Jay was watching the other vessel with professional interest. "We'll catch the bastard right enough."
There was a hail from the deck. "Clear for action! Mr Archer, lay aft if you please! "
Archer was the gunner, so there could be little doubt about it now.
Tyacke's voice seemed to be right beside him.
"Mr Segrave! Down here at the double! "
Jay watched him clambering down the ratlines, his fair hair rippling in the wind.
There was nothing to dislike about the midshipman, but Jay knew the dangers. In small ships like Miranda it was one hand for the King, t'other for yourself. There was no room for passengers and mother's boys.
Simcox faced Segrave as he reached the bulwark. "Keep with Mr Archer. He will personally lay and point a four-pounder. You will do well to watch him! "
The tub-like boatswain grinned and showed him broken teeth.
"I knowed Elias Archer knock an apple off a tree at a 'undred paces! "
The other man who waited by halliards and braces grinned as if it was a huge joke.
Segrave saw Tyacke turn to speak with the helmsmen. In the sun's angry glare his face looked as if it had just been clawed away. Then he followed the gunner to the foremost starboard side port and tried not to think about it. He felt like running below to hide, anything but being made to bare his fear before the others.
Elias Archer, Miranda's master gunner, was a grizzled little man and stood effortlessly on the pitching foredeck, his arms folded while he waited for his men to clear away the four-pounder nearest to the bows.
"Done much of this, 'ave yer?" He glanced briefly at the midshipman, then returned his gaze to the other vessel. She was larger than Miranda, and might yet outsail them until nightfall made a further chase impossible.
Segrave shook his head. His body was like ice in spite of the sun's high glare across his neck and shoulders; and each time the schooner dipped her stem the bursting spray made him shiver uncontrollably.
He replied, "Not like this. My last ship engaged a French two-decker, but she ran aground and caught fire before we could take her."
"This is different." Archer took a shining black ball from the shot garland and felt it in his hard palms. "Ships like this 'un 'ave to be quick an' nimble. But without the likes o' us the fleet would be all aback fer news, an' without that even Our Nel couldn't move." He nodded to one of his crew. "Right, Mason, open the port."
Segrave watched as other men ran to the halliards and braces and the deck canted over again. The other schooner must have headed away a point or so, but it was hard to tell from where they stood now, here in the eyes of the ship.
Archer leaned over to supervise as the charge was carefully tamped home. He said, "Some 'otheads double-shot their guns. But not me. Not in a little piece like this 'un."
Segrave heard the captain call, "Signal that bastard to heave-to! "
Archer chuckled, "'E won't take no notice! "
Segrave was puzzled. "Maybe he cannot read our signals?"
A seaman with the rammer grinned and pointed at the gun. "He'll understand this, right enough."
The other schooner was showing her bilge as she heeled over to the press of canvas. There were several heads above her bulwark, but there was no response to the signal.
Lieutenant Tyacke shouted, "Load and run out! "
The shot was thrust down the muzzle with a wad to keep it secure. Then, with the hands hauling on the tackles, the little gun was run up to the open port.
Archer explained, "Y'see, my lad, that bugger yonder has the wind-gage, but it will help us to put a shot down where we wants it."
Jay, the forgotten master's mate, called from the foremast: "They've just pitched a corpse over the side, sir! There goes another! "
Tyacke lowered his telescope, his eyes hard. "That last one was still alive, Mr Simcox." The sudden formality seemed to add menace to the moment.
"Beyond her if you can, Mr Archer! "
Archer was crouching like an athlete, the trigger-line pulled taut as he peered over the barrel.
He jerked the line and the gun hurtled inboard on its tackles, smoke fanning through the port even as they began to sponge out for the next shot.
Segrave saw a sudden confusion of spray to starboard and for an instant thought that Archer's aim had failed him. But the ball hit the water just a few yards from the schooner's lee bow and ricocheted across the waves like a jubilant dolphin. Segrave pointed at the other disturbance which was already settling again.
"What's that?"
Sperry the boatswain, who had sauntered forward to watch, said harshly, "Sharks."
Segrave felt the nausea returning. Those two unknown people had been cast outboard like so much rubbish; torn to pieces while he had watched.
"Bosun! Stand by to sway out the boat! "
Segrave raised his eyes again. The other vessel was heaving-to, her patched sails in wild confusion as she rounded-up into the wind.
Segrave had the feeling that Miranda's people were used to this kind of thing. The arms chest was already on deck and open, and Jay came slithering down a back stay with a grunt, his hands already reaching for a hanger while someone passed him his pistol.
Tyacke was saying, "I shall stand off. Board the schooner and search her. Don't take any insolence from any of them. You know what to do."
Simcox beckoned to the midshipman. "You go with Mr Jay lad. If that bastard is full of slaves we'll have to release him. There's no law against blackbirdin', not yet anyways, an' we'd get precious few thanks from the commodore if we return to th' squadron with a load o' slaves. Me, I'd hang the bastards an' to hell with the law an' th' right o' it! "
Tyacke crossed the deck. "Help Mr Jay all you can. Arm yourself-they're as treacherous as snakes."
Small though she was, Miranda appeared to tower over them as they tumbled into the longboat and cast off.
"Give way all! " Jay grasped the tiller bar and watched narrowly as the men pulled strongly towards the other schooner.
Sperry was in the boat too, a boarding axe and a heavy cutlass in his belt.
"No slaves," he said.
Jay asked, "How so, George?"
"No bloody stench, is there? An' us downwind of 'em an' all! "
Segrave gritted his teeth and gripped the bulwark with all his strength. It was another nightmare. He saw a sudden picture of his mother when she had told them about their father's death. How would she feel about him? Proud? Moist-eyed that her only son had died in battle? He stared wildly at the other vessel, stared until his eyes watered and smarted. Damn them all.
Jay cupped his hands. "We're comin' aboard! In th' King's name! "
Sperry bared his teeth and loosened the axe in his belt.
"Oh, that was prettily said, Bob! "
They grinned fiercely at each other while Segrave could only stare at them. At any second they might be fired on; he had heard it said that slavers were often well armed.
Jay was suddenly serious. "The usual, lads. Take over the helm, an' disarm the crew." He glanced at Segrave. "You stick with me, lad. Nowt to it! "
A grapnel flew over the schooner's bulwark and the next second they were clambering aboard, the sea-noises fading slightly as they found themselves on the deck. Segrave stayed close to the master's mate. When he looked at his companions he was not surprised that this vessel had failed to stop. Miranda's White Ensign was genuine but the little boarding party looked more like ragged pirates than the King's seamen.
Jay beckoned to a man in dirty white breeches and a contrasting ruffled silk shirt.
"You th' Master?"
Segrave looked at the others. A mixture. The sweepings of the gutter.
"An' wot do we 'ave 'ere? " The boatswain's thick arm shot out and dragged one of the crew away from the others. With surprising speed for such a squat man, Sperry ripped off the sailor's shirt, then swung him round so that Jay could see the tattoos on his skin. Crossed flags and cannon, and a ship's name: Donegal.