They rounded the point and took up by the wind on the larboard tack for the inshore passage, handing in the sheets in a smart and seamanlike manner that brought a grunt of satisfaction from Teazer 's commander as he considered whether to anchor in the lee of Cap Lévi for the night—
A disbelieving cry of "Saaail!" came from the maintop lookout. "Two points on the bow, a—a brig wi' some . . ." He tailed off in perplexity but threw out an arm to starboard.
Kydd leaped for the main-shrouds and shaded his eyes as he peered out at a confusing scene—numbers of vessels of different sizes crowding together, about four or five miles off. The largest was a brig-o'-war with distinctive red ochre sails and quite as large as Teazer. It was being circled by a smaller vessel, a topsail cutter, and had three open craft of puzzling form close astern. Kydd fumbled for his pocket telescope. It soon became clear that they had come upon a drama which could have only one meaning. "Colours, Mr. Hallum!" he roared.
Their white ensign flew aloft as he jumped to the deck to meet the expectant faces of the quarterdeck. "Frenchy invasion barges! Three of 'em being towed by a brig-o'-war as is fighting off a cutter!"
After a short delay the cutter responded with the correct private signal to Teazer's challenge. She would be one of a number of game little ships that were making life uncomfortable for the gathering invasion fleet and had come upon these three barges probably being towed to the next port. No doubt they had been new-built at Barfleur and, thinking that Teazer was continuing south, had been gulled into taking the chance of slipping out.
The cutter had found she had not been able to take on the bigger ship but had been snapping at its heels. Now the tables were well and truly turned. Against two determined men-o'-war the brig stood little chance—and fleeing into the land was no longer an option, for Teazer, in her inshore passage, was waiting.
Caught under two fires the brig did its best. The barges' tow lines were thrown off and, ignoring the cutter, the brig circled round to confront Teazer's onrush, but as its crew hauled on the braces it slewed suddenly and stopped. Then the fore-topmast tumbled.
"He's taken a rock!" Hallum crowed, watching the confusion on the hapless vessel's deck.
"Boarders, if you please," Kydd said sourly, as their prize slowly settled. On the opposite side he could see that the cutter was hove to and already had a boat in the water. "I'll take 'em m'self," he muttered and, with a token force of men, set out for the brig.
The vessel had driven up a ledge of rock and was fast aground, but the slight swell was lifting the after part, then dropping its dead weight again and again in a cacophony of cracking timbers. Closer to, Kydd could see that this was a merchant brig converted to appear fierce and protective: the guns were "quakers"—false wooden cannon at the gunports meant to intimidate. The crew were crowded together on the highest part and appeared to await their fate with resignation.
Kydd had the boat brought alongside to the main-chains and swung himself lithely on deck. At the same time a lieutenant from the cutter boarded from the opposite side. "My bird, I think!" the officer said, with a dazzling grin. He was absurdly young, and it was difficult to take offence. Kydd smothered a cynical smile. Any naval ship in sight at the time of a capture could demand a share of any prize-money.
"Kydd, Commander, Teazer brig-sloop."
"Oh, sir—Clive Leveson-Wardle, Lieutenant-in-command, Linnet cutter."
"Well, now, Mr., er—L'tenant, do ye take possession o' this vessel, sir, as you've half a right t' do so? An' I'd not linger, sir. I fancy she's not long for this world," Kydd said, knowing that any talk of prizes was now merely academic.
By this time the brig lay ominously still and unresisting to the waves, hard upon the rocky ledge just visible below in the murky depths.
Kydd crossed to the little forward companionway access to the hold and opened the door. There was an unmistakable dark glitter and the hollow swash of water below. The ship's bottom was breached and it had flooded, then settled on the ledge, which it would never leave.
"Th' barges, sir?" The boatswain, his cutlass still drawn, nodded to where they were being secured by the cutter.
"Ye're right, Mr. Purchet," Kydd said, with a quick grin. "They'll serve." He returned to the young lieutenant. "Sir, I'm taking ye under my command," he said. "Your orders are to send a party o' men to recover as much o' what she carries as ye can an' stow it in the barges." It would go some way to making up for the loss of the brig.
"I understand, sir."
"An' then to take 'em under tow until ye make your offing and shape course for Guernsey. I'll send help when I can."
"Er, it's that I see soldiers in them there barges, sir," the boatswain said uncomfortably.
"All th' better," Kydd said briskly. "No doubt they'll kindly bear a hand in return for they're saved from the briny deep."
Kydd surveyed the activity with satisfaction. The cutter's master's mate had had the sense to disarm the soldiers before boarding each barge and, with marines borrowed from Teazer to act as guards, they were brought alongside one by one for transshipment to Linnet.
He looked down curiously at one of the strange craft. It was the first he had seen at close quarters of the thousands he had heard were being built and assembling in the invasion ports.
This must be a péniche, designed for landing the maximum number of soldiers in the minimum time. Over three score feet long and twelve feet in the beam, the open boat could probably cram aboard sixty or seventy troops and all their equipment. It had provision for stepping three masts, a simple lug rig. No doubt a howitzer or mortar could be mounted forward.
And this was the smallest of the flotilla: there were others much larger that could take horses and field guns, still more that were big enough to warrant the same three-masted square rig as a frigate and with guns more than a match for Teazer.
"Sir? I heard 'em say among 'emselves like, they'm new-made in Barfleur an' hoping t' take 'em to Cherbourg." It was one of Teazer's Guernseymen, with the Breton tongue.
It was a chilling sight, so close to the reality of Napoleon's menace. Notwithstanding Kydd's seaman's instinct, which was telling him that, fully loaded, they would be pigs to sail, the thought of them in uncountable numbers crowding across the Channel to invade England was a fearsome prospect.
There was little more he could do. He called the lieutenant over. "I'm continuing m' cruise to the west. I'll leave the marines for the prisoners and expect ye to haul off before dark. Good voyage to ye, sir."
In the late afternoon they had reached the western end of the inshore channel without further incident and Kydd was looking forward to supper with Renzi, who had been locked away for hours in his tiny cabin restoring acquaintance with his philosophical studies after his labours in Jersey.
He turned to go below, then stiffened: a distant sound, like the mutter of thunder. Guns!
He strained to hear, but there was no more. He might have imagined it—but one or two about the deck had paused, like him.
"Mr. Calloway!" he called. A younger man's ears would be sharper. "Did ye hear guns?"
"Aye, sir, I did."
"I thought six-, nine-pounders?"
"Could be twelves, Mr. Kydd."
Some frigates mounted twelve-pounders as main armament, and if he went to see what it was about, Kydd knew he might find himself turned upon by one of unanswerable force. His duty was plain, however. "Clap on more sail, Mr. Dowse."