The shadow of the eagle

deck, swing forward and take in the whole shambles in a second. Without a speaking trumpet, Drinkwater roared his orders and took instant command of the deck.

'All hands!'

The horrified inertia of the ship's company was swept aside, as Drinkwater called them all to the greater duty of saving the ship.

'All hands about ship and reef topsails in one!'

The pipes of the boatswain and his mates shrilled and the order sent men to their stations; those already aloft crowded back along the footropes and into the tops. Drinkwater moved smartly across the deck as the men rushed to their positions; ropes were turned off pin rails; lines of men backed up the leading hands as they prepared to clew down the topsail yards again and man the larboard braces. While others stood ready to cast off the lifts and starboard braces, Hyde's marines tramped up from the gun-deck and cleared away the mizen gear.

'Mr Dunn,' Frey called as he ran to his post. 'Take two men and get that poor fellow below to the surgeon.'

Frey took one last look at Culver Cliff. It seemed to loom as high as the main yard.

'Down helm.' Drinkwater stood beside the wheel as the quartermaster had the helm put over and Andromeda turned slowly into the wind. There was a touch less sea running now as they rapidly closed the shore where they were scraping a lee from Dunnose Head at the far and windward end of the bay. As the frigate came head to wind, the sails began to shiver and then come aback.

'Mains'l haul!' Drinkwater roared.

'Clew down! Haul the reef tackles! Haul buntlines!'

The main and mizen yards, their sails slack and blanketed by the sails on the foremast, were hauled round by their braces, ready for the new tack.

'Trice up and lay out!''

With Drinkwater's bellowing acting as a noisy yet curiously effective tranquillizer imposing order on momentary confusion, the topmen resumed their positions, a new man occupying the larboard main topsail yard- arm. Andromeda bucked into the head sea, her rate of turn slowed almost to a stop. Aloft, the frantic activity of the frigate's competent crew paid off. This fruit of hard service off Norway and Their Lordships' solicitude for a foreign king, which had drafted some of Chatham's best seamen into Andromeda to replace her losses, had the topsails double reefed in a few minutes. As the ship continued her slow turn, the wind caught the foreyards fully aback, suddenly accelerating the rate of turn. Drinkwater strode along the starboard gangway the better to see the fore-topsail, but Frey had already run forward and pre-empted him, to wave in silent acknowledgement that all was well.

'Stand by halliards!' Drinkwater waited for a moment longer, then gave the final command: 'Let go and haul all!'

Round came the yards on the foremast and the reefed and thundering topsail was trimmed parallel to those already braced on the main and mizen masts. On the forecastle the headsail sheets were shifted, hauled aft and belayed while the braces amidships were turned up and their falls coiled down neatly on the pins.

'Lay in! Stand by booms! Down booms!'

Order reasserted itself aloft. The men began to come down.

'Man the halliards! Tend the braces and hoist away!''

The yards rose, stretching the canvas and setting the topsails again. 'Belay! That's well!' Drinkwater turned to Birkbeck who had materialized beside the wheel in all the commotion. 'Steady now, Mr Birkbeck. Let's have her full and bye, starboard tack, if you please.'

Andromeda heeled to larboard and a cloud of spray rose above the starboard bow as she shouldered her way through a sea and increased speed. Beyond this brief nebula lay the white rampart of Dunnose Head while on the starboard quarter Culver Cliff drew slowly, but inexorably astern. After the bowlines had been set up and all about the deck made tidy again, the watches changed. Only a small darkening stain of blood on the hallowed white planks marred the organized symmetry of the man-of-war as she stood offshore again.

'We shall work to weather of the Wight now,' said Drinkwater, handing the deck over to Frey.

'Aye, sir.' Both men stared to windward as they emerged from the lee of the headland. The sea was running high and hollow against the strong ebb and the wind again increased in force. Emerging clear of Dunnose Head and some five miles beyond the promontory, St Catherine's Point stood out clear against the horizon. High above the point, on Niton Down where it was already surrounded by wisps of cloud, stood the lighthouse. Forward, eight bells were struck.

'Judging by that cloud and the shift of the wind we're in for a thick night of it.'

'Aye, I fear so, sir,' agreed Frey. For a few moments the two men stood in silence, then Drinkwater asked, 'Did you see what happened?'

'Yes, I did. Marlowe left reefing too late, then feared embayment and lost his nerve.'

'I assumed he countermanded the order and tried to tack the ship first.'

'That is what happened, sir,' said Frey, his voice inexpressive.

'Do you know the name of the man who fell?'

'No sir; Mr Birkbeck will know' Frey turned and called to the master who hurried across the deck. 'Who was the fellow who fell?'

'Watson. A good topman; been in the ship since he was pressed as a lad.'

'Thank you both,' said Drinkwater turning away. He was deeply affected by the unnecessary loss. 'Another ghost,' he muttered to himself. Moving towards the companionway he left his orders to the officer taking over the watch. 'Keep her full-and-bye, Mr Frey, run our distance out into the Channel. We'll tack again before midnight.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

It was only when the captain had gone below Frey realized Marlowe had vanished.

CHAPTER 6 Three Cheers for the Ship

April 1814

Captain Drinkwater looked up at the surgeon. 'Well, Mr Kennedy?'

'He was barely alive when he reached me.' Kennedy's face wore its customary expression of world- weariness. Drinkwater had known the man long enough not to take offence. He invited Kennedy to be seated and offered him a glass of wine.

'Thank you, no, sir.' The surgeon remained standing.

'Then we shall have to bury him.'

'Yes. They're trussing him in his hammock now.' Kennedy paused and appeared to want to say more.

'There is something you wish to say, Mr Kennedy?' Drinkwater asked, half-guessing what was to follow.

'I hear it was Lieutenant Marlowe's fault.'

'Did you now; in what way?'

'That he had begun to reef the topsails while we were running into a bay, that he left it too late, changed his mind and tried to tack with men on the yards.'

'It's not unheard of ...'

'Don't you care ... Sir?'

'Sit down, Mr Kennedy'

'I'd rather ...'

'Sit down!' Drinkwater moved round the table and Kennedy sat abruptly, as though expecting Drinkwater to shove him into the chair, but the captain lifted a decanter from the fiddles and poured two glasses of dark blackstrap. The drink appeared to live up to its name as twilight descended on the Channel.

'How many men have died while under your knife, Mr Kennedy?'

The surgeon spluttered into his glass. 'That's a damned outrage...'