He touched his chest as the pain moved through him like a warning. Then he grinned. One more time. And they were still together.
Bolitho stood beside Tyacke and watched the oncoming ships. The range was closing, and, at a guess, stood at about three miles. An hour and a half had passed since Frobisher had cleared for action; it felt like an eternity.
The two frigates were almost in line ahead, their sails overlapping, as if they were joined. It was the usual illusion; they were perhaps a mile apart, and pointing directly towards Frobisher's larboard bow. The wind had not varied by a degree; it was still north-westerly, light but steady enough. The frigates were close-hauled on the starboard tack, probably as near to the wind as they could manage.
"Shall I run out. Sir Richard?"
Bolitho glanced at him, at his burned profile, and the steady blue eye.
'i think they intend to tackle us separately. They'd never risk a fight broadside-to-broadside, not against our armament. If I were in command, I would change tack at the last possible moment. The leader could then lie athwart our hawse and be able to rake us as he passes, and we'd not be able to bring a single gun to bear."
Tyacke nodded slowly, seeing it. "If we try to follow him round, which we can do with the wind in our favour, the other one will go for our stern, and pour a broadside through us while we are engaged. I think we should run out now, and try to cripple one of them with our heavy battery." He looked at Bolitho. "What do you suggest? You're a frigate captain, and always will be. I'd welcome your experience!"
Bolitho smiled. That was bravely said. It is just a feeling." He could not keep the excitement out of his voice. "Those two captains are desperate, to engage us, to cripple us, above all to provoke close action. The wind is in our favour, but they can match our strength with their agility. I think that the unexpected will win the day. We can come about into the wind, be taken aback in all probability, but we can give each a broadside before either captain can stand away. What say you, James?"
Tyacke was staring at the two oncoming frigates, as if they were being drawn towards Frobisher by an invisible force, like a line on a chart.
"I'll pass the word."
He looked down as Bolitho touched his sleeve. "When we turn, run out the upper guns, James. Keep the lower gundeck sealed. It will give them something to ponder over."
Tyacke smiled. "It might just work, by God! Trick for trick!"
Bolitho saw Avery watching him, brushing threads of cordage from his breeches after his hasty descent to the deck.
"I'll send him, if I may, James. Captains and admirals should sometimes keep their distance."
He saw Tyacke's smile open into a grin. Because of the unlikely plan of action, or because he had not been too proud to ask for advice? But he was already calling to Kellett and the other lieutenants to outline what he required of them.
Avery listened to Bolitho without comment, his expression thoughtful, curious.
Bolitho repeated, "No double-shotting, no grape. I want every shot to find its target. Tell the lieutenant on the lower gundeck to keep firing, no matter what!" His grey eyes moved towards the waiting gun crews. "Otherwise it will be bloody work up here."
Avery looked at the other ships. Was it only his imagination, or were they much closer?
"And Napoleon. Sir Richard? Where will he be, at this moment?"
Bolitho heard the crash of a solitary gun, but could see no telltale fall of shot. A signal, one ship to the other? A misfire, perhaps?
He answered, "He could be anywhere." He added quietly, "He may have gone to his home in Corsica, but a few miles from Elba. Can you imagine a more reckless place to imprison such a man? But my guess is France, where his real strength lies, where people will rise up and follow him yet again."
"You admire him, don't you, Sir Richard?"
"Admire! That is too strong a word. He is the enemy." Then he gripped his arm, the mood changing again. "But if I were a Frenchman, i would be there to welcome him."
He watched Avery move away, and said, Take young Singleton, for the experience." He shaded his eye to look at the masthead. "I shall need no signals today."
Avery hesitated, and saw some of the seamen running to the braces and halliards, Tyacke consulting the sailing master and his mates by the compass. In a moment the ship would alter course to larboard, into the wind, into the enemy. He looked at the distant pyramids of sails. Half an hour, at the most. He beckoned to the midshipman and together they hurried to the companion ladder.
After the brightness of the upper deck, the lower hull seemed like a musty vault.
When they reached the lower gundeck, Avery had to stand for several seconds to accustom his eyes to the gloom, and the sudden sense of danger. A little, feeble light filtered through the tiny observation ports on either bow, and from lanterns protected behind thick glass. The guns were manned and loaded, and he could see the eyes of some of the seamen glinting as they turned to watch him. Was that why Bolitho had told him to take Singleton with him? Because he was known to these men, young or not, and because as flag lieutenant he himself would be, and would remain, a stranger?
Objects were taking shape on either side, the great black humps of the breeches, the powerful thirty-two pounders, fourteen on either side. Tiny pinpricks of light, like malevolent eyes, flickered in each match tub, slow matches in readiness if the more modern flintlock should fail or misfire.
He was joined by the two lieutenants in charge, "Holly' Gage and Walter Armytage. He met them often enough in the wardroom, but it went no further than that.
He could feel the intensity of their concentration as he explained what was intended.
Gage said doubtfully, "Might work."
His friend laughed, and some of his men leaned over to listen. "I shall tell our people we need a miracle today!"
Avery touched his arm. "If the order comes, you'll know they're trying to board us." He gestured toward the guns. "Seal the ports and clear the deck. We'll need every man jack to repel an attack in strength!"
As they moved to the ladder again, he saw the side of the hull, dull red in the feeble light. If the enemy's iron burst into this crowded deck, at least the paint would conceal the blood.
Singleton said, "Will it work, sir?" He sounded very serious, but not afraid.
Avery thought of all those other times, and replied, "If anyone can do it, he can."
The light seemed blinding on the upper deck. Avery saw Tyacke turn towards the admiral, one arm half-raised as he said, "Now, sir?"
Bolitho nodded, and gripped his sword against his hip.
"Stand by on the quarterdeck!"
"Ready ho!"
Tyacke barely raised his voice. "Put the helm down!"
As the wheel was hauled over and the ship began to turn to larboard, men were already running like demons to let go the headsail sheets, spilling out the wind so as not to hamper the ship's head from swinging.
Instead of the peace and the menace of their approach, everything was noise and orderly confusion, the sails banging and flapping wildly as the ship continued to turn.
Bolitho walked to the opposite side and watched the enemy. Perhaps they had been expecting Frobisher to stand downwind to give battle to the leader, exposing her stern to the other frigate. Now it appeared as if they and not Frobisher were turning, separating, one on either bow.
He glanced aloft, at the writhing sails pressed against masts and yards. The ship was aback, unable to pay off on either tack, but the frigates were in a worse plight, sailing so close to the wind that they had no choice but to alter course. Frobisher was almost hove-to, and might even have lost steerage way, but it made no difference now.
He shouted, "At 'em, lads!"
The port lids were hauled up, and to the shrill of a whistle the main deck eighteen-pounders trundled their black muzzles out into the sunlight.