And then it was quiet again, save for the low sound of the vessels grinding against each other. The topsail yards were lowered away and the sails clewed up, and the topmen layed out to furl their sails. Biddlecomb reached over the yard and grabbed a fistful of canvas when number-one gun, larboard side, went off with a shattering roar.
"What in the hell...?" shouted Pendexter from the quarterdeck, and Biddlecomb saw the gunner spin around and face aft.
"Hickman, what in hell are you doing?" Pendexter shouted.
"But, sir," the gunner stammered. "The admiral's salute..."
Ten yards away the schooner's crew burst into a wild and derisive laughter.
Chapter 16.
Repair to Sea
THE FLAG HAD BEEN FLYING above the admiral's house for some time before Mr Midshipman Appleby noticed it. He grabbed his signal book and thumbed through the smudged pages until he found the correct interpretation.
"Signal from the admiral, sir," he said brightly. "Captain to report aboard flagship." He must mean to go ashore, sir, since there is no flagship."
Midshipman Appleby's observations were terminated with a sharp blow to the ear, delivered by Captain Pendexter, who had seen and interpreted the flag fifteen minutes prior.
"McDuff, God damn your eyes!" he shouted to the bosun, who at that moment was trading obscenities with the bosun aboard the schooner. "McDuff, get a boat in the water and get it now! The admiral will not wait for you."
At the sound of Pendexter's voice McDuff broke off and hurried back to the quarterdeck. "It's them whore's sons on the schooner, sir. The launch is kindling now, sir, and them bastards won't cut away their rig so's we can get the gig out. sir."
"So you are telling me that there is no boat to take me ashore?" Pendexter's voice was taut, like a line about to break.
"Not right now, sir, no, there ain't. And, sir? I think it would be best if you called me "Mr" in front of the men. Discipline and all, sir."
"You blackballing, impertinent philistine! I'll break you! I'll send you forward if you dare lecture me again, you villain!"
McDuff's face turned a deep red, and then pale. Every member of the Icarus's company was watching the drama aft.
"Very well, sir," McDuff said at last, then turner and walked slowly forward.
Pendexter stepped up to the rail, ready to hurl more threats at the warrant officer, when the master's voice, roaring across the deck, cut him off.
"Avast there! Stand off, you! Keep away from this ship! Barrett, fetch a sweep and fend them bastards off!"
Pendexter looked over the larboard side. A bumboat with two huge black men at the oars was rapidly closing with the Icarus. In the stern sheets stood a portly black woman, her head bound in a colorful cloth. In one hand she held aloft a limp and plucked chicken, in the other a small bunch of bananas. The smell of fried fish and perspiration wafted across the water.
"I say," observed Smeaton, "here's a boat that could take you ashore."
"A bumboat? Are you mad? I can't arrive ashore in a bumboat,you idiot!"
"Well," said Smeaton, as much to himself as to Pendexter, "it would be better then keeping the admiral waiting. Any longer than he already has."
"Stand off, there!" shouted Dibdin again. "They have rum, sir, and they'll slip it to the menif they get a chance."
"Well, see how much they want to take me ashore," Pendexter said to Smeaton.
The first officer leaned over the larboard rail. "I say, there," he shouted.
"You want fresh chicken? Banana? Plantain I got too, mister!" the fat woman yelled through huge and brilliant teeth. The bumboat thumped alongside the Icarus, and Pendexter could see that it was more filthy than he had first imagined.
"Stand off there, you!" Dibdin shouted. "Sir, tell them to stand off." The men of the Icarus drifted towards the larboard side, and each seemed to find work that needed attention there.
"How much to take captain ashore?" Smeaton continued. "Captain, big man, big important! Must go ashore."
"I don't think captain of little ship such a big man, not so important. You pay me five sous, I take lieutenant ashore."
"You there, Smith, what did you take from that man?" Dibdin shouted.
"Five sous? To ride in that filthy scow? Five pence, no more!"
The fat women laughed. "Your boat is all broke, mister, and the admiral, he don't like to be kept waiting. I know the admiral, he don't like to be kept waiting."
"God damn it! Just pay the damned money!" shouted Pendexter, snatching up the bag of dispatches. The crowd of men parted before him as he made his way to the boarding steps.
Smeaton tossed down the coins as Pendexter settled in the stern sheets. He gritted his teeth and wrinkled his nose at the overpowering smell. Barrett shoved the bumboat off with the sweep, and the two oarsmen fell into a steady rhythm.
"You want chicken, Mr Captain?" asked the fat woman, thrusting the dead bird into Pendexter's face.
From the foretop Biddlecomb watched the bumboat pulling away from the Icarus's side. He could see the mailbag between Pendexter's legs, which contained, he hoped above all things, his letter to Glacous. Biddlecomb roughly estimated the time it would take to get word to the plantation and back. Three or four hours. And then he and Rumstick would be free again.
"All hands on deck, now, you lazy, motherless bastards, now!" McDuff shrieked from the deck. His voice had a hysterical, animal quality far worse even than his normal beastly tone. Biddlecomb imagined that the bosun was still smarting from Pendexter's threats and his humiliation before the ship's company.
"We're bloody in for it now," whispered Wilson as he reached out for a backstay and slid to the deck. Biddlecomb knew he was right. McDuff would worry that his dressing-down had made him less terrible in the men's eyes and would try to prove that he was, if anything, more terrible than before. Biddlecomb reached out for another backstay and slid reluctantly to the deck.
The gang forward, ostensibly led by Longbottom but in fact following Barrett's direction, was rigging the capstan to take up on the anchor hawser, which lay like a dead serpent across the deck. Along the starboard side the crews of the Icarus and the schooner labored to untangle the two vessels.
The schooner's main brace was tangled in the brig's main shrouds, and Paul Harland was wrestling with the Gordian knot that had developed.
"What bloody hell are you about?" McDuff snarled.
"Trying to free the schooner's main brace—" Harland began, but McDuff clapped his huge hand over Harland's face and shoved him to the deck. Then he pulled his sheath knife from his belt and cut the schooner's main brace in two.
"Hey...!" the schooner's boatswain began, but the protest died on his lips when he saw the black scowl on McDuff's face.
"Get up off the goddamned deck, Harland, and get an ax and cut the schooner'smain channel away," McDuff ordered over his shoulder as he stamped away.
For two hours the men of the Icarus labored as Biddlecom had never seen a ship's company labor. With flailing axes and slashing knives the brig was disentangled from the schooner. A strain was taken on the limp anchor hawser and the Icarus was hauled to windward, where she lay peacefully at anchor while the damage was repaired.
The multitude of broken running gear and torn sail was replaced, while the carpenter and his mate swarmed over the side, replacing the chunks that had been torn from the hull. During the few instances that Biddlecomb was able to glance around, he was astounded at the speed with which the men worked. They had been well trained under Bleakney. Each man knew his job, and there were a lot of men. He had to admit the efficiency of this naval practice, which he had never seen in the merchant service.