The Corvette

The third ship turned out to be the lugger, her big sails proving more efficient to windward than the other two. He had been right about them. They were indeed Requin and Nimrod. He studied them through his glass. Nimrod was astern of Requin, hiding behind the more numerous guns of the big privateer, but ready to bring the smashing power of those heavy carronades to bear upon a Melusine that, in her captain's mind's eye, was already a defenceless hulk under the Requin's guns.

Drinkwater summoned Singleton and requested his help after the action which, he confided, he expected to be bloody. He also asked about Meetuck's interrogation.

'It is a complicated matter, but there is much about a big, bearded man with eyes the colour of, er 'shadowed ice', if that makes sense to you.'

'I am indebted to you.' Drinkwater smiled and Singleton felt an immense compassion for the cock-headed captain and his terrible profession. 'And now, Mr Singleton, I'd be further obliged to you if you would read us the Naval Prayer.' Drinkwater called the ship's company into the waist. Seamen and officers bared their heads and Obadiah Singleton read the words laid down to be used before an action.

'Oh most powerful and Glorious Lord God, the Lord of Hosts, that rulest and commandest all things…'

When it was over Singleton exceeded his brief and led the ship's company into the Lord's Prayer with its slurred syllables and loud, demotic haste. He finished with the Naval Prayer and Bourne, casting an agonised look at the closing enemy, hastily ordered the men back to their stations.

Scarcely less impatient, Drinkwater ordered more sail and turned to Hill, explaining his intentions and those he thought that would be the enemy's.

'Requin will seek to disable us, Mr Hill, aiming high from a range that will favour her long guns. The instant we are immobilised he will board while the Nimrod ranges alongside and pummels us with those damned carronades. He hasn't many of them, but I'll wager they'll be nasty.'

'Beg pardon, sir, but is Nimrod manned by a prize crew?'

'I don't believe she is, Mr Hill. I'm not certain, but I am sure that she's commanded by her British master, one Jemmett Ellerby who deserves to swing for his treachery'

'Jesus…'

'Very well. Now we will bear up and put the ship before the wind. Mr Bourne! A moment of your time. We will run down on the lugger. She is in advance of the other vessels and is doubtless ready to run alongside and pour in men when Requin boards. If we can hit her hard with round shot and canister I'll be happy. Then I intend to manoeuvre and avoid Requin, using our long guns to come up with Nimrod and disable her…' He outlined Ellerby's treachery for Bourne's benefit and saw the astonishment in his expression harden to resolution. Drinkwater did not say that he intended to destroy Nimrod in the belief that they stood little chance of ultimate survival after an action with Requin.

He knew now that word of Ellerby's treachery would spread like wildfire and his men fight better for the knowledge. He smiled at his first lieutenant and sailing master. 'Very well, gentlemen. Good luck. Now you may take post.'

They bore down on the lugger which attempted to sheer away. Drinkwater had decided that the jury rudder would take such strains that their manoeuvring might throw upon it. If the enemy did not shoot it away Melusine might be relied upon to handle reasonably well, despite the leaky condition a few months in the ice had caused. Her superior height and the fury of her fire cleared the lugger's deck and wounded her mainmast, but her dogged-ness worried Drinkwater. He was almost certain the officer commanding her had been trying to work round his stern, within range of his light carriage guns to attempt to hit the rudder. This intention to disable the British sloop argued that they knew all about her weak spot. Whatever their intent, the enemy's first move had been thwarted, now he had to deal with the real threat. The Requin was on their starboard bow, close hauled on the larboard tack. In a few minutes she would cross their bow, rake them and then bear up astern, holding the weather gauge and assailing their vulnerable rudder.

Drinkwater ordered the course altered to starboard, to bring Melusine's guns to bear as the two ships passed.

'For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly grateful.'

A murmur of blasphemous 'Amens' responded to Hill's facetious remark.

Chapter Eighteen Ellerby

August 1803 

'Fire!'

The gun captains jumped back, jerking their lanyards and snapping the hammers on the gunlocks. Melusine's larboard six-pounders recoiled inboard against their breechings and as their crews moved forward to sponge and reload them the storm of shot from Requin's broadside hit them. Uncaring for himself Drinkwater watched its effect with anxiety, knowing his enemy possessed the greater weight of metal and the risk he had taken in turning back instead of running from his pursuers. But he knew any chase would ultimately lead to either damage to Melusine's exposed jury rudder or capture due to her being overtaken under her cut-down rig. Besides, he had already determined that Ellerby should reap the just reward of his treachery and that duty compelled him to exercise justice.

He therefore watched the smoke clear from the waist and saw, with a pang of conscience, that Bourne was down and perhaps eight or nine other men were either killed or badly wounded.

'Mr Gorton! Take command of the batteries!' Gorton crossed the deck and saw Bourne carried below as Drinkwater swung round to study Requin, already half a cable astern on the larboard quarter. The big privateer had been closed hauled on the wind and her gunnery had suffered from the angle to Melusine and the heel of her deck. Nevertheless it was a heavy price to pay for a single broadside. Drinkwater hoped the effects of his own shot, fired from the more level deck of a ship before the wind, had had greater effect. He could see Requin's sails begin to shiver as her captain brought her through the wind to bear down on Melusine's undefended stern. If her gunners were anything like competent they could catch the British sloop with a raking broadside.

Drinkwater turned resolutely forward and raised his glass. They were already very close to Nimrod. Ellerby's big figure jumped into the image lens with a startling clarity. Drinkwater closed the glass with a vicious snap.

'Starboard battery, make ready!' Quilhampton looked along the line of guns, his sword drawn. He nodded at Gorton.

'All ready, canister and ball.'

Drinkwater raised his speaking trumpet. 'Sail trimmers to their posts,' he turned to Hill. 'Bear up under his stern, Mr Hill, I want that broad side into his starboard quarter.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

They raced down upon the approaching whaler. Her bulk and ponderous motion gave her an appearance of greater force than she possessed. Her gunwhales were only pierced for three carronades on each side, but they were of a heavy calibre.

Drinkwater ran forward to the starboard cathead and raised the speaking trumpet again. The two ships were already level, bowsprit to bowsprit.

'Captain Ellerby! Captain Ellerby! Surrender in the King's name before you consign your men to the gallows!'

Ellerby's violent gesture was all that Drinkwater knew of a reply, although he saw Ellerby was yelling something. Whatever it was it was drowned in the roar of his guns, their wide muzzles venting red and orange flame at point-blank range.

Drinkwater nodded at Quilhampton and as Hill put the helm down and Melusine