How could he explain to Deighton? It's not the prize. It's us they're coming for!
Adam's heels hit the deck as he completed his descent from the cross trees by way of a backstay. It was hardly dignified for a captain, but it saved time, and he was a little surprised that he could still do it; the palms of his hands felt raw from the slide, and his clean shirt was stained with tar.
'I'd like to have a look at the chart, sir.'
Deighton's face was filled with questions, but he was experienced enough not to voice them in front of the listening watch keepers
It was dark in the small chart room, but he held the image as sharply in his mind as he had seen it minutes ago. The lookout had pointed unwaveringly. 'Frigate, sir. Starboard quarter!'
In the first, uncertain light he had seen the other ship for himself, a perfect pyramid of pale canvas, running before the wind with each sail hard and full. Through the telescope he had been able to see part of her hull. The lookout had good eyes indeed, but what he had not seen was a second ship, a sliver, perhaps of equal size, hull up on the shining horizon.
Deighton asked impatiently, 'What was it?'
Adam did not look up from the chart. 'One, maybe two frigates, sir. Yankees, carrying all the sail they can muster.' He tapped the chart with the dividers. 'Probably out of New York, or even Philadelphia. They hadn't sighted us just now, but it won't be long.'
Deighton stared at the chart. 'What do you think?'
'Two choices, sir. Run, and hope to meet up with the squadron or the admiral's ships.' He wished he could see Deighton's face more clearly in the shadows. Only his hand was visible, drumming on the edge of the chart table.
Deighton said, 'And the other choice?'
Adam dropped the dividers on the chart. 'Stand and fight. There'll be no surprises this time.'
Men were moving about the decks again; the initial excitement was past.
But not for long; there were no secrets in any ship.
'Two frigates? We'd be outgunned.'
The sailing master said that it would take until the dog watches to meet up with our ships. Twelve hours at best, sir.'
The hand moved again, agitated, as if separate from its owner. That Ritchie doesn't know everything, dammit!'
'He's the best sailor in the ship, sir.'
He waited, feeling no pity for the man who had insisted on letting Alfriston go without informing the other frigates of his intentions. To extend their patrol area and so lose signalling contact was nothing but folly. All he felt now was a sick despair.
He said, 'We have an empty ocean. By setting every sail, we might avoid a stern chase and any serious damage to masts and rigging. We would lose the prize, but we did what we came to do.'
Deighton glared at him 'You did, that's what signifies to you!' He moved to the door, where the glare of sunlight seemed to catch him unawares.
He said thickly, 'I've never run from an enemy. Nor shall I now. What would they say of me?' He laughed, a bitter sound. 'Some would find pleasure in it, I daresay!'
Adam looked past him, at the familiar figures near the big double-wheel, the two midshipmen with their slates. Men, and boys like these, to be sacrificed because of one officer's vanity.
He heard himself ask, Then you'll fight, sir?' Like somebody else. A stranger's voice.
Deighton gripped his arm and as quickly released it, as if he had just realised what he was doing.
'You will fight this ship. Captain Bolitho. That is an order! I am going aft. I shall not be long.' He looked up at the deck head as a muffled thud made the air shiver.
One shot. To attract the most distant vessel. Valkyrie had been sighted, perhaps even recognised; she was well known enough in these waters.
Deighton had gone. To do what, he wondered. To pray?
He walked out and on to the quarterdeck again, taking his coat from the midshipman who held it with barely a glance. He stared up at the masthead pendant curling and hardening in the wind; real, everyday things. All the rest had been a dream, an illusion.
He beckoned to the first lieutenant, and said, 'Two Yankees to the nor'east.' He knew others were turning to listen. 'We will continue on the same tack for the present, but you may loose the t'gallants, if only to show them we are all awake this day. Then send the remainder of the hands to breakfast.' He looked at Ritchie. 'Put it in the log. The commodore wishes it to be known. We shall fight.'
He found that Monteith was beside him. 'What is it, Howard? It is too late for regrets.'
Monteith shook his head. 'May I ask, sir? But for the order, would you have run for it?'
Do they know me so little? 'No, by Christ, I would not! Not for any man!'
Monteith nodded, and touched his hat. 'I never doubted it, sir.'
Adam saw Whitmarsh's small figure below the poop, carrying his short fighting sword, and what appeared to be his best hat; the other must have been lost somewhere between here and Chesapeake Bay. He shaded his eyes to look up at the freshly-set topgallant sails. Again, he saw the enemy ships as he had watched them through the powerful telescope. Three hours, four at the most, and then this deck would be in torment.
He raised his arm so that Whitmarsh could clip on his scabbard, then took the hat and examined it. Make me strong today… Valkyrie's previous captain had been a tyrant and a coward. How would he be judged?
He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and saw the gunner's mate, Jago, pause to watch them.
'It will be warm work today, John Whitmarsh. Take station below when we engage.'
The boy gazed up at him. 'I'll be close by, zur. If you needs me.'
It was little enough, but Adam clapped the hat with its gleaming gold lace on his unruly hair and exclaimed, Then so be it!' He looked over at the helmsmen and felt the grin spread across his dry mouth.
'Let us make this a day to remember!'
Adam closed his watch with a snap and said to the first lieutenant, 'That was well done, Mr. Dyer. A minute off your record for clearing for action!'
After the strident rattle of drums and the seemingly uncontrolled stampede of running men, the silence seemed unreal; even the ticking of his watch was audible.
Now all was still, the crews around their guns, most of them stripped to the waist, outwardly relaxed now while they waited for the next order. Valkyrie was cleared for action, screens torn down, chests and cabin furniture stowed below. But the boats still lay on their tier, and no nets had been spread overhead to protect the hands from falling wreckage.
He walked aft, where the marines waited on either side, muskets resting against the packed hammock nettings, their only protection if it came to close action.
He found Deighton, alone but for his servant, right aft by the taffrail. Both the enemy ships were clearly visible now. and with a soldier's wind directly under their coat-tails were almost bows-on. The smaller of the two ships was overhauling her larger consort, with even her studding sails set to achieve her maximum speed. Twenty-eight guns. Certainly no more.
He said, This is what I intend, sir.' He was surprised that he could sound so formal, as if it were just another daily drill. 'The leading ship intends to close the range as quickly as possible.'
Deighton did not take his eyes off the other frigates.
'Huh, you can blow him out of the water!'
Adam recalled his own early days in a frigate, the ruses and tricks he had seen some captains attempt, not always successfully.
'Like a hound after a stag, sir. He intends to try and slow us down, cripple us if possible, so they can close in for a kill.' He glanced forward again; it seemed so bare without the nets spread above the gundeck.
The lieutenants would explain, and the older hands might see the sense of it. They must seem to be running away from a superior force of ships; if they dropped the boats astern and were seen to spread the nets, their intent to fight would be obvious.
He added, 'They will hold the wind-gage, but I shall use it to our advantage.'
There was a sharp bang, and seconds later he saw a ball skip across the blue water like a dolphin. The
