Quarterdeck

'How about your folk, Ned?' Kydd asked, cradling another calibogus.

'My mother's family came over with the Mayflower,' Gindler said proudly. 'Settled in the north, near Boston. Pa runs a business . . .'

A grey day broke, and Kydd's sleepless night was over at last. Today would end in a flurry of gunfire and a captured privateer— or failure. Any one of those barbarous small rocks that had left his feet so sore could snag the line and part it, and they would be left with a useless end. So much could go wrong: even as they breakfasted, a crew member might look over the side of Minotaure and raise the alarm, and then it would be over before it started, or the ship might sail at dawn when Tenacious was not in the offing.

Kydd sat on the porch, brooding. 'What do ye say we take a walk through th' town? Perhaps we — '

'You must stay here, my friend. Your presence near the vessel at this time could be . . . unfortunate.' Gindler got to his feet. 'I will undertake a reconnaissance.'

He returned quickly. 'They're ready for sea near enough, but there's a little duck taken up residence under her stern.'

The morning dragged by; Kydd tried to learn a card game but it quickly palled. In the end they sat on the porch and talked, eyes straying out to sea.

'I believe we must take position now,' Gindler said lightly. 'We have our smack ready at hand.'

The craft was not big but had a single mast stepped to a forward thwart, and with a light spritsail took the morning breeze with a will. In nondescript fishermen's gear Kydd and Gindler saw they were one of a handful of boats chancing the day for sea-bass.

The entrance to the inner sound was no more than a couple of miles across and the one league boundary a half-mile beyond. Gindler eased sheets and steered for the northern point.

'There she is!' cried Kydd exultantly. HMS Tenacious under topsails was calmly approaching from the north. All the players were now converging and it was only a matter of time before the final act.

Minotaure had to sail by noon; her captain was waiting for the last possible moment and, as a consequence, would have to face Tenacious. But he would have been told about the midday signal arrangement—why did he wait and risk the confrontation?

Then it dawned on Kydd. Junon was both confident and cool. He wanted the English ship to present herself: he knew he could out-manoeuvre the big ship and in this way could establish where she was and therefore be free of the threat of an unpleasant surprise later.

The privateer's fore topsail rose: she was about to proceed. Kydd's heart beat faster. Her headsails fluttered into life and, as he watched, her bow detached from the wharf. The French tricolour was lowered from her ensign staff but reappeared at her mizzen peak. Other canvas made its appearance and Minotaure stood out into the sound.

Her actions were not lost on Tenacious whose battle-ensign soared up to the mainmasthead in answer. Kydd pictured the frenzied rush to quarters and was torn between the desire to be back aboard his ship in action and the knowledge of what he had to do.

Tenacious stood squarely across the entrance at the edge of the boundary, heaving to in the slight winds, while the privateer advanced cautiously towards her under just topsails, not giving the slightest indication of which side she was going to pass.

Kydd's admiration for the coolness of the French captain increased as he noticed that the wind's direction had Tenacious hove to with broadside towards, normally a battle-winning raking position, but the bigger ship could not in any circumstances open fire into United States waters and certainly not risk shot ricocheting into the town. Therefore Minotaure could move forward in perfect safety.

'We need t' get under her stern,' Kydd growled. Gindler sheered the boat round and edged more into the sound, keeping safely to one side. The privateer drew nearer and Kydd visualised the wedge and the little bundle bumping over the mud of the seabed, hopefully then to stream out behind — or they might already have been torn off.

Kydd spoke, more to himself than to Gindler: 'When she makes her move, she'll loose sail t' crack on speed and only then choose her side an' put over her helm sharp. Therefore our signal will be when she looses more sail.' Tenacious would have little chance of reacting in time, being stationary in the water with only the chance of a fleeting shot as the faster vessel surged past.

The privateer came on, seeming immense from the little smack. Her upper decks appeared full of men and her gun-ports were open. Gindler eased away the sail and let the big ship come down on them, jockeying to be as near as possible.

'Wave at 'em!' Kydd said urgently. Answering waves appeared up at the deckline. They were very close now, every raw detail of her timbers and gun muzzles plain. Gindler put over his tiller and the boat spun about to face the same direction, jibbing and rolling in the side wake of the privateer. Tenacious was precisely dead ahead—still no indication. Kydd waved again, anxiety flooding him at the thought of what hung on the next few minutes.

Gindler jockeyed the boat about, slipping back until the stern windows of the ship came into view then sidling up behind. 'The duckling, find th' duck!' Kydd gasped. They searched frantically astern of the ship—but there was no sign of a buoy.

'No!' Kydd cried harshly.

Gindler kept on behind the rearing stern then pointed. 'Th-there!' he whooped. Kydd leaned over and saw, in the roiling, bubbling wake, a jaunty duckling bobbing vigorously, much closer to the stern than he had planned.

'Get us in there, f'r God's sake!' he yelled hoarsely, careless of anything but the final task.

Hardening in the sheets Gindler brought the smack closer but startled faces appeared over the stern high above. 'Snag the bastard, quick!' he hissed. The boat was bouncing around in the uneven wake and the wind around the looming stern was fitful and chancy.

Clear and positive over the noise of the tumbling water came the sound of a boatswain's calls—to man yards and set sail. Kydd leaned far over the bow, reaching, scrabbling for the duckling. There would be no second chance