The Darkening Sea

by Alexander Kent

  He thought of Adam and the other frigate, Baratte’s own flagship when he had been taken prisoner. It was over before it had begun.

  He looked around: at the guns, their crews staring aft to discover what was happening, the scarlet-coated marines with their muskets by the protective nettings. Even they could do nothing if the ship’s company refused to fight or, as they would see it, to be killed for nothing.

  There were footsteps across the deck and Bolitho saw Avery walking unhurriedly towards him.

  ‘I did not order you down, Mr Avery!’ Something on the lieutenant’s face steadied him. ‘What is it?’

  Avery glanced briefly at Trevenen, but barely saw him. ‘She’s no ship-of-the-line, sir. She is the U.S.S. Unity, exactly as your nephew described her, spar by spar.’

  He had heard Trevenen’s words as he had climbed to the deck, the relief in his tone as the bright sunlight which was opening up the ocean all around them had shown him a possibility of escape.

  All that had changed. Trevenen seemed unable to close his jaws, and was staring at him as if he were an apparition from hell.

  ‘I did not wish to call out from up there, sir.’ He pointed although the eastern horizon was still curtained by sun-filled haze. ‘There are several small vessels with her, ahead and astern, merchantmen by the cut of them.’

  Bolitho said quietly, ‘A convoy then?’

  Avery looked at the captain, but it was as if he had been turned to stone.

  ‘Far up to the nor’east there are other sails – they are clearly visible from the mizzen topmast. You were right, sir. They are Baratte’s frigates, I feel certain of it.’

  Bolitho reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘So now we know how the game is set. The American ships will do nothing but sail between us and our own two frigates. Divide and weaken us while the “convoy” is allowed to proceed in peace.’

  He turned to Trevenen. ‘Well, Captain, here is the ship you doubted. The most powerful frigate in the world.’

  ‘We must discontinue, Sir Richard. Before it is too late!’

  ‘It was already too late when Baratte was released from prison.’ He moved to the chart, feeling men step aside to let him pass. ‘Hoist the signal, Prepare for Battle.’

  ‘Already bent on, sir.’

  Bolitho heard the halliards sing through the blocks as the flags broke out to the breeze.

  ‘Signal Larne to repeat the signal if neither Anemone nor Laertes is yet in sight. They know what to do.’

  Trevenen stared at him angrily. ‘They cannot engage without support, Sir Richard!’ He looked around as if to convince those nearest to him.

  ‘At last we agree, Captain.’ Bolitho took a telescope and scanned the brightening horizon. The enemy were only a few pale flaws like tiny leaves drifting on glass. ‘We shall pass through the convoy. Continue on the same tack. In the meantime, have the boats put overboard.’ He was going to add, for the victors, but refrained. Most of the officers and all the older hands would know what the order implied. It was to protect the men on deck from flying splinters if shots smashed through a boat tier; but to the landmen and other new men it was the last chance to escape or be saved if the worst happened.

  Lieutenant Urquhart called, ‘I can see the Yankee, sir!’

  Avery said, ‘Larne has acknowledged, sir.’

  Bolitho said, ‘The ships are close-hauled as tight as they’ll come. Unity’s captain will not wish to fall off down wind and seem to be running away.’

  He considered Captain Nathan Beer. Strong, determined and a veteran of frigate warfare. His ship was so well-armed that she could probably outshoot a seventy-four. No wonder the lookout had been confused.

  He would hold to his course, steadily converging with Valkyrie.

  Avery asked, ‘Will they not attempt to prevent us, sir?’ There was no anxiety in his voice. It was merely a technical detail, a part of the inevitable.

  Bolitho felt his skin becoming damp with sweat under his heavy coat.

  ‘Captain Beer will have little choice but to warn us off. He is no fool – Baratte’s unwilling and unofficial ally perhaps, but too concerned with his duty to tolerate interference.’

  Trevenen said, ‘I must note this in my log, Sir Richard.’

  ‘Please do, Captain. But I intend to break through the convoy at its weakest part while we still have the wind on our side.’ He saw some of the seamen staring astern as the ship’s boats drifted away, held together by loose lines so that they would not smash into one another.

  Trevenen said, ‘The weakest part, Sir Richard?’

  ‘Astern of the Unity, directly!’

  He saw no understanding on Trevenen’s heavy features, and said curtly, ‘I shall wish to speak with the gunner and your lieutenants.’ He raised his glass again. Perhaps Baratte had even foreseen this move. Surely he would not expect the English ships to retreat?

  The white marks on the horizon seemed as before, but the embrace would begin within two hours. He heard himself say, ‘Plenty of time before we load and run out.’

  He studied Trevenen as the captain snapped out his orders. Unwilling to see his ship badly mauled and perhaps his own future in ruins? Or was he as Avery had described, a coward?

  ‘Will you have the people lay aft, Captain? You will wish to speak with them before …’

  Trevenen shook his fist violently, ‘They will have to learn, Sir Richard, learn and obey!’

  ‘I see. Then have them piped aft, Mr Urquhart. I will demand much of them this day. I owe them an explanation at least.’

  The calls shrilled and the hands came stampeding aft. Those from forward who had seen and heard nothing of the exchanges on the quarterdeck peered almost fearfully at the larboard gangway as if expecting to see a grating rigged for a flogging, even in the face of an enemy they did not know.

  They looked first to Trevenen and then, when it was apparent that he was not to speak to them, they fixed their attention on the vice-admiral who had taken their lives into his hands, and could just as easily dispose of them.

  There was silence but for the sea and shipboard noises, and even those seemed muted.

  Bolitho rested his palms on the quarterdeck rail and looked over and amongst them.

  ‘Valkyries, I thought I should tell you something of what we are about on this fine morning. My Cox’n remarked just before we cleared for action that he sometimes wonders what it is all for.’ He saw several heads turn towards Allday’s powerful figure. ‘Many of you were taken from your homes and villages and some from honest merchant ships, against your will, to face a life which has never been an easy one. But we must never give in to tyranny no matter how difficult it is to see any value in our sacrifice, even though it be in the name of King and country.’ He had all their attention now. Some of the warrant officers and older seamen were probably thinking that had such comments been made on the messdeck or in a barrack room they would be branded as treasonable.

  ‘England must seem far away to many of you.’ He looked at them steadily, wanting them to understand, needing them to do so. ‘Because I stand here with my two bright stars and a flag at the masthead it does not mean that I feel this any less. I miss my home and the woman I love. But without us, our dear ones, our homes and our countryside will be as nothing if the enemy is allowed to win!’

  Avery saw his hands holding the rail until the tanned skin was pale from the force of his grip. Whatever happened, he knew he would never forget this moment. He thought of Stephen Jenour, and understood now more than ever why he had loved this man.

  Bolitho said quietly, so that many men further forward pressed into their companions to hear his words:

  ‘This ship that blocks our way is not at war with us, but any flag which is raised to help an enemy is our enemy too! When we fight, do not think of causes and the justice of things, which is the way of my Cox’n.’ He guessed Allday was grinning behind him, and saw several of the assembled sailors smile at his words. ‘Think of one another,
and the ship around us! Will you do that for me, lads?’

  He turned away, his hat in the air as the cheering swept across the ship as loudly as any rainfall.

  Allday saw the pain in his eyes, the emotion at what he had just done, but when he reached Trevenen his voice was without mercy.

  ‘Do you see, Captain? Leadership is all they ask, not bloody backs simply to satisfy you!’

  He turned again, and looked out at the cheering seamen until in groups they went back to their stations and the guns.

  Lieutenant Urquhart, his eyes blazing with excitement, said, ‘They’ll follow you now, Sir Richard!’

  Bolitho said nothing. Urquhart did not understand. None of them did. He had betrayed these same men as he had Jenour when he had forced him to take a command.

  When he spoke once more he was surprised at the normality of his own voice.

  ‘Very well, Captain, you may load, but do not run out.’ Trevenen touched his hat, his eyes red-rimmed with strain and despair. ‘And have other flags bent on, Mr Avery. The Colours must be kept flying, no matter what!’ Then he spoke again, although whether to himself or to Avery the flag lieutenant was never certain.

  ‘To think that Captain Beere once knew my brother. I sometimes think I never knew him at all.’

  Bolitho stood loosely near the wheel and looked around at the lieutenants and senior warrant officers he had sent for. Young faces, tense expressions, and pathetic determination. The warrant officers, the professionals, had all seen action in one ship or another, but apart from Urquhart and of course Avery, the lieutenants had not.

  He recalled all the wild, reckless times he had sailed into battle: sometimes with the drums and fifes playing a lively jig to ease the strain of waiting. But not so on this morning.

  The breeze had freshened very slightly, enough to harden each sail, but not so that it could break the great undulating expanse of ocean. A few gulls and other seabirds circled the top-gallant masts, undisturbed by the sullen purpose of the ship below them.

  If he turned his gaze very slightly Bolitho could see the other ships, brigs and brigantines for the most part, with the Unity sailing amongst them like a fortress.

  He said, ‘We will remain on this converging tack. Unity’s captain will believe we intend to pass through his charges ahead of him. If we can get close enough without taking a few of Unity’s broadsides I intend that we should alter course at the last moment and pass astern of her. It will be a hard thing to do. It is the only course of action open to us if we are not to leave our ships unaided. All officers will ensure that topmen and all spare hands are ready to make more sail immediately. We have the wind across the quarter – when we turn we will have it astern of us.’ He smiled. ‘A soldier’s wind!’

  He glanced along the crowded deck where men crouched by the guns or waited by each mast with their midshipmen and petty officers.

  Every gun was loaded, but he had not ordered any of them to be double-shotted. Some of the new hands might lose their nerve, and there was every chance of a gun exploding and killing all the men around it if improperly handled. Worse, it could start a fire right inside the ship.

  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, C
aptain!’

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

  Only two things could happen. Unity would have to fall off down wind 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 the 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 twenty-four 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.