Dunstan was wiping his telescope. 'Oh, good. Then you give the feller a guinea!'
There was more sporadic firing, but because of the lively sea and the drifting curtains of spray it was impossible to determine the other vessels, except from the masthead.
Phaedra heeled upright, and the main topsail boomed and thundered violently as the wind went out of it.
'Man the braces there! Let her fall off three points!' Dunstan released his grip on the rail. The wind was dropping significantly so that the hull had to be brought under command to take advantage of it.
'Nor'-nor'-west, sir! Steady as she goes!'
Meheux gasped, 'By God, there they are.'
Dunstan raised his glass again. 'Hell's teeth! It's that damn schooner we were looking for!'
Meheux studied his profile, the wild hair flapping beneath the battered hat which Dunstan always wore at sea. Once, in his cups, Dunstan had confided, Til get meself a new hat when I'm posted, not before!'
Meheux said, 'The one with the Inspector General's lady aboard?' '
Dunstan grinned broadly. Meheux was a reliable and promising officer. He was a child where women were concerned.
'I can see why our vice-admiral was so concerned!'
A man yelled, 'They're casting adrift, sir! They've seen us, by God!'
Dunstan's smile faded. 'Stand by on deck! Starboard battery load, but don't run out!' He gripped the lieutenant's arm. 'A bloody pirate if I'm any judge, Josh!'
The first lieutenant's name was Joshua. Dunstan only used it when he was really excited.
Dunstan said urgently, 'We'll take him first. Put some good marksmen in the tops. She's a fancy little brigantine, worth a guinea or two, wouldn't you say?' He saw Meheux hurry away, the glint of steel as a boarding party was mustered clear of the gun crews and their rammers.
The schooner was dismasted although someone had tried to put up a jury rig. In that gale it must have been a nightmare.
Meheux came back, strapping on his favourite hanger.
'What about the others, sir?'
Dunstan trained the glass, then swore as a puff of smoke followed by a sharp bang showed that the pirate had fired on his ship.
'God blast their bloody eyes!' Dunstan raised his arms as he had seen Bolitho do when they had prepared for battle, so that his coxswain could clip on his sword. 'Open the ports! Run out!'
He recalled what Meheux had just asked him. 'If they're alive we'll take them next, if not -' He shrugged. 'One thing is certain, they're not going anywhere!'
He glanced around and winced as the pirate fired again and a ball slapped down alongside. The stage was set.
Dunstan drew his sword and held it over his head. He felt the chill run down his arm, as if the blade 'was made of ice. He remembered crouching with another midshipman on Euryalus's quarterdeck, sick with terror, yet unable to tear his eyes away as the enemy's great mountain of sails had towered above the gangway. And Bolitho standing out on the exposed deck, his sword in the air, each gun-captain watching, sweating out the agonising seconds whch had been like hours. Eternity.
Dunstan grinned and brought his arm down with a flourish.
'Fire!'
The small brigantine came up floundering into the wind, her foremast gone, her decks covered with torn canvas and piles of rigging. That well-aimed broadside had also shot away the helm, or killed the men around it. The vessel was out of control, and one man who ran on to the poop with a raised musket was shot down instantly by Phaedra's marksmen.
'Hands aloft! Shorten sail! Take in the main-course!' Dunstan sheathed his sword and watched the other vessel reeling under Phaedra's lee. The fight was already over. 'Stand by to board!' Some of the seamen were clambering into the shrouds, their muskets cocked and ready, while others waited like eager hounds to get to grips. It was rare to catch a pirate. Dunstan watched his first lieutenant bracing his legs to jump as the sloop-of-war sidled heavily alongside. He knew it would be a madman who put up a defence. This was what his sailors did best. They would offer no quarter if one of their own was cut down.
There was a ragged cheer as the red ensign was hoisted up the bngantme's mainmast.
Dunstan glanced at the low-lying shape of the schooner. She must be badly holed, and looked ready to capsize.
It would mean risking a boat despite the lively waves.
He called, 'Mr Grant! Jolly boat, lively with you! Stand clear if the buggers fire on you!'
The boat lifted and dipped away from the side, the other lieutenant trying to stay upright as he looked towards the schooner. Once he stared astern, then gestured wildly towards Phaedra.
Dunstan stared up and then laughed aloud, feeling some of the tension draining out of him.
Bolitho would have had something to say about that. He shouted, 'Run up the Colours!' He saw Meheux clambering inboard again. 'We fought under no flag, dammit!'
He saw his cousin's face and asked, 'How was it, Josh?'
The lieutenant sheathed his hanger and let out a long sigh.
'One of the bastards had a go at us, slashed poor Tom Makm across the chest, but he'll live.'
They both watched as a corpse splashed down between the two hulls.
'He'll not try that again!'
Leaving the prize crew on board, Phaedra cast off, and under reduced canvas, edged towards the listing schooner.
Dunstan watched as the boarding party climbed across her sloping deck. Two men, obviously pirates who had been left stranded by the brigantine, charged to the attack. Lieutenant Grant shot one with his pistol; the other ducked and retreated towards the companionway. A seaman balanced his cutlass and then flung it like a spear. In the telescope's lens everything was silent, but Dunstan swore he could hear the scream as the man tumbled headlong, the blade embedded m his back.
Til not go alongside. Stand by to come about! Ready on deck!'
Dunstan lowered the glass, as if what he saw was too private. The woman, her gown almost torn off her back, yet strangely proud as she allowed the sailors to guide her towards the jolly boat. Dunstan saw her pause just once as she passed the dead pirate, shot down by Lieutenant Grant, He saw her spit on him and kick the cutlass from his hand. Hate, contempt and anger; but no sort of fear.
Dunstan looked as the first lieutenant. 'Man the side, Josh. This is something we shall all remember.'
Then later, when Phaedra with her prize making a painful progress astern, sighted the flagship, Dunstan discovered another moment which he would never forget.
She had been standing beside him, wrapped in a tarpaulin coat which one of the sailors had offered her, her chin uplifted and her eyes wide while she had watched Hyperion's yards swinging, her sails refilling on to the tack which would bring them together.
Dunstan had said, Til make a signal now, my lady. May I order my midshipman to spell out your name?'
She had shaken her head slowly, her eyes on the old two-decker, her reply almost lost in the crack of sails and rigging.
'No, Captain, but thank you.' Quieter still, 'He will see me. I know it.'
Only once had Dunstan seen her defences weaken. The master's mate had shouted, 'There, lads! The old girl's goin'!'
The schooner had lifted her stern and was turning in a circle of foam and bubbles, like a pale hand revolving in a chandler's butt of grain. The hull was surrounded by bobbing flotsam and a few corpses when suddenly it dived, as if eager to be gone from those who had wronged her.
Dunstan had glanced at her and had seen her clutching a fan to her breast. He could not be certain but he thought he saw her speak two words. Thank you.
Afterwards Dunstan had said, 'Make it two guineas, Josh. It was more important than either of us realised.'