In company. But the other frigate had been scarcely in sight when the masthead lookouts had first reported her at daybreak.
A shift of wind overnight, or had her captain spread more sail deliberately? But what would be the point? If there had been an unexpected breach of the peace, it would already be too late for argument without a real show of force.
He heard the squeal of gun trucks, the occasional shouts of command as some of the forward eighteen- pounders began another painstaking drill. Maddock had already told him he had cut two minutes off the time it took his crews to clear for action. Not much, some would say, but it could be the margin between opening fire or being dismasted.
Only a few days since they had weighed at Gibraltar, and some three hundred miles. They had done well, even if they did damn his eyes every time they manhandled a gun up to its port.
Be prepared. The next ship they sighted might already be at war: an enemy. How would you know? He had seen the telescopes trained on them from Nautilus, and not only during the gun drill. Curiosity, or perhaps they too were coming to terms with the new alliance. Something decreed by those who had never experienced the numbing horror of a broadside or the steel of an enemy at close quarters.
He knew that Vincent was staring at him, but looked away as their eyes met.
'Study the plan. You will see some fortifications on the north-east side. Not like Algiers, or some we've encountered.'
He tapped the diagram, and recalled Jago and Morgan spreading these sketches on the table for him.
He looked at Squire. 'I want the second cutter lowered when we make our final approach. You will be in charge. Crew to be armed, with rations for two days in case of trouble. And remember, James. No heroics.'
Squire nodded but made no comment.
He turned to Guthrie, who seemed unusually subdued, perhaps a little overwhelmed because he was being consulted with the others.
'Your best lookouts, and the most experienced leadsmen in the chains. Arms will be issued, but not on display. Am I making sense?'
Guthrie beamed. 'I'll watch every mother's son, sir. Leave it to me!'
Julyan punched his massive arm. 'Watch all of ‘em!'
Adam waited, and then said, 'Tell your people what you think fit. We might know more at first light tomorrow. Any questions?'
'The fortifications on the plan, sir? 'It was Gascoigne, the lieutenant of Royal Marines, quiet and oddly unobtrusive despite his scarlet tunic. 'If there is resistance, should we expect a battery of some description?'
Adam looked past him at the old-fashioned octant hanging near the door. It belonged to Julyan, and was probably the first instrument he had ever owned or used. With men like these… . He answered, almost abruptly, 'The ship comes first. The Royals would be landed.'
That was all. It was enough.
Adam looked directly at Vincent. There was no more time.
He was the first lieutenant. If anything should happen…
'Do you wish to add anything, Mark?'
Vincent faced him. The challenge was still there.
'As you said, sir. The ship comes first.'
The chart room quivered, and even the instruments on the table seemed to tremble as the guns were run up to their ports together, like a single weapon. There was a burst of cheering, immediately quelled by the voice of authority: Maddock himself.
Vincent said, 'I was wondering, sir, 'and glanced at the others. 'What sort of man is the French captain?'
Perhaps it had been uppermost in all their thoughts.
Capitaine Luc Marchand had been present at two of the meetings Adam had attended in Gibraltar. Others had made the brief introductions, but he and Marchand had progressed no further than an exchange of polite smiles: Commodore Arthur Carrick had made certain of that, with behaviour verging on hostility.
Marchand was about Adam's age, perhaps a year or so older, strong-featured, with a ready, disarming smile and clear greyish-blue eyes. A face that would appeal to any woman.
The flag lieutenant had been more informative once the commodore was out of his way.
Adam touched the charts, and his own rough plan laid across them.
'Marchand is an experienced captain, supposedly due for promotion when the war ended. No stranger to English ships.
He was serving in Swiftsure after she was taken from us, and again at Trafalgar, 'he grinned, 'when we recaptured her.'
Julyan nodded. 'I remember Swiftsure. Third-rate. Put up quite a fight against us. 'He spoke almost proudly.
Adam waited, then said, 'Does that help?'
Vincent shrugged. 'I doubt he'll ever forget the past.'
The door squeaked open a few inches and a pair of eyes sought Julyan. Nothing was said, but the master seized his hat and swore under his breath.
'Seems they need me on deck, sir!'
He would not leave without good reason, but Adam sensed that he was relieved to have been called away.
He said, 'A good time to end our discussion. You may carry on with your duties.'
Vincent remained by the table as the others departed.
'I understand that there is a seaman listed for punishment? I read your report before this meeting. Asleep on watch and insubordinate. Tell me about it.'
Overhead, the gun trucks began to move again. Closer this time: Maddock was about to exercise his next division.
Vincent said, 'His name is Dimmock. Foretop, long serviceЦ over twenty years. Never had any trouble with him before. 'He paused as though surprised by his own words, as if they were some excuse or admission. 'We were hard-pressed for trained, experienced hands when we were commissioning.
Landsmen and young boys were the first to come forward. 'He added with something like defiance, 'I trusted him.'
Adam listened to the drill, the creak of tackle, an ironic cheer as something miscarried. Like another world.
'Dimmock. 'He spoke the name, but no face came to his mind. 'He was never rated for promotion. 'It meant nothing; there were many like him in the King's service. The old hands, content or resigned, and the hard men who steered their own course, if they were offered the chance.
Vincent said suddenly, 'A stand-over could be ordered, sir.'
Adam recalled Thomas Herrick, his uncle's oldest and most loyal friend; could hear his words. Discipline is a duty, not a convenience.
'It happened during your watch and you feel responsible, as he was a man you trusted. But it could have been at any time, with some one else left to take action. 'Vincent seemed about to protest. 'He had been drinking beforehand, I gather.'
'He was not drunk, sir.'
It was common enough through the fleet. The only crime was being caught. And Vincent was an experienced officer; he did not need to be told. The old Jacks could even joke about getting a checked shirt at the gangway. Few ever remembered the reason. But afterwards, the blame always lay with the captain.
He raised his eyes from the charts.
'You gain nothing by delaying it. Tomorrow forenoon, all hands to witness punishment. Inform the surgeon, will you?'
'Right away, sir. 'He half turned as if to listen. 'The gun drill has stopped. I hope it's achieving results!'
Adam watched him leave and heard him call a greeting to some one as he passed, as if uninvolved. Like those first days.
Still a stranger.
