Darkening Sea (34 page)

When he had explained to Trevenen what he intended, to keep all gunports closed and then engage with the weapons which now faced only an empty sea, he had exclaimed, “They will see we are cleared for action, Sir Richard! They will guess your plan of action!”

“If we run out a single gun, Captain Beer will feel justified in firing into us at extreme range.
Valkyrie
could be dismasted before a single gun could bear. Beer's neutrality is one-sided. To gather this rabble of American vessels under the pretence of escorting them through the scene of a possible battle tells me everything. It is typical of Baratte. He must win this fight.”

Urquhart asked, “Is this in breach of our rights, Sir Richard?”

“That will be for others to decide.”

He wanted to rub his eye to clear it but controlled the impulse. “Good luck, gentlemen. Keep the gun crews out of sight until ordered. When you run out it will be an all-time record!”

Surprisingly, some of them grinned. Bolitho turned to Trevenen. “Do you wish to add anything, Captain? They will be looking to you today.”

But Trevenen did not answer, or maybe he had not even heard. He was staring at the advancing, uneven line of vessels. To a seabird it might resemble a giant arrowhead.

To Avery Bolitho said, “Two more good lookouts aloft. I must see when, or if, our ships are about to engage.”

He turned as Allday commented grimly, “Now there's an ugly sight if ever I saw one!”

Unity
's gunports had opened as one. They had been well drilled: it looked as if a single hand had done it.

Then the guns, squealing up to show themselves in the frail sunshine like jagged teeth. It would need a lot of men to move them up the deck, which was sloping slightly away from the wind.

In his heart Beer probably wanted to avoid a fight, no matter how one-sided it might now appear. Such an incident as this would have serious repercussions, no matter which flag flew at the end of the day.

It would surprise the American captain to see all of
Valkyrie
's ports tightly sealed. It would merely appear that they intended to pass through the ships, to defy the accepted rights of neutral vessels but nothing more.

Bolitho heard Urquhart say quietly, “How long, d'you reckon?” And Avery's calm response.

“Half an hour if it works, almost immediately if it doesn't.”

It was strange how the wardroom had shunned him because of rumour and the cruel half-truths told about
Jolie
's surrender and capture. That, too, had all changed.

Bolitho tore his eyes from the ships and the threatening sight and size of the big American frigate, and watched Bob Fasken the gunner as he strolled along the deck, pausing to speak to each crew with no more fuss than a countryman walking with his dog.

Bolitho took a telescope. “Over here, Mr Harris!” He rested the glass on the midshipman's shoulder and thought he could feel him trembling. A mere boy.
As we all were once.

He held his breath as the glass dragged the frigate into full perspective, the huge ensigns curling from gaff and masthead, the red stripes and circle of bright stars very clearly visible.

He saw the towering figure on the quarterdeck near one of the smaller guns there. Probably nine-pounders, he thought. He saw the man take a telescope and train it towards
Valkyrie,
moving it slowly until he could almost feel the American staring directly at him.

Captain Nathan Beer raised his cocked hat in a mock salute, and held it in the air until Bolitho acknowledged it with his own.

He smiled and looked at Urquhart. “Re-set the courses and t'gallants, Mr Urquhart!”

It was what they would do if they intended to overreach the
Unity
before altering course to cross ahead of her.

There was a sharp bang, and a second later a waterspout shot from the sea before the ball richochetted across the surface like a flying fish.

A seaman said derisively, “I could do better'n that!”

Bolitho said, “As before. Steer due north!”

“Due north she be, sir!”

There was a puff of smoke from the most forward gun, followed by the whine of a massive ball tearing overhead.

Urquhart called, “Stand fast, lads! The next one is ours!”

Men crouched at the guns or behind anything they believed might protect them.

Bolitho could see
Unity
's tapering jib-boom reaching out as if to impale
Valkyrie
's figurehead. It was a delusion: there were still seven or eight cables between them.

The second gun fired and this time it smashed into the lower hull with the force of a rock. Several men cried out; others stared at the masts as if they expected to see them fall.

Trevenen seemed to come out of his trance. “Get all spare men on the pumps! The prisoners too—they'll soon see that they are in the most danger!”

Bolitho called sharply, “Alter course, Captain!”

But Trevenen was staring at the other ship, his eyes wild.

Only two things could happen.
Unity
would have to fall off downwind to avoid collision if she maintained her present course and speed. Beer would not allow that, as it would expose his stern to attack. If he shortened sail, it would still be too late.

It was now or never.

“Alter course,
now,
three points to starboard!”

The breaking of the suspense seemed to make the waiting seamen fly to their stations even as the big double wheel went over.

“Braces, there! More men on the weather braces, Mr Jones!”

Above deck, each sail strained and cracked to its yard, and as more were set to build her into a great pyramid of canvas, Bolitho watched as the American appeared to forge across the bows.

“Steady she goes, sir! Nor'-east by north!”

“Open the ports!
Run out!
”

With almost every sail set and hard-filled
Valkyrie
seemed to be charging towards the other ship. The bowsprit passed like a marker across
Unity
's mainmast, and still further until Bolitho saw the same quarterdeck as they steered for the American's high poop and glittering scrollwork.

Then the whole of the
Unity
's side seemed to explode in long angry flames, the gunsmoke fanning through the rigging like fog.

The weight of iron smashed into
Valkyrie
's bows and forecastle, up-ending some of the guns but causing few casualties, as most of the gun crews had been ordered to the larboard side ready to engage. Had she not altered course so quickly, more of the
24-
pound balls would have found their mark.

But it was bad enough. Men ran dazed and bleeding, while others lay where they had been smashed down. Blood, corpses, pieces of men were scattered like gruel, while petty officers and lieutenants tried to restore order. Some shots had been aimed high, and already seamen were swarming aloft to repair the dangling tangles of severed rigging.

And there was
Unity
's high stern, the windows of her cabin shining brightly above
Valkyrie
's larboard bow like an ornate cliff.

Dyer the second lieutenant yelled, “Ready, lads! Fire as you bear!” Then he clapped his hands to his face and fell, and his place was taken by a terrified midshipman. The Americans were shooting from the taffrail, and great splinters rose like quills on the quarterdeck as the unseen marksmen saw the admiral's epaulettes.

Unity
's main deck guns were already being run out again, but if Beer could come around with the English frigate he would have to use his starboard guns. There would be no mercy from those great guns next time.

The jib-boom was already passing the American's stern. Bolitho could see the gilded lettering of her name on the counter, could almost hear Adam's voice describing it despite Trevenen's contemptuous doubt.

The great carronade, laid and prepared by the gunner himself, lurched back on its slide, and for what must have been only a split second Bolitho thought it had misfired. And then he saw the
Unity
's stern seem to open like a jagged cave. The carronade's great ball would explode within, releasing a hail of grapeshot to scythe throughout the full length of the ship.

“As you bear!
Fire!
”

Gun by gun down the
Valkyrie
's side each eighteen-pounder hurled itself inboard on its tackles. Not even a blind man could miss at this range. Almost every carefully supervised shot would rip through the other vessel's hull, which, like their own, would be cleared and open from stern to bow.

“Stop your vents! Sponge out! Load! Run out!”

Despite the fear and the pitiful screams of badly wounded men, the many hours of gun drill and discipline held them all together.

A white-faced midshipman came to a halt, his feet slipping in blood as he saw Avery by the rail.

“Pardon, sir!” He winced as a ball slapped into the driver overhead. “The lookouts have sighted our ships! They are engaging the enemy!”

Avery said, “I shall tell the admiral. Thank you, Mr Warren.
Walk,
if you please!”

Urquhart yelled, “The Yankee is not under command, sir!” His voice was cracking with disbelief.

“But she's still fighting!” Even as Avery spoke another ball smashed through some hammock nettings and tossed three marines aside like bloody bundles. One of
Unity
's nine-pounders, probably packed with grape and cannister shot.

The sailing-master was down and one of his mates staggered to his place, his white trousers splashed with the master's own blood.

He called shakily, “Steady as she goes, sir!”

But Avery could see nothing but Allday, who was holding Bolitho against his own body as if to protect him.

Avery ran over to them. “What is it?”

He saw Allday's face twisted in anguish. “Splinters, sir! Send for the surgeon!”

They carried Bolitho gently to the foot of the mizzen-mast.

He said hoarsely, “Splinters . . . in my face!” He gripped Avery's arm with terrible force.
“I can't see!”

He lowered his face into his hands. His eyes were tightly closed. Avery touched his cheek and could feel some of them, like tiny fish bones protruding from the skin.

The hull shook again to the roar of a full broadside, although few of
Valkyrie
's guns would still bear on their opponent. Avery barely noticed it. He looked up and saw Trevenen peering at them through the smoke.

“Is it bad?”

“He can't see, sir!”

Bolitho tried to get up but Allday held him firmly. “
Get closer,
Captain! Don't give him time . . .” He broke off, gasping with pain as he tried to open his eyes.

Trevenen snapped, “Sir Richard is wounded! Mr Urquhart, stand by to disengage. That's an order!”

Avery stared at him. “You'd
run?
”

Trevenen's confidence was flooding back.

“I command here! I said it would fail! Now Sir Richard has only himself to blame!”

A figure in a bloodied apron hurried across the deck. It was not Minchin but his assistant, Lovelace.

Trevenen shouted, “Take Sir Richard below. He has no place here!”

“Who says so, damn you!”

Avery stared as another figure came through the companion hatch, teeth bared against the pain of his severed arm. From a distance it might appear that Herrick was grinning. He stared slowly around at the litter of battle, the dead and dying, and lastly at the corpses of the marines, lying in disorder like the ones who had fought to the end aboard his old flagship.

His eyes took in the American frigate, which was drifting further and further downwind, while some of the small vessels she had been escorting headed away as if
Unity
contained something evil.

Then he said, “The Yankee will not trouble us again, not this time in any case. We will rejoin our ships without further delay.” He closed his eyes tightly as if to control the pain.

Trevenen was staring at him, wild with disbelief.

“What are you saying? I am in command . . .” He got no further.

Herrick took a pace towards him. “You command
nothing.
You are relieved, and I'll send you to hell for your bloody treachery! Now get off this deck!”

Trevenen hesitated as if to protest, then, almost blindly, he turned and walked to the companion hatch. He had to push and thrust his way through his men, the same men who had once been afraid even to meet his eyes. Now they watched him in silence, without fear, only contempt.