1805 by Richard Woodman Read Free Book Online Page A

officers roaring with laughter on a score of
quarterdecks, despite the fact that such an attack had been launched
against Admiral Howe in New York during the American War. Drinkwater
was apt to regard such arrogant dismissal of French abilities as
extremely unwise. From what he had observed of those
chaloupes
and
péniches
there was very little wrong
with
them as sea-going craft. That alone was enough to make them worthy
targets for His Majesty's frigate
Antigone
.
    'Beg pardon, sir.'
    'Yes, Mr Wickham, what is it?' Drinkwater dabbed his mouth
with his napkin and pushed back his chair.
    'Mr Hill's compliments, sir, and the wind's falling light. If
we don't make more sail the enemy will get away.'
    'We cannot permit that, Mr Wickham. Make all sail, I'll be up
directly.'
    Rogers followed him on deck and swore as soon as he saw the
distance that still remained. Hill crossed the deck and touched his hat.
    'Stuns'ls, sir?'
    'If you please, Mr Hill, though I doubt we'll catch 'em now.'
    Drinkwater looked round the horizon. Daylight had revealed a
low mist which obscured the sharp line of the horizon. Above it the sun
rose redly, promising a warm day with mist and little wind. Already the
sea was growing smooth, its surface merely undulating, no longer
rippling with the sharp though tiny crests of a steady breeze. Hardly a
ripple ran down
Antigone
's side: the wind had
suddenly died away and Drinkwater now detected a sharp chill. Beside
him Rogers swore again. He turned quickly forward.
    'Mr Hill!'
    'Sir?'
    'Belay those stuns'ls. All hands to man yard and stay tackles,
hoist out the launch!' He turned to Rogers. 'Get the quarter-boats
away, Sam, there's fog coming. You're to take charge.'
    Rogers needed no second bidding. Already alert, the ship's
company tumbled up to sway out the heavy launch with its snubnosed
carronade mounted on a forward slide. It began to rise jerkily from the
booms amidships as, near at hand, the slap of bare feet on the deck
accompanied a hustling of men over the rail and into the light
quarter-boats hanging in the davits. Among the jostling check shirts
and pigtails, the red coats and white cross-belts of the marines
mustered with an almost irritating formality.
    'Orders, sir?' Mr Mount the lieutenant of marines saluted him.
    'Mornin', Mr Mount. Divide your men up 'twixt quarter-boats
and launch. Mr Rogers is in command. I want those invasion craft
destroyed!'
    'Very well, sir.' Mount saluted and spun round: 'Sergeant,
your platoon in the starboard quarter-boat. Corporal Williams, your men
the larboard. Corporal Allen, with me in the launch!'
    The neat files broke up and the white-breeched, black-gaitered
marines scrambled over the rails and descended into the now waiting
boats. Drinkwater looked at the enemy. The invasion craft had already
vanished but the brig still showed, ghostly against the insubstantial
mass of the closing fog.
    'Mr Hill! A bearing of the brig, upon the instant!'
    'Sou'-east-a-half-south, sir!'
    'Mr Rogers!' Drinkwater leaned over the rail and bawled down
at the first lieutenant in the launch. 'Steer sou'-east-a-half-south.
We'll fire guns for you but give you fifteen minutes to make your
approach.'
    He saw Rogers shove a seaman to one side so that he could see
the boat compass and then the tossed oars were being lowered, levelled
and swung back.
    'Give way together!'
    The looms bent with sudden strain and the heavy launch began
to move, followed by the two quarter-boats. In the stern of each boat
sat the officers in their blue coats with a splash of red from the
marines over which the dull gleam of steel hung until engulfed by the
fog.
    'Now we shall have to wait, Mr Hill, since all the lieutenants
have left us behind.'
    'Indeed, sir, we will.'
    Drinkwater turned inboard. There was little he could do.
Already the decks were darkening from condensing water vapour. Soon it
would be dripping from every rope on the ship.
    'I had hoped the sun would rise and burn up this mist,'