inboard, and joined at the side tackle. The gun was run out. The noise seemed more of a heavy rattle than the bass rumble of the three tons of the larger gun.

'Gun 'as fired,' Stirk said laconically. He looked pointedly at Colton, but Wong and Pinto thrust past and seized the training tackle at the breech end of the gun to make it 'recoil'. Kydd had the sponge ready in the bucket, and lifted the dripping sheepskin. Passing the rammer end out of the gunport to get more room, he plunged it into the muzzle.

Renzi, across from Kydd, had an imaginary 'cartridge' and 'wad' ready for Doggo, who stuffed them into the muzzle. Kydd quickly had the cuplike end of the rammer stabbing down inside the muzzle; Doggo took the shot and another wad and slammed them into the maw. Kydd repeated his ramming and the gun crew hauled together on the tackles to run out; Stirk performed his priming and pointing, and the cycle was over. 'We does it now in quick time!' he growled.

They did it again, causing Stirk to groan with frustration. Kydd, in his enthusiasm, had his rammer flailing straight after Doggo's cartridge but before his wad could be applied, and Wong, used to the huge inertia of larger guns, tripped over at the side tackle and sent his side down in a tangle of cursing men. At that moment a single squeal from a boatswain's call pierced the din.

'Still!' cried Rowley, striding aft to meet the Captain with his first lieutenant. Rowley removed his hat as Powlett stepped on to the gundeck. All movement ceased.

'Where are our Royal Billys, if you please, Mr Rowley?' Powlett demanded.

'This way, sir,' Rowley replied, and with a graceful gesture moved forward.

Kydd watched them approach. Rowley was short enough to stand upright and stepped carefully, as if distrustful of where he trod. Powlett stooped slightly and ranged like a wary lion. Spershott hurried on behind.

lDuke Williams, sir, Tobias Stirk, gun captain.'

Kydd sensed a cold ferocity behind Powlett's eyes and felt his back stiffening.

'Your men up to service in a frigate, Stirk?' Powlett rasped.

Stirk hesitated.

'Very well — we'll have the measure of you nevertheless.' Powlett drew out his watch. He swung round to the twelve-pounder next along. 'Symonds!'

'Aye, sir?' the other gun captain said carefully.

'You and the Royal Billys will exercise together.'

He turned back to Stirk. 'Run out. On my mark!'

Stirk spat on his hands and glared at his crew.

Powlett consulted his watch. 'Now!' His arm swept down and the gun crews leapt into action.

With Wong's great strength at the training tackle the recoil was accomplished rapidly. With nervous energy Kydd sponged and withdrew, Doggo's cartridge instantiy ready at the muzzle. Kydd returned with the stave - but Doggo hissed savagely, 'Fuckin' rammer!' Kydd had made a stupid mistake. He had not reversed the stave and the wet sheepskin was still inboard with the rammer gaily poking out of the gunport. He tried to turn the stave outside the port but he fumbled and it fell away, tumbling noisily against the ship's side and into the sea, sinking in the wake astern.

Symonds and his crew laughed cruelly. Spershott stepped over, scandalised. 'Crown property! This will be stopped from your pay, you rascal.'

Powlett held up a hand. 'No. Royal Billys will carry on with their exercise. And the rest of you may secure and stand down.' He spared just one glance for the furious Stirk and returned up the ladder.

Liberated from duty, the Artemis hands gathered for the entertainment, and for the rest of the dog-watch the red-faced Stirk drove his crew mercilessly to the jeers and laughter of the others.

The days that followed were not easy for the Royal Billys. Things moved faster in a frigate. It needed agile feet to get out on a slender yard and back, and her speed of response at the helm took even Stirk by surprise. It was sailoring on a different and more challenging plane, but stung by the element of competition they responded nimbly.

It was six weeks he had been in Artemis, and Kydd now felt he had found his feet. The middle watch was going slowly. As lookout, Kydd could not pass the time companionably with Renzi, and must occupy himself for an hour staring out into the night. Kydd drew his grego closer about him, the coarse wadmerel material warm and quite up to keeping out the keen night winds. The fitful moon was mostly hidden in cloud, leaving an impenetrable gloom that made it difficult even to discern the nearby helmsman. Kydd gazed out again over the hurrying seas, fighting a comfortable drowsiness.

Something caught his eye, far out into the night. A blink of paleness, suddenly apparent at the extremity of his vision then gone. He stared hard, but could not catch it again. There it was once more! A momentary pallid blob appearing and disappearing in one place.

'Officer o' the watch, sir!' Kydd called. A voice replied from the other side of the deck, and a dark figure loomed next to him.

'Kydd, sir, larb'd after lookout. Saw something way to loo'ard, flash o' white or so.'

'Where away?' It was Parry's hard voice.

The pale object obliged by winking into existence in the general direction Kydd indicated, remaining for a brief space before it disappeared.

Party had his night glass up instantly, searching. 'Damn it - yes, I have it.' He snapped the glass down. 'Pass the word—my duty to the Captain, and a sail is sighted.' With a captain like Powlett there could only be one response. They would close on the sail, and take their chances.

In the short time before Powlett hastened on deck Artemis had braced around and

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