The Admiral's Daughter

England. The scene was as dramatic as any Kydd had met at sea: completely open to the hardening south-westerly and long Atlantic swell piling in, the rugged coastline was a smother of white.

Kydd said nothing when he noticed the quartermaster was edging imperceptibly to seaward from the dead lee shore, but turned to the master. 'I think we'll give best t' this sou'-westerly, Mr Dowse. Is there any haven short o' Penzance to th' west'd?'

'None as we c'n use, sir—this is a hard piece o' coast.' He gazed thoughtfully at the busy seas hurrying shoreward. 'Porthleven? Opens t' the sou'-west. Nought else really, Mr Kydd.'

'Then Penzance it'll have t' be. Mr Boyd? Compliments t' Mr Standish an' I believe we'll send th' hands t' dinner after we moor there.' Most would prefer the comfort of a hot meal later than a scratch one now. The midshipman looked uncomfortable. 'Come, come, Mr Boyd, lively now!'

Reluctantly the lad released his grip and lurched to another handhold. Kydd realised that his order sending the boy below would probably condemn him to the seasickness he had so far manfully avoided. As Teazer leant closer to the wind to clear a small island Boyd slid down the canted deck to finish well soused in the scuppers.

The islet passed under their lee; a tiny scatter of houses huddled together under dark, precipitous cliffs at the head of a small patch of discoloured sand. Who lived in this impossibly remote place?

'Mullion Cove, sir—an' there?' Dowse had noticed a big, three-masted lugger at anchor riding out the blow in the lee of the island, the only vessel they had sighted since the Lizard. No doubt all smaller local craft had scuttled off prudently to find a harbour.

'A wise man,' Kydd replied, but something niggled.

They plunged on. An indistinct hail came from forward, then Calloway hurried aft and touched his forehead shyly. 'Sir, I saw . . . over on th' land in them cottages . . .'

'Yes?'

'It were red, like. Fr'm the windows.' He trailed off, dropping his eyes.

Those nearby looked at each other in amusement, but Kydd knew Calloway from the past. His young eyes were probably the best in the ship. 'Tell me, if y' please,' he said kindly.

'Well, as we was passin' I saw somebody hold somethin' red out o' the window. An' as I watched, I swear, one b' one they all has red out o' their windows.' Doggedly he went on, 'An' then, sir, they all starts shakin' it, like.'

The amusement was open now, titters starting from the waist-ers who had fallen back to hear. 'I swear it, Mr Kydd!' Calloway blurted.

At a loss, Kydd looked about the little group on the quarterdeck. All averted their eyes, except Renzi. 'Ah, there is one conceivable explanation. Supposing our unlettered country-folk were to recognise us as a King's ship. Equally suppose that they have a guest, an unwelcome one, who holds them in deadly thrall from where he lies at anchor . . .'

'The lugger!'

'. . . how then should they signal their disquiet? A red flag of some sort for danger. I can see no other interpretation of such—'

'Helm a-lee!' Kydd bawled to the wheel. 'Luff'n' touch her—Mr Dowse, once we have th' sea room we wear about an' return!'

In an instant the atmosphere aboard changed and activity became frenzied. Braces were manned by seamen slipping and sliding in the crazy bucketing as Teazer was sent clawing offshore as close to the wind as she could lie. Only when they were at a sufficient distance from the dangerous shore could they risk a turn inwards to the land.

Kydd's mind raced: a bloody engagement—in these conditions? It was preposterous but the logic of war demanded it. He was now sure in his own mind that the anonymous-looking fine-lined lugger was an enemy—and it was his duty to destroy him.

A dishevelled first lieutenant burst out on deck.

'Mr Standish, I believe we've surprised a Frenchy privateer an' I mean t' take him. We'll go t' quarters only when we have to, but I desire ye to bring th' ship to readiness now.'

'Aye aye, sir!' There was no mistaking the fierce gleam in the officer's eye.

Kydd took out his pocket telescope and trained it aft on the lugger, but the wild jerking made it near impossible to focus. Once he caught a dancing image of a vessel quite as big as their own, a long bowsprit, raked mizzen-mast and a line of closed gun ports the whole length of the ship.

He forced his mind to coolness: what were the elements in the equation? He had never seen a northern French privateer lugger, a Breton chasse-maree or others of this breed, but he had heard of their reputation for speed on the wind and the daring impudence of their captains. But no privateer worth his salt would take on a man-o'-war: their business and profit were in the taking of prizes, not the fighting of battles.

Kydd lifted the telescope and tried to steady it against a shroud but the brisk thrumming thwarted his efforts and he lowered it in frustration. But by eye there was some movement aboard; someone must have correctly interpreted Teazer's move as the precursor to a return and most likely they were now busy preparing a hot defence—with all the lugger's men sent to the guns.

'Haaaands to stations t' wear ship!' The manoeuvre of tacking was tighter but anything going wrong would result in their being blown rapidly ashore; even so, in wearing ship, the act of deliberately turning their backs to the wind this close inshore had its own dangers.

Kydd threw a final glance at the lugger. Held by his anchor directly into the wind there was sudden jerky activity at his prow. They were cutting the cable! Exactly at the moment the vessel swung free, a jib soared up from the long bowsprit and instantly caught the wind, slewing his bow round. Then sail appeared on all three masts together, evidence of a sizeable crew.

It was neatly done. The lugger was now under way close inshore, paralleling the coast—and thereby closing with Teazer. The realisation hit Kydd with a cold shock: they were going to have to fight in the open sea and any advantage they had at the guns would be nullified by the wild circumstances. What was the