Herrick looked at Bolitho. 'I'll withdraw her and Lookout to our lee, sir. They've taken enough risks for the moment.'
Bolitho watched him speaking with the flag lieutenant as the signal was bent on to the halliards. Herrick had come a long, long way since he had been appointed as flag captain in the Lysander. The hesitations were few, and when he decided on something it was with the authority of confidence.
Browne called, `They have acknowledged, sir.'
Herrick asked, 'What d'you think the French will do, sir?'
'Leaving the frigates out of it for the present, I would say that Ropars will put his full weight against us. If I were Ropars I would form a single line, otherwise the first engagement will be our four to his three. In line of battle the odds will be five to four against us.'
Herrick faced him, his eyes hopeful. 'But you don't intend that, do you, sir?'
`No.' He clapped him on the shoulder. 'We will break the enemy's line in two places.'
Wolfe said, 'The Frenchies are forming into line, sir.' He grinned with admiration. 'And the transport seems to be standing well astern of the main column.'
Bolitho barely heard him. 'We will attack in two subdivisions. Benbow and Indomitable, while the second one, Nicator and Odin, will tack in succession. Tell Browne's men to have the signal ready.
He moved away and trained a telescope on the French line. It was still in disarray, but he noticed immediately that the flagship was remaining in second place in the line. To watch Bolitho's tactics before he himself acted. Or perhaps to allow one of his captains to take the first brunt of battle.
He walked aft again past the helmsmen and looked at Grubb's chart which was fixed on a little table below the poop. To save Grubb the extra effort of carrying his great bulk to the chart room, Bolitho thought.
To all appearances the two squadrons were in a landless ocean, and yet some fifty miles to the north-east was Norway, and further away to the south-east the coast of Denmark, with the Skagerrak cradled between them.
Bolitho wondered briefly what Inskip was doing, and if it had really been the Crown Prince he had met.
He shut them all from his mind.
'We will alter course, Captain Herrick. The squadron will steer nor'-east by east.'
He walked past the bustling afterguard and watched the Relentless shortening sail to steer a parallel course with the squadron, Lookout following astern like her cub.
The French ships did not alter course or change a single sail.
Herrick studied his own canvas as the yards steadied again, and remarked, 'That'll get him guessing, sir.'
Bolitho watched the leading French ship. About the same size as Benbow, she was already running out her guns. It must seem worse to some of the French sailors, he thought. They had been too long in harbour to withstand the strain of this slow approach. Their officers were keeping them busy, they would be firing a few sighting-shots soon to give them heart for a fight.
Grubb said dourly, 'Two miles, sir. We'll be up to them in 'alf an hour.' He tapped the sand-glass with a thick finger.
There was a dull bang, and seconds later a thin waterspout shot skywards well dear of the larboard bow. A few of the seamen jeered, and some of the older hands looked aft, impatient now that the game had begun.
'Load and run out, if you please. Tell your gun crews we will be engaging on both sides today, but the starboard ports will remain closed until we are amongst the enemy.'
Bolitho moved to the opposite side of the quarterdeck, hemmed in by gun crews and marines, officers and messengers, and yet completely alone.
The French squadron was more powerful, but he had seen worse odds. What his own ships lacked in men and guns they made up in experience. The two lines were drawing toward some point on this grey water, as if being warped by invisible hawsers.
Bolitho dropped his hand and rested it on the well-worn sword at his hip.
Almost to himself he said, `We will put ourselves against the French flagship. They are all far from home. If Ropars' flag falls, the rest will soon scatter.'
The leading French ship, a seventy-four, vanished moment arily behind a billowing barrier of smoke.
Grubb said to his master's mate, `Note it in the log, Mr Daws.
The enemy 'as opened fire.'
8. Outwitted
Bolitho watched the fall of the French broadside from the leading ship. She had fired at extreme range, and he guessed her captain was using the broadside as an exercise. It was more than likely that his gun crews had had little opportunity of aiming at a real enemy before.
British sailors could curse and swear all they wished, but when it came to a fight it was sea-time which counted as much as the weight of armament.
He could not recall seeing the complete contents of a broadside fall before in open water. It was like a violent upsurge from something beneath the surface, hurling spray and smoke in a long, jagged barrier. Even when the last ball had fallen the sea still writhed, the surface painted with great daubs of hissing salt.
Herrick remarked, 'Waste of good powder and shot.'
Several others nodded, and Wolfe said, `They're shortening sail, sir.'
Herrick nodded. 'Do likewise, Mr Wolfe.'
Bolitho walked away. It was the usual practice, once enemies had been committed to a course of action. Enough canvas to give steerage-way and to manoeuvre, but not enough to encourage an outburst of fire. A flaming wad from a gun, a lantern knocked over by a stray ball, anything could change these fine pyramids of sail into a roaring inferno.
Bolitho watched the maincourse being gathered up to its yard, the sudden activity along the deck as the order was obeyed. Along the slow-moving British line the others followed suit, stripping for combat.
And still the two columns continued remorselessly towards one another. The second French ship, with Ropars' flag at the fore, fired some ranging shots from each deck. Much nearer than the first impressive broadside. Bolitho followed a ball's progress as it tore low across the wavecrests, cutting a path of spurting spray, until it struck hard into the sea and vanished. It fell less than a cable from Benbow's larboard bow.
Bolitho said, `When we engage, Mr Browne, make to Relentless, attack and harass enemy's rear. I will keep Lookout with us to give the French something to ponder on.'
Somebody laughed. A short, nervous sound. One of the new hands probably. The sudden burst of cannon fire, the overwhelming weight of iron as it had scythed into the sea had been less dangerous than the carefully pointed shots from Ropars' flagship. But to an inexperienced eye it would seem awesome.
Lieutenant Speke had left the quarterdeck and was walking between the lines of eighteen-pounders, hands behind his back until he joined Pascoe by the foremast bitts.
Gun captains watched them apprehensively, while here, and
there a handspike moved to point a cannon more accurately, while another seaman made a small adjustment with a quoin. It was as if the whole ship was on the edge of tension, and even the braced fore-topsail gave two sharp, impatient flaps, making one of the ship's boys peer round in alarm.
Bolitho turned as the leading Frenchman fired again. Much closer, some of the spray falling so near they could hear it, like tropical rain.
Bolitho trained a glass on the French line. Along the five vessels, all seventy-fours, he could see the sails changing, being reefed or filling again to the wind as their captains did everything to hold the distances and yet be ready to react to their enemy.
He said, `Alter course two points starboard, Captain Herrick. The squadron will follow.'
Men hurried to the braces, and he heard the wheel being hauled over rapidly as if the quartermaster and helmsmen had been expecting the order.
Grubb said, 'Steady as she goes, sir. East by north.'
The British line had edged slightly away from the other squadron, so that for a moment it appeared as if the French were falling astern. The yards squeaked to the pull of blocks and braces, and at the masthead Bolitho saw
