The Privateer's Revenge

'I mean t' look into it directly,' Kydd said flatly. 'How . . . ?'

Queripel hesitated, then said defensively, 'An' if it please ye, 'twould oblige me should Mr Dowse be heard an' all.' Queripel was clearly conscious that his position aboard was local and irregular: a hired pilot would in the nature of things assume responsibility for the ship, but his position was ill-defined and he did not want difficulties with the sailing-master later.

Dowse was summoned and Kydd gestured him to one side as a chart was spread. 'I'll hear your opinions afterwards. Get on with it, then, Mr Queripel.'

'From the suth'ard, Mr Kydd,' Dowse came in, before Queripel could speak, pointing to the long peninsula set out to the southwest from the north-south-trending coast. To see directly into the port it did seem obvious they would have to make their approach more from the south.

'Won't be possible, Mr Dowse,' Queripel said firmly, 'what with Banc de Tombelaine an' the shoalest water of all t' the sou'-sou'-west. We has t' come at it by the same course as all do take, from the west, an' lay Le Videcocq rocks no more'n a couple o' cables distant.'

'From th' west?' Kydd said sourly. 'An' under eye the whole time?'

'Can't be helped, sir,' said Queripel.

Teazer had lain uneasily to anchor overnight to the east of Iles Chausey, a six-mile desolation of countless rocks and reefs that were a bare ten miles from the Normandy coast and Granville. At dawn the winds were fair, the day bright and no sail in sight. But the sloop remained stubbornly at anchor: there would be no sudden descent on the port, for Queripel had been insistent. The tides had to be right.

It was not until after nine that Teazer got under weigh. The tide-set had been quite apparent while they were moored; the ship had soon swung into the ebb and the rapid current had gurgled urgently along her hull until in the early hours it had lessened. After the vessel had veered right about, the busy swirling had begun again in the opposite direction.

On a strengthening flood tide Teazer, with doubled lookouts, raised the coast, an uneven ripple of blue-grey firming quickly to a sweep of craggy coastline interspersed with sandhills and beaches. The pale blobs of sail close inshore changed aspect one after another as the far-off craft, recognising an approaching man-o'-war, fled for their lives.

The Granville peninsula, Cape Lihou, lay dead ahead. Ending in a prominent lofty headland, it angled across and half concealed the harbour. The sheltering stone piers of the port sweeping the vessels into its embrace were dozens of feet high, in deference to the vast tidal range. And they hid the harbour completely, with everything it contained.

'They enters b' keeping in wi' the land from the south,' Queripel murmured. This lie of the piers would give the best protection from harsh westerlies, but meant that their one and only chance to see past the high stone walls was to close right in with the land, then make a hard turn to the left until they could peer inside the two pier- heads.

'Take us in, Mr Dowse,' Kydd ordered, lifting his telescope to scrutinise the panorama. The distant last sail was even now disappearing within the enfolding piers as they approached, leaving the whole coast in both directions clear and somnolent in the autumn sunshine.

The headland gained clarity, but as they neared and shaped course to its southward there was a gust of white on the bluff tip and, seconds later, a double thump. Cannon balls plumed and skittered towards them.

'Ranging fire only,' murmured Standish, coming up to stand next to Kydd. 'The villains'll have to do better'n that.'

Kydd didn't reply. Another rumble, and a shot passed the length of the ship before meeting spectacularly with a wave crest to send spray sheeting and rattling over the quarterdeck. 'Stand on, Mr Dowse,' he said, with a cold grin. 'We'll tack about opposite the harbour entrance as quick as y' please an' out again.'

Teazer edged away to make sea-room, but Queripel said anxiously, 'An' nothing t' starb'd.' At the same time a distant avalanche of thuds sounded and the sea was alive with rising plumes. Boxed in as they were by sand-shoals to the south and the peninsula to the north, their approach track left precious little space for manoeuvre—and of a certainty the gunners in the old fort were well aware of it. No inquisitive British warship was to be allowed sight of the harbour.

A ball slapped through the fore topsail, leaving a ragged hole, another parted a backstay with a musical twang, and they were not yet within a mile or so of the harbour. Dowse whispered to Standish, 'Action t' be avoided, did ye say, sir?'

'Hold y' course!' snarled Kydd, as the helmsman allowed the ship to fall off the wind.

Standish whipped up his glass. 'Sir—I see . . . two, no, three and more craft under sail and leaving.'

Kydd raised his own telescope, then lowered it. 'Gunboats,' he said heavily.

It altered everything. Small lug-rigged open craft they each mounted a cannon in their bows. One, two— possibly four or five— Teazer could take on but, well-handled, a swarm together could bring the broadside of a frigate to bear. It was time to retreat.

Renzi entered the cabin noiselessly to see Kydd at his desk, head in his hands. He stood by the stern windows for a moment, then turned. 'An unfortunate situation,' he said softly. His friend did not look up. 'As would vex the saintliest,' he added.

Kydd raised his head and mumbled something, but Renzi was shocked by the red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Kydd gestured wearily at a chair and Renzi sat quietly.

'I'll not quit,' Kydd croaked.

'It would seem we have little choice,' Renzi said.

'Standish wants t' land a party an' scale th' heights t' look down the other side into th' harbour.'

'With the old town all along the top and roused by our presence? I think not.'

'A boat in th' night? But they'd never see anything.'

Renzi pursed his lips. No course of action suggested itself and in going on he was only humouring Kydd. 'Then possibly some sort of . . . spy, agent who, when landed, will mingle unnoticed and . . .'