Alexander Kent - Sloop Of War

"We will go about, Mr. Tyrrell. Lay her on the starboard tack once we have gained some room and

prepare to engage with the other battery."

He bit his lip to steady his racing thoughts. A quick glance aloft told him that the masthead pendant was lifting as firmly as ever. The wind was steady from south-southwest?

"Pass the word for Mr. Graves to lay aft."

When the lieutenant arrived, his face gaunt with fatigue, Bolitho said, "I want the starboard bow-chaser to keep firing at the enemy. As soon as we have gone about I'll expect it to concentryte on that ship, no matter what."

Buckle called, "Ready on th' quarterdeck, sir."

Bolitho nodded." Put the helm down, if you please."

"Helm a'lee, sir!"

Tyrrell was already bellowing through his trumpets and forward the seamen were leaping like demons at the headsail sheets, and with canvas flapping the Sparrow started to swing into the wind?

"Man the braces!"

Bolitho gripped the rail, his eyes smarting as the sun lanced between the shrouds?

"Heave there! With all your weight!"

Across the wind and still further round, the yards groaning in unison. Then as the sails refilled and laid the deck over in the opposite angle he watched the distant ships edging very slowly between the foremast shrouds as if caught in a giant web?

"Steady, Mr. Buckle! Hold her!"

He paced a few steps this way and that, aware that Tyrrell was urging the men at the braces to trim the yards still further, that the dead seaman had gone from the quarterdeck, and that Ben Garby, the carpenters with his mates, was slithering through the after hatch to inspect the damage there. Aware of all this and mores yet not a part of it as he had once been?

"Steady, sir! Full an' bye!"

He nodded, his mind busy with the two ships? Closehauled it would take thirty minutes to reach them, maybe more. Miranda was almost overrun by enema boarders. Outnumbered from the start, she would have lost many good men in that first savage broadside?

"Fire!"

As the muffled cry came from forward he saw the puff of smoke beneath the starboard catheyd, felt the sharp convulsion as the thirty-two-pounder crashed inboard on its tackles. He snatched up a glass and saw the ball plunge close to the enemy's hull, throwing up a tall waterspout?

Heyward muttered hoarsely, "Near!"

Bolitho looked away. The big ex-Indiaman mounted anything up to forty guns, at a guess. She could finish Sparrow, if ever she could bring her artillery to bears with even a badly aimed broadside. Less?

Bang. Another ball crashed away from the bow-chaser, and he watched the feathers of spray lifting from wave to wave until it plunged hard alongside the other ship?

They should hear us and see we are coming. He tried to clear his brain. What should he do? Signal the transports to run? No. They were helplessly overladen and slow. It would merely prolong their agony?

Overhead, the spanker cracked noisily, and Buckle cursed it before allowing the helm to be eased still further?

Bolitho knew without looking that sailing so close to the wind was cutting away his chances of reaching the ships in time to help?

Someone walked past him. It was Bethune, his arms hanging at his sides, his breeches covered with dark blood blotches and a smear where the seaman's fingers had made their last agonised grip on this earth? Bolitho stared at him?

"Mr. Bethune!" He saw the youth jump." Come here!"

He walked to the rail and back again. It was worth an attempt. Anything was now. If they arrived alongside after Miranda had struck to the enemy, Sparrow's decks would be as red as the flag above his head?

The midshipman waited." Sir?"

"Make this signal at once." He rested his hand on Bethune's plump shoulder. He could feel the skin through his shirt. Like ice, in spite of the sun?

"Signal, sir?" He stared up at him as if he had misheard. Or his captain had gone mad?

"Yes. To Miranda. Sail in sight to the nor'-east!" He tightened his grip." Then move yourself?"

Bethune fled, calling shrilly for his assistants, and within a minute the bright signal flags broke to the wind, while Tyrrell stared from them to Bolitho, first with incredulity and then with slow understanding?

Buckle said, "There's few poor devils'll see that aboard Miranda."

Tyrrell was studying Bolitho." No. But th' privateer will. He might just think that a patrol from th' squadron has come to join th' fight!"

Bolitho waited until Graves 's bowchaser had fired yet again and said, "It is all we can do at present."

Minutes dragged by like hours, and then as a freak downdraught of wind swept across the two snared ships Bolitho caught his breath. A thin shaft of light where there had been none. Then a glint of water? Wider still, as the ships drifted apart and the big privateer set her foresail and jib to work clear. Then Miranda was quite separate, the water between her and the other ship dotted with wreckage and torn canvas, where here and there a man thrashed to stay afloat amidst a litter of bobbing corpses?

A ragged cheer came up from Sparrow's gun decks and severyl ran to the gangways to watch while the enemy spread more canvas and lengthened her outline against the wind?

Tyrrell's grin froze as Bolitho snapped, "Keep those men silent!" He realised he was still holding his swords that his hand was aching with the force of his grip? "Look yonder, Mr. Tyrrell. There's no call for cheers this day."

Tyrrell turned to stare at the Miranda's dark shape? The rising clouds of smoke as her remaining hands quenched fires and groped amidst the wreckage ob their ship. As Sparrow drew closer they could see the thin tendrils of scarlet which ran from her scuppers, the great pitted holes along every part of her hull?

"Pass the word for Mr. Tilby to prepare boats for lowering. Call the surgeon and send him with them." Bolitho hardly recognised his own voice. Clipped, dulls inhuman." Then shorten sail and get the t'gallants of her. We will stand under Miranda's lee for the present."

He ignored the rush of feet as Tilby's men dashed to the boat shackles. He saw Graves walking aft towards the quarterdeck, wiping his face and chest with a wet rag. Above the activity the sails were still drawing wells but there were plenty of holes which would need attention before nightfall. A few stays and halyards were broken, and he knew the hull had been hit severyl times on or near the waterline. But the pumps sounded normal enough. She was taking it like a veteran?

Dalkeith came hurrying up the ladder, his heavy bag gripped against his chest, face streaming with exertion?

"How many, Mr. Dalkeith?" Again he heard his own voice as a stranger's?

The plump surgeon was staring at the frigate, his eyes dull." Two killed, sir. Five wounded by splinters."

Bolitho tried to recall the man who was killed by his side. Manners. That was his name?

He said, "Manners. Who was the other?"

"Yelverton, sir. He was killed by a ball at the foremast." He looked down." Took his head off."

Graves was halfway up the ladder but recoiled as Bolitho said, "Yelverton. Did you hear that, Mr. Gravest The one man who kept his senses when all others were too blind to see the truth. The one you wanted to flog?" He turned away." Well, he'll not trouble you further, Mr. Graves. Nor we him."

Blindly he saw Stockdale watching from the foot ob the mizzen mast." Call away the gig. I will visit Captain Selby and see what must be done."

"Aye, sir."

Stockdale glanced back at him as he hurried to the boat tier. He had never seen Bolitho so stricken or so moved before. And for once he did not know what to do to help?

Bolitho entered his cabin and unbuckled his sword before throwing it on to the bench seat below the windows. Fitch and a young seaman were busy replacing the furniture, and another was mopping away smoke stains from the low deckhead. For in action even the captain's quarters were not spared. With the hasty removal of screens the cabin became an extension of the gun deck, and on either side of it was a squat twelve-pounder, now once again hidden by discreet chintz covers?