He found Hope more concerned with their landfall on the coast of the Carolinas than with the future of Mr Midshipman Augustus Morris.
'Do as you think fit, Mr Devaux,' he said without looking up from the chart, 'now I pray your attention on this chart…'
For a few moments the two men studied the soundings and coastline.
'What exactly is our purpose in making a landfall here, sir?' asked Devaux at last.
Hope looked up at him. 'I suppose you had better be aware of the details of this mission since any mishap to myself necessitates the duty devolving upon yourself… we are to make a landing here…' Hope pointed to the chart.
We will rendezvous with a detachment of troops at Fort Frederic, probably the British Legion, a provincial corps under Colonel Tarleton. An accredited officer will accept the package in my strong box. In the package are several millions of Continental dollars…'
Devaux whistled.
'The Continental Congress,' Hope continued, 'has already debased the credit of its own currency to such a state that the flooding of the markets of rebel areas will ruin all credibility in its own ability to govern, and bring large numbers of the Yankees over to the Loyalist cause. I believe large raids are planned on the Virginny tobacco lands to further ruin the rebel economy.'
'I see, sir,' mused Devaux. The two men considered the matter, then the younger said, 'It does seem a deucedly odd way of suppressing rebellion, sir.'
'It does indeed, Mr Devaux, decidedly odd. But my Lord George Germaine, His Majesty's Secretary for the Colonies, seems to be of the opinion that it is infallible.'
'Ha Germaine!' snorted the indignant Devaux. 'Let's hope he exercises better judgement than at Minden.'
Hope said nothing. At his age youthful contempt was an expenditure of energy that was entirely fruitless. He took refuge in silent cynicism. Germaine, North, Sandwich, Arbuthnot and Clinton, the naval and military commanders in North America, they were all God's appointed…
'Thank you Mr Devaux.'
'Thank you, sir,' replied Devaux picking up his hat and leaving the cabin.
Morris was below when the first lieutenant summoned him. Ironically it was White who brought the message. Sensing no threat from the boy Morris swaggered out.
'Sir?'
'Ah, Mr Morris,' began Devaux considerately, 'I understand there has been some difference of opinion between you and your messmates, is this so, sir?'
'Well, er, yes as a matter of fact that is so, sir. But the matter is settled, sir.'
'To your satisfaction I presume,' asked the first lieutenant, scarcely able to disguise the sarcasm in his voice.
'Yes, sir.'
'But not to mine.' Devaux looked hard at Morris. 'Did you strike first?'
'Well, sir, I, er…'
'Did you, sir, did you?'
'Yes, sir,' whispered Morris scarcely audible.
'Were you provoked?'
Morris sensed a trap. He could not claim to have been provoked since Cranston would testify against him and that would further militate in his disfavour.
He contented himself with a sullen shrug.
'Mr Morris you are a source of trouble on this ship and I ought to break you, never mind stretching your neck under the Twenty-Ninth Article of War…' Morris's face paled and his breath drew in sharply. 'But I shall arrange to transfer you to another ship when we rejoin the fleet. Do not attempt to obtain a berth aboard any ship of which I am first lieutenant or by God I'll have you thrown overboard. In the meantime you will exert no influence in the cockpit, d'ye understand?'
Morris nodded.
'Very well, and for now you will ascend the foretopgallant and remain there until I consider your presence on deck is again required.'
Chapter Thirteen
The Action with La Creole
His Britannic Majesty's 36-gun frigate Cyclops was cleared for action, leaning to a stiff south westerly breeze, close hauled on the port tack. To windward the chase was desperately trying to escape. As yet no colours had broken out at her peak but the opinion current aboard Cyclops was that she was American.
She had the appearance of an Indiaman but cynics reminded their fellows that Captain Pearson had been compelled to surrender to Paul Jones in the Bonhomme Richard. She had been an Indiaman.
On his quarterdeck Hope silently prayed she would be a merchant ship. If so she would prove an easy prey. If she operated under letters of marque she might prove a tougher nut to crack. What was more important was that Hope wished his arrival on the coast to be secret. Whatever the chase turned out to be Hope wanted to secure her.
Devaux urged him to hoist French colours but Hope demurred. He had little liking for such deceptions and ordered British colours hoisted. After a while the chase brailed up his courses and broke out the American flag.
'Ah there! He's going to accept battle. To your posts, gentlemen, this will be warm work. Do you likewise with the courses Mr Blackmore and take the topgallants off her…'
Shortened down for the ponderous manoeuvres of formal battle, Cyclops closed with her enemy. In the fore-top Drinkwater peered under the leech of the fore-topsail.
There was something odd about the ship they were approaching.
'Tregembo… clap your eyes on yon ship… do you notice anything peculiar…?'
The Cornishman left his swivel and peered to where the enemy vessel lay to, seemingly awaiting the British frigate.
'No zur… but wait there's siller at her rail no… it's gone now…' He straightened up scratching his head.
'Did you see flashes of silver?'
'Aye, zur, leastways I thought I did…'
Drinkwater looked aft. Cranston in the main-top waved at him and he waved back suddenly making his mind up. He swung himself over into the futtock shrouds.
On the quarterdeck he bumped into Morris who was now signal midshipman.
'What the hell are you doing aft?' hissed Morris, 'Get forrard to your station pig!' Drinkwater dodged round him and hovered at Hope's coat tails.
'Sir! Sir!'
'What the devil?' Hope and Devaux turned at the intrusion of their vigilant watch on the closing American.
'Sir, I believe I saw the sun on bayonets from the fore-top…'
'Bayonets, by God…' Wheeler too whirled at the military word. Then he turned again and clapped his glass to his eye. Briefly visible the sun caught the flash of steel again.
'Aye bayonets by God, sir! He's a company or two there sir, damned if he hasn't…' exclaimed the marine officer.
'You'll be damned if he has, sir,' retorted Hope, 'so he wants to grapple and board with infantry… Mr Devaux, lay her off a little and aim for his top hamper.'
'Aye, aye, sir.' Devaux went off roaring orders.
'Thank you, Mr Drinkwater, you may return to your station.'
'Aye, aye, sir…'
'Lickspittle!' hissed Morris as he passed.
Hope's assessment had been correct. The enemy ship had indeed been a French Indiaman but was then operating under a commission signed by George Washington himself. Despite her American authority she was commanded by a Frenchman of great daring who had been cruising under the rebel flag since the Americans first appealed for help from the adventurous youth of Europe.
This officer had on board a part battalion of American militia who, though recently driven out of Georgia by their Loyalist countrymen, had recovered their bravado after receiving a stirring harangue from their ally and were now eager to fire their muskets again.
Although Hope had correctly assessed his opponent's tactics he was too late to avoid them. As the two vessels opened fire on one another the enemy freed off a little and bore down towards the British ship. As they closed her name was visible across her transom: La Creole.