giving them time to edge away that did it, no doubt.’

‘Linois did not care for it,’ said Etherege. ‘But until the very last moment I did not think he would sheer off, night-​action or no night-​action.’

Harrowby said, ‘The Company officers are a well-​behaved set of men. Many of them are serious.’

Jack laughed aloud. Out of piety or superstition he would not even formulate the thought, ‘He mistook the situation: he has made his blunder’, far less put it into words: he touched a belaying-​pin and said, ‘He will spend the night plying to windward, while we lie to. His people will be worn out for the morning action. Ours must get all the rest we can manage: and food. Mr Stourton, since we have lost our purser, I must ask you to see to the serving-​out of the provisions. Let the men make a good hearty supper - there are some hams in my store-​room. Where is my steward? Pass the word for-’

‘Here I am sir, and have been a-​standing by the bitts this half-​glass and more,’ said Killick in his disagreeable injured whine, ‘a-​holding of this sanglewich and this here mug of wine.’

The burgundy went down more gratefully than any wine he had ever drunk, strengthening his heart, dispelling weariness.

‘So there is to he no battle after all?’ said the chaplain, moving from the shadows and addressing either Etherege or the master. ‘They appear to be slanting off at a great pace. Can it be timidity? I have often heard that the French are great cowards.’

‘No, no, don’t you believe it, Mr White,’ said Jack. ‘They have tanned my hide many a time, I can tell you. No, no Linois is only reculing pour mew sauter, as he would say. You shall not be disappointed, I believe we may promise you a brisk cannonade in the morning So perhaps you might be well advised to turn in directly and get all the sleep you can I shall do the same, once I have seen the captains.’

All that night they lay to, with stern-​lanterns and top-​lights right along the line, each watch in turn at quarters and fifty night-​glasses trained on Admiral Linois’s lights as he worked up to windward In the middle watch Jack woke for a few minutes to find the ship pitching heavily his prayer had been answered, and a heavy swell was setting in from the south. He need not dread the Frenchmen’s distant fire. Accuracy, long range and a calm sea were birds tarred with the same feather.

Dawn broke calm, sweet and clear over the troubled sea, and it showed the French and British lines three miles apart. Linois had, of course, spent all the night in beating up, so that now he had the weather-​gauge without any sort of a doubt - now he could bring on the action whenever he chose. He had the power, but did not seem inclined to use

it. His squadron backed and filled, rolling and pitching on the swell. After some time the SŽmillante left her station, came down to reconnoitre within gunshot, and returned:

still the French hung aloof, lying there on the beam of the English line, with their heads north-​west; and the heat of the day increased.

The swell from some distant southern tempest ran across the unvarying north-​cast monsoon, and every few minutes the sharp choppy seas sent an agreeable spray flying over the Surprise’s quarterdeck. ‘If we engage her from the leeward,’ observed Jack, with his eyes fixed on the Marengo, ’she will find it damned uncomfortable to open her lower ports.’ She carried her lower guns high, like most French line of battle ships, but even so, with her side pressed down by this fine breeze and with such a sea running, her lower deck would be flooded - all the more so in that she was somewhat crank, somewhat inclined to lie over, no doubt from want of stores deep in her hold. If Linois could not use his lower tier, his heaviest guns, the match would be more nearly even: was that the reason why he was lying there backing and filling, when he was master of the situation, with a convoy worth six millions under his lee? What was in his mind? Plain hesitation? had he been painfully impressed by the sight of the British line lying to all night, a long string of lights, inviting action in the morning instead of silently dispersing in the darkness, which they would surely have done if yesterday’s bold advance had been a ruse?

‘Pipe the hands to breakfast’ he said. ‘And Mr Church, be so good as to let Killick know that if my coffee is not on deck in fifteen seconds he will be crucified at noon. Doctor, a very good morning to you. Ain’t it a pure day? Here is the coffee at last - will you take a cup? Did you sleep? Ha, ha, what a capital thing it is to sleep.’ He had had five hours in his wool-​lined well, and now new vigorous life flowed through him. He knew he was committed to an extremely dangerous undertaking, but he also knew that he should either succeed or that he should fail creditably. It would be a near-​run thing in either event, but he had not launched himself, his ship, and fifteen hundred other men into a foolhardy enterprise: the anxiety was gone. One of the reasons for this was the new feeling right along the line of battle: the captains had handled their ships well and they knew it; the success of their manoeuvre and Linois’s retreat had done wonders for the fighting spirit of those who had been somewhat backward, and now there was a unanimity, a readiness to fall in with the plan of attack, that delighted him.

However, he knew how early-​morning sprightliness could anger his friend, and he contented himself with walking up and down, balancing his coffee-​cup against the heavy motion of a ship hove-​to, and champing a ship’s biscuit dipped in ghee.

Breakfast was over, and still the French squadron made no move. ‘We must help him to make up his mind,’ said Jack. The signals ran up: the British line filled on the starboard tack and stood away to the westward under topsails and courses alone. At once the frigate’s motion became easier, a smooth, even glide; and at once the French ships in the distance wore round on the opposite tack, slanting down southwards for the Indiamen.