Alexander Kent - Relentless Pursuit

What the gun crews must have trained for, all the way from Plymouth, and from Gibraltar to this mark on the chart.

Adam gripped the rail and felt the vibration of the bombardment jerking at the wood, as if some of the shots had smashed down alongside.

He thought of his own service in a ship of the line, and knew that Halcyon's captain would be remembering it also. The incredible din, which scraped the inner walls of a man's mind, so that only drill and discipline saved him from madness. Down on those gun decks, the overhead timbers brushing your hair, the confined space thick with smoke and the stench of burning powder, and only an open port beyond each crew, a hazy outline or shadow which had to be the enemy.

Sponge out! Load.' Run out! Ready! Nothing else existed.

Adam called, "Two points, Mr Cristie! Steer sou' by west!" It was impossible, but he could feel his mouth fixed in a grin. "That'll give her more freedom!"

He swung round to watch a twisting column of sparks rising far beyond the nearest ships. Perhaps one had blown up, or a random shot had found its mark in one of the citadel's magazines. Nobody could survive that.

lie beckoned to Jago. "We shall be up to the anchorage directly. Keep with Mr Galbraith." lie lifted the glass again and held his breath until he had found the vessel in question. A schooner, moored apart from all the others. He moved the glass slightly and saw the frigate, anchored fore-and-aft, a floating battery, another man-of-war lying just beyond her. Guarding the anchorage, the ships which were the 1Jey's lifeblood. "You know what to do, yes?"

lie realised that Jago had remained silent. IIe looked at him, his ears cringing to yet another tremendous explosion, and saw the expression he had come to recognise since that day, when they had settled on a handshake.

Jago said flatly, "My place is 'ere. With you." He saw Lieutenant Varlo hurry past with a party of seamen. "Let 'irn go!"

Adam contained his sudden anger. "I did not hear that, Luke." He waved his hand towards the anchored ships. "That schooner is our weapon. The wind is right. Boat action, over quickly. Trust me."

Jago touched the double-bladed weapon at his belt. "Burn the bastards out, before they can cut an' run."

Adam nodded. "Or get amongst the fleet. Some of our ships will be in a had way by now."

Jago frowned, his eyes elsewhere. Recalling another battle perhaps.

He said shortly, "Gig an' jollyboat. Might leave you short-anded." He glanced at somebody below the rail. "Some still wet behind the cars. If you gets boarded…" lie looked at him and shrugged. "You command, sir." Adam felt his limbs shaking. Not fear. It was worse. The madness. just being here. It made no sense, and never would.

Jago was staring around, already seeking faces, names. "I'm ready."

He swung himself down the ladder, his eyes still lifted to the quarterdeck, to the helmsmen barely moving as the sails filled again to the wind. Even that was full of acrid smoke. And when you looked astern it seemed the whole fleet had been swallowed up in it, broken here and there by flashes of gunfire, and the lasting patterns of burning timbers. Like a scene from hell.

This deck was quiet by comparison: Cristie beside his small rigged table, his eyes moving restlessly from masthead pendant to compass, from individual sails to his master's mates and assistants, Midshipman Deighton at the flag locker, Bellairs waiting to make more sail, and the marines in position behind the hammock nettings, their only protection when the time came.

Jago said, "Watch yer back, sir." Then he was gone.

More flashes darted through the smoke. From the anchorage this time. Adam winced as iron thudded into the lower hull. Not dangerous. He tried not to move, or to wipe his face. Even the slightest change in behaviour might be seen as doubt, or loss of confidence.

The frigate which was anchored fore-and-aft fired again, but the shots were haphazard, the gun crews perhaps confused by the spreading barrier of smoke. Adam crossed to the side and looked for the brig. She was holding on station. It was only too easy to close on one another, if only for a false sense of security.

He heard Cristie say, "That's the same ship, sir! No Yankee colours this time, God rot him!"

Adam felt someone beside him. It was Napier, his eyes defiant as if he expected the worst.

But Adam said only, "Stay with me, David. Get down if I tell you." He saw the youth nod, and then bite his lip as he took the weight on his injured leg.

"The surgeon said…"

Adam gripped his shoulder. "I can imagine what he saidmuch as he did to me, I have no doubt!"

Some seamen at the quarterdeck nine-pounders watched and nudged one another. The captain passing the time of day with his servant, as if they were still at Plymouth. It could not be that bad.

Galbraith was here. He looked very alert, no more time left for mistakes.

"Ready, sir. I'm taking Rist as my secondin-command-he's a good hand. Williams has made up the charges. I already know what he can do!"

Adam did not look away as a ragged broadside crashed and echoed across the anchorage.

Bellairs exclaimed, "Halcyon's hit, sir!"

Adam shut it from his mind and concentrated on Galbraith. A good officer who was used to taking risks. Who was about to lay his life on the line yet again. Who wanted his own command, and was watching Halcyon's fore-topmast stagger and then pitch down into the water alongside. As if he was seeing his own ship under fire.

"I shall come about as soon as you slip the boats. If everything goes against us, then make your own way to the fleet. As you see fit, Leigh. I already know what you can do, too!"

Galbraith touched his hat and ran lightly down the ladder, shouting orders as he went. He paused only once, to stare across at Halcyon as she was raked by another full broadside. Then he, too, was gone.

Adam saw Partridge turn and wave his arm; the boats had cast off, and they were already pulling like madmen towards the anchorage.

He measured the distance as if he were studying a giant chart.

Varlo would remain up forward to direct the guns when Unrivalled came about. That inner voice persisted. If'the wind holds. He could also be called to command if the worst happened and the quarterdeck became a bloody shambles. He looked around, at Bellairs with the afterguard, Captain Luxmore with Sergeant Bloxham and his marines. He had already sent his lieutenant, Cochrane, to cover and protect the carronade crews on the forecastle. He saw Midshipman Deighton staring at him over his signal locker, and his unexpected smile when Adam tossed him a casual wave. Casual? It was like raising the dead.

"Stand by on the quarterdeck!"

Cristie was waiting, slightly hunched as if anticipating a stray shot. Beside him the boy Ede, who had been spared the rope for an attempted murder, made an unlikely companion on the threshold of battle. Cristie had proclaimed that none of his navigational equipment had ever been in such good hands. It was praise indeed.

He counted seconds, all else but the narrowing triangle of smoke-hazed water thrust aside.

Another quick glance aloft: the masthead pendant was lifting and falling as before. But steady. The wind held.

His hand had found the folded note he had crammed into his breeches pocket.

Lowenna. In the old Cornish tongue it meant "joy."

He swallowed, but his mouth was dry. So it will be.

"Ready ho.! Put the helm down!"

He had to shout, above the noise of wind and canvas, and the continuous thunder of the distant battle. And because of his heart, which surely those around him must hear.

"Helm a-lee, sir!"

They were beginning to turn, to swing the jib-boom across the anchored shipping as if they and not Unrivalled were moving.