The Privateer's Revenge(21)

"They enters b' keeping in wi' the land from the south," Queripel murmured. This lie of the piers would give the best protection from harsh westerlies, but meant that their one and only chance to see past the high stone walls was to close right in with the land, then make a hard turn to the left until they could peer inside the two pier-heads.

"Take us in, Mr Dowse," Kydd ordered, lifting his telescope to scrutinise the panorama. The distant last sail was even now disappearing within the enfolding piers as they approached, leaving the whole coast in both directions clear and somnolent in the autumn sunshine.

The headland gained clarity, but as they neared and shaped course to its southward there was a gust of white on the bluff tip and, seconds later, a double thump. Cannon balls plumed and skittered towards them.

"Ranging fire only," murmured Standish, coming up to stand next to Kydd. "The villains'll have to do better'n that."

Kydd didn't reply. Another rumble, and a shot passed the length of the ship before meeting spectacularly with a wave crest to send spray sheeting and rattling over the quarterdeck. "Stand on, Mr Dowse," he said, with a cold grin. "We'll tack about opposite the harbour entrance as quick as y' please an' out again."

Teazer edged away to make sea-room, but Queripel said anxiously, "An' nothing t' starb'd." At the same time a distant avalanche of thuds sounded and the sea was alive with rising plumes. Boxed in as they were by sand-shoals to the south and the peninsula to the north, their approach track left precious little space for manoeuvre—and of a certainty the gunners in the old fort were well aware of it. No inquisitive British warship was to be allowed sight of the harbour.

A ball slapped through the fore topsail, leaving a ragged hole, another parted a backstay with a musical twang, and they were not yet within a mile or so of the harbour. Dowse whispered to Standish, "Action t' be avoided, did ye say, sir?"

"Hold y' course!" snarled Kydd, as the helmsman allowed the ship to fall off the wind.

Standish whipped up his glass. "Sir—I see . . . two, no, three and more craft under sail and leaving."

Kydd raised his own telescope, then lowered it. "Gunboats," he said heavily.

It altered everything. Small lug-rigged open craft they each mounted a cannon in their bows. One, two—possibly four or five— Teazer could take on but, well-handled, a swarm together could bring the broadside of a frigate to bear. It was time to retreat.



Renzi entered the cabin noiselessly to see Kydd at his desk, head in his hands. He stood by the stern windows for a moment, then turned. "An unfortunate situation," he said softly. His friend did not look up. "As would vex the saintliest," he added.

Kydd raised his head and mumbled something, but Renzi was shocked by the red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Kydd gestured wearily at a chair and Renzi sat quietly.

"I'll not quit," Kydd croaked.

"It would seem we have little choice," Renzi said.

"Standish wants t' land a party an' scale th' heights t' look down the other side into th' harbour."

"With the old town all along the top and roused by our presence? I think not."

"A boat in th' night? But they'd never see anything."

Renzi pursed his lips. No course of action suggested itself and in going on he was only humouring Kydd. "Then possibly some sort of . . . spy, agent who, when landed, will mingle unnoticed and . . ."

Kydd's head lifted. "You?" he said, and smiled.

Renzi treasured the look for the memory of shared times now past, but said wryly, "The character of a Norman townsman might well be beyond my powers, I fear."

The light died in Kydd's eyes more and he slumped back. "I shall think on it," he said finally. "Tell Mr Queripel t' present himself with his charts, if y' would."

Shortly, HMS Teazer got under way from where she had been lying hove-to and made away to the west, yet another frustrated English man-o'-war thwarted in her mission to uncover Bonaparte's secrets. No doubt there were those in Granville seeing her fade away over the horizon who were blessing the port's odd topography for repelling the foe so easily.

But among the islands of Chausey Teazer ceased her retreat and rounded to in a channel east of the larger. Renzi and Standish waited at the conn, the rich stink of seaweed drifting out from the scatter of rocky islets. A desolate cluster of sod huts was the only sign of life.

"It sounds a right madness," Standish said sullenly. Renzi fore-bore to reply, for Kydd had been curt and unfeeling: he alone would carry out the plan. Any other conversation was stilled by Kydd's arrival on deck.

"Sir, you've given thought to what this means for the customary usages of war?"