Quarterdeck(31)

‘Viper acknowledges, sir.’ It was Bampton at the officer-of-the-watch’s telescope.

‘And Trompeuse,’ Kydd added, finding the small ship-sloop. Then he spotted the vessel sliding into the line of sight from behind a bulky salt-carrier, a red and white pennant at her signal halliards. ‘A gunboat answers, sir.’

Houghton took a deep breath. ‘Then hoist and execute for pennant ships, damn your eyes!’

Rawson already had the signal bent on and swooping up the rigging where it fluttered gaily for several minutes then jerked down. One by one, from random places in the milling ships, trusted merchant vessels followed the lead of Tenacious and hoisted a yellow triangular flag above an unmistakable red-and-white square – the Halifax convoy.

First Tenacious, then the pennant ships marking leading positions in the convoy purposefully set their bowsprits to the open Atlantic, and a pattern formed after them. Ship after ship fell into column, jockeying with shortened sail into their order of sailing; men-o’-war chivvied and snapped at the heels of the laggardly, and the vast fleet headed away from the land. The gunboats returned to port.

Well before they had left the outer Falmouth Roads and laid the deadly Manacles to starboard, the signal for escorts to take station was made. Tenacious led the convoy, she and her consorts on the windward side of the mass of shipping – the best position to drop down quickly on any of their charges if they were attacked.

‘Viper to leave the stragglers and come up to station,’ Houghton ordered testily. ‘Never know what’s waiting for us out there.’ The inevitable late starters would have to catch up as best they could. One lumbering merchantman was caught flat aback when avoiding another, and Kydd could see its helpless gyration through his glass as it gathered stern-way and turned in reverse in obedience to the last helm order.

A grey-white wall of drizzle approached silently. In the westerly wind the craggy loom of the peninsula to starboard was no threat. But when they reached its end, the notorious Lizard, they would leave its shelter and face whatever the Atlantic Ocean could bring.

‘Damn!’ Bampton cursed. The light rain had reached them and was beginning a damp assault. While Houghton kept the deck no one dared go below, and all had to suffer coats heavy with wet and rivulets of cold water wriggling down their necks. The captain stood aggressively as the rain ran down his face. Kydd’s crew shivered and clutched their coats but none dared ask to leave the deck.

Suddenly Houghton started. ‘Who has the watch?’

‘I, sir,’ responded Bampton.

‘I shall be in my cabin.’ Houghton wheeled round and left. Other officers followed his example and went below, but Kydd knew he must stay so he moved down from the exposed poop-deck. Bampton called for his watch-coat and Kydd his oilskins, but then the rain ceased and the wind resumed a chill buffeting.

Kydd used his signals telescope to survey the slow-moving convoy. Once they made the open sea beyond the Lizard they would spread more sail for best speed, but if the stragglers could not make up the distance before they met the friendless ocean they would be in trouble.

In the main they were closing manfully, but a small gaggle were now miles astern locked together. Kydd shuddered with the cold and lowered the telescope. But something made him raise it again. The larger of the stopped vessels had one corner of her main course drawn up to the yard, a peculiar action at sea. He steadied the glass, leaning back with his elbow braced on his chest to see better. There was activity, but it was not co-ordinated.

Straining to make it out, he waited for a spasm of shivering to subside and concentrated on the other vessel. Something about her – she was not low in the water. ‘Sir!’ he said loudly. ‘Seems the stragglers are being taken!’

‘What?’ said Bampton incredulously. He brought up his big telescope. ‘Are you mad? That’s nothing but a parcel of lubberly merchantmen got in a tangle!’

‘But the main course! It’s up to—’

‘What are you babbling about, Mr Kydd? She still flies her pennant. The other vessel has her vane a-fly – leave them to it, I say.’

‘Sir, should we not send Viper down to ’em?’

‘And put her to loo’ard and having to beat back just when we make the open sea? I’m surprised at your suggestion, Mr Kydd, and can only ascribe it to your, er, lack of experience in these waters.’

The captain appeared from the cabin spaces. ‘Ah, Mr Bampton. All’s well?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Th’ stragglers are bein’ snapped up f’r prizes!’ Kydd blurted out.

‘What? Give me that,’ said Houghton, taking Kydd’s telescope.