On the Sunday morning, with the Otter in her final stage of refitting but with the Windham still heaved down, he was taking a very late breakfast after four hours of the deepest sleep he had known, taking it in the company of Stephen Maturin, whom he saw but rarely these days: he had resolutely dismissed the problems of the dockyard from his mind for twenty minutes, when Stephen involuntarily brought them back by asking the significance of the devil, among those that followed the sea, as in the devil to pay, a phrase he had often heard, particularly of late—was it a form of propitiation, a Manichaean remnant, so understandable (though erroneous) upon the unbridled elements?
'Why, the devil, do you see,' said Jack, 'is the seam between the deck planking and the timbers, and we call it the devil, because it is the devil for the caulkers to come at: in full we say, the devil to pay and no pitch hot; and what we mean is, that there is something hell-fire difficult to be done—must be done and nothing to do it with. It is a figure.'
'A very elegant figure, too.'
'Was you a weak, superficial cove, and feeling low, you might say it described our situation at the moment,' said Jack. 'But you would be wrong. With Staunch, and Otter and Windham, in a day or two . . .' he cocked his car, and called out, 'Killick, who is that coming aboard?'
'Only an army officer, sir.'
The clash of Marines presenting arms on the quarterdeck: a midshipman to ask whether the Commodore would receive Colonel Fraser, and then the Colonel himself, his face as scarlet as his coat from galloping under the torrid sun.
'Good morning, Colonel,' said Jack. 'Sit down and take a cup.'
'Good morning, sir. Doctor, how d'ye do?'
'Colonel Fraser should instantly drink something cool, and throw off his stock,' said Stephen. 'Your servant, sir.'
'Happy to do so, sir, in one minute; but first I must deliver my despatch—verbal, sir: no time to call for pen and ink. Colonel Keating's compliments to Commodore Aubrey, and HMS Africaine is in Saint-Denis. Captain Corbett—'
'Corbett? Robert Corbett?'
'I believe so, sir: a little man, looks rather black and cross when put out—the same that was here before—splendid disciplinarian. Captain Corbett, sir, proceeding to Madras, learnt of the state of affairs here from one of your ships when he was putting in to water at Rodriguez, so he turned off to La Réunion. He had some kind of a small engagement with a schooner on the coast of the Mauritius on the way and he is now landing his wounded: Colonel Keating has given him twenty-five men and an officer to take their place, because, sir, two French frigates and a brig are coming in after him. And Captain Corbett charges me to say, with his duty, that he has taken the liberty of hoisting your broad pennant, to amuse 'em, that he is clearing for action, and will put to sea the moment all his wounded are ashore.'
'Colonel,' said Jack, 'I am infinitely obliged to you. Killick, light along a jug of something cool for Colonel Fraser—sandwiches—mangoes.' These words he called backwards as he ran on to the quarterdeck. 'Mr Trollope, all hands from the yard immediately, and prepare to slip the moment they are aboard. Mr Collins, to Otter and Staunch: proceed to sea immediately and enemy cruising east-northeast. Pass the word for the gunner.' The gunner came running, for the news was spreading fast. 'Mr Webber,' said Jack, ' how much have you filled?'
'Thirty rounds a gun, sir,'said the gunner, 'and twenty-three for the carronades: we been at it all this forenoon.' And then, encouraged by old acquaintance and by the glowing change in the Commodore, 'May I hope to fill some more, sir, for the right true end?'
'Yes, Mr Webber,' said Jack. 'And none of your white letter stuff. Let it all be our very best red large grain.'
Rounding the Pointe des Galets at noon, the Boadicea, followed by the Otter and the Staunch, made out the French ships in the offing: two frigates. The French brig was already topsails down to the northwards, no doubt hurrying off to tell Hamelin what was afoot. There was a general hum of satisfaction, tempered by the fact that the Frenchmen were no longer standing in, but had gone about on the starboard tack, and by the sight of long white lines far out, which meant that the wind, south or south-east to the leeward of La Réunion, was blowing from the east to the north of it, so that the enemy would have the weathergage. They also saw the Africaine, and the actual sight of her raised Jack's heart still higher: she was a thirty-six-gun eighteen-pounder frigate, French-built of course, and one of the finest sailers in the Royal Navy, particularly on a wind. She must have been the plum with which Corbett was rewarded when he brought home the St Paul's despatches. 'He will certainly handle her well,' reflected Jack. 'A capital seaman. Let us hope he has taught his men how to point their guns this time, and that he has made himself more amiable aboard her.' A plum sometimes had that effect upon a disappointed man; and Corbett had often been disappointed.
When he caught sight of her, the Africaine was also on the starboard tack, under a press of sail, about eight miles south of the enemy. The two ships exchanged numbers, no more. Jack had no intention of worrying the Africaine with signals: Corbett was a fighting captain; he knew very well what to do; there was no doubt that he would do it; and in the meantime he must be left free to concentrate on making up at least seven of those eight miles. The same applied with even greater force to the Boadicea: although she could hit harder than the Africaine, she could not rival her in speed. Happily one of the Frenchmen was their old Iphigenia, now the Iphigénie once more, and she was no flyer: the other was probably the Astrée, whose qualities he did not know.
He would soon find them out, however, he said, smiling, as he took his glass into the foretop and the six ships settled down to the long chase. An hour later he knew that she had an able captain, that she was faster than the Iphigenia, but not faster than the Boadicea, while the Africaine could give her topgallantsails at least. If the wind held true, the Africaine should be up with them before sunset, and the Boadicea not long after dark. If the wind held true: that was his chief concern. For were it to back more easterly or even a little north of east as it sometimes did by night, then the Boadicea would be dead to leeward of the Frenchmen, and they might be able to run up to Port Louis before that leeway could be made up. For the Boadicea was not at her best on a bowline: and although he would not have it generally known, she could not come up so close to the wind as some other ships, not by half a point, in spite of all his care.
Yet taking thought would neither keep the wind south of east nor improve the Boadicea's sailing: he came down, glanced at the now distant Staunch and Otter, he told Seymour that he was to be called in case the position changed, and went fast to sleep in a hammock slung in the desolate clean sweep fore and aft that had once been his array of cabins, knowing that his officers would sail the ship admirably well and that he must keep his wits as sharp as they could be for what might well be a difficult night-engagement, calling for instant decision.
When he came on deck again the Otter and the Staunch were barely in sight from the masthead: the Africaine was something better than two leagues ahead and she was gaining visibly on the Frenchmen. At his second hall the lookout replied, after a studying pause, that Staunch and Otter had vanished now: and while the lookout was answering, an unpleasant rattle accompanied his voice: the wind had come too far forward for the studdingsails to set, and they were shivering, in spite of fiddle-taut bowlines. The Boadicea took them in: she lost way at once, and presently the Africaine was a full eight miles away, pursuing the now invisible French towards the coming night.
A dirty night, though warm, with sudden squalls and a mounting cross-sea that kept forcing the Boadicea's head northwards. The best helmsmen in the ship were at the wheel, with Jack behind them, standing by the master at the con. For some little while after full darkness he saw the rockets and the blue lights that showed the Africaine's position. Then nothing. Hour after hour of low driving cloud, very heavy showers of rain, the seas breaking over her starboard bow, the wind in the rigging as she stood on and on; but never the sound that the silent, lis
tening men were waiting for.
Nothing until seven bells in the middle watch, when the breeze turned gusty before dropping to something near a calm: at seven bells and again at the changing of the watch flashes were seen under the cloud to windward, and remote gunfire followed them. 'God send he has not engaged close without me,' murmured Jack, altering course for the flash. That fear had occurred to him in these hours of waiting, together with others, equally wild: but he had put it away—Corbett was no Clonfert; and in any case Corbett knew the Boadicea's rate of sailing perfectly.
The gunfire was louder every glass; but at every glass the breeze grew less; and at last the Boadicea had scarcely steerage-way. The short twilight before dawn was veiled by a last sheet of tepid rain. It faded slowly in the still air as the sun rose up; and all at once there was the whole stretch of sea, brilliantly lit, and upon it, four miles away, the Africaine with one French ship within pistol-shot on her bow, another on her quarter. She was firing an occasional gun: the enemy answered with full broadsides: then she fell silent.
Four miles away: clear in his telescope Jack saw her colours waver at the peak and come slowly down, down, right down on deck; and still the French kept firing. For a quarter of an hour they kept firing into her silent hull.
Never had he had to master himself with such force: the sight was so horrible that if the breeze had not got up while he was watching it seemed that his heart must break with grief and rage. The royals took it first. The Boadicea gave a gentle heave against the sea and the water began to whisper along her side. Jack gave his orders automatically; said, 'Mr Seymour, the slow-match needs renewing,' and took the Boadicea down towards the Frenchmen as they lay about their prize, the boats coming and going. 'Masthead, there,' he called. 'What do you see of Staunch and Otter?'
'Nothing, sir,' came the reply. 'Nothing to windward, nothing to leeward.'
Jack nodded. The breeze was freshening; he could feel it on his cheek, coming beautifully though soft from the south-east and even south of that—the breeze that would have brought him up. The Boadicea stood on; and as they watched the Africaine's masts went by the board; first her foremast, then the mizzen, then the main. The Astrée and the Iphigenia did not appear to have suffered at all.
Whatever it cost, he must resist the temptation to run down and engage them: it would be criminal folly. But the temptation to set the Boadicea right between the two, firing both sides, was terribly strong; and with the wind as it lay he might be able to yield just so far and still regard his duty—a quick hard strike and away was allowable: it was even called for.
'Mr Seymour,' said he, 'I am going to run down to within musket-shot of the windward ship. When I give the order, let the starboard guns fire, starting from forwards: deliberate fire at her stern, the smoke to clear between each shot. When the last gun has fired, about ship, and then the larboard broadside as we go about to come up as near as she will lie. Mr Buchan, lay me for the Iphigenia.'
The Boadicea was bringing up the wind. The Frenchmen had steerage-way, but little more, while she was moving at three knots; and the Astrée, behind the Africaine, had not run clear before Jack said 'Fire.' The guns went off in steady, even succession, undisturbed by the ragged broadsides from the Iphigenia, the first two wild, the third deadly enough: the Boadicea's was a deliberate fire, aimed with hatred, and hammocks and splinters of rail leapt from the Iphigenia's stern; one fine shot from number twelve struck her between wind and water very near her rudder and a cheer went up. Then the cry 'Helm's a-lee,' and the Boadicea came up into the wind. She was in stays when the Astrée, clear of the Iphigenia and the Africaine at last, let fly. She hit the Boadicea very hard, shattering the stern-boat on its davits and giving her such a blow that for a moment Jack thought she was going to fall off—that he had risked her just that hair's-breadth too far. 'Flat in forward, there,' he cried, felt the fine balance change, and with infinite relief called, 'Mainsail haul.' Round she came and filled, the way still on her: round, round, till her larboard ports stared full at the Iphigenia. With one great rippling crash her broadside went off, and she sailed clear of her smoke. At the same moment a shot from the Astrée struck the master in the back, cutting him in two at Jack's side. Jack saw his astonished, indignant face jerk forward, knocking the starboard helmsman down. He took the man's place for a moment, bringing the frigate still farther round until her headsails shivered and a quartermaster seized the spokes; then stepping over the body he walked to the taffrail. The Iphigenia's stern had suffered, but her rudder had not gone, nor yet her mizzenmast. She had dropped her foresail and was now before the wind, moving down towards the Astrée, masking her fire again: he heard the master's body splash into the sea as he considered her: a scratch crew, no doubt, with not much sense and still less appetite for a close engagement with the Boadicea. And as the Boadicea stretched away close hauled and the distance widened, he saw the Iphigenia put up her helm and fall foul of the Astrée, just as the Astrée tried to slip through the gap between her and the Africaine to rake the Boadicea at extreme range.
He took the frigate some way to windward and there heaved to. In the brilliant sunlight he could see the French ships perfectly, the people on their decks, even the state of their rigging. Sitting on the slide of the aftermost carronade he contemplated the scene; for this was a time for contemplation. No sudden decisions were called for at this point, nor would they be required for some considerable time. The Astrée was a formidable ship; she was undamaged; she had disentangled herself from the Iphigenia and had worn clear at last; the sea between her and the Boadicea was clear. Yet she did not come on. Her shivering foretopsail—her deliberately shivering foretopsail—told him a great deal about her commander, and a score of less obvious details told him more: a competent seaman, no doubt, but he did not mean to fight. He no more meant to fight than Hamelin, at an even greater advantage, had meant to fight; neither this man nor his commodore chose to risk the throw. The conviction, growing stronger as he watched, filled him with grave Joy.
On the other hand, said his reason as it compelled his heart to be quiet, the Astrée carried a great broadside weight of metal, her gunnery was accurate, and although she was not faster than the Boadicea she could haul closer to the wind: then again, attack and defence were two different things; in a close action the Astrée would do tolerably well, and although the Iphigenia was handled by a nincompoop, tackling the two of them together by daylight would be unjustifiable in the present balance. Yet he must necessarily retake the the Africaine . . .
'On deck, there,' hailed the lookout. 'Two sail right to windward, sir. I think it's Staunch and Otter.' Some minutes later, 'Yes, sir: Staunch and Otter.' With this wind it would take them two or three hours to reach him: very well. He stood up smiling and looked across to the lee side, where his first lieutenant, the carpenter and the bosun were waiting to report.
'Three wounded, sir,' said Seymour, 'and of course poor Mr Buchan.' The carpenter had only four shotholes and eight inches of water in the well: Fellowes gave an account of a fair amount of damage to the sails and rigging forward. 'I reckon an hour will see it to rights, sir,' he added.
'As smartly as ever you can, Mr Fellowes,' said Jack. 'Mr Seymour, let the hands go to breakfast; and the watch below must have some rest.'
He went down into the orlop, where he found Stephen reading in a small book, holding it up to the lantern.
'Are you hurt?' asked Stephen.
'No, not at all, I thank you: I am come down to look at the wounded. How are they coming along?'
'Colley, the depressed cranial fracture, I will not answer for: he is comatose, as you see. We must operate as soon as we have peace and quiet and light—the sooner the better. The two splinter-wounds will do very well. Your breeches are covered with blood.'
'It is the master's. He lost the number of his mess right by me, poor fellow.' Jack went over to the patients, asked them how they felt, told them that things looked very well on deck, that Staunch and Otter were coming u
p hand over fist, and that presently the Frenchmen might be served out for what they did to the Africaine. Returning to Stephen he said, 'Killick has a little spirit stove on the go, if you could fancy breakfast.'
And standing by the stern-window while the coffee flowed into them by the pint, he explained the situation, pointing out just how the French lay now and how they had lain at different stages. 'I know you will think it illogical,' he said, his hand firmly gripping the wooden frame, 'and maybe even superstitious, but I have a feeling that the tide has turned. I do not mean to tempt fate, God forbid, but I believe that when the Staunch and Otter join, we shall retake the Africaine. We might even snap up the Iphigenia: she is shy; I think we may have hit her hard—look at the people over her side; and the captain of the Astrée don't trust her. But I will not go so far as that: the Africaine will be enough.'
On deck once more, and a surprisingly respectable deck, with the knotting and splicing almost finished, the swabbers of the afterguard washing the last pale smears from by the wheel, the davits righted, a new foretopsail bent: over the water the French boats were still removing prisoners from the Africaine, the Iphigenia's pumps were going hard, and from the look of the feverish activity among the parties inboard and outboard of her, she would be in no way to get under sail for some time. The Astrée had moved into a better position to cover her and the Africaine: her captain might be no fire eater, but clearly he meant to cling to his prize if he possibly could. But now from the deck the Staunch and Otter could be seen hull up; and the breeze was blowing fresher.
Book 4 - The Mauritius Command Page 28