“Main tops’l aback!” roared Hornblower.
It was of supreme importance to preserve his position of advantage to windward of the convoy, whence he could dash forward to the threatened point of danger. The convoy drew slowly ahead, with the luggers leading them. Hornblower watched them steadily, the practice of years enabling him to keep them in the focus of his telescope as he stood on the heaving deck. They spun round suddenly on the starboard tack again, moving like clockwork, leaping to meet the Lord Mornington on the starboard wing like hounds at the throat of a stag. The Lord Mornington sheered out of her course, the Sutherland came tearing down upon her, and the luggers went about, instantly, heading for the Walmer Castle again.
“Hard a-starboard,” rasped Hornblower. The Walmer Castle, to his vast relief, managed to throw her topsails aback, and the Sutherland reached her just in time. She swept across her stern; Hornblower could see her whiskered captain in his formal blue frockcoat beside her wheel, and half a dozen Lascar sailors leaping hysterically over her deck. The luggers wore away, just out of gunshot of the Sutherland. There was smoke eddying round one of the other Indiamen; apparently she had loosed off her broadside straight into the blue.
“They’re wasting powder there, sir,” volunteered Bush, but Hornblower made no reply, being too busy with his mental calculations.
“As long as they have the sense not to scatter—” said Crystal.
That was an important consideration; if the convoy once divided he could not hope to defend every portion of it. There was neither honour nor glory to be won in this contest between a ship of the line and two small privateers—if he beat them off the world would think nothing of it, while if any one of the convoy was lost he could imagine only too well the ensuing public outcry. He had thought of signalling to his charges that they should keep together, but he had rejected the idea. Signalling would only confuse them, and half of them would probably misread the signal. It was better to rely on their natural instinct of self-preservation.
The privateers had come up into the wind again, and were working to windward directly astern of the Sutherland. From the very look of them, of their sharp black hulls and far-raked masts, Hornblower could guess that they had concerted some new move. He faced aft, watching them closely. Next moment the plan revealed itself. He saw the bows of the leader swing to starboard, those of the second one to port. They were diverging, and each with the wind on her quarter came racing down, white water foaming at their bows, lying over to the stiff breeze, each of them a picture of malignant efficiency. As soon as they were clear of the Sutherland they would converge again attacking opposite wings of the convoy. He would hardly have time to beat off the first one and then return to chase the other away.
He thought wildly for a moment of trying to bring the whole convoy to the wind together, and rejected the plan at once. They would probably spread out in the attempt, if they did not fall foul of each other, and in either case, scattered or crippled, they would fall easy victims to their enemies. All he could do was to attempt to tackle both ships in succession. It might seem hopeless, but there was nothing to be gained in abandoning the only plan possible. He would play it out to the last second.
He dropped his telescope on the deck, and sprang up on to the rail, hanging on by the mizzen rigging. He stared at his enemies, turning his head from side to side, calculating their speeds and, observing their courses, his face set rigid in an intensity of concentration. The lugger to starboard was slightly nearer, and consequently would arrive at the convoy first. He would have a minute or so more in hand to get back to deal with the second if he turned on this one. Another glance confirmed his decision, and he risked his reputation upon it—without a thought now, in the excitement of action, for that reputation of his. “Starboard two points,” he called. “Starboard two points,” echoed the quartermaster. The Sutherland swung round, out of the wake of the convoy and headed to cross the bows of the starboard side lugger. In turn, to avoid the ponderous broadside which was menacing her, the latter edged away, farther and farther as the Sutherland moved down upon her. By virtue of her vastly superior speed she was forereaching both upon the convoy and the escort; and the Sutherland in her effort to keep between the privateer and the merchantmen was being lured farther and farther away from her proper position to interfere with the designs of the other lugger. Hornblower was aware of that, but it was a risk he was compelled to take, and he knew, despairingly, that if the Frenchmen played the right game he would be beaten. He could never drive the first lugger so far away and to leeward as to render her innocuous and still have time enough to get back and deal with the other. Already he was dangerously astray, but he held on his course, almost abreast now both of the convoy and of the lugger to starboard. Then he saw the other lugger turn to make its dash in upon the convoy.
“Hands to the braces, Mr. Bush!” he called. “Hard a-starboard!”
The Sutherland came round, heeling over with the wind abeam and a trifle more canvas than was safe. She seemed to tear through the water as she raced for the convoy, which was wheeling in confusion away from the attack. As if through a forest of masts and sails Hornblower could see the dark sails of the lugger swooping down upon the helpless Walmer Castle, which must have responded slowly to her helm, or been badly commanded, and was being left astern by the others. A dozen simultaneous calculations raced through Hornblower’s mind. He was thinking like a highly complex machine, forecasting the course of the lugger, and of the six Indiamen, and making allowances for the possible variations resulting from their captains’ personal traits. He had to bear in mind the speed of the Sutherland, and the rate at which she was drifting to leeway under her press of canvas. To circumnavigate the scattering convoy would take too much time and would deprive him of any opportunity of surprise. He called his orders quietly down to the helmsman, steering for the narrowing gap between two ships. The Lord Mornington saw the two-decker rushing down upon her, and swerved as Hornblower had anticipated.
“Stand to your guns, there!” he bellowed. “Mr. Gerard! Give the lugger a broadside as we pass her!”
The Lord Mornington was past and gone in a flash; beyond her was the Europe–she had worn round a little and seemed to be heading straight for a collision.
“God blast her!” roared Bush. “God—” The Sutherland had shaved across her bows her jib boom almost brushing the Sutherland’s mizzen rigging. Next moment the Sutherland had dashed through the narrowing gap between two more ships. Beyond was the Walmer Castle, and alongside her the lugger taken completely by surprise at this unexpected appearance. In the stillness which prevailed on board the Sutherland they could hear the pop-popping of small arms—the Frenchmen were scrambling up to the lofty deck of the Indiaman. But as the big two-decker came hurtling down upon him the French captain tried for safety. Hornblower could see the French boarders leaping down again to the lugger and her vast mainsail rose ponderously under the united effort of two hundred frantic arms. She had boomed off from the Indiamen and came round like a top, but she was five seconds too late.