Happily it was only the tail of the notorious September blow that the Lively had to deal with. The sky cleared in the morning watch; the glass rose, and although she could show no more than close-?reefed topsails it was plain that she would spread more by noon. Dawn showed a sea white from horizon to horizon, a sea with nothing on it but the waterlogged wreck of a Portuguese bean-?cod, and far to windward the Medusa, apparently intact. Jack was now senior captain, and he signalled her to make more sail - to make for their next rendezvous off Cape Santa Maria, the landfall for Cadiz.
Towards noon he altered course due south, which brought the wind on the Lively’s quarter, easing her motion greatly. Stephen appeared on deck, still very grave, but more humane. He and Mr Floris and Mr Floris’s assistants had spent the morning dosing one another; they had all suffered more or less from the onset of diseases (orchitis, scurvy, the fell Ludolphus’ palsy), but in Dr Maturin’s case at least the attack had been averted by a judicious mixture of Lucatellus’ balsam and powder of Algaroth.
After dinner the Lively exercised the great guns, swell or no, rattling them in and out, but also firing broadside after broadside, so that the frigate was preceded by a cloud of her own making as she ran southwards at eleven knots, some twenty leagues off the coast of Portugal. The recent training had had effect, and although the fire was still painfully slow - three minutes and ten seconds between broadsides was the best they could do - it was more accurate by far, in spite of the roll and pitch. A palm-?tree trunk, drifting by on the starboard bow three hundred yards away, was blown clear of the water on the first discharge; and they hit it again, with cheers that reached the Medusa, before it went astern. The Medusa also put in an hour’s strenuous practice; and aboard the Medusa too, a good many hands were employed carefully picking over the round-?shot, choosing the most spherical and chipping off flakes of rust. But most of the Medusa’s time was taken up with trying to overhaul the Lively; she set topgallants before the Lively had shaken out the last reef in her topsails, and she tried studdingsails and royals as the breeze moderated, only to lose two of her booms, without the gain of half a mile. The Lively’s officers and her sailmaker watched with intense satisfaction; but underlying their pleasure there was a haunting anxiety -were they going to be in time to cut the Spanish squadron off from Cadiz? And even if they were, would the Indefatigable and Amphion reach the rendezvous before the clash? The Spanish reputation for courage, if not for seamanship, stood high; and the odds were very great - a forty-?gun frigate and three thirty-?fours against a thirty-?eight and a thirty-? two; for Jack had explained the tactical situation to his officers as soon as he had opened his sealed orders -as soon as there was no danger of communication with the shore. The same anxiety, that they might be too late, was general throughout the ship: there was scarcely a man aboard who did not know what came from the River Plate, and those few - a person from Borneo and two Javanese -were told. ‘It’s gold, mate. That’s what they ship from the River Plate: gold and silver, in chests and leather bags.’
All through the day the wind declined, and all through the night; and whereas the log had once taken the line straight off the reel, tearing it away to show twelve and even thirteen knots, heave after heave, at dawn on the last day of September it had to be helped gently off and veered away, so that the midshipman of the watch could announce a dismal ‘Two and a fathom, sir, if you please.’
A day of light variable airs, mostly in their teeth -whistling fore and aft, and prayers that were answered by a fair breeze on Thursday, October 2. They passed Cape St Vincent later that day, under royals, with the Medusa in company, and they had been exercising the guns for some time - a very particular salute for that great headland, just visible from the masthead on the larboard beam when the bosun came aft and spoke to the first lieutenant. Mr Simmons pursed his lips, looked doubtful, hesitated, and then stepped across to Jack. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘the bosun represents to me, that the men, with the utmost respect, would wish you to consider whether it might be advisable not to fire the bow guns.’
‘They do, do they?’ cried Jack, who had caught some odd, reproachful glances before this. ‘Do they also think it advisable to double the ration of grog?’
‘Oh no, sir,’ said the sweating crew of the gun nearest at hand.
‘Silence, there,’ cried Mr Simmons. ‘No, sir: what they mean is - that is to say, there is a general belief that firing the bow guns checks her way; and time being so short.
‘Well, there may be something in what they say. The philosophers don’t believe it, but we will not run the risk. Let the bow guns be run in and out, and fired in dumb show.’
A pleased smile spread along the deck. The men wiped their faces - it was 80° in the shade of the sails - tightened the handkerchiefs round their foreheads, spat on their hands, and prepared to whip their iron monsters in and out in under two minutes and a half. After a couple of broadsides - in for a penny, in for a pound - and some independent firing, the tension, strongly present throughout the ship since Finisterre, suddenly rose to the highest pitch. Medusa was signalling a sail one point on the larboard quarter.
‘Up you go, Mr Harvey,’ said Jack to a tall, light midshipman. ‘Take the best glass in the ship. Mr Simmons may lend you his.’
Up he went, up and up with the glass slung over his shoulder, up to the royal pole and the tie; poor Cassandra could hardly have outstripped him. Presently his voice came floating down. ‘On deck, there, Amphion, sir. I believe she has sent up a jury foretopmast.’
The Amphion she was, and bringing up the breeze she joined company before the fall of night. Now they were three, and the next morning found them at their last rendezvous, with Cape Santa Maria bearing north-?east, thirty miles away, visible from the fighting-?tops in the brilliant light.
The three frigates, with Sutton of the Amphion now senior captain, stood off and on all day, their mastheads thick with telescopes, perpetually sweeping the western sea, a vast blue rolling sea, with nothing between them and America except, perhaps, the Spanish squadron. In the evening the Indefatigable joined, and on the fourth day of October the frigates spread wide to cover as great an area as possible, still remaining within signalling distance: silently they beat up and down - gunnery had been laid aside since Cape St Vincent, for fear of giving the alarm. Aboard the Lively almost the only sound was the squeaking of the grindstone on the forecastle as the men sharpened their cutlasses and pikes, and the chip-?chip-?chip of the gunner’s party scaling the shot.
To and fro, to and fro, wearing every half hour at the first stroke of the ship’s bell, men at every masthead watching the other frigates for a signal, a dozen glasses scanning the remote horizon.
‘Do you remember Anson, Stephen?’ said Jack, as they paced the quarterdeck. ‘He did this for weeks and weeks off Paita. Did you ever read his book?’
‘I did. How that man wasted his opportunities.’
‘He went round the world, and worried the Spaniards out of their wits, and took the Manilla galleon - what more could you ask?’
‘Some slight attention to the nature of the world round which he sailed so thoughtlessly. Apart from some very superficial remarks about the sea-?elephant, there is barely a curious observation in the book. He should certainly have taken a naturalist.’
‘If he had had you aboard, he might be godfather to half a dozen birds with curious beaks; but on the other
