Quarterdeck (29 page)

Houghton paced impatiently, waiting for the youngster to report back, his gaze fi xed on the ship ahead.

Reported ready, it needed only the captain’s order to complete their fi nal, aggressive, act. Houghton gave a brief smile
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to the group on the quarterdeck, and said quietly to Hambly,

“Larboard, if you please.”

Tenacious
sheered off slowly, giving the gun-captains time to lay their weapons, so when the order to open fi re was given the guns crashed out almost together. Smoke rolled down lazily on their target and, seconds later, the sudden eruption of a forest of white splashes along the line of sight brought war-like roars from the gun-decks.

The wheel spun and, sluggishly,
Tenacious
traced her bowsprit back on target, and past. She steadied for a moment, and her opposite broadside thundered out across the calm seas. Again the gun-smoke, the close scatter of splashes—then the enemy’s mizzen topmast fell in a graceful curve.

“Please, God . . .” breathed Adams. It was by no means a decisive hit, but the complete absence of square sail on the mizzen might be enough to hamper the vessel, allowing them to close and engage.

Activity died down as every man stared forward, willing the chase to falter, but it was not to be. Sacrifi cing his wounded topmast, trailing in the water alongside, the French ship ruthlessly cut it loose and continued on as before.

“O’ course, she won’t grieve over the topmast,” Kydd said, glumly. “Going large, she c’n balance by tricing up the clew o’

the mains’l one side. She knows all she has t’ do is carry on and she’ll lose us.”

“That may be so,” Adams said, “but what happens when she wants to go by the wind? Close-hauled she’d be a cripple.”

“And why would she do that?” Bampton’s acid comment from behind was nearly lost in a general growl of dismay at the sudden crump of gunfi re and smoke issuing out from their quarry.

“She has stern-chasers,” Adams remarked soberly. These guns, which could fi re straight aft into a pursuer when there was no opportunity to return fi re, would be a sore trial. At the next

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salvo Kydd heard the crack of the guns and, moments later, felt the slam of the passage of one ball over their heads. Several offi cers ducked automatically, then rose shamefacedly.

“Marines, go below. Stand the men down into the waist, Mr Bryant,” Houghton ordered. Although these were only light six-pounders banging away, a hit would kill.

They kept up the chase for another twenty minutes, falling astern the whole while until the fi rst lieutenant approached the captain. “There’s no profi t in this, sir—we shall have to give him best, I fear.”

Houghton glared at him. “Damned if I will! Observe—he cannot run to leeward for ever. On this course he stands to meet the Nantucket shoals off Cape Cod before long. He must choose then between hauling his wind and going east about the Cape to slip into the Gulf o’ Maine, or an easier passage west but directly into United States waters.

“I want to box him into the coast. Therefore I shall desire
Lynx
to lie to his starb’d and persuade him that this is his better course.” The little sloop would thus stand between the enemy and a refuge in the wider reaches of the Gulf of Maine—but it would be a foolhardy move for the French captain to take on the little ship knowing that just one lucky hit from any of the sloop’s sixteen six-pounders could deliver her straight into the clutches of the waiting bigger ship.

“Aye, sir.”

Houghton smiled for the fi rst time. “And when he has to bear away, he’s under our lee and then we’ll have him . . .”

In the early afternoon, the enemy was far ahead but, with
Lynx
faithfully to her starboard, the master was satisfi ed that they were irrevocably within the hook of the shoals, cutting off her escape to the east. “Tides o’ fi ve knots or more around ’em.

Steep too, so sounding won’t answer and if fog comes, it’s all up with the ship,” he added, with feeling.

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The wind dropped further until it was a ghosting calm, favouring the smaller vessel, which glided a little further and out of range before ceasing movement. The three ships lay becalmed in the grey dusk.

Kydd came on watch: the position of the chase the same. In the night hours there was a choice for their quarry—to attempt a repair by the light of bunched lanthorns, or not show any betraying light and hope to steal away in the night.

She chose the latter: were it not for the quick-witted commander of
Lynx
she might have succeeded. As darkness closed in, the little sloop rigged a makeshift beacon for
Tenacious
of a cluster of lanthorns in a box beaming their light secretly in one direction only.

Through the night
Lynx
stayed faithfully with the enemy, her beacon trained;
Tenacious
lay back in the blackness. When the wind came up some time after midnight and the privateer captain made his move, Houghton knew all about it.

Coming round to the west, the Frenchman clearly wanted to put distance between him and his tormentor before he struck for the open sea, but dawn’s grey light showed her the fl at nondescript coast of an outlying island of New England to the north-east and two men-o’-war of the Royal Navy to seaward.

Houghton was on deck to greet the dawn, sniffi ng the wind’s direction. “We have him!” he said, with relish. “He can’t show much sail forrard with this wind abeam and no square sail aft—

we can try for a conclusion before noon, I believe.” He looked at the group on the quarterdeck with satisfaction. “It will be a good day’s work for all today.”

Tenacious
bore down, guns run out. With land to leeward and two English ships to weather, the Frenchman’s only course was west, the wind veering more southerly. To maintain a reasonable westerly course it was necessary to balance fore and aft

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sail: with no mizzen topsail the logical thing was to reduce sail forward to compensate and accept a loss of speed.

However, from her cro’jack yard canvas appeared. It was not a sail-bearing spar but the French had lashed a sail along its length, loosed it and secured its clews. They had a drawing square sail aft. Kydd shook his head in admiration; admittedly the “sail” blanketed the poop, silencing the chase guns, but she could keep ahead of her pursuers.

“I’m not concerned,” said Houghton, in tones that suggested he was. “There’s Long Island Sound ahead—he has to go about or he’ll be trapped, so it’s there we’ll have
Lynx
waiting.”

Kydd’s fi rst sight of the United States, therefore, was the nondescript sandy scrubland of Block Island ahead, then the low, forested New England coast to the north.

“Sir, I must point out that these are American waters.” There was no response to Adams’s concern, Houghton keeping his gaze on the fl eeing ship ahead. “They’re well known to be jealous of their sovereignty, sir—”

“I know that, damn your blood!” Houghton said. But the Frenchman showed no signs whatsoever of putting down her helm and proceeded to pass Block Island, entering the closed length of Long Island Sound.

“They’re mad! They’ve no way out—what do they—”

“Mr Hambly! Quickly! What’s the distance across the widest entrance to the sound?”

“Er, to nor’ard—that’s betwixt Matunuck and Sandy Point on th’ island—and it’s . . . seven miles.”

“We can do it. North about it is, Mr Hambly. Have a care you stay exactly mid-channel—the Americans claim one league from the low-water mark, which by my reckoning leaves just a mile breadth for our peaceful passage.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Hambly, eyeing the Frenchman, who
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seemed to have no notion of such niceties.

Leaving Block Island to larboard,
Tenacious
entered the ca-pacious arm of the sea; there could be no escape now—with both English ships to windward and able to close with the Frenchman if he turned back, it was only a matter of waiting.

“He’s wasting time,” snorted Houghton, impatient.

“Sir, recollect: the French have been friends to the Americans since their support for them in the late war.” Renzi had come up from the gun-deck in curiosity.

Bryant sneered: “Pah! Nonsense! They’ve seen how the French conduct revolutions and want no part of such roguery.”

“Then what is the meaning of his motions now?” Renzi answered quietly. The privateer had run up a huge tricolour, which streamed out to leeward and barely two miles ahead, and boldly put up his helm to pass through the mile-wide entrance to an inner expanse of water.

“One league, sir.”

“Yes, yes, I had not forgotten.” Houghton bit his lip as he eyed the scene. “Take a cast of the lead. I believe we will anchor.

One league off shore precisely.”

After one last look at the French privateer, just six miles away and, with calm impunity, preparing to berth in a tiny port, Kydd joined the others in the captain’s cabin. Houghton was irascible.

“Ideas?”

“Cut ’em out!” Bryant’s growl was instant. “And be damned to any consequences. There’s nought hereabouts but fi sherfolk an’ farmers—and the Americans have no navy at all that I’ve heard about.”

“True,” said Houghton, thoughtfully, “but I’ll remind you that in law this must be construed as a combatant seeking refuge in a neutral port, and it would go ill with any who can be shown to violate it.”

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“And who’s to know? Cloth over our name on the stern, boat’s crews at night and you can’t make ’em out—”

“I honour the ardency of your spirit, Mr Bryant, but I fear this would provoke extremely.”

“Swimmers! Under cover o’ dark, they go in with borers, sink the bugger where he lies—”

“Mr Bryant! I will not suffer such language! And, besides, they’ll never pierce a copper-sheathed hull without fuss and noise.”

The cabin fell quiet until Renzi spoke. “Under the assumption that the sympathies of the Americans must lie with the French, I rather feel they would not be over-nice in the laws applicable in cases of neutrality. We may fi nd ourselves lying at anchor, waiting, for some considerable time. Therefore it would seem logical to sail away—with deep regrets, of course.”

Bryant snorted but could fi nd no riposte.

“And while we dally, the admiral is deprived of a major unit of his fl eet, which is nominally under his orders . . .”

Houghton grunted. “Possibly, but consider—this privateer is big. Should we leave her to her foul plundering, she can take her pick of the largest prizes. We would certainly be held to account if we did not a thing.”

“But if you are unable to effect a solution, by reasons of
force
majeure,
your course is chosen for you. We must give up.”

There was a lengthy pause. Then the captain said, “We have stores only for days. An extended voyage was not contemplated.

I have no choice.”

Bryant let out his breath like a punctured balloon. “To sail.”

“Yes.” The captain’s voice was fi nal. But then he added,

“There is, however, one small chance.”

“Sir?”

“I will send an offi cer ashore to parley with the Americans.

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They can’t object to that. Try to get ’em to see where their interests best lie, bit of law, that sort of thing. It’s possible then that they’ll throw the Frenchy out to where we’ll be waiting for him.”

“A long shot, if I may say so, sir.” Pringle’s languid voice came from the rear of the group of disconsolate offi cers. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“That is a matter that exercises me. If I send my fi rst lieutenant there will undoubtedly be a confrontation, which is devoutly to be avoided.” Bryant’s splutter was ignored. “Any offi cer of eminence will confer too much consequence on the affair with the local authorities, whoever they may be in these backwoods.

“I rather feel that the name of Lieutenant Kydd suggests itself.”

Chapter 9

“Mr President, the Minister Plenipotentiary of Great Britain. Sir, the President of the United States.” The aide ushered Liston into the broad room, then departed.

“Robert, so kind in you,” said John Adams. He was standing by the tall marble mantelpiece and advanced with outstretched hand. “Sit down, man.”

“Thank you, Mr President.” Liston took an armchair before the fi re with a gracious inclination of his head. “May I know if Abigail is happy in Trenton? It’s a wise precaution to depart Philadelphia before the sick season.”

“She is indeed, God bless her,” said Adams. In the absence of any others at this meeting, he poured the sherry himself. “Your health, Robert.”

Liston waited, watching the President over the rim of his glass. Adams, a short, chubby man who looked like a country squire, was not to be underestimated. The two of them had seen much together of this new country’s spirited political struggles and personally he wished it well, but this was not a social call.

He had come in response to a diplomatic summons.

Adams set down his glass and steepled his fi ngers. “This cannot be allowed to continue, this stopping and searching on the high seas. Congress and the people will not tolerate it. Your
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Navy provokes by its high-handed actions, whatever its rights in the matter. Impressing men from the very decks of United States merchant vessels—it’s insufferable, you must understand, and now the British courts in the Caribbean are condemning United States merchant ships seized by the Royal Navy as prizes.”

Liston murmured an acknowledgement. It was an old problem, and there were well-rehearsed rejoinders, but he chose another tack. “Mr President, this, I can appreciate, is your immediate concern—but you will understand that here we have a clash of belief and therefore law. You will have your country’s position set in law—but we, sir, have had ours since the 1756