laughing.
Keen's voice came down from the masthead. 'Deck there! Brigantine is still closing the Nervionl'
Herrick cupped his hands. 'Does she show any colours?'
'None, sir!'
Herrick clambered into the shrouds with his own telescope. After a while he called, 'The Dons don't seem worried, sir.'
Mudge growled. 'Artily likely to be bothered about that little pot o' paint, is they?'
Bolitho said, 'Bring her up a point, Mr. Mudge. It would be best if we regain company with our companion.'
He turned as a voice asked, 'Are you troubled, Captain?'
Mrs. Raymond was standing by the trunk of the mizzen mast, her face shadowed by a great straw hat which she had brought from Teneriffe.
He shook his head. 'Merely curious, ma'am.' In his crumpled shirt and breeches he felt suddenly clumsy. 'I'm sorry there is not more to amuse you during the day.'
She smiled. 'Things may yet improve.'
'Deck there!' Keen's voice made them all look up. 'The other vessel is going about, sir!'
Herrick called, 'He's right. The brigantine's going to cross clean over the Don's bows!' He turned, grinning broadly. 'That'll make 'em hop about!'
The grin vanished as a dull bang echoed and re-echoed over the water.
Keen yelled, 'She's fired on the Nervion!' A second bang reached the quarterdeck and he cried again, 'And another!' He was almost screaming with excitement. 'He's put a ball through her forecourse!'
Bolitho ran to the shrouds and joined Herrick. 'Let me see.'
He took the big glass and trained it on the two ships. The brigantine's shape had shortened, and she was presenting her stern to him even as she idled across the frigate's broader outline. Even at such a distance it was possible to see the confusion aboard the Spanish frigate, the glint of sunlight on weapons as her company ran to quarters.
Herrick said hoarsely, 'That brigantine's master must be mad. No one but a crazy man would cross swords with a frigate!'
Bolitho did not reply. He was straining his eye to watch the little drama framed in his lens. The brigantine had fired two shots, one of which, if not both, had scored a mark. Now she was tacking jauntily away, and it was evident, as the _Nervion began to spread more sail, that Capitan Triarte intended to give chase.
He said, 'Nervion'll be up to her within the hour. They're both changing tack now.'
'Perhaps that fool imagined Nervion was a fat merchantman, eh?' Davy had arrived on deck. 'But no, it is not possible.'
Herrick followed Bolitho down from the shrouds and watched him dubiously.
'Shall we join in the chase, sir?'
Mudge almost pushed him aside as he barked, 'Chase be damned, I say!'
They looked at him.
'We must stop that mad Don, sir'!' He waved his big hand across the nettings. 'Off Cape Blanco, sir, there's a powerful great reef, an' it runs near on a 'undred miles to seaward. Nervion's in risk now, but if 'er master brings 'er up another point he'll be across that damned reef afore 'e knows it!'
Bolitho stared at him. 'Get the royals on her, Mr. Herrick! Lively now!' He walked quickly to the helm. 'We must make more speed.'
Soames called, 'The Don's come up another point by the look of her, sir!'
Mudge was already squinting at the compass bowl. 'Jesus! 'E's steerin' sou'sou'-east!' He looked at Bolitho imploringly. 'We'll never catch 'im in time!'
Bolitho paced to the quarterdeck rail and back again. Weariness, the scorching heat, all was forgotten but that distant pyramid of white sails, with the smaller, will-o'-the-wisp brigantine dancing ahead. Mad? A confused pirate? It made no difference now.
He snapped, 'Clear away a bow chaser, Mr. Herrick. We will endeavour to distract the Nervion'
Herrick was peering aloft, shading his eyes with his speaking trumpet as the topmen set the additional sails.
'Aye, aye, sir!' He yelled, 'Fetch Mr. Tapril!'
But the gunner was already forward, supervising the crew of a long nine-pounder.
Bolitho said sharply, 'Nervion's pulled over still further, Mr. Mudge.' He could not hide the anguish in his voice.
How could it be happening? The sea so huge, so empty. And yet, the reef was there. He had heard of it before from men who had passed this way. Many good ships had foundered on its hard spine.
'Larboard gun ready, sir!'
'Fire!'
It crashed out, the brown smoke drifting downwind and dispersing long before the telltale waterspout lifted like a feather far astern of the other frigate.
'Another. Keep firing.' He looked at Mudge. 'Bring her up a point.'
Mudge protested, 'I'll not be responsible, sir.'
'No. I will.'
He strode forward to the rail again, his shirt flapping open across his chest, yet feeling no benefit from the wind. When he looked up he saw the sails drawing firmly, as would the
Spaniard's. With such power to drive her, she would disembowel herself on the reef, unless Triarte acted, and at once.
The deck shook as another ball whined and ricocheted across the blue water.
Bolitho yelled, 'Masthead! What are they doing?'
The lookout replied, his rougher voice leaving no doubt in Bolitho's mind, 'Th' Dons is gainin', sir! They're runnin' out their guns right this moment!'
Maybe the Spaniards had heard the bow chaser, even observed a fall of shot, but imagined the stupid British were still exercising gunnery. Or perhaps they believed Undine was so furious at missing the chase that Bolitho was firing at this impossible range merely to take the edge off his temper..
He heard himself ask, 'How long, Mr. Mudge?'
Mudge replied thickly, 'She should 'ave struck, sir. That damned brigantine must 'ave crossed the reef in safety. She'll draw little enough, I'm thinkin'.'
Bolitho stared at him. 'But if she got through, then perhaps…'
The master shook his head. 'No chance, sir.'
A great yell came from the watching seamen in the bows. When Bolitho swung round he stared with horror as the Spanish frigate lifted, drove forward again and then slewed round on the hidden reef. Over and around her all her masts and yards, the flailing sails and rigging splashed and cascaded in a chaos which was terrible to see. So great was the impact that she had presented her larboard side to the reef, and through the open gunports the water must now be surging in a triumphant flood, while men trapped in the tangled rigging and broken spars floundered in terror, or were being crushed by the cannon as they tore from their lashings.
The brigantine had changed tack. She was not even pausing to watch the full extent of her work.
Bolitho said harshly, 'Shorten sail, Mr. Herrick. We will heave-to presently and get every boat in the water. We must do all we can to save them.'
He saw some of the men by the bow chasers pointing and chattering as Nervion yawed still further on her side, spilling more broken timber and shattered planking into the swell above the reef.
'And get those hands to work, Mr. Herrick!' He swung away. 'I'll not have them watch others drown, as if it was a day's amusement!'
He made himself cross the deck once more, and when he looked towards the reef he almost expected to see Nervion's proud silhouette standing before the wind. That this was a bad dream. A nightmare.
But why? Why? The question seemed to mock him. To hammer at his brain. How could it have happened?
'I'd not venture any closer, sir.' Mudge was watching him grimly. 'If we gets a shift of wind we could still run foul of the reef.'
Bolitho nodded heavily. 'I agree.' He looked away. 'And thank you.'
