It began angling away, trying for a better slant, and Kydd was certain they were slowly overhauling it, now no more than a mile ahead. His excitement increased and he recognised a rising bloodlust.
"The merchantman is falling astern, sir."
"Thank ye, Mr Dacres," Kydd snapped. The ship was now at quite a distance, but it was still apparently immobile and could wait. Should he try a yaw? That involved suddenly throwing over the helm briefly to bring Teazer's broadside to bear, but it would be at the cost of losing way in the chase and he could not allow that.
It was fast and exhilarating, this hot-blooded flying after the corsair, knowing that there was little doubt about how the battle would end, and then a triumphant return to the grateful merchant ship.
Kydd turned to his midshipman messenger. "Go an' get my sword, if y' will, Mr Martyn." The heft of his fine fighting sword was satisfying and he saw that they were decidedly nearer. It would not be long now—neither darkness nor a friendly port would save their prey.
Every eye forward was on the xebec. It seemed to hesitate, the big lateens shivering, the speed falling off. Surely not—it couldn't be so easy. Teazer came on in fine style, Kydd giving away nothing to chance. The corsair's aspect changed slightly to larboard.
He would take it ranging up on his starboard side for the first broadside and then—
As quick as a warhorse wheeling for the charge, the xebec's sheets flew in and it slewed round. Was it trying to fall upon Teazer before it was ready in order to board her? "Stand by y'r guns!" Kydd roared.
Heading back towards them at speed, its lofty lateens drawing hard, it seemed intent on a suicidal last charge. "Hands t' shorten sail!" If the madman wanted a yardarm to yardarm smashing match, he would oblige.
The sharp drawn bow of the corsair was aimed like a lance at Teazer and Kydd felt the first nagging doubt. What was going on? Had he missed something? His ship slowed ready for the struggle but the xebec still hurtled down on them. The cheers and pugnacious mockery faded away on Teazer at the bewildering sight.
It was a successful manoeuvre for the xebec as its head-on charge prevented any of Teazer's guns being brought to bear, but it could not last. Sheering suddenly to starboard it would pass down the brig's larboard side. Then the action would begin, Kydd thought savagely.
At the last possible moment the xebec sheered aside—now it must brave Teazer 's broadside. It angled nimbly away to increase the range before daring its passage. Kydd saw the evil craft under his guns and did not hesitate: "A broadside, on m' word—fire!"
Teazer's guns spoke in anger for the first time. Her broadside, however, was more a ragged series of cracks than the full-throated blast that would have come from Tenacious. Kydd waited eagerly for the smoke to clear—but there were only some ragged holes low in the sails and no other significant damage he could see. The xebec slashed past in a flurry of white, largely untouched.
But on one side Teazer was defenceless until the guns were reloaded. The corsair could now strike like a snake to lay itself alongside and board. "Load wi' canister!" Kydd shouted urgently. He wheeled on the helm. "Hard t' larboard!" This would bring their opposite broadside to bear if they were quick enough but Teazer seemed to be in thrall to the menace off to one side and turned so slowly.
"Stand by t' repel boarders!" Men not at the guns raced to the masts and to the stands of boarding pikes. Others went to the arms chests in the centre of the deck, casting anxious looks at the crowded deck of the xebec. Kydd drew his sword. They would shortly be fighting for their lives.
Where would the strike come from? The corsair had passed Teazer but could now turn and fall away downwind to pass her again, or place itself across Teazer 's stern and grapple.
"What the devil—?" The corsair was showing no interest in closing with Teazer. In fact, it continued on its course, steadily making off into the distance without so much as a backward glance.
Teazer wallowed about on her turn, which was taking her away from the diminishing sight of the xebec. "Belay that—come up t' the wind," Kydd snapped. Teazer obediently stopped her turn and rotated back to face the way they had come—as far as she could.
And then he understood. The chase had been long and downwind, the corsair had deliberately drawn Teazer after it and then at the right time had put about and, with its fore and aft rig superior in lying close to the wind, was now heading back upwind to the helpless merchantman to finish the job.
Kydd's face burned. To be gulled so easily! To let his fighting spirit heat his blood to the point where it had taken the place of cool reasoning! This was not how it was to be a successful captain. The corsair had made a cunning show of desperate flight, staying just out of reach, luring Kydd on and on before casting loose a hidden drag-sail and flying back to secure its prize. Teazer was left clawing back in slow tacks.
Kydd stole a quick look at Bonnici, still standing impassive.
He had known all along, and said nothing. Kydd's embarrassment deepened. He glanced forward: there he saw Stirk at the fore hatchway, looking down the deck at him. While he watched, Stirk turned away and went below again. His humiliation was complete.
Alone in the great cabin, Kydd balled his fists with frustration and bitterly went over the day's events. The first lesson was burned into his soul for ever—never again would he allow the ardour of battle to cloud his reasoning; it needed more than dash and courage to be a leader of men. The feeling of shame, of every eye on him as he slunk below, would live with him for a very long time.
From now on, it would be an icy calm, an automaton-like analysis of the situation and a ruthless focus on bringing about a victory. Nothing else would serve.
There were other things, practical matters he had discovered. Teazer's broadside was insufficient in weight of metal, although in accord with her establishment. Before he next sailed he would add carronades to his armament, by whatever means.
And saiclass="underline" he could see no real reason why he could not ship a main-yard in place of the cro'jack on the mainmast. At the moment it acted solely to spread the foot of the main topsail, which left the fore as the only course. More substantial sail area there would surely add speed, especially sailing by the wind and he had seen several Navy brig-sloops so fitted.
But the chief objective for Kydd at the moment was to win back the trust and confidence of his ship's company. When he met the corsair again on the open sea it would not hesitate to take on Teazer, knowing she had a raw and impetuous captain, ripe for the taking. Kydd was determined that next time things would be different.
CHAPTER 5
SET-FACED, IN FULL-DRESS AND SWORD, Kydd boarded his cutter for the pull across the busy stretch of Grand Harbour to Porta della Marina gate. His report for Pigot had cost him hours of word-grinding and now would be put to the test.
"Toss y'r oars, God rot it!" his coxswain grated at the boat's crew. Kydd noticed signs of resentment at Yates's manner but all his focus was on the imminent meeting. He sat rigidly in the sternsheets rehearsing his words as the boat stroked across to the stone steps below the ramparts of Valletta.
"Oars—I'll split yore ear, y' bugger, you feather like that agen! " Yates swore at the stroke oar. As bidden, the man ceased rowing but sat sullenly at his oar.