'Steady, sir! Nor'-west by north!'
Bolitho raised his sword, his eyes narrowed against the reflected sunlight as he watched the brig swinging drunkenly on the tow of fallen spars?
'Easy!' The sword held the sunlight.' Easy, lads!l Not a gun fired, and along the deck only at the weapons not yet reloaded was there any sort ob movement?
Another ball slammed into the lower hull, and somewhere a man screamed in torment as he was clawed down by flying splinters?
The sun was shining into his eyes now, and through the drifting smoke he saw the outline of the brig's tattered main topsail, the glint of glass as she helplessly presented her stern?
'Fire as you bear!'
Driven by the wind, the smoke came funnelling inboard through port after port as Graves ran along the gun deck, his voice cracking from the strain of shouting directions?
A shadow passed briefly above the smoke, and through the din Bolitho heard the splintering crash of a complete mast failing, and guessed it had been sheared off between decks by the Sparrow's merciless bombardment?
Then as the Sparrow forged ahead once more he heard cheering and knew it was from the Golden Fleece. As wind drove the smoke apart he saw the brig very clearly and someone on her splintered deck waving the flag in surrender. Mastless, and with her stern gouged open by the slow broadside, she was little better than a hulk. Within her small hull her company must have been savagely mauled?
Tyrrell was staring at it, his eyes bright with concentrytion, and by his side Heyward was almost jumping up and down, his voice half choked by smoke?
Then, almost before the Sparrow's dazed compana could feel the taste of their conquest, the air was blasted apart with one deafening explosion. Sparss complete sections of timber and deck planking, all whirled above an angry scarlet core, and across the water a shock wave rolled towards the sloop like a miniature typhoon. When the smoke and flying fragments subsided there was nothing to show of the privateer but for a few pieces of charred flotsam and an upended jolly boat which was miraculously undamaged. A sudden spark, an upended lantern, or someone so crazed in the horror between the shattered decks that he had ignited a fuse, the brig's end was terrible in its completeness?
Bolitho said, 'Get the main course on her, Mr. Tyrrell0 We must make haste to assist Miranda.' He waited until Tyrrell had brought the stunned seamen to their senses, his voice hoarse through his speaking trumpet, and then added, 'They will know that we can still sell our lives dearly.'
It took little time to overhaul the Golden Fleece and to see the two embattled ships about a mile distant? They had drifted in the fury of combat, their hulls masked in smoke, through which the flash of musket fire, the occasional glare of a swivel, were clear to see?
The frigate was listing against her heavier adversary, like a hulk already dead, and without using a glass Bolitho could see that the fighting had spread down across the fore deck as more boarders hacked their way between the grappled ships?
'We will go about, Mr. Tyrrell. Lay her on the starboard tack once we have gained some room and
prepare to engage with the other battery.'
He bit his lip to steady his racing thoughts. A quick glance aloft told him that the masthead pendant was lifting as firmly as ever. The wind was steady from south-southwest?
'Pass the word for Mr. Graves to lay aft.'
When the lieutenant arrived, his face gaunt with fatigue, Bolitho said, 'I want the starboard bow-chaser to keep firing at the enemy. As soon as we have gone about I'll expect it to concentryte on that ship, no matter what.'
Buckle called, 'Ready on th' quarterdeck, sir.'
Bolitho nodded.' Put the helm down, if you please.'
'Helm a'lee, sir!'
Tyrrell was already bellowing through his trumpets and forward the seamen were leaping like demons at the headsail sheets, and with canvas flapping the Sparrow started to swing into the wind?
'Man the braces!'
Bolitho gripped the rail, his eyes smarting as the sun lanced between the shrouds?
'Heave there! With all your weight!'
Across the wind and still further round, the yards groaning in unison. Then as the sails refilled and laid the deck over in the opposite angle he watched the distant ships edging very slowly between the foremast shrouds as if caught in a giant web?
'Steady, Mr. Buckle! Hold her!'
He paced a few steps this way and that, aware that Tyrrell was urging the men at the braces to trim the yards still further, that the dead seaman had gone from the quarterdeck, and that Ben Garby, the carpenters with his mates, was slithering through the after hatch to inspect the damage there. Aware of all this and mores yet not a part of it as he had once been?
'Steady, sir! Full an' bye!'
He nodded, his mind busy with the two ships? Closehauled it would take thirty minutes to reach them, maybe more. Miranda was almost overrun by enema boarders. Outnumbered from the start, she would have lost many good men in that first savage broadside?
'Fire!'
As the muffled cry came from forward he saw the puff of smoke beneath the starboard catheyd, felt the sharp convulsion as the thirty-two-pounder crashed inboard on its tackles. He snatched up a glass and saw the ball plunge close to the enemy's hull, throwing up a tall waterspout?
Heyward muttered hoarsely, 'Near!'
Bolitho looked away. The big ex-Indiaman mounted anything up to forty guns, at a guess. She could finish Sparrow, if ever she could bring her artillery to bears with even a badly aimed broadside. Less?
Bang. Another ball crashed away from the bow-chaser, and he watched the feathers of spray lifting from wave to wave until it plunged hard alongside the other ship?
They should hear us and see we are coming. He tried to clear his brain. What should he do? Signal the transports to run? No. They were helplessly overladen and slow. It would merely prolong their agony?
Overhead, the spanker cracked noisily, and Buckle cursed it before allowing the helm to be eased still further?
Bolitho knew without looking that sailing so close to the wind was cutting away his chances of reaching the ships in time to help?
Someone walked past him. It was Bethune, his arms hanging at his sides, his breeches covered with dark blood blotches and a smear where the seaman's fingers had made their last agonised grip on this earth? Bolitho stared at him?
'Mr. Bethune!' He saw the youth jump.' Come here!'
He walked to the rail and back again. It was worth an attempt. Anything was now. If they arrived alongside after Miranda had struck to the enemy, Sparrow's decks would be as red as the flag above his head?
The midshipman waited.' Sir?'
'Make this signal at once.' He rested his hand on Bethune's plump shoulder. He could feel the skin through his shirt. Like ice, in spite of the sun?
'Signal, sir?' He stared up at him as if he had misheard. Or his captain had gone mad?
'Yes. To Miranda. Sail in sight to the nor'-east!' He tightened his grip.' Then move yourself?'
Bethune fled, calling shrilly for his assistants, and within a minute the bright signal flags broke to the wind, while Tyrrell stared from them to Bolitho, first with incredulity and then with slow understanding?
Buckle said, 'There's few poor devils'll see that aboard Miranda.'
Tyrrell was studying Bolitho.' No. But th' privateer will. He might just think that a patrol from th' squadron has come to join th' fight!'
Bolitho waited until Graves 's bowchaser had fired yet again and said, 'It is all we can do at present.'
Minutes dragged by like hours, and then as a freak downdraught of wind swept across the two snared ships Bolitho caught his breath. A thin shaft of light where there had been none. Then a glint of water? Wider still, as the