Gilchrist said sharply, 'They’ll not get too near, sir. They’ll more likely use chain-shot or langridge to try and cripple us. Then rake our stern at leisure and at little risk.' Bolitho said, 'Make a signal to Harebell. We will alter course. Steer sou'-east. '
Herrick asked huskily, 'Is it wise, sir? There's less than a league between us. If we hold on as we are, we might be able to out sail them. With the wind in our favour it'd be hours before the Frogs could beat round and come after us.'
Bolitho took the glass from him and trained it on the two ships. They were moving, wide apart, towards Lysander's larboard bow. They were having a hard time to stay so closehauled, and turning any more towards the wind would put them all aback. Less than three miles. Herrick had always been good at estimating distance. Lysander would touch the leading two-decker bow to bow almost at right angles and then the second Frenchman would act as he saw fit. Go to larboard and present a broadside as Lysander fought herself free from the first embrace, or luff and work round under their stem while they were actually engaging the other one.
Herrick's plan gave them and the prize an excellent chance of escaping both. It also meant running away, with a real possibility of a long stern-chase until they met up with another enemy force. He cursed Farquhar silently. With three ships facing them the enemy would soon change their tactics.
He walked aft, feeling Grubb's eyes on him as he checked the compass. North-east by north, with the friendly west wind holding across the quarter.He looked at Grubb's ruined features.
'Well? Will it hold, d'vou think?'
'The wind, sir?' He wiped his watery eye. 'Aye.' He nodded his head towards the nearest gun crews and beyond to the upper deck. 'It's them I ain't so sure of.'
Gilchrist was striding past and halted on the other side of the wheel, his voice scornful. 'Really, Mr. Grubb! If we are to weep before we fight, I see no hope for anyone!'
Grubb stared at him stubbornly. 'You was in this ship at St. Vincent, sir. Like me an' some of the others.'
'Yes.' Gilchrist had a way of speaking to Grubb but projecting his words to Bolitho. 'I’m proud of it.'
Grubb shrugged. 'They was a trained company. Cap'n Dyke' ad ' ad this ship in more scrapes than I can shake a stick at.' He turned to Bolitho. 'You knows, sir.' He did not actually look at Gilchrist. 'Better'n anyone, if I’m a judge.'
Bolitho walked forward to the rail, deep in thought. 'Have Harebell and the prize acknowledged?'
Gilchrist followed him, his shoes tapping. 'Aye, sir.'
'Then tell me! I’m not a damned magician!' He calmed himself. 'Execute the signal.'
He looked at Grubb's reddened face, 'Lay her on the starboard tack.'
Men rushed to the braces, the afterguard's boots keeping perfect time as they hauled the mizzen yards round, letting the sails empty and then billow out again, tilting the ship on an opposite tack.
Bolitho raised his glass; his legs straddled as the deck dipped under him. He found he could shut out the bellowed orders, the flap and thunder of sails overhead, and hold on to the small, silent world in the lens.
He saw a darker shadow pass across the leading ship's foresail. She was edging slightly away, feeling a new strength as she allowed the wind to move a few points further abaft.her beam.
'Course sou' -east, sir!'
Gilchrist snapped, 'Mr. Luce, what of the others?' Luce was equally sharp in his reply, well aware of the tension between his superiors. 'Harebell and prize on station astern, sir.'
Bolitho pursed his lips and watched his two enemies. They were getting larger every minute, and he could see the bright tricolours at their peaks, the flash of sunlight on raised telescopes or weapons. They would have seen the commodore's broad pendant. A valuable capture. A suitable ending to this impudent gesture.
Herrick was beside him. 'They're both falling off a few points. Our change of course has aided them. They could take the wind-gage from us if we overreach them.'
'Which is why we must make certain they don’t.' He pointed his arm at the other ships. 'I have given them more wind, as you say, Thomas. If we continue on this tack we will be abeam of the leading Frenchman in a half- hour… His consort may then try to rake our disengaged side.'
'However.' He saw Major Leroux turn slightly and smile at him. 'What they will not be able to do is steer upwind with us so near. They would be in irons.'
Herrick was unimpressed. 'I know. But now, they don’thave to worry about that, sir.'
Bolitho looked at him. 'Consult with the master and your first lieutenant. In ten minutes I intend that we shall wear ship.' He saw an unspoken protest on Herrick's face but continued, 'We will then lay her on the same tack as earlier and steer nor'-east.
He watched the slow understanding moving over his features like sunlight through departing cloud.
Herrick said slowly, 'By God, we’ll either collide with one of 'em or-'
'Or we shall pass between them. They cannot luff without risking damage to spars and canvas. If they turn and run downwind we will rake their sterns. If they stay as they are, we will engage from either battery as we sail through.' He held on to Herrick's stare. 'After that, your guess is as good as mine!'
He added, 'Now attend to it. I’m going to speak with the people.'
He strode to the quarterdeck rail and waited until most of the seamen were peering aft towards him. He saw Lieutenant Veitch, arms relaxed, standing with his back to the enemy, his hanger already unsheathed and glinting. Near him, two midshipmen and a gunner's mate. All part of the pattern. The red-coated marine at each hatch, ready to stop any terrified man from fleeing below. And along either side, half hidden by the gangways which joined forecastle to quarterdeck, were the men who would see the enemy through the ports. Would keep their heads no matter what. Or go under.
Bolitho said, 'Up yonder, lads, are two fine French gentlemen.' He saw the stiff grins of the older men, the
