The Admiral's Daughter

embayed, all the time th' wind's in the sou'-west.'

The ship had realised its mistake too late, put about into the wind—and found that it was too deep into the bay. Square-rigged and unable to keep closer to the wind than six points off, the master had no alternative other than to claw along on one tack as close to the wind as he could get the vessel to lie, inching her seaward, and when the end of the semi-circular bay was reached, be forced to stay about and on another reach do the same until the opposite end was reached. Then the process would be repeated yet again.

As Kydd watched, the drama intensified. By the cruellest stroke, the south-westerly was exactly at right-angles to the bay and leeway made by the forced putting about at each end was remorselessly matching the small amount of sea room gained on each tack. The vessel was trapped: they were doing the only thing possible and it was not enough; but if they did nothing they would quickly be driven downwind on to the pitiless shore.

With a stab of compassion Kydd realised that this cruel state of balance had probably begun at first light when their situation had become clear, and therefore they had been at this relentless toil all day—they must be close to exhaustion, knowing that if they fumbled just one going about, their deaths would follow very soon.

'Th' poor bastards!' breathed Dowse, staring downwind at the endless parallel lines of combers marching into the last broad band of surf.

Standish seemed equally affected. 'Sir, can we not . . .' He trailed off at the futility of his words. It was plain to everyone watching that Teazer could do nothing, for if they turned and went in, they themselves would be embayed, and any boats they sent would be blown broadside and overset, oars no match for the savage winds.

Kydd's heart went out to the unknown sailors: they must have been in fear of their lives for hours. How they must have prayed for the mercy of a wind change—only a point or two would have been enough to escape the deadly trap.

He turned on the master. 'Lie us to, Mr Dowse,' he snapped. This would see them hold Teazer's head a-try with balanced canvas and going ahead only slowly, keeping her position. The poor devils in the other ship would see this and at the very least know that there were human beings in their universe who empathised with their fate.

The afternoon wore on; the wind stayed unwavering in the same direction and the desperate clawing of the other ship continued. It could not last: some time during the night its crew's strength must fail and the sea would claim them. It was so unfair. Two ships separated only by distance; one to sail on to safety and rest, life and future, but the other condemned to death in the breakers.

'She's struck!' someone called.

Kydd whipped up his glass and caught flashing glimpses of an old merchantman no longer rising with the waves or her sea-darkened canvas taut to the wind. Now she was in the lines of breakers, slewed at an angle and ominously still. The foremast had gone by the board, its rigging trailing blackly in the sea, and as he watched, the vessel settled, taking the merciless seas broadside in explosions of white.

Whitsand Bay was shallow; the seas therefore were breaking a long way from shore. The figures that could be seen now crowding up the masts to take last refuge were as doomed as if a cannon was aimed at them.

Pity wrung Kydd's heart: more ships were lost to the sea than to the enemy, but here it was playing out before their eyes. It was hard to bear. But if—'Mr Standish! I'm goin' t' have a try. Pass the word f'r any who's willin' to volunteer.'

His lieutenant looked at him in astonishment. 'Sir, how—'

'Mr Dowse. Lay us in the lee of th' Rame. Close in with th' land an' anchor.'

The master did not speak for a moment, his face closed and unreadable. 'Aye aye, sir,' he said finally.

Close to, Rame Head was a colossal, near conical monolith, its weather side a seething violence of white seas, but miraculously, as soon as they rounded the headland, the winds were cut off as with a knife.

'Here, Mr Dowse?'

'A rocky bottom, sir,' the master said impassively.

'Then we'll heave to. Mr Purchet, away boat's crew o' volunteers an' we'll have the pinnace in the water directly.'

Dowse came up and said quietly, 'I know why ye're doing this, Mr Kydd, but we're hazardin' th' ship . . .' As if to add point to his words, Teazer swung fretfully under wild gusts volleying over the heights, they were only yards from the line of wind-torn seas coming round the point.

'I'm aware o' that, Mr Dowse,' Kydd said briefly.

Standish approached: he had found a young seaman native to the area. 'Sawley says there's a scrap o' sand inshore where you may land the boat.'

Kydd nodded. 'We're going t' try to get a line out to the poor beggars. I'll need as much one-inch line as the boatswain c'n find.' His plan was to cross the Rame peninsula on foot to the other side, Whitsand Bay, and by any means—boat, manhauling, swimming—get a line out to the wreck. The one-inch was necessarily a light line for they faced carrying it the mile or two to the beach over precipitous inclines.

'After we're landed, recover the boat and moor the ship in Cawsand Bay. We'll be back that way.' This was the next bay round with good holding and a common resort for men-o'-war in a south-westerly.

'Aye aye, sir,' Standish said uncomfortably.

Once more Kydd blessed the recent invention of davits, making it so much easier to hoist and lower boats than the yard-arm stay tackles of older ships. In the water the pinnace jibbed and gyrated like a wild animal, the men boarding falling over each other, oars getting tangled and water shipping over the gunwale. Gear was tossed down and when the men had settled Kydd boarded by shinning down a fall.

They cast off and Kydd called to Sawley. The young seaman surrendered his oar and made his way to Kydd.

The boat rose and fell violently in the seas, and at the sight of the steep sides of the Rame plunging precipitately into the sea it seemed utter madness to attempt a landing.