It was all very modish, thought Drinkwater ruefully, the divisions told off by name as if Melusine had been a crack seventy-four. Still, the men jumped eagerly enough to their pieces. He could see the disappointment as Germaney arrived forward and stood all the guncrews down except that at the long twelve pounder in the eyes.
Germaney looked aft and Drinkwater nodded.
The gun roared and Drinkwater saw the wadding drop right ahead of Nimrod's bowsprit. But still she came on.
'Mr Germaney! Come aft!'
Germaney walked aft. 'Sir?'
'Have your topmen aloft ready to let fall the forecourse, but not before I say. Mr Rispin!' The junior lieutenant touched his hat. 'Load that brass popgun with ball. Maximum elevation.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
'Do you propose to fire on him, friend?' There was anxiety in Sawyers's voice.
'Merely putting a stone in David's sling,' said Drinkwater raising his glass.
'But I do not approve…'
Drinkwater ignored him. He was staring at Ellerby. The Greenlander was pointing to the men ascending Melusine's foremast and spreading out along the foreyard, casting off alternate gaskets.
'Pass me the trumpet, Mr Hill.' He took the megaphone and clambered up into the mizen rigging.
'Take station, Ellerby! do you hear me! Or take the consequences!'
He watched the big man leap into Nimrod's mizen chains and they confronted one another across eighty feet of water that sloshed and hissed between them, confused by the wash of the two ships.
'Consequences? What consequences, eh, Captain?' There was a quite audible roar of laughter from Nimrod's deck. Without climbing down Drinkwater turned his head.
'When his mainmast bears, Mr Rispin, you may open fire.'
Drinkwater felt the wave of concussion from the brass carronade at the larboard hance. The hole that appeared in Nimrod's main topsail must have opened a seam, for the sail split from head to foot. A cheer filled Melusine's waist and Drinkwater leapt inboard. 'Silence there!' he bawled. 'Give her the forecourse, Mr Germaney.'
The big sail fell in huge flogs of billowing canvas. In an instant the waisters had tailed on the sheets and hauled its clews hard down. Melusine seemed to lift in the water and start forward. Nimrod fell astern.
'Tell me, Captain Sawyers,' Drinkwater asked conversationally, 'do you throw a harpoon in person?'
'Aye, Captain, I do.'
'And cause more harm than that ball, I dare say.' Drinkwater was smiling but the Quaker's eyes were filled with a strange look.
'That was a massive pride that thou wounded, Captain Drinkwater, greater than the greatest fish in the sea.'
But Drinkwater did not hear. He was sweeping the horizon ahead, beyond the low headland of Spurn and its slim lighthouse. There were no topsails to betray the presence of a frigate cruising for men.
'Mr Hill, please to back the main topsail and heave the Faithful's boat alongside. Captain Sawyers, I am obliged to you, sir, for your assistance, but I think you may return to your ship.' He held out his hand and the Quaker shook it firmly.
'Recollect what happened to David, sir. I give you God's love.'
Chapter Four
The Captain's Cloak
Captain Drinkwater nodded to his first lieutenant. 'Very well, Mr Germaney, you may secure the guns and pipe the hammocks down.' He turned to the lieutenant of the watch. 'Mr Rispin, shorten sail now and put the ship under easy canvas.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
Drinkwater paced aft, ignoring the stream of superfluous orders with which Mr Rispin conducted the affairs of the deck. He was tempted to conclude the young officer hid his lack of confidence beneath this apparent efficiency. It deceived no-one but himself. But in spite of misgivings about his lieutenants Drinkwater was well satisfied with the ship. Melusine handled like a yacht. He stared aft watching a fulmar quartering the wake, its sabre wings rigid as it moved with astonishing agility. He eased his shoulders beneath his coat aware that he could do with some exercise. There were other compensations besides the qualities of his former French corvette. Mr Hill, the master, had proved an able officer, explaining the measures taken in the matter of stores for the forthcoming voyage. Furthermore his two mates, Quilhampton and Gorton, seemed to be coming along well. Drinkwater was pleased with Hill's efficiency. He seemed to have assumed the duties of both sailing master and executive officer, and not for the first time Drinkwater regretted the system of patronage that promoted a man like Germaney and denied a commission to Stephen Hill.
Drinkwater turned forward and began pacing the windward side of the quarterdeck. Since they had returned Sawyers to his ship off the Spurn lighthouse the wind had held at west-northwest and they had made good progress to the north. Four more whalers had joined them from Whitby and this evening they were well to the eastward of the Firth of Forth, the convoy close hauled on the larboard tack and heading due north.
Drinkwater stopped to regard the whalers as the sun westered behind him. He could see a solitary figure on the rail of Narwhal. Taking off his hat he waved it above his head. Jaybez Harvey returned the salute and a few seconds later Drinkwater saw the feather of foam in the whaler's wake jerk closer to her stern as Harvey's men pulled in the cask at which Melusine's gunners had been firing.
It had been a good idea to practise shooting in this manner. He had been able to manoeuvre up to, cross astern of and range alongside the cask, making and taking in sail for a full six hours while Harvey maintained his course. Finally to test both their accuracy and their mettle after so protracted an exercise, he had hauled off and let the hands fire three rounds from every gun, before each battery loosed off a final, concussive broadside.
The Melusines were clearly pleased with themselves and their afternoon's work. There was nothing like firing guns to satisfy a British seaman, Drinkwater reflected, watching the usual polyglot crowd coiling the train tackles and passing the breechings. He took a final look at the convoy. One or two of the whalers had loosed off their own cannon by way of competition and Drinkwater sensed a change of mood among the whale-ship masters. It was clear that preparations were under way for the arrival at the fishing grounds and he fervently hoped the differences between them were finally sunk under a sense of unanimous purpose.
He had stationed the Hudson Bay Ships at the van and rear of the convoy where, with their unusual ensigns, they gave the impression of being additional escorts, while Melusine occupied a windward station, ready to cover any part of the convoy and from where all her signals could be seen by each ship. He turned forward and looked aloft. The topmen were securing the topgallants and he could see the midshipmen in the fore and main tops watching over the furling of the courses. He considered himself a fortunate man in having such a proficient crew. Convoy escort could frustrate a sloop captain beyond endurance but the whalers, used to sailing in company and manoeuvring with only a handful of men upon the deck while the remainder were out in the boats after whales, behaved with commendable discipline. They were clearly all determined to reach the fishing grounds without delay. Even Ellerby seemed to have accepted his humiliation off the Spurn in a good grace, although it was at Nimrod that Drinkwater first looked whenever he came on deck.
'Beg pardon, sir.'
'Mr Mount, what is it?'