Quarterdeck(32)

‘I’m sorry, sir – Mr Kydd’s enthusiasm sometimes exceeds his experience and—’

‘Why do you say that?’ Houghton snapped at Kydd.

‘Main course. It’s goosewings now, but that would be so if they only had time to haul one clew up to the yard, not both, and if the lubbers hadn’t yet loaded the signal guns or shipped aprons against the rain, they—’

Bampton broke in, ‘What are you wittering about, Kydd? Those vessels have their numbers hoisted. They have not hauled down their colours or signalled distress – they’re in a god-awful mess. I’ve seen it many times before, and so will you.’

Houghton’s telescope steadied. ‘Viper and Trompeuse to close and investigate,’ he bawled to the poop-deck.

He rounded on Bampton. ‘Mr Kydd knows his signals – “Haul up your main course and two guns to weather” is the signal for the approach of strange sail. They must have been caught napping by some damned privateer disguised as one of our ships, who knows our procedures and that our attention is all ahead.’

Trompeuse hurried back along the convoy, keeping to the windward edge. Viper angled off downwind.

The master came up to watch developments but remained silent.

‘What is that idiot in Viper up to?’ Bampton said.

Kydd had his own ideas about why the gun-brig had clapped on all sail away to the east, well to leeward of the action, but kept his silence.

Tysoe arrived with Kydd’s oilskins and a warm jersey, which Kydd struggled into under his waterproofs.

‘Sail hoooo!’ The masthead lookout’s hand was flung out to seaward. As the Lizard opened up to the westward a respectable-sized frigate under easy sail close inshore came into view.

‘No colours,’ growled Houghton, ‘but we know what she’s up to. Quarters, Mr Bampton.’

Then Tenacious heard the heart-stopping thunder of the drums in anger for the first time this voyage. Kydd’s post in battle was at the signals; he had but to send for his sword and see to the lead-lined bag ready for sinking secret material should the need arise.

‘She thinks t’ fall on the convoy while the escorts are to loo’ard dealing with the brig – they wouldn’t guess a ship o’ force was waiting for ’em,’ the master said. With grim satisfaction Kydd spared a glance astern.

The enemy must have seen events swing against them, for both the hapless goosewinged merchantman and the anonymous brig loosed sail hurriedly and swung about – but it was too late. The reason for Viper’s move had become clear. She was now squarely between the enemy and his escape.

‘Spankin’ good sailin’!’ Kydd burst out. With Trompeuse now coming down fast from one direction and Viper well placed in the other, the end was not really in doubt.

The smoke of a challenging shot eddied up from Viper, the ball skipping past the enemy and her prize. The two came briefly together, probably to recover crew, before one broke out French colours and crammed on all sail to try to make off, leaving the other with ropes slashed and drifting helplessly. So close to Falmouth there would be no trouble recovering the abandoned prize.

As the brig attempted to pass Viper, she made a perfect target for raking fire and Viper did not waste it. When the smoke of her broadside cleared, the brig had already struck her colours. Jubilation rang out on Tenacious from the deck below, and satisfied smiles were to be seen on the quarterdeck.

But as Tenacious thrust towards her, the frigate shied away and bore south-east, towards the distant French coast. When she had drawn away, and Tenacious stood down from quarters, Kydd saw that the convoy was now much closer together, and in impeccable formation.

As one, the argosy rounded the Lizard, taking Atlantic rollers on the bow in explosions of white, hauling their wind for the south-west, the wanly setting sun and the thousands of miles that lay ahead.

‘Your health, Mr Kydd!’ The surgeon leaned forward, as usual in his accustomed evening-wear of a worn green waistcoat. He had an odd, detached way of regarding people, part earnest, part sardonic.

‘Thank ye, Mr Pybus,’ Kydd answered, ‘It’s always a pleasure t’ have a doctor wishing me good health.’

The wardroom was abuzz with chatter. Besides the charge of anticipation that a new voyage always brought, there was the tension of getting the convoy to sea – and their first brush with the enemy.

‘Sharp of His Nibs to spot the wolf among the sheep,’ said Pringle, helping himself to another cutlet.

Adams leaned across for the asparagus. ‘Did hear that you helped him to a conclusion, Kydd?’ he said, and when his eyes flicked towards the head of the table, Kydd guessed that the story of his contretemps with Bampton was now common knowledge.