Under false colours

beyond the yellow scars of the exposed sandbanks to seaward was broken by the grey topsails of two ships.

In silence the observers on the decks of the Galliwasp and Ocean watched their approach with anxiety. This anxiety was real enough, for the first event of that day had been the arrival at Brunsbuttel of a jingling battery of horse artillery. The unlimbered field guns now pointed directly at them and, with the cannon of the Dutch cutter, neatly enfiladed them. Until the appearance of the distant topsails, the curious aboard Galliwasp and Ocean had occupied their enforced idleness by studying the artillerymen who, having established themselves, lounged about their pieces.

Despite the protests of their guard, Littlewood had sent Munsden aloft with the watch-glass to call down a commentary on events to seaward of them which was eagerly attended by those below.

'They are the Combatant and the Bruizer, right enough, and they're just clewin' up their main an' fores'ls.'

'Where are they?'

'Comin' up abeam of Cuxhaven ... aye, Combatant's roundin' up into the tide ...'

'Anchoring or taking a tack inshore?' Littlewood asked anxiously, for whatever he did, Combatant's commander must look as though he was making a determined effort to retake the truant merchant ships.

'She's opening fire!'

They could see the yellow flashes from the deck now, and the sloop's yards braced sharp up as she crabbed across the young flood tide.

'There won't be much resistance at Cuxhaven,' said Littlewood, 'if the last reports were correct.'

'No,' said Drinkwater, staring through his glass, his heart beating for those two distant ships. The thunder of that opening broadside rolled dully over the water even as Combatant loosed off a second and a third.

'Bruizer's standin' on,' reported Munsden, unconsciously betraying the plan, the gun-brig making directly for them while the heavier sloop occupied whatever might be at Cuxhaven in the way of artillery. And then they knew. Six yellow pin points of muzzle flashes were followed by another six.

'My God, they've got two batteries of horse-artillery there! They weren't evident the other day when we passed.'

'Moved in this morning, like our friends yonder,' Littlewood said, jerking his head at the nearer shore without lowering his glass.

'Bruizer comes too far to the north, Kapitan,' said Herr Reinke, the pilot and surveyor. 'He must be careful.'

Drinkwater transferred his attention to the gun-brig. Unaware that any resistance would be forthcoming from Cuxhaven, a pretext for the withdrawal of the two men-of-war had to be invented. To achieve this, Smithies had been ordered to incline his course so as to take the bottom on the North Ground, the sandbank opposite Cuxhaven. The resulting confusion would offer the commander of the Combatant a pretext for breaking off the action. In fact there was little risk to the shallow draft gun-brig. The tide was rising and with her anchor down, she would float off in an hour or two.

But with the Combatant engaging artillery ashore and Smithies acting over- zealously, the ruse looked as though it might be more realistic than was intended.

'If anything miscarries, Captain,' Littlewood muttered beside him, aware of Drinkwater's apprehension for the naval ships, 'don't forget to look cheerful!'

Drinkwater grunted, his throat dry. Of course, Reinke could be wrong. At this distance it was notoriously difficult to judge angles of aspect.

'Bruizer's struck sir!' Munsden called. 'And lost her foretop-mast!'

Littlewood burst into a cheer and slapped Drinkwater heartily on the back. Drinkwater staggered under the impact of the blow and coughed on his chagrin. Over the water the rolling concussions of the Combatant's guns duelling with the batteries at Cuxhaven echoed the thumping of his heart.

An answering cheer came from the men ranged on the customs cutter's deck. Littlewood rounded on the Dutch officer aboard Galliwasp, 'Why you not weigh your anchor and go and fight?' he urged. The douanier shook his head.

'Cuxhaven guns make stop your scheeps.'

And so it proved. Combatant broke off the action and tacked across the stream as the tide slackened. Bruizer refloated and swung her head seaward. A boat was seen between the two ships, then, as Combatant went about again, she drew Bruizer in her wake on an unseen towline. As she tacked back towards the Cuxhaven shore she laid a few last broadsides at the enemy. Apart from holes in her sails, she appeared unscathed.

'As neat a piece of seamanship as I've seen in a long while,' said Littlewood from the corner of his mouth.

'If she had lost a mast, then things might have turned out differently,' breathed a relieved Drinkwater. He already had cause to regret the loss of one gun-brig.

'Oh, he kept out of range of those nine-pounders ... but I'm glad to see you looking a little more cheerful at that spectacular British defeat.'

Littlewood grinned at Drinkwater, and this time Drinkwater smiled back.

'Russia? You are saying, Captain, that your cargo was consigned to Russia?'

'Yes,' said Drinkwater, staring levelly at the dark and handsome Frenchman in the sober black suit. His plain, elegant clothes reminded him of Nicholas and it was clear the two had more in common than the unaffected good taste of their dress; both were the diplomatic, and therefore the political, emissaries of their respective masters. Monsieur Thiebault had arrived from Hamburg to carry out an examination on behalf of Monsieur Reinhard, the Emperor's minister in that city. Upon Monsieur Thiebault's appraisal of the curious submission of the two British shipmasters depended the success, or otherwise, of the grand deception. And incidentally, Drinkwater thought, driving the underlying fear from the forefront of his mind, ultimately their own survival.

'But why?'

'It is a market, M'sieur. With the continent closed to us by the decree of your Emperor, we must sell wherever we can. Had I not been driven by bad weather to Helgoland, I would not be suing for purchase by you ...'

'Yes, yes, we have been over that,' Thiebault said testily, his command of English impeccable, 'but Russia is also under an embargo.'

Drinkwater laughed and Littlewood beside him smiled knowingly.

'We are able to trade with Russia, M'sieur, quite easily. As you see ...' Drinkwater nodded at the three grey great­coats and the two pairs of hobnailed boots on the table between them. 'Samples to whet their greedy appetites' Littlewood had called them when he suggested exhibiting their cargo.

'And your consignee was the Russian Government?'

'That is clear from the papers before you, sir,' said Littlewood.

'And on the papers before me it states that Captain Waters here is the master of this ship,' Thiebault said suspiciously.

'Captain Waters,' Littlewood said, brushing the matter aside, 'is new to the trade. I am acting on his behalf and as agent for the consignors.'

'And who are the consignors, Captain Littlewood?'

'You can see from the manifest, sir, Solomon and Dyer.'

Thiebault listened to something whispered in his ear by the senior Dutch officer. He nodded and consulted a second douanier on his right, a very senior French officer of the Imperial Customs Service.

'Mynheer Roos tells me this merchant house is known in Hamburg. Is that why you have chosen to offer your cargo here, despite the embargo?'