The ship stole on, the lookout at the fore-masthead relieved every fifteen minutes peering into the featureless white blanket.
An ominous thud and the frigate trembled. She had shouldered aside a wicked floe bigger than their launch.
“Sir, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Hollis muttered uncomfortably.
Kydd said nothing and unaccountably the fog-bank thinned and they were through-and not a mile ahead was their quarry, nosing along the edge of the ice.
“Got him!”
“I don’t think so,” Horner said heavily. “See this?”
He waved at the scattered ice fragments. The sea they swam in had subtly changed. Between the larger floes there was a peculiar wide scattering of floating platelets in an almost oily carpet.
“Frazil ice. Temperature drops any more an’ we’ll have ice rind-and then you get out fast.”
Kydd said nothing, watching his prey so close. Both ships were barely making way in the near complete calm, sails hanging loosely and giving an aimless flap every now and then. If they could catch a random cats-paw of wind it would be sufficient to bring them up and, fantastic as it seemed in the surroundings, there could be gun-play and a boarding.
The small breeze was running parallel with the edge of the ice and Kydd could see now what Walvis was up to. She had been looking for a way into the pack and had found one. Angling behind a long floe, she eased in, the flash of wet bearing-off spars visible as her sailors poled their way past. Then they were inside some ice-lagoon and still under way deeper in.
“Don’t even think on it, Cap’n!” Horner grated. “If you does, I quit! Hear me?”
By now Tyger was close to the ice edge herself. In horrified fascination men watched the unending floes drifting and heard a ceaseless tiny creaking and muted cracking as they gently rose and fell on the slight swell. Delicate frost-smoke hung over the surface of the sea, playfully plucked and flurried to eddying wreaths by a polar zephyr.
Kydd’s thoughts raced. The rational course was to give best to one with superior knowledge of these regions and sail away before some hideous Arctic fate overtook them. But that would be at the cost of his only chance of coming out of his High North expedition with something to show for it.
So near!
Boats?
No, boats coming down a defined lead in the ice were a perfect oncoming target. A charge over the ice? How did he know if a floe would take their weight? If it didn’t, their end would be immediate and awful.
Here he was with a man-o’-war of unanswerable force and under her guns not a mile away was her prey-but he was completely helpless!
Horner was not going to let it go. “See all them ice-hillocks another mile in? That’s your ice fast to the shore. It comes out an’ meets the drift ice on its way in with terrible force. If the wind’s offshore, you has a chance. Wind turns onshore, why, you’ll be crushed between ’em like an egg-shell!”
Ominously, Kydd could see that, just as had been predicted, the frazil ice was coming together in a continuous greasy-looking thin sheet.
They had been lucky, he knew. On mess-decks and in wardrooms he’d heard tales of ferocious storms raging out of the Arctic wilderness and if one struck here …
“It’s freezin’ in, Cap’n,” warned Horner. “Time we was going.”
The weather was changing-Kydd felt it in his bones. How long could he afford to wait? The smaller Walvis could lie there indefinitely if it was equipped for long-distance voyaging in these parts but Tyger was ill-equipped and vulnerable. Was it right to risk her and her company for the sake of what was really personal advantage?
He shivered and pulled his coat tighter as a slightly stronger wind flaw cut into him … and something Horner had said returned. What was it?
The slight wind! His unconscious mind had registered that it had shifted a point or two and strengthened a little.
“Sir, we should leave while we can,” the muffled voice of his first lieutenant came, and in his anxiety he’d even gone so far as to touch Kydd’s arm.
But, with a fierce glee, Kydd had seen how he could win. “Mr Joyce, I desire Tyger to lie off at two cables distance. Mr Hollis, a file of marines and a boarding party to muster at the mainmast now.”
They looked at him as if he’d suddenly gone mad.
“Carry on, please!” he ordered crisply.
With a grudging smile Horner tipped his hat to Kydd and watched Walvis warp about and make for the open sea-and, reluctantly, into Tyger’s embrace.
CHAPTER 14
“DON’T CONCERN YOURSELF, m’ boy, your prize will be taken care of by Whippet when she heads off with my dispatches. Now, tell me all about it-I’m sure it’ll be a rare tale!”
Kydd knew the bluff Admiral Russell would not take kindly to tacking and veering about the actuality and opened up to him, freely admitting his motives for the daring thrust into the High Arctic. The chase after the furs had been a long shot but what had he had to lose?
There was professional talk on the suitability of Archangel as a second port-regretfully dismissed-and conditions while working ship in freezing weather.
Then Russell asked, “Tell me, why did the barky decide to give himself up from the pack-ice so conveniently?”
Kydd debated whether to claim the credit himself but answered, “Something my pilot mentioned. He said the worst danger for navigating in the north is when the fixed ice coming out from the shore meets the floating pack driven in by the wind. Any ship between will be helplessly crushed. The Hollander was safe until the wind turned onshore. Then he had the choice of being sunk and marooned on the ice as he watched us sail away or …”
“You sighted his papers?” the admiral asked, clearly keen to know if indeed there was a case for condemning Walvis as prize, given her rich lading.
“I did, sir.” Kydd went on to tell him how he’d found the ship was merely a ferry, trans-shipping the cargo to a disguised blockade-runner waiting in Tromso fjord in north Norway ready for the dash south. It must have seemed wildly improbable that a British man-o’-war of size would ever chance on Archangel, still less Spitzbergen, he added. Then he beamed. “I fancy, sir, we’ll soon be sharing in as rich a prize as any these last years!”
Russell gave a sad smile. “Not as who would say. Won’t even make the prize court, o’ course.”
“Sir?”
“Your action must count as a considerable success-at thwarting a smuggling ring. Kydd, I have to tell you, the offence for which we take reprisal with this prize is nothing but an offence against the revenue service of Russia. See if you can find in our orders-in-council where the fur of the Arctic fox is listed as contraband. You won’t. So what we see is the property of the Tsar of Russia rightfully restored.”
“So-”
“I expect the tsar will be generous in his thanks and no doubt our Dutch friends will at this moment be marching off to Siberia in chains, but as to lawful prize …”
Seeing Kydd’s crestfallen look he gave a chuckle. “It has its bright side. I dare to say we’ve a reasonable claim to salvage on the cargo, a tidy sum. And undoubtedly it affects you personally too, Kydd.”
“Sir?”
“What would our grateful tsar say if he found the Admiralty had rewarded the captain responsible with the loss of his ship? The politicals would never allow it. No, m’ boy, I do believe you’ve Tyger to yourself if you want her.”
In the solitude of his cabin, thoughts crowded in on Kydd. Tyger was his-but for how long? Despite Russell’s words, he felt it was a reprieve only. He had to go on to achieve a standing that made him untouchable by the Admiralty and restored him to favour with the public.
Actions that resulted in distinction and acclaim could never be commanded on a whim. In all his past triumphs he had been in a position that allowed various elements to be exploited to advantage-and he had had the freedom to act. In a fleet there would be little chance in the short term of coming on such a situation.