Midshipman Maynard looked anxiously towards the stranger and strained his eye through his big telescope. As he was in charge of signals he knew that Bolitho would be watching him.
The maindeck was also alive with newly awakened seamen, and the bosun''s mates had to, use their ropes ends more than usual to drive them away from the bulwark as they peered across the water at the frigate's approach. Chattering and excited they stowed their hammocks in the nettings and still staring abeam moved reluctantly towards the galley hatch.
Bolitho lifted his glass again as tiny black balls soared to the other ship's yards and broke out to the wind.
Vibart leaned against the binnacle and growled at Maynard, `Come on then! Read it out!'
Maynard blinked the spray from his wet eyes and flicked rapidly through his book. `She's made her number, sir! She's the Andiron, thirty-eight, Cap'n Masterman.'
Bolitho closed his glass with a snap. Of course. He should have known her immediately. When in Sparrow he had often seen her on patrol off the American coast. Masterman was an old hand at the game. A senior captain, he had chalked up many successes against the enemy.
The Andiron had completed her manoeuvre and was setaling down on the same course as the Phalarope. Her sudden wide turn had taken her across the Phalarope's beam, but as her sails bellied and filled once more she began to overhaul to
windward.
Bolitho watched Maynard's signal party hoisting the Phalarope's number and wondered what Masterman would say when he eventually discovered that he was now in command. The signal books would still show Pomfret as cap
tain.
Maynard shouted, `Signal, sir! Andiron to Phalarope. Heave to, have despatches onboard.’
The sunlight glittered along the Andiron's closed ports as she swung slightly down on the other ship.
Herrick said, `She'll not need to lower 'a boat, sir. She could drift a raft across.' He rubbed -his hands. `I wonder if she has any fresh vegetables aboard?'
Bolitho smiled. This was just what he had hoped for. A distraction to take their minds off themselves if only for a passing moment.
`Carry on, Mr. Vibart. Heave to, if you please!'
Vibart lifted his speaking trumpet. `Main tops'l braces! Look alive there!'
Stockdale appeared at Bolitho's side holding his captain's blue coat and cocked hat. He squinted at the other ship and grinned. `Like old times, Captain.' He peered forward as Quintal, the boatswain, let loose a stream of curses and obscenities. The men had been slow to respond to the sudden orders, and already there was chaos on the crowded deck where off-duty idlers collided with others who were struggling with spray-swollen braces.
Maynard said hoarsely, `Signal, sir!' His lips moved slowly as he spelled out the message. `Have you news of Hood's squadron?
Quintal had at last got his men sorted out, and with sails flapping and thundering the Phalarope began to swing heavily into the wind.
Bolitho had half slipped his arms into his coat, but pushed Stockdale aside as Maynard's words chilled his mind like ice. Masterman would never ask such a question. Even if he had lost his squadron he would certainly know that Phalarope was a stranger and had never served in these waters before. His mind, rebelled, and he stared mesmerised as his ship continued to swing until the Andiron's bowsprit seemed to point at rightangles across his own.
Vibart turned startled and confused as Bolitho yelled, 'Belay that order, Mr. Vibart! Stand by to go about!' -
He ignored the surprised gasps and the fresh clamour of orders and concentrated his reeling thoughts on the other ship. Suppose he had made a mistake? It. was too late now. Perhaps it had been too late from the moment the Andiron had appeared.
Then he saw the other frigate's bows beginning to swing round still further. With her yards turning as one she altered course and charged down towards the helpless Phalarope. A few more seconds and the way would have been lost from the Phalarope's sails, and the Andiron would have crossed her unprotected stern, unchallenged and overwhelming.
Bolitho felt his ship labouring round, his ears deaf to the cries and curses from officers and men alike. The weeks of sail drill in all weathers were taking charge, and like puppets the seamen tugged at sheets and braces, their minds too dazed by their captain's behaviour to understand what was happening.
VVibart yelled, 'My God, sir! We'll collide!' He stared past Bolitho's tense figure towards the onrushing frigate. Still the phalarope wallowed round, her bowsprit following the other ship like a compass needle.
Bolitho snapped, `Steer south-east! Out second reefs!' He did not listen to his repeated orders but walked briskly towards the scarlet-coated marine drummer boy beside the cabin hatch.
`Beat to quarters!'
He saw the boy's dull expression giving way to something like horror. But again training and discipline took charge, and as the drum began to stutter its warning tattoo the tide of men on the maindeck swayed, faltered and then surged in opposite directions as gun crews rushed madly to their weapons.
Vibart gasped, `Her ports are opening! My God, she's running up her colours!'
Bolitho saw the striped flag breaking to the crosswind and followed Vibart's shocked stare as the frigate's ports opened and the concealed guns trundled outwards like a row of shining teeth.
He said harshly, `Clear for action, Mr. Wart! Have the guns loaded and run out immediately!' He checked Vibart as he ran to the rail. `It will take all of ten minutes. I will try to give you that amount of time!'
The deck canted as the ship steadied on her new course around and away from the other frigate. But the Andiron was already turning on the same circle, her sails flapping as she headed into the wind in an effort to close the range. From her peak the new American flag made a patch of bright colour against the tan sails, and Bolitho had to tear his mind back to the present to stop himself thinking of what would have happened but for that one stupid signal.
Andiron would have crossed the Phalarope's unprotected stern and her gunners, hitherto concealed behind the bulwark and sealed ports, would have poured shot after shot through the big cabin windows. The balls would have screamed and torn the full length of his command, and with half the men still below, helpless and unprepared, the disaster would have been over within minutes.
Even now it might be too late. Andiron was a bigger ship, and her deep keel was better for this sort of handling. Already she was cutting across the Phalarope's stern and beating rapidly up to windward to regain her first advantage. In another fifteen minutes she would try the same manoeuvre again, or she could be content to close the range from the larboard quarter. With the wind in her favour action could not be avoided.
He made himself walk to the taffrail and stare back at the other ship. The pretence had gone now, and he could see the crouching gunners, the clusters of officers on the canting quarterdeck. What had happened to Masterman? he wondered. He were better dead than know his proud ship to be a privateer.
He turned his back on the Andiron's dark hull and looked along his own command. The chaos had gone, and to the unpractised eye the, hip looked ready and eager for battle.
On both sides the guns had been run out and the gun captains were testing their trigger lines and passing hoarse orders to their men. Boys ran the length of the deck throwing down sand to give the gunners a firm grip when the time came, while others scuttled from gun to gun with water buckets for the swabs and to damp down any sudden fire.
Vibart stood below the quarterdeck rail and yelled, `Cleared for action, sir! All guns loaded with double shot and grape!'
`Very well, Mr. Vibart.' Bolitho walked slowly towards the rail and ran his eye along the larboard side guns. They would be the first to engage. His heart sank as he picked out faults; in the pattern like flaws in a painting.
At one gun a captain was even having to put a rope fall into the hands of one of his men, as the poor wretch stared at it without comprehension. His mind was too full of fear, his eyes too mesmerised by the overtaking frigate with her long row of guns to heed what the petty officer was saying. At each gun there were men like this. With so many new hands, pressed from unwarlike jobs ashore, this danger was inevitable.
Given time, he could have trained each and every one of them. Bolitho banged his fist slowly on the rail. Well,
