"Anchor's aweigh!"
He saw Squire watching the glistening cable as it brought the anchor firmly to the cathead. He could feel the deck moving, and caught a glimpse of other ships, still at anchor, apparently shifting their bearings without a stitch of canvas spread.
Hotham had dragged off his hat and was waving it wildly in the wind, his voice lost in the din of canvas and rigging. If the clergyman could see his son now…
Squire was looking across at him.
"My respects to the Captain. Tell him, all secure!"
Napier hurried aft, dodging braces, halliards and running figures aware of nothing but the task in hand. He saw Monteith shouting to some men clawing their way up the weather shrouds, still dwarfed against the Rock, although he knew Onward must be well clear of the anchorage.
Monteith exclaimed, "Are they damned well deaf?"
Guthrie ignored him and repeated the same order, which they heard without effort. Monteith swung away, gesturing irritably to some one else. Guthrie spared Napier a quick glance and muttered, "You'm learnin "today!"
The ship was under way, upper deck already clearing of cordage and tackle, men still climbing aloft as more canvas was spread.
Napier waited below the quarterdeck rail as the marines of the afterguard clumped away from the mizzen braces, somehow keeping in step.
Lieutenant Vincent called to him, "Speak up!"
"IЦ I was told to report toЦ"
Two men ran between them, and another limped past, a bloody rag tied around one knee.
Then, suddenly, the captain was there, looking down at him.
"I saw the signal. "They could have been alone. "It was smartly done, and in half the time. "Some one was trying to attract his attention, and the big double wheel was going over again. How many times, how many decisions, until each link in the chain of command was answering as one? "You did well, David. I am proud of you."
Julyan the sailing master had joined him now. There was no more time.
Napier dropped lightly to the deck, and might have caught his scarred leg against a stanchion. But he felt nothing.
"Mr. Squire wants you, double-quick!"
He hurried toward the forecastle again, braced for the next task. Squire was waiting.
"Muster some waisters to clear up this deck, and get all loose gear stowed and ready for rounds. "His eyes moved swiftly across the starboard bow. "We don't want our French friends picking any holes in our coats! "He was smiling, but serious enough.
Napier hastened to a ladder and hesitated, one foot in midair as he stared aft toward the quarterdeck.
The captain was no longer in sight amongst the figures busy at halliards and braces. But his words remained very clear in Napier's mind. With him.
9. Articles of War
The chart room door closed, and Julyan the master touched his hat in apology.
"I'm a bit adrift, sir. "He peered over his shoulder. "I had to be certain of a couple of things. But they know where I am."
Adam said, "Find a place for yourself. I'll not keep you long."
Three lieutenants and Guthrie the boatswain left little room beyond the table, with its array of charts and reference books.
"We should make a landfall today, later in the dog watches, if the wind stays kind to us. "He tapped the open log. "And these observations prove to be accurate. "
He saw Julyan smile, and felt the tension dissipate. "I have made a rough plan of the anchorage and the approaches, from what little information we have of them."
He saw Squire nod. He would have had plenty of hazardous moments during his surveying voyages. A lead-and-line and a lot of luck, as one old hand had described it.
Adam looked at each of them in turn. "We shall remain in company with Nautilus until she is received without unrest or opposition, as is anticipated. We will take no unnecessary risks."
In company. But the other frigate had been scarcely in sight when the masthead lookouts had first reported her at daybreak.
A shift of wind overnight, or had her captain spread more sail deliberately? But what would be the point? If there had been an unexpected breach of the peace, it would already be too late for argument without a real show of force.
He heard the squeal of gun trucks, the occasional shouts of command as some of the forward eighteen-pounders began another painstaking drill. Maddock had already told him he had cut two minutes off the time it took his crews to clear for action. Not much, some would say, but it could be the margin between opening fire or being dismasted.
Only a few days since they had weighed at Gibraltar, and some three hundred miles. They had done well, even if they did damn his eyes every time they manhandled a gun up to its port.
Be prepared. The next ship they sighted might already be at war: an enemy. How would you know? He had seen the telescopes trained on them from Nautilus, and not only during the gun drill. Curiosity, or perhaps they too were coming to terms with the new alliance. Something decreed by those who had never experienced the numbing horror of a broadside or the steel of an enemy at close quarters.
He knew that Vincent was staring at him, but looked away as their eyes met.
"Study the plan. You will see some fortifications on the north-east side. Not like Algiers, or some we've encountered."
He tapped the diagram, and recalled Jago and Morgan spreading these sketches on the table for him.
He looked at Squire. "I want the second cutter lowered when we make our final approach. You will be in charge. Crew to be armed, with rations for two days in case of trouble. And remember, James. No heroics."
Squire nodded but made no comment.
He turned to Guthrie, who seemed unusually subdued, perhaps a little overwhelmed because he was being consulted with the others.
"Your best lookouts, and the most experienced leadsmen in the chains. Arms will be issued, but not on display. Am I making sense?"
Guthrie beamed. "I'll watch every mother's son, sir. Leave it to me!"
Julyan punched his massive arm. "Watch all of ‘em!"
Adam waited, and then said, "Tell your people what you think fit. We might know more at first light tomorrow. Any questions?"
"The fortifications on the plan, sir? "It was Gascoigne, the lieutenant of Royal Marines, quiet and oddly unobtrusive despite his scarlet tunic. "If there is resistance, should we expect a battery of some description?"
Adam looked past him at the old-fashioned octant hanging near the door. It belonged to Julyan, and was probably the first instrument he had ever owned or used. With men like these… . He answered, almost abruptly, "The ship comes first. The Royals would be landed."
That was all. It was enough.
Adam looked directly at Vincent. There was no more time.
He was the first lieutenant. If anything should happen…
"Do you wish to add anything, Mark?"
Vincent faced him. The challenge was still there.
"As you said, sir. The ship comes first."
The chart room quivered, and even the instruments on the table seemed to tremble as the guns were run up to their ports together, like a single weapon. There was a burst of cheering, immediately quelled by the voice of authority: Maddock himself.
Vincent said, "I was wondering, sir, "and glanced at the others. "What sort of man is the French captain?"
Perhaps it had been uppermost in all their thoughts.
Capitaine Luc Marchand had been present at two of the meetings Adam had attended in Gibraltar. Others had made the brief introductions, but he and Marchand had progressed no further than an exchange of polite smiles: Commodore Arthur Carrick had made certain of that, with behaviour verging on hostility.
Marchand was about Adam's age, perhaps a year or so older, strong-featured, with a ready, disarming smile and clear greyish-blue eyes. A face that would appeal to any woman.
The flag lieutenant had been more informative once the commodore was out of his way.