The Privateer's Revenge

'As will serve—but, sir, I have t' tell ye, it's perilous waters hereabouts. Can we not—'

'Nor'-east.' Kydd sniffed the wind. 'It'll do. Bow-lines t' th' bridle an' don't spare th' cordage.'

Teazer seemed to sense the drama and leaped ahead. Every eye aboard followed the motions of the quarry whose terror even at a distance could almost be felt. The knowledgeable made lordly judgements as to the probable prize value, but Kydd was aware that things could change in a trice—a frigate disturbed in Roscoff, a sudden change in wind forcing them on to a dead lee shore.

'We're t' shift course here, sir,' Queripel said awkwardly. 'We must be clear o' th' plateau, else we—'

'They're not concerned t' weather it,' Kydd said pointedly. The fleeing vessels were taking a direct course to Roscoff, no more than ten or fifteen miles more. 'I—I say we must, sir! Th'—th' tide is on th' ebb an' we—' 'They come fr'm hereabouts, they should know—' 'It's th' state of tide, sir! I mislike we ignore th' overfalls o' the plateau. I've seen—' 'Very well. Ease t' larb'd,' Kydd said heavily. They angled farther southwards while their prey flew directly towards the distant smudge of their sanctuary, masts leaning at a precarious angle in their quest for speed. There were groans about Teazer 's deck and sour comments about luck.

And then it happened. The leading vessel struck, slewing round in an instant; she was brought to a complete stop, her foremast toppling like a tree at the shock of impact. The other ship, following close astern, shied to one side but raced on desperately.

'Leave him,' Kydd said, eyeing the wreck. He looked at Queripel. 'Can we . . . ?'

'He took a reef rock o' th' Plateau de la Meloine. We have t' keep to the suth'ard or finish th' same—but this one'—he nodded at the fleeing ship—'he's going t' be a mort more cautious now. We has a chance.' Teazer was in the deeper channel and forging ahead but the other vessel was picking its way fearfully through the weed-covered menaces—with only five or so miles to go they most definitely had a chance.

Queripel stepped aside and Kydd saw that Renzi had appeared on deck, wearing the wistful, absent expression that showed he had been happily immersed in his books until very recently. 'Ah. Do I see the cause of so much commotion ahead of us?'

'Aye, y' do,' Kydd said. 'Supposin' we c'n catch him before Roscoff.'

'That's Roscoff?' Renzi said, with interest. 'As you'd know, a port of much antiquity. Here it was that Mary Queen of Scots stepped ashore to be married to the Dauphin of France—in the 1540s it must have been.'

'We're goin' t' be in gunshot in just a quarter-hour, Nicholas. Do y' think I should hold fire, f'r fear I might hurt our prize?'

'Of course, she was only five years old at the time,' Renzi went on thoughtfully. 'A barbaric practice, such a union.'

'And a fine coaster should fetch a handsome sum, as'll be right welcome at this time,' Kydd added.

'Yet many would remember first that it was here as well that the Young Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart, came after the calamitous battle of Culloden—spirited hence by a Malouin privateer, I believe, to his final exile.'

But Kydd had his glass up, his attention on the low sea wall coming into view. He stiffened. 'The bloody dogs,' he growled. 'Gunboats!' A gaggle had emerged and were converging on the fleeing vessel. Even if they overhauled it now they could never heave-to and take possession.

'We've lost him,' he said, lowering his telescope. He swivelled round and focused on the wreck of the first. It was fast settling— but if they managed to come up on it through the same hazards that had claimed it they could only ingloriously fish out sodden oddments of cargo.

'Carry on t' the west, Mr Dowse.' They had done well on their first encounter; there would be others.

It seemed, however, word had spread that a new and aggressive English man-o'- war was abroad and the few sail they sighted scuttled away rapidly. After an uneventful conclusion to the cruise, during which Kydd had taken pains to discover more of the sea conditions in this forbidding but often strangely beautiful seascape, Guernsey lifted into view.

With his new-won local knowledge he conned Teazer himself past Jerbourg Point and into the Great Road. 'A shame we haven't a prize at our tail,' Standish remarked.

'We shall,' Kydd said firmly. The more he knew of these seas, the better able he would be to find their skulking places.

There was no admiral's flag in Cerberus but it flew from his headquarters ashore, and their gun salute cracked out in proper style.

Calloway's quarterdeck brace was an exact imitation of his captain's. Kydd had been impressed by how he had handled the promotion; now in a position of authority over his former shipmates he pitched his orders in such a way that none could take offence at the tone or doubt his intent to be obeyed. 'Boat putting off, sir,' he reported smartly.

'Very well,' Kydd answered.

'Two boats, I think,' Standish said, lowering his glass.

It was odd: the first clearly contained an officer and a number of seamen but the other taking position astern of it seemed to carry soldiers. Kydd was ready in his dress uniform for going ashore to report; the boats, however, were heading purposefully towards Teazer so he waited.

When they neared, the second with the soldiers slowed and stood off, the seamen laying to their oars while the first made for the sidesteps. Kydd felt the first stirrings of unease as the boat disappeared under the line of the bulwarks and shortly afterwards, with the wail of a boatswain's call, the stern face of an elderly post-captain came into view.

Kydd took off his hat and approached with a welcoming smile, which was not returned. The officer briskly drew out a paper and intoned, 'Commander Thomas Paine Kydd? Provost Captain William Fellowes. By these presents I am instructed by the commander-in-chief to make search of your vessel.' He held out the paper—and, unmistakably at the bottom, there was the signature of Admiral Saumarez.

'Er, you . . . ?' Kydd was thunderstruck. Around him the deck came to a standstill, men gaping.