Invasion

'We were bailed up on the highway from London b' French agents, not three hours ago. They took Fulton. I have t' do something!' With every minute gone they would be that much closer to France.

Renzi put down his book. 'You will be considering alerting the admiral.'

'Damn it, o' course!' Kydd forced himself to concentrate. 'I'd wager they'll want to get him over just as soon as they can. The closest place is right here. I feel it in m' bones—they're about somewhere.'

It was an all-or-nothing throw: that they would have made for this place of all the possible escape ports and, additionally, that they were here still. If he was wrong, the consequences could not be more serious, but the same instincts that had made him a successful privateer captain were reassuring him coolly that he was not mistaken.

The typical late-summer calm was preventing their final flight to France—to the land that was so plainly in sight across the Channel— but in an hour or two an afternoon offshore breeze would pick up and they would make a run for it, if indeed they were here.

Restless, Kydd got up, went to the stern windows and flung one open. In the Downs it was a calm, placid day, the sun glittering on a glassy sea. Upwards of two hundred ships of all sizes were peacefully at anchor waiting for a wind, lifting to the slight swell, a charming picture.

'What better place to conceal but in the middle of all those,' Renzi murmured, over his shoulder. 'It will be hard to flush them even with every boat in the squadron out.'

Kydd came to a decision. 'No! I'm not telling the admiral,' he said firmly. 'There's no time t' rummage so many ships—and, besides, who knows Fulton to recognise him? No, we're to wait out the calm and when they make their run we go after them.' If he was wrong, it would be disaster for England.

He went on deck to make his dispositions. 'Mr. Hallum, I want both watches turned up. They're t' keep a tight lookout for, er, any craft making sail towards the Gull passage.' That was the direct route past the Goodwins to Calais. 'Five guineas to the man as sights it.'

Time hung: the sun beamed down in a show of warm beneficence. The lazy slap of water under Teazer's counter and irregular creaking below were the only sounds to disturb Kydd's dark thoughts. At noon he sent one watch for a hurried meal, then the other. He himself stayed on deck, unable to contemplate food.

Then, more than an hour later, the first zephyr touched the water in playful cats-paws, hardly enough to lift the feathered wind vane in the shrouds. Teazer's moorings had long since been buoyed ready to slip instantly and her sails were in their gear, held only by rope yarns that would be cut to let them tumble down.

At a little after three bells there was a definite lift and flurry in the breeze, enough to set lines from aloft slatting in expectation, the shadow of wind-flaws ruffling the glittering sea surface as they moved forward. It died, but then returned to settle to a playful, warm offshore whisper.

Kydd longed to send men to the yards but this would give the game away to their quarry. The wait was agonising and, to make things worse, it appeared that the whole anchorage was stirring in preparation for departure. Inshore, small craft were putting off from the shingle beach and larger ones shaking out sails.

'The fishing-boat, sir?' Hallum said doubtfully, indicating a two-masted lugger that had detached from the main body of the anchorage and seemed to be heading for the Goodwins. It was the same as many seiners at this end of the Channel—high curved bow and perfectly suited to conditions where it could blow up so quickly—

Fishing-boat? 'That's him!' Kydd said savagely.

'Sir?' Hallum said, puzzled.

'Lay out 'n' loose, damn you!' he roared at the stupefied crew, then turned to Hallum in glee. 'What kind of fisher-folk think the fish are biting now? Nearer sunset's more the mark.'

In minutes Teazer had slipped and her every sail was set—but the breeze was sadly lacking in strength, favouring the smaller boat, which was also directly before it. Teazer needed to cover the half-mile to the Gull close-hauled before she could square away after the chase.

In barely a ripple they glided along at a slow walking pace in weather that would have the folk ashore bringing out a picnic. Kydd pounded his palm in frustration. 'Wet the sails!' he spluttered, and the clanking of the deck- pumps was heard as buckets were filled and swayed up. Water cascaded darkly down the light canvas from the yards but there was no real increase in speed.

The lugger was comfortably under way and beginning to shape up for the Gull, gaining with every minute and showing no sign of noticing them. Was it indeed their quarry or an innocent?

Tide on the turn and no current to assist—it would be a close-run thing. At last Teazer was able to put down her helm and fell in astern of the lugger but almost immediately it was apparent that they were losing the race.

Renzi appeared at Kydd's side; his face was grave. It was unlikely that the languorous breeze would strengthen in the near term, and by the time Teazer had sufficient wind to haul in the smaller vessel, too much lead would have been established in the race for the blue-grey line that was the French coast.

'We're losing him,' Kydd said, in a low voice, watching the lugger spread her wings for the open sea. His mind searched feverishly for answers. Rig Teazer's sweeps and row? It was unlikely they could make much more over the ground than they were doing. Ditch guns, water and so on? These were moves more suited to a long-protracted chase when fractions of a knot could add up over the miles. No, what was needed was a miraculous intervention that would see them catching up in just the next few hours. A bow chaser skilfully laid to take down a mast? No: Fulton's safety could not be put at risk.

A stray recollection—and he had it. 'Put us about, Mr. Dowse,' he said. 'Take us back this instant.'

There were disbelieving cries but Kydd was having none of it. 'Get those men moving!' he bellowed, ignoring Renzi's bewilderment.

Under the impetus of her rapidly spinning helm Teazer swung right round the wind until hard up, heading back for the Deal foreshore as speedily as she could. 'Boat in the water the instant we're within soundings!' Kydd ordered.

Sudden understanding spread around the deck. Their captain was going cap in hand back to the admiral. Disappointment replaced frustration, but Kydd seemed unaffected. 'I want a particular boat's crew,' he demanded,