'Ready, sir.'
'Helm alee! Tack her, Mister Knolles. New course, due east.'
And
Across the harbor she trundled under reduced sail, Ride Sand and No-Man's-Land astern, and Horse Sand, and the Horse Tail, off her bows, in the narrows.
Directly the wind backed more from the east, she fell off and tacked again to larboard tack, with the wind striking her left side, with Warner Sand and St. Helen's Patch well to their lee. Monkton Fort was the stern range- mark, up to the nor'west.
Damme, can we do it in one long board? Lewrie exulted within. It would be a hellish comedown to chortle too soon, if he all but promised an easy departure, then was forced to come to anchor, after all. Best keep silent, for the nonce. And fret, while appearing a paragon of equanimity.
No, they were headed again as the fickle breeze swung back to the South. Larboard tack would force them down below St. Helen's Patch and toward Denbridge Point, into the cul-de-sac of Nab Rock, the New Grounds, and Long Rock.
'Ready about, Mister Knolles! Quartermasters, new course east-sou'east. Mister Buchanon, I propose to go east-about the New Grounds, and stand out into the Channel to make our offing, before we come about to west, in deep water.'
'Aye, sir, that'd be best, I think.' Buchanon nodded, after he'd pored over the chart pinned to the traverse board on the binnacle cabinet. He looked relieved, that his expertise would not be tested in those narrow channels, for below Denbridge Point there were also the risks of Betty's Ledge, the Denbridge Ledge close inshore, and North Offing, or Princessa Rock. They were day-marked, supposedly lit at night, but it was still a chancy business.
Around
Finally, St. Helen's town, and its creek on their starboard quarter! The last spit of New Grounds abeam!
'Ring up anchors, Mister Knolles, we've no more need of 'em. Ring up and fish, then buckle the hawseholes. Idlers! A tune, there!' Commander Lewrie demanded, utterly relieved, now that he and his fine little ship were safely on their way to making their offing.
The fiddle screeched again, in harmony with a tuning box and a fife.
London and Mister Powlett's Marine Society, the Marines, and the sailors lent to him off Nelson's
And the landsmen from the hulks and debtor's prisons, the volunteers from some rendezvous tavern inland, the sprinkling of Maltese seamen hired out by the Grand Masters he'd ended up with-soon they all would learn it, and know it by heart.
Add
Oh, yes, we do press! Pressed
Free? he scoffed. Mostly, yes, I am. At last! To run a ship my
Alan Lewrie had never been known as much of a singer, but this time he lolloped out the chorus in a bellow, along with the hands of the afterguard and the quarterdeck people.
A first lift of the bows to the Channel chops, a sluice of sea breaking over her forecastle. The rush of water creaming alongside of her impatient flanks. A sibilant, silken respiring, it was, of a live being made of oak and iron. Wind coming stronger aloft, keening among a maze of sheets, braces, jears, lifts and halliards, an Irish banshee's crooning moan among the stays and shrouds, with frolicsome flutterings, as luffs and ratlines danced.
HMS
'Offing enough, Mister Buchanon,' Lewrie decided, one hour later. 'Mister Knolles, come about to larboard tack, then make sail. Fore and main courses to the first reefs. Take in the main topmast, and the mizzen t'gallant, stays'ls.'
'Aye, sir… all plain sail. Bosun Porter? Ready about!'
More canvas-more speed; white-hued virginal canvas never exposed to weather except at sail drill during their working-up period of River Discipline. Course-sail brails undone, drawn down by their clews to sheet them home, with a wary portion gathered in reserve about the yards to the first line of reef points. Long yards creaking around to the best angle for a beam wind-a 'soldier's wind'-powerfully long English yards, and wider, fuller-cut sails than the more-timid French practice.
More flutings and keenings aloft, more moans and whisperings.
While around her forefoot and cutwater, around her transom post, that chuckling, gurgling rush…
HMS
CHAPTER
2