Lieutenant Bazin had been watching the transom of the Calypso grow larger as they approached. Her sternlights seemed occasionally to wink as the rippling surface of the sea reflected the sun from the glass. With the telescope he could see that the old nameboard had been replaced with a new one: the paint and gilt making up the name Calypso was much fresher than the rest of the design on the scroll.
There were very few people on board the Calypso - two or three officers on the quarterdeck (Duroc presumably among them), and a dozen or so men along the gangways. Ah, and a few seamen waiting on the fo'c'sle. So he could reckon on some help from the Calypso with that damned cable.
By approaching in the Calypso's wake, Bazin wanted to be absolutely sure that Captain Duroc realized what he was doing. He was sure it was what the captain would want - Duroc was always interfering, never considering anyone could do anything properly without detailed instructions and constant overseeing. So by steering straight for the Calypso's stern and then bearing away to starboard at the last moment, ranging to windward close along her starboard side, he could listen to Duroc's shouts. Probably Duroc's drunken ravings in fact, because he couldn't imagine Duroc still sober and letting pass such an opportunity to show a senior officer how clever he was and how stupid everyone else. He had to admit be hated Duroc.
The Calypso is a handsome ship: one can tell by that graceful sheer that she is designed by a Frenchman because the British can never achieve that elegance. But what is wrong with her that she has to be towed? It can only be damage to the rudder because her masts, yards, bowsprit and jibboom are all right. She is not leaking - there are no spurts of water streaming over the side, showing her pumps at work. And, oddly enough, no battle damage. At least, none that can be seen from astern. No shotholes in the hull, no fished yards. Not even a pane missing from the sternlights. Can that schooner towing her have actually captured her? It seems unlikely, there is some other explanation. Most likely another ship captured her and ordered the schooner to tow her to port. Yes, that is what happened!
He swore at the two men at the wheel as La Perle yawed in a momentary wind shift. They were nicely lined up now; he could even see the smooth trail, a path across the sea, which was the Calypso's wake. Another half a dozen ships' lengths or so, and he'd begin the turn to starboard which would let him pass alongside. Already the Calypso was being hidden by La Perle's bow, he'd have to perch on the breech of a gun and peer over the bulwark, or rely on seeing her masts.
Actually it isn't as difficult as one might think, commanding a frigate. Duroc makes a great performance of it, cursing everyone, clutching his brow, stamping a foot, shaking his fist, spitting to show his contempt, but it is only necessary to keep calm. Keep calm and make sure orders are obeyed promptly. One needs a dozen eyes, of course, but Duroc makes hard work of it by all the drama.
What is that fluttering in line with the Calypso's mizen? He lifted his telescope. Merde! Another signal, and at this stage! Number eight. Hurriedly he mentally skimmed the first page of the signal book.
'Deck there!'
Now a blasted lookout aloft is hailing.
'Deck here!"
'Foremast here - she's hoisted a signal I'
'I know. Keep a sharp lookout.' He looked round and spotted the second lieutenant. "Where's the signal book, cretin?' When the lieutenant handed it to him he snatched it and began nicking through the pages.
'It's number eight,' the second lieutenant said.
'I know that!' Bazin snarled.
'It means to turn to larboard."
'Why the devil didn't you say so, then, instead of giving me the book?'
'You asked me for it. The book.'
Now there was shouting from the bow.
'What goes on there?' Bazin shouted back.
The frigate's hoisted a signal!'
'I know. Just keep a sharp lookout.'
"Well ram her in a minute,' the second lieutenant said lugubriously. 'Captain Duroc will have you court - martialled.'
'And I'll tell him how you fooled around with the signal book,' Bazin said hotly, and then looked ahead again.
The Calypso was no longer ahead: suddenly she was way over to larboard.
'Cretins!' Bazin screamed at the men at the wheel. What are you doing? Who told you to turn to starboard?'
'We didn't. The Calypso suddenly turned to larboard.'
And Bazin saw she had: the schooner was still some way to starboard, but the Calypso was so far over to larboard it was now doubtful if he could get La Perle to point high enough to pass her to larboard.
Snatching up the speaking trumpet that he had been expecting to use as an ear trumpet, he began bellowing orders to get the yards braced sharp - up, and a moment later gave more orders to the men at the wheel.
The Calypso seemed glued on La Perle's larboard bow, then slowly, almost reluctantly, she began to move slightly to starboard. Or, Bazin corrected himself, she appears to, although of course it is La Perle turning to larboard at last. But now the wind is increasing - that helps her up to windward but it is also increasing her speed, and she is approaching the Calypso's larboard quarter crabwise.
Then Bazin glanced up and saw the luffs of the sails flutter ing, beginning to be starved of wind.
'Bear away, you fools!' he bawled at the men at the wheel, but even before they could haul down on the spokes he realized that bearing away, turning to starboard, would inevitably bring La Perle's starboard bow crashing into the Calypso's larboard quarter.
'No, no! Luff up, luff up!'
'Merde!' screamed one of the men, stepping back from the wheel, 'make up your mind - sir!'
Bazin saw that the name Calypso was painted in blue on a gilt background, and edged with red. The colours were bright The studding - sail boom irons on the outer ends of the Calypso's yards were newly painted in black, in contrast to La Perle's, which were stained with rust.
This is a funny time for the Calypso to be hauling down the Tricolour. They have the Tricolour on one halyard and the British flag ' on another, so they can haul down one independently of the other. Perhaps the halyard has chafed through. Anyway, there is only a British flag now. And it is going to be a dreadful collision.
Southwick gave yet another of his prodigious sniffs, a sniff that contained a lifetime's contempt as well as a lungful of air. That Frog lieutenant couldn't be trusted with a bumboat full of whores,' he said crossly. 'Just look at those luffs fluttering. Ah - now he's having the yards braced up, but that isn't going to help him. And - the fool, he's paying off so much he's making more leeway than headway!'
La Perle was now coming crabwise down on to the Calypso's quarter. Two ships' lengths, Ramage reckoned.
'General quarters,' he snapped at Aitken. 'Guns run out, boarding party to stand by.'
The flapping of flags overhead reminded him. 'Orsini! Get that Tricolour down! Leave our own colours flying.'
'Shell stave in our larboard quarter, spring a dozen planks and carry away the mizen,' Southwick said matter of factly, drawing the great sword he had been wearing slung round his waist 'But if she damages us too much we can all shift on board her . . .'
Seamen were streaming up from below. Some were tricing up the gun ports while others ran out the guns. Men grabbed boarding pikes from the racks round the masts, others took up pistols from wherever they had stowed them. Marines scrambled on to the hammocks stowed in nettings round the quarterdeck, muskets loaded and waiting for orders from Lieutenant Rennick who suddenly appeared on the quarterdeck and posted himself near Ramage, ready for instructions.