The royals of a ship showed above the mist, and Lynx burst into view, a signal at her main. "Enemy in sight!" shouted Kydd from the poop, but the signal had been recognised at once.
"Clear for action!"
For the first time on the American side of the Atlantic Tenacious made ready for battle. The mist cleared slightly—giving a tantalising view of two dark shapes before it closed round them once more.
The urgent rhythm of "Hearts of Oak" ceased as Bryant reported the ship cleared fore and aft; it was replaced by a long, solemn drum-roll. Quarters!
Kydd's sword banged against his legs as he raced up the poop-deck ladder—if this were a rogue enemy 74 and frigate escort they were in dire trouble.
"Make to Lynx, 'take position one mile to windward,' if you please," said Houghton. Small fry had no business in the line when big ships met in combat.
Tenacious glided into the trailing mist, the wind now only a dying breeze. The masthead lookout hailed the deck. "Deck hoooo! Two ships, two points t' larboard, near ter five mile off!"
At Houghton's command Kydd exchanged the heavy signal telescope for the more handy glass of the officer-of-the-watch and swung up into the shrouds. He was clear of the mist by the maintop; there was no need to go further—and over there to larboard, protruding through the rumpled white upper surface of the fog, were the upper masts and tops of two vessels—ship rigged, as the lookout had said.
Kydd held the telescope against an upper shroud and gazed intently. Both were under sail but were hove to at an angle to each other. He steadied the glass and found the tricolour of France hanging limply on one, he couldn't tell for the other; certainly they were not ships-of-the-line. He swept once around the horizon, noting that the mist was clearing to patches around the enemy, and bawled down his report, then clambered back to the deck.
"What the devil? You saw no other vessels at all?" Houghton barked. They had unmistakably heard the gunfire of a ship of force.
"Sir, is it—" the master began, then the obscuring mist lifted, and some four miles away almost dead to leeward they saw the enemy.
"Damn my eyes if that ain't a frigate!" Bryant said, in wonder.
"An' that looks like one o' our merchant ships, sir," interposed Hambly.
"Lay us to wind'd of the frigate, Mr Hambly," said Houghton shortly. "We'll look for that damned ship-o'-the-line later."
Adams came up to stand beside Kydd. "Can you just conceive," he said, with a boyish grin, "what discussions must be afoot on her quarterdeck? Just about to take a fat prize and a ship-o'-the-line, no less, sails out of the fog."
Houghton said, over his shoulder, "Mr Kydd, recall Lynx— to take station astern." Aboard the Frenchman there would be something approaching panic: an additional ship in the equation, however small, meant double the worry for the unknown commander of the frigate, now making hasty sail.
"Stuns'ls, sir?" The south-easterly breeze was playful and light and they were bearing down slowly.
"No, Mr Hambly. We'll wait and see what he's going to try first." If the frigate bore away downwind there would be every reason for stuns'ls but if she moved off on the wind Tenacious could not follow until the awkward sails and their booms had been taken in.
With the rapt attention of the entire quarterdeck, the Frenchman's length foreshortened as her yards came round. "She's running large," said Bryant. It would be strange indeed if a frigate did not have the legs over a cumbersome ship-of-the-line in a stern chase and in a matter of hours she would be clean away.
The merchant ship, a large vessel with clean lines, ran up her colours as they approached. "American?" Bryant took off his hat and scratched his head, glancing up at their own ensign as if for reassurance.
"Cousin Jonathan is a neutral—what is the Frenchy up to?" Adams murmured, as they passed the cheering merchant ship under full sail.
"If y' please, sir . . ." began the master.
"Mr Hambly?"
"If I'm not wrong, sir, that's not a National Ship—she's a heavy privateer. Slight in the build, maybe over-sparred, an' the size of her crew . . ."
"I think he's right, sir," agreed Bryant, borrowing a telescope. The sea ahead was now free of mist and the chase, no more than a mile ahead, loosed all plain sail—but no stuns'l.
Houghton pursed his lips. To stand any chance of staying with the chase he must soon spread stuns'ls abroad—a canny captain of the "frigate" would wait for the manoeuvre to complete, then put his own wheel over and go close-hauled, knowing that it would take some time for his pursuer to strike his stuns'ls and follow. But on the other hand, if they did nothing, the chase would draw ahead and disappear. "Mr Hambly, be so good as to see how the chase goes."
The sailing master found his sextant and measured the angle from masthead to waterline of their prey. A few minutes later he repeated the action. "We're dropping astern by as much as two knots, I fear, sir."
"Not worth our trouble," Adams said gloomily to Kydd. "We spread more sail, so does she—an' I've yet to find any two-decker can stay with a frigate. She'll be hull down by sunset."
The Frenchman was now visibly drawing away, disdaining even to set her own stuns'ls. Houghton took a telescope and trained it for a long time on the chase. Suddenly he snapped shut the glass. "Pass the word to Mr Bampton and Mr Renzi—we will yaw, and on command they will pepper the rogue with a full broadside."
The midshipman messenger touched his hat, expressionless. Even he knew that this was a last gesture after which the Frenchman could sail away over the horizon in peace. Houghton's action would hopelessly slow their advance in the light winds. The lad ran off smartly and from the rumbling Kydd could picture the long twenty-fours being run out, hand-spikes plied to make them bear as far forward as they could—and the talk around the guns as men peered out of open gunports to catch a sight of their target.
Houghton paced impatiently, waiting for the youngster to report back, his gaze fixed on the ship ahead.
Reported ready, it needed only the captain's order to complete their final, aggressive, act. Houghton gave a brief smile to the group on the quarterdeck, and said quietly to Hambly, "Larboard, if you please."
Tenacious sheered off slowly, giving the gun-captains time to lay their weapons, so when the order to open fire was given the guns crashed out almost together. Smoke rolled down lazily on their target and, seconds later, the sudden eruption of a forest of white splashes along the line of sight brought war-like roars from the gun-decks.
The wheel spun and, sluggishly, Tenacious traced her bowsprit back on target, and past. She steadied for a moment, and her opposite broadside thundered out across the calm seas. Again the gun-smoke, the close scatter of splashes—then the enemy's miz-zen topmast fell in a graceful curve.
"Please, God . . ." breathed Adams. It was by no means a decisive hit, but the complete absence of square sail on the mizzen might be enough to hamper the vessel, allowing them to close and engage.
Activity died down as every man stared forward, willing the chase to falter, but it was not to be. Sacrificing his wounded topmast, trailing in the water alongside, the French ship ruthlessly cut it loose and continued on as before.
"O' course, she won't grieve over the topmast," Kydd said, glumly. "Going large, she c'n balance by tricing up the clew o' the mains'l one side. She knows all she has t' do is carry on and she'll lose us."
"That may be so," Adams said, "but what happens when she wants to go by the wind? Close-hauled she'd be a cripple."
"And why would she do that?" Bampton's acid comment from behind was nearly lost in a general growl of dismay at the sudden crump of gunfire and smoke issuing out from their quarry.