Bolitho said to Contenay, The captain wishes to see you.'
Together they climbed up through the lower gundeck, a place in almost complete darkness with every port shut and only the slow-matches glowing slightly in the tubs by each division of cannon.
Contenay said, 'There is trouble, my friend?'
'A ship. One of yours.'
It was strange, Bolitho thought, it was easier to speak with the Frenchman than the surgeon.
'Mon Diem.' Contenay nodded to a marine sentry at the next hatchway and added, 'I will have to watch my words, I think.'
On deck it was much brighter. It seemed impossible that it had changed so much in the time to go to the orlop and back again.
On the quarterdeck Bolitho announced, 'M'sieu Contenay, sir.'
Pears glared at him. 'Over here.' He strode across to the nettings where Coutts and the flag lieutenant were training telescopes towards the other ship.
Bolitho stole a quick glance at her. He had not been mistaken. She made a proud sight, leaning over, close- hauled on the starboard tack, her topgallant sails and maincourse already brailed up to the yards, her bilge clearly visible as she tacked towards the entrance.
The prisoner, sir.' Pears too was looking at the other vessel.
Coutts lowered his glass and regarded the Frenchman calmly. 'Ah yes. The ship yonder, m'sieu, do you know her?'
Contenay's mouth turned down, as if he was about to refuse an answer. Then he shrugged and replied, 'She is the
Argonaute.'
Ackerman nodded. 'Thought as much, sir. I saw her' once off Guadeloupe. A seventy-four. Fine looking ship.'
Pears said heavily, 'She too wears a rear-admiral's flag.' He glanced questioningly at Contenay.
He said, 'It is true. Contre-Amiral Andre Lemercier.'
Coutts eyed him searchingly. 'You were one of his officers, am I right?'
'I am one of his officers, m'sieu.' He looked towards the other two-decker. 'It is all I am prepared or required to say.'
Pears exploded, 'You mind your manners, sir! We don't need to be told more. You were aiding the King's enemies, abetting an unlawful rebellion, and now you expect to be treated as an innocent bystander!'
Coutts seemed surprised at the outburst. 'Well said, Captain. But I think the lieutenant is well aware of what he has done, and where he stands.'
Bolitho watched, fascinated, hoping Pears would not notice him and order him down to the gundeck.
A private drama which excluded everyone else, and yet which could decide their future.
Cairns said quietly, 'Here is a problem for the admiral, Dick. Is it a real stalemate? Or shall we force our views on the Frenchman?'
Bolitho watched Coutts' youthful profile. He was no doubt regretting his shift of flag now. His ninety-gun Resolute would be more than a match for the French seventy-four. Trojan had no such advantage. About the same size, and with just two more guns than the Argonaute, she was undermanned and lacking experienced officers.
If Contenay was typical of Argonaute's wardroom, she would be an adversary to reckon with. What the hell was Cunningham doing? A sloop-of-war was far too frail to match iron with the line of battle, but an extra show of strength, no matter how small, would be doubly welcome.
'Take the prisoner down. I may require him presently.' Coutts beckoned to D'Esterre. 'Attend to it.' To Bolitho he said, 'Warn the masthead to report what Spite is doing the instant he sights her.'
Bolitho hurried to the quarterdeck ladder. The masthead look-out, like everyone else above deck, was probably more interested in the French two-decker than in Spite.
Trojan maintained her set course, every telescope trained on the other ship as she moved at right angles across the bows, nearer and nearer to the headland.
Coutts must be worried. He could not anchor, and if he continued past the entrance he would lose the wind- gage and it might take hours to beat back again. If he stood out to sea, the same must apply. His only course was to follow the Frenchman, who obviously intended to ignore Trojan's intentions, to treat her as if she did not exist.
The headland was sloping more quickly now, to reveal the one on the opposite side of the entrance. Two green arms reaching out to receive them.
Bolitho felt the mounting glare from the sun, the sudden dryness in his throat as the look-out yelled, 'Deck there! Spite's aground, zur!'
Something like a sigh ran along the Trojan's decks.
Of all the bad luck, this was it. Cunningham must have misjudged his entrance, or had been deceived by the currents. It was humiliating enough for Coutts. For Cunningham it must be the end of the world, Bolitho thought.
Stockdale whispered, 'The Frenchie can do as 'e pleases now, sir.'
The anchorage was opening up with every dragging minute. Bolitho could see the sheltered water beyond the turbulence at the entrance. Spite's three masts, slightly angled and stiffly unmoving. Beyond her the deeper shadows, and a schooner at anchor, close inshore.
The look-out shouted, 'They're tryin' to tow 'er off, zur!'
Bolitho could not see without a telescope, and like the seamen around him, fretted and waited for more news from aloft. Cunningham had boats down and would probably lay out an anchor to kedge his ship free from the ground.
Quinn asked, 'What is the Frenchman doing?' He sounded beside himself with worry.
'He'll no doubt anchor, James. He has beaten us to the island. To attack him there would be a sure way of starting a war.'
He looked away, confused and bitter. Whatever they did, no matter how right the cause, fate seemed to be against them.
The Argonaute was quite likely bringing another great cargo of ordnance and powder. Some to be loaded into the schooner, more to be stacked in a safe hiding place to await the next privateer or transport. Contenay must have sailed from here more than a few times. No wonder he found Fort Exeter without any trouble.
As if to bear out his ideas, another look-out shouted wildly, 'Sail on the starboard quarter, sir!'
Figures bustled across the quarterdeck, sunlight glinting on raised telescopes, as the look-out continued, 'Brig, sir! She's goin' about!'
Bolitho looked at Quinn's pale features. 'I'll bet she is, James! Just the sight of us will be enough. She must have been coming here to collect her cargo from the French!'
'Is there nothing we can do?'
Quinn looked up, startled, as Buller yelled again, 'Deck there! Spite's come off, zur! She's shakin' out 'er tops'ls!'
Quinn gripped Bolitho's arm as the news brought a wild burst of cheering from the watching seamen and marines.
They looked aft as Midshipman Weston's signals party burst into life and sent a hoist of bright flags flying to the yards.
Bolitho nodded. In the nick of time. Coutts had signalled Spite to leave the anchorage and give chase. Even the delay at hoisting her boats would not mean much to Cunningham. With a following wind, and his honour very much at stake, he would overhaul and take the brig before noon.
And there was still the schooner. If she was a privateer, the French could not prevent Coutts taking action against her if she attempted to leave.
He shaded his eyes, seeing more sails breaking out from the sloop's yards, imagining the excitement and relief pushing all disappointment aside.
'Spite's acknowledged, sir!'
Midshipman Couzens bounded past on some mission or other, his freckled face alive with anticipation.
