'Yes, Mr Webber,' said Jack. 'And none of your white letter stuff. Let it all be our very best red large grain.'
Rounding the Pointe des Galets at noon, the Boadicea, followed by the Otter and the Staunch, made out the French ships in the offing: two frigates. The French brig was already topsails down to the northwards, no doubt hurrying off to tell Hamelin what was afoot. There was a general hum of satisfaction, tempered by the fact that the Frenchmen were no longer standing in, but had gone about on the starboard tack, and by the sight of long white lines far out, which meant that the wind, south or south-east to the leeward of La Reunion, was blowing from the east to the north of it, so that the enemy would have the weathergage. They also saw the Africaine, and the actual sight of her raised Jack's heart still higher: she was a thirty-six-gun eighteen-pounder frigate, French-built of course, and one of the finest sailers in the Royal Navy, particularly on a wind. She must have been the plum with which Corbett was rewarded when he brought home the St Paul's despatches. 'He will certainly handle her well,' reflected Jack. 'A capital seaman. Let us hope he has taught his men how to point their guns this time, and that he has made himself more amiable aboard her.' A plum sometimes had that effect upon a disappointed man; and Corbett had often been disappointed.
When he caught sight of her, the Africaine was also on the starboard tack, under a press of sail, about eight miles south of the enemy. The two ships exchanged numbers, no more. Jack had no intention of worrying the Atiicaine with signals: Corbett was a fighting captain; he knew very well what to do; there was no doubt that he would do it; and in the meantime he must be left free to concentrate on making up at least seven of those eight miles. The same applied with even greater force to the Boadicea: although she could hit harder than the Africaine, she could not rival her in speed. Happily one of the Frenchmen was their old Iphigenia, now the Iphigenie once more, and she was no flyer: the other was probably the Astree, whose qualities he did not know.
He would soon find them out, however, he said, smiling, as he took his glass into the foretop and the six ships settled down to the long chase. An hour later he knew that she had an able captain, that she was faster than the Iphigenia, but not faster than the Boadicea, while the Africaine could give her topgallantsails at least. If the wind held true, the Afticaine should be up with them before sunset, and the Boadicea not long after dark. If the wind held true: that was his chief concern. For were it to back more easterly or even a little north of east as it sometimes did by night, then the Boadicea would be dead to leeward of the Frenchmen, and they might be able to run up to Port Louis before that leeway could be made up. For the Boadicea was not at her best on a bowline: and although he would not have it generally known, she could not come up so close to the wind as some other ships, not by half a point, in spite of all his care.
Yet taking thought would neither keep the wind south of east nor improve the Boadicea's sailing: he came down, glanced at the now distant Staunch and Otter, he told Seymour that he was to be called in case the position changed, and went fast to sleep in a hammock slung in the desolate clean sweep fore and aft that had once been his array of cabins, knowing that his officers would sail the ship admirably well and that he must keep his wits as sharp as they could be for what might well be a difficult night-engagement, calling for instant decision.
When he came on deck again the Otter and the Staunch were barely in sight from the masthead: the Africaine was something better than two leagues ahead and she was gaining visibly on the Frenchmen. At his second hall the lookout replied, after a studying pause, that Staunch and Otter had vanished now: and while the lookout was answering, an unpleasant rattle accompanied his voice: the wind had come too far forward for the studdingsails to set, and they were shivering, in spite of fiddle-taut bowlines. The Boadicea took them in: she lost way at once, and presently the Africaine was a full eight miles away, pursuing the now invisible French towards the coming night.
A dirty night, though warm, with sudden squalls and a mounting cross-sea that kept forcing the Boadicea's head northwards. The best helmsmen in the ship were at the wheel, with Jack behind them, standing by the master at the con. For some little while after full darkness he saw the rockets and the blue lights that showed the Africaine's position. Then nothing. Hour after hour of low driving cloud, very heavy showers of rain, the seas breaking over her starboard bow, the wind in the rigging as she stood on and on; but never the sound that the silent, listening men were waiting for.
Nothing until seven bells in the middle watch, when the breeze turned gusty before dropping to something near a calm: at seven bells and again at the changing of the watch flashes were seen under the cloud to windward, and remote gunfire followed them. 'God send he has not engaged close without me,' murmured Jack, altering course for the flash. That fear had occurred to him in these hours of waiting, together with others, equally wild: but he had put it away--Corbett was no Clonfert; and in any case Corbett knew the Boadicea's rate of sailing perfectly.
The gunfire was louder every glass; but at every glass
the breeze grew less; and at last the Boadicea had scarcely steerage-way. The short twilight before dawn was veiled by a last sheet of tepid rain. It faded slowly in the still air as the sun rose up; and all at once there was the whole stretch of sea, brilliantly lit, and upon it, four miles away, the Afiicaine with one French ship within pistol-shot on her bow, another on her quarter. She was firing an occasional gun: the enemy answered with full broadsides: then she fell silent.
Four miles away: clear in his telescope Jack saw her colours waver at the peak and come slowly down, down, right down on deck; and still the French kept firing. For a quarter of an hour they kept firing into her silent hull.
Never had he had to master himself with such force: the sight was so horrible that if the breeze had not got up while he was watching it seemed that his heart must break with grief and rage. The royals took it first. The Boadicea gave a gentle heave against the sea and the water began to whisper along her side. Jack gave his orders automatically; said, 'Mr Seymour, the slow-match needs renewing,' and took the Boadicea down towards the Frenchmen as they lay about their prize, the boats coming and going. 'Masthead, there,' he called. 'What do you see of Staunch and Otter?'
'Nothing, sir,' came the reply. 'Nothing to windward, nothing to leeward.'
Jack nodded. The breeze was freshening; he could feel it on his cheek, coming beautifully though soft from the south-east and even south of that--the breeze that would have brought him up. The Boadicea stood on; and as they watched the Africaine's masts went by the board; first her foremast, then the mizen, then the main. The Astree and the Iphigenia did not appear to have suffered at all.
Whatever it cost, he must resist the temptation to run down and engage them: it would be criminal folly. But the temptation to set the Boadicea right between the two, firing both sides, was terribly strong; and with the wind as
it lay he might be able to yield just so far and still regard his duty--a quick hard strike and away was allowable: it was even called for.
'Mr Seymour,' said he, 'I am going to run down to within musket-shot of the windward ship. When I give the order, let the starboard guns fire, starting from forwards: deliberate fire at her stern, the smoke to clear between each shot. When the last gun has fired, about ship, and then the larboard broadside as we go about to come up as
