Tyrrell was still grinning.' For th' general's moneys you mean!'
Bolitho glanced down at his stained breeches.' I'm going to shave.' But the mood persisted for him also? 'In case we have visitors this morning, eh?'
Buckle watched him go and then said, 'Nothing ever seems to worry that one.'
Tyrrell was peering up at the topmen, his eyes critical. He recalled Bolitho's face when the wounded soldiers had staggered on deck to help man the sweeps. For just those few moments he had seen beyond the brittle composure, the mantle of commands to the real man beneath?
Half to himself he murmured, 'Don't be too sure ob that, Mr. Buckle. He feels it right enough. Just like the rest of us.'
Bolitho closed the telescope with a snap and steadied himself against a belaying-pin rack?
'Alter course two points, Mr. Buckle. Steer due east.'
It had taken another two hours from sighting the French frigate to tacking dangerously close around Cape May. With the nearest spur of that untidy headland barely two cables under the lee side they had surged towards the open sea, close enough to see smoke from some inland fire and the morning sunlight flashing on a hidden window or an unseen watcher's telescope?
It had been harder than he could have imagined to remain in a wardroom chair while Stockdale shaved him and laid out a clean shirt. Now, as he watched the men running to the braces, the lifting, dipping bowsprit beyond the taut rigging, he wondered why he had made himself waste time below. Pride or conceit, the need to relax even for minutes, or a greater need that his seamen should think him so calm he could concentrte on his own comfort?
As the sloop plunged round still further until she had the wind directly astern, he could feel every spar and timber quaking to the motion. Above the quarterdeck rail he saw the mainyard bending like one huge bows the splayed legs of the topmen denoting the savage vibration aloft, the need for care when one false step could mean instant death. Or the longer agony ob watching the ship ploughing away to leave the fallen men to drown alone?
'Steady she be, sir! Due east!'
He walked to the compass and then took a careful glance at the set of the sails. Every inch of canvas was fully drawn, the bellies so rounded and hard they looked about to burst?
He gestured with the telescope.' Another pull on the larboard forebrace, Mr. Tyrrell, and then belay.'
As the men ran to obey he took one more glance astern. The enemy had gained on them during the dash from the bay, had cut away their early advantage while Sparrow had lost valuable time clawing around the last headland. Now, as he steadied the glass across the taffrail he could see their pursuer rising and driving over the lively white- horses, her hull bathed in spray, the gun ports awash as she surged on a starboard tack, showing her sleek hull and full pyramids of canvas. She had set her royals once away from the headland and was heading into deeper water before continuing the chase?
Tyrrell came aft, wiping droplets of salt from his arms and face?
'We're standing well afore th' wind, sir. There's nought else we can do at present.'
Bolitho did not reply. At the quarterdeck rail he leaned over and saw the uneven lines of wounded soldiers, and others less handicapped, helping with food and bandages. Two of Dalkeith's assistants came on deck and hurled a bundle over the gangway and vanished down a hatchway with hardly a glance? Bolitho watched the bundle bobbing away on Sparrow's creamy wake and felt his stomach contract violently. Some bloodied bandages, but most likely the amputated limb of one more luckless soldier. Dalkeith was in his makeshift sickbay, as he had been since the sloop had weighed anchor, working in almost total darkness with saw and swabs while the ship yawed and staggered around him?
Graves called above the boom of canvas, 'The Frenchman's wore, sir!'
The frigate was now about eight cables off the starboard quarter. Certainly no more, and steering a parallel course, her royals fully squared and straining at their bolts like pale breastplates?
Bolitho said, 'She's pulling up, Mr. Tyrrell. Not a great deal, but enough to worry about.'
Tyrrell rested at the rail and kept his eyes forward away from the enemy frigate?
'Will I clear for action?'
He shook his head.' We cannot. Every bit of space is packed with soldiers. There is barely room on the gun deck for a twelvepounder to recoil.'
He thought of the big thirty-two-pounders pointing from either bow. With the enemy astern they were impotent. Just so much extra weight. Had the enema been in their line of fire they might have been able to cripple her, if only temporarily, or until some ship of the inshore squadron could give them support?
Tyrrell looked at him worriedly.' You have a choices sir. You close th' shore now and risk losing th' wind altogether. Or you alter course to seaward within the hour.' He angled his thigh against the rail as Sparrow plunged heavily, the spray dashing aft over the decks, rattling against the courses like lead pellets.' There's a long ridge of sandbars running north to south. You take one side or t'other. But in an hour you'll have to decide which.'
Bolitho nodded. Even with the barest information he had discovered on his charts he knew Tyrrell's estimate was only too true. The sandbars, like uneven humps, ran for over twenty miles across their line ob advance. To wear ship north or south to avoid them would mean loss of time, and with the enemy so near, it could represent the measure of disaster?
Tyrrell said, 'We could wait and see what the Frenchie intends.' He rubbed his chin.' But it would be too late for us by then.' He shrugged helplessly.' I'm sorry, sir. I ain't much help.'
Bolitho stared past him towards the land. As the coast turned northeyst it was falling away. Ten, fifteen miles, it was hard to gauge in the bright sunlight and low sea haze?
'You have been helpful.'
He walked aft to the compass and saw Buckle watching him grimly. The earlier laughter, the sudden relaxation of clearing the land, had all gone now. From a rumour to the sight of a sail. From a distant ship to real, deadly menace in the frigate's line of gun ports. It had all changed against them so quickly?
'Deck there! Sail fine on th' starboard bow!'
Graves said excitedly, 'The squadron! By God, that's better!'
Moments later, 'Deck! She's a lugger, sir! Heading away!'
Bolitho clasped his hands behind his back. Some frightened trader, no doubt. If still within sight she might witness a swift one-sided fight within the hour?
'The Frenchman's altered course apiece!' Buckle was peering astern through a telescope.' His yards are coming back!'
Bolitho waited, counting seconds. The frigate had swung off her original course, her speed and drive taking her away slightly further off Sparrow's quarter? He tensed, seeing the telltale puff of brown smokes driven away instantly by the following wind?
The heavy ball plunged short by a cable, the waterspout rising violently as if to mark a spouting whale?
Bolitho shut the seamen's jeers from his thoughts? No matter what they believed, it was a fair shot. She had fired nearly two miles with what must be a powerful bowchaser like his own?
Foley appeared at his side.' I heard the cannon.' He shaded his eyes to peer over the nettings.' He means to unnerve you.'
Bolitho smiled gravely.' He intends much more than that, Colonel.'
He heard more footfalls on the quarterdeck and saw Dalkeith blinking in the sunlight, wiping his face on his big handkerchief. He had removed his heavy aprons but there were dark stains on his legs and shoes, not yet dry?
He saw Bolitho and reported, 'That is all for now, sir? Ten have died. More will follow, I fear.'
Foley said admiringly, 'Thank you, Mr. Dalkeith. It is better than I dared hope.'
They all looked round as another dull bang echoed across the cruising white-caps. It was nearer, and level with the starboard quarter?
Dalkeith shrugged.' On dry land I might have saved more, Colonel.' He walked away towards the taffrails his brilliant wig askew, his shoulders sagging as if from a great weight?
Bolitho said, 'A good surgeon. Usually the calling attracts the failure or the drunkard. He is neither.'
Foley was studying the frigate with a telescope.' E woman drove him to sea maybe.' He ducked involuntarily as the other ship fired and the ball whimpered high overhead before throwing up a shark's fin of spray on the opposite side?
Bolitho said, 'Hoist the colours, Mr. Tyrrell. He has the feel of us now.' He watched the scarlet flag break from
