Kydd forced his mind to a deadly coolness. The answer must be at the higher level-the strategics of the situation. Which course would accomplish the greater goal?
He knew so little about this continental struggle but if the desperate stand against Bonaparte failed for lack of this army it would be England itself that would end the loser. His duty was therefore clear: to oppose the squadron by whatever means he could.
“Mr Bray, I believe we cannot run. We must stand and fight.”
There was no reaction at first. Then the hard features were split by a tight smile, which widened. “Aye aye, sir!” he growled happily. “We’ll give the beggars such a drubbing as will have ’em yowling for their mothers!”
Those who overheard it spread the news and in a very short time muffled cheers could be heard breaking out over the ship. It swelled to a roar, and Kydd realised that the deadly peril was achieving what he had not: the Tygers were coming together as a true ship’s company to take up the monstrous challenge.
CHAPTER 19
THE SHIP WAS ALREADY CLEARED for action, the men at quarters and guns run out. Even if he desired it, there was no time for Kydd to call the men aft for a rousing speech and the martial thunder of the drums had long since ceased. His Majesty’s Ship Tyger was about to sail into her greatest time of trial without the smallest ceremony.
Should he go below and put on his sash and star to be like Nelson at Trafalgar? It would hearten the men at the guns but single him out to the enemy sharpshooters in the tops in just the same way. Then he recalled that the great admiral had only worn them because there had not been time to go below and shift into something else.
This was going to be a ferocious struggle and he needed every advantage he could contrive.
Usually a frigate duel began with a lengthy period of sizing up one’s opponent, detecting weaknesses in sail-handling, their poorest point of sailing, over-eagerness or reluctance to engage-all quirks that could be noted and exploited later in the deadly game of war.
But he didn’t have that luxury, for his action was of quite a different kind. The stakes were not winning or losing an encounter but the successful protecting of helpless transports. At all costs he must draw off the pack from their killing.
And for that he needed-craved-sea-room.
The enemy were under full sail, arrowing downwind headlong for the helpless transports with only Tyger between them and their prey. He could take on one but while they grappled this would allow the other two to begin their slaughter.
Only a bold move would-
“Helm alee, hard by the wind close as she’ll lie on the larb’d tack!”
Heads turned in astonishment.
“Sir, that would take us-”
“Yes, Mr Bray-I know!”
In the face of the onrushing enemy they should be shortening sail to topsails and placing themselves firmly in their path ready for the fight. Kydd had just ordered them to head off straight out to sea, away from them, leaving the transports wide open to the charge.
Tyger began filling and standing out to sea, heeling in the stiff breeze and steadily putting distance between her, the transports and the enemy.
He watched carefully: there was no alteration of course in the three frigates, which sped on towards their objective, leaving Tyger to continue her tight close-hauled run ever further out to sea. Aboard the enemy, there would be shrugged shoulders and the despising of a frigate that had fled rather than stand and fight. This was exactly what he wanted.
A bulldog of a ship, Tyger excelled in the weather. Losing hardly an inch to leeward she met the increasing seas exploding on her bow with exhilarating bursts of spray and a purposeful roll.
Ignoring Bray’s sharp stare at him, Kydd concentrated hard on angles, wind pressure and what he knew of the longshore current. At what he judged to be exactly the right time he snapped, “Hands to ’bout ship!”
She went round like a top and on this tack ended angled back towards the coast-but very neatly astern of the racing frigates. They had fallen for it!
Now they would know that not only was Tyger upwind and ready to turn on them, but as well could dictate how the action would be joined. And he had thrown them a conundrum: they could never know which of them Tyger would single out, and thus there could be no occupying him with one while the others set about the transports.
If they decided to continue with their attack, any who did would leave an unprotected stern to be exposed to Tyger’s guns in a brutal raking. It was a risk no sane captain could take-so they had to turn about and deal with Tyger first.
One by one, they braced around and took to the wind close-hauled after him, two on one tack and one on the other.
Kydd gave a grim smile. He had achieved his first objective, drawn them away from the helpless transports. But now Tyger was a hunted creature. He had to find that vital sea-room.
He had two advantages. Tyger was still upwind of them, the weather gage, and could manoeuvre in a way that forced them to respond to his motions. The other was that while he was at some miles distance there was no danger from a battle-losing crippling shot. While he had this freedom there was a chance.
Odin was making good speed but the other, Preussen, was lagging. They would want to stay together to concentrate their force and therefore be constrained to the speed of the slowest. Albatros, the light frigate, was visibly chafing at the restraint. Until the wind freshened, conditions were perfect for her and, like L’Aurore, she had the legs on anything present and would know it.
Colours were now a-fly on every ship. All three of his opponents had French tricolours aloft. Tyger had the ensign of the North Sea squadron at the mizzen peak and Union flags bravely streaming from the main-topmast stay and fore-topgallant stay. Would they be hauled down by the close of day?
Over miles of sea the chase continued and, with satisfaction, Kydd looked back and saw that Dart and Stoat had had the sense to stay with the transports and keep them moving while they could. The first of them had already put out, presumably with a full loading; a second came in to resume the evacuation. If only he could keep up the luring away …
It couldn’t last, of course.
At some point the commander, probably in Odin, would realise that Tyger was leading them a merry dance, and that by turning about to resume their descent they would force Tyger to follow, to be left far behind.
There was no other recourse: sooner or later Tyger must face all three.
Albatros came about with all the vitality and liveliness of her breed. She took up on the other tack well before the others and slashed ahead in an exuberant display-and Kydd saw his chance.
“On my order, we brace around and run large.”
None of the men who raced to their stations could have been unaware of what that meant: Tyger was now turning right around and, with a brisk wind behind her, was running down to meet her pursuers.
“Helm up-move!”
The deep, broad rudder that gave her such sure-footed manoeuvrability did not let Kydd down. Under its impetus she rotated as fast as the men could haul on the braces and, under full sail, she was heading straight for Albatros, separated by half a mile from the others.
As Kydd expected, the less experienced captain hesitated-he was now presented with the choice of taking on Tyger or turning tail and running for his larger brethren. The last would take time and for all of that his stern would be offered to Tyger’s cruel broadside as she came up.