He tried to keep his tone level when his whole being was screaming at him to act, to do the impossible. And how easy he had made it for them. He had allowed the schooners to draw him, like a fox after two rabbits. Argus must have been following them along the coast, waiting for the trap to be sprung, reading Bolitho's mind without even being able to see him.
Herrick exclaimed, 'Then, by God, we'll tell Mr. Frenchman to sheer off! This is none of his affair!'
Keen called, 'She's overhauling us, sir.'
Bolitho looked past him. The Argus was already beating well out on their larboard quarter, taking the wind-gage, doing exactly what he had attempted to do to the schooners. Now Undine was in the trap. Run aground, or try and claw to windward? He saw the sunlight flashing down the big frigate's exposed side, the small moving shadows above the creaming water as she ran out her whole broadside.
He thought of the man behind those guns. How did he feel at this moment?
Herrick said quietly, 'Eighteen-pounders, I'm told, sir?' He watched his face, as if hoping for a denial of Argus's strength. 'Yes.'
He drew in a long breath as a flag broke from the Frenchman's peak. Black and red, like the ones which had flown above the schooners. Letter of marque. Hired by a foreign power, the flag merely to keep up a pretence-of legality.
Keen lowered his telescope and said quickly, 'She's almost up to the dismasted schooner, sir.' He was managing to sound calm, but his hands were shaking badly. 'There are some men in the water. I think they were thrown outboard when the masts came down.'
Bolitho took the glass and watched, his mind cold as he saw the frigate ride through and over the men in the water. The captain had probably not even seen them. All he saw was Undine.
He raised his voice, hoping the others would not despair at its strangeness. 'We will alter course directly.' He ignored the unspoken protest on Mudge's heavy face. 'Get the t'gallants off her, Mr. Herrick. The Frenchman will expect us to do so if we are about to fight.' He looked at Mudge again. 'Without so much canvas we may be able to gain a little room to give an account of ourselves.'
Mudge replied harshly, 'It'll mean crossin' 'er bows, sir! Even if we gets round without 'avin' the sticks torn out of us, what then? The Argus will overreach us and put a full broadside through our stern as she passes!'
Bolitho regarded him bleakly. 'I am relying on his desire to retain the wind-gage, for without it he might change places with us.' He saw no agreement in Mudge's tiny eyes. 'Or would you have me haul down our colours, eh?'
Mudge flushed angrily. 'That ain't fair, sir!'
Bolitho nodded. 'Neither is a battle.'
Mudge looked away. 'I'll do me best, sir. Lay 'er as close to th' wind as she's ever bin.' He tapped the compass bowl. 'If th' wind 'olds, we should be able to steer almost due west.' He strode to the wheel. 'God 'elp me.'
Bolitho turned and saw the topmen sliding down to the deck again, felt the more sluggish motion as Undine plunged ahead on topsails and forecourse. A glance at the other ship told him that her captain was doing likewise. He had no need to worry. Undine would have to stand and fight. There was no room left to run away. He walked slowly back and forth, stepping unseeingly over the six-pounder tackles, his knee brushing against a crouching seaman as he passed. Argus's captain would be watching his every move. The advantage, if there was one," would last only seconds, a few minutes at best. He looked at the headland. It seemed very close now, extending far out beyond the larboard bow, like a great arm waiting to snatch them whole.
Then he strode to the quarterdeck rail and called, 'Mr. Soames 11 will want a broadside as we put about. You have small chance of hitting him, but the sudden challenge may have an effect.' He let his gaze move slowly along the upturned faces. 'You will have to reload and run out quicker than ever before. The Argus is a powerful ship and will endeavour to use her heavier iron to full advantage. We must get to close quarters.' He felt the grin frozen to his lips like a clamp. 'Show him that our lads are better, no matter what damn flag he wears!'
A few raised a cheer, but it was not much of a rally.
Herrick said quietly, 'Ready when you are, sir.'
It seemed very quiet. Bolitho looked aloft yet again. The pendant flicked out as before. If the wind backed further it would be some small help. If it veered it would be disaster. Then he looked at Soames as he clumped heavily aft and disappeared below the quarterdeck. To supervise the sternmost twelvepounders, which would bear first once they had altered course. Davy was by the foremast, sending some of his own gun crews across to assist the larboard battery. If Argus's eighteenpounders got to grips they would need plenty of replacements, he thought grimly.
He faced Herrick and smiled. 'Well, Thomas?'
Herrick shrugged. 'I'11 tell you what I think when it's over and done with, sir.'
Bolitho nodded. It was an unnerving feeling. It always was, of course, and yet you imagined that each time was worse than the one before. In an hour, in minutes, he could be dead. Thomas Herrick, his friend, might be fighting a battle not of his choosing, or screaming out his life on the orlop deck.
And Mudge. Hand-picked because of his vast store of knowledge. But for this commission he would have been discharged now. Living with his children, and his grandchildren, too, in all probability.
He snapped, 'So be it then! Put the helm down!' 'Man the braces. Lively there!'
Shuddering and groaning in protest, Undine slewed round to the thunder of wind and wildly flapping canvas. Bolitho saw spray bursting through the open ports as she swayed further and further to the violent change of tack. From the corner of his eye he saw the Argus's topsails lifting above the hammock nettings, her shape shortening as Undine swung round across her bows. A gun banged out, and the ball whimpered some where overhead. Someone must have fired too soon, or perhaps the French captain had already guessed what they were trying to do.
Soames was ready and waiting, and the first crash of gunfire shook the deck violently, the smoke swirling up and over the nettings in a writhing pall. Gun by gun down the side, from stern to bow, the six-pounders joining in as the Argus crossed each black muzzle. Bolitho saw her foresail jerk and throb to the onslaught, holes appearing like magic as Soames's gun crews fired, reloaded and fired again.
When he peered forward Bolitho saw that the headland had eased back to starboard, the schooner already tiny as she scuttled around it and into the next bay.
Mudge yelled, 'West by north, sir! Full an' bye!' He was mopping his eyes with his handkerchief, clinging to the mizzen mast pike rack to hold himself upright.
He gestured towards the gaff where the red ensign streamed almost abeam. 'Close as we can get, sir!'
Bolitho winced as the six-pounders barked out again, and saw the nearest one bounding inboard until caught and held by its tackle. Its crew was already sponging out and groping for fresh charges and another ball from the shot garland, eyes white and staring through the grime, voices lost in the crash and roar of cannon fire, the squeal of trucks as like angry hogs the heavy guns were run out towards the enemy.
The Argus had at last followed Bolitho's lead. She was swinging round, her yards braced almost fore and aft, to hold the wind and keep Undine under her lee.
Even as he watched Bolitho saw the long orange tongues flashing from her ports, the bombardment unhurried and carefully aimed as gun by gun she fired through the swirling curtain of smoke and spray.
A ball screamed above the quarterdeck and slapped through the maintopsail before dropping far abeam. Others were hitting the hull, above or below the waterline, Bolitho had no idea. He heard someone screaming through the choking smoke, saw men dashing hither and thither like prisoners in hell as they rammed home the new charges and threw their shining, blackened bodies to the tackles again and again.