The Sultan's Daughter (5 page)

As Roger handed back the telescope, Formby went on, ‘Had we continued on course we'd have had to pass within a mile of her, and that's a risk I dare not take.'

‘Stap me, no!' Roger agreed emphatically. ‘We'd be completely at the mercy of a ship that size did she prove an enemy. Do you think she will have sighted us?'

‘I doubt it. This vessel being so much smaller, it would be harder to pick up. If she has, we can only pray that she did not observe our change of course.'

‘You mean that seeing us turn away would arouse her Captain's suspicions that we are either up to no good or are British?'

‘Hell's bells!' Formby exclaimed, quickly putting up his telescope again. ‘She
has
sighted us. Even with the naked eye
you can now discern that her three masts are merging into one. She is coming round, so intends to pursue us.'

Roger shrugged. ‘She is still miles away. Surely you can out-distance her with this sloop?'

Formby's forehead was creased with a frown. ‘Should she crowd on all sail, I'd not wager on it.'

For the first time Roger felt a slight apprehension as he said, ‘At least, your ship is much more easily manoeuvrable. Unless she gets near enough to menace us with a broadside you have naught to fear except some balls from her bow-chaser. Visibility, thank God, is bad. By taking avoiding action, you should escape being hit until darkness closes down and we can get away under cover of it.'

‘I could, with luck, had I a first-rate crew,' the Lieutenant replied bitterly. ‘But more than half my men were pressed and were landlubbers until a few months back. With such ham-handed swabs, and slow at that to obey orders, I'll not be able to get the best out of her.'

Roger refrained from comment. From his father he knew only too well how, during the years of peace, half the ships of the Navy had been allowed to rot, while the men who had manned them either starved or settled into jobs ashore. During the past few years many new ships had been built and somehow crews had been got together for them, but nearly every ship in the Navy was undermanned and there was still a great shortage of trained seamen with long service.

Anxiously now he continued to stand beside Formby, peering at the outline of the frigate in the grey light of the February afternoon. After twenty minutes she appeared appreciably larger, so it was clear that she was gaining on them.

From time to time Formby used his glass to scan the horizon to the north. He said now, ‘I turned up-Channel in the hope that we might meet with a ship of the Dover Squadron. That would scare the Frenchman off; but, unfortunately, we're a long way from the Narrows yet.'

Another half-hour went by, while officers and crew stood about or leaned on the rail, watching with growing apprehension as the frigate gradually crept up on them. When two bells were struck, announcing five o'clock, individual sails on
the jib boom and foremast of the frigate could be distinguished. From the waterline she presented a diamond shape with a fraction of the downward point cut off, nine-tenths of the remainder being made up of bulging white canvas,

At ten minutes past five a puff of smoke billowed out from her bows and some seconds later they heard the report of the gun. But the shot fell far astern of the sloop and was obviously intended only as a summons to her to heave to.

By twenty past they could clearly see the crest of foam on either side of the frigate's cut-water. Five minutes later she opened fire in earnest with her bow-chaser. The first shot was short by a good two hundred yards, and half a dozen others, fired at the rate of one a minute, failed to reach their target. Yet the spouts of water sent up from the sea by the fall of each shot gradually came nearer.

Roger, endeavouring to assess their chances of getting away, thanked all his gods that the sky was overcast. Sunset could not be far off and darkness should hide them from the enemy well before six o'clock. Yet within the next quarter of an hour they might easily be dismasted, and so compelled to surrender. With one half of his mind he was trying to think up a plausible story to tell about himself in the event of capture.

Suddenly a cannon ball clanged on the iron post of the stern lantern, bounced on the deck and whistled harmlessly off at a tangent. Formby turned to Roger. His eyes were wide and his young face white as he said, ‘I've never fought a ship before, sir, and our twelve-pounder in the stern is useless at this range. What do you advise? Should we continue to hold our course or risk a tack?'

Angry that his safety should have been entrusted to such an inexperienced man, yet sorry for him, Roger replied, ‘You are the Captain of this ship, so it is for you to decide. Were I in your place I would hold my course but run up the white flag. That would fox them into ceasing fire temporarily. The French are not such fools as to sink a ship if they think there is a good chance of capturing her. While their Captain is nurturing a false belief that we have surrendered, with luck we'd get away in the darkness.'

‘No, no!' Formby protested. ‘I could not do that. It would be dishonourable so to deceive our enemies.'

Roger gave a cynical laugh. ‘When you have played tag with the French as long as I have you will realise that since the Revolution the majority of them who now wear officer's uniform are unscrupulous scoundrels and would think no trick too low to get the better of you. But, I repeat, the responsibility of saving this ship from capture is yours, so you must take such action as you think best.'

For some time past he had been increasingly perturbed by recalling his conversation with Georgina, and her fear that through some ill-chance he might be caught out as a spy. Once safely landed in France, he had little fear of that, but there was now no escaping the fact that a few more direct hits by the frigate's cannon balls might force the sloop to surrender.

At best that would mean imprisonment and an indefinite postponement of his mission, but it might have far more serious developments. Should someone aboard the frigate, or in France when he was landed there as a prisoner, chance to have known him during the years he had spent in that country under the name of Breuc, it was going to be no easy matter to explain his presence aboard a British ship-of-war. A little grimly, he realised that he was now in grave danger from exactly that ‘lesser risk' of which he had made so light.

Barely concealing his disgust at Roger's ‘dishonourable' attitude to waging war, Formby ordered the Jack to be run up. The frigate's captain was already doing his utmost to sink the sloop or compel her to surrender, so openly proclaiming her to be British added nothing to their danger. But as the little stern gun could not have sent a shot within hundreds of yards of the enemy, or have done her serious damage even had the shot landed, the Lieutenant's gesture was no more than one of futile defiance.

Roger was not at all surprised that his advice had been rejected; but since it had, and there was no other means of gaining a temporary respite from the frigate's fire, he felt that he should no longer delay taking such steps as he could for his own protection. Within the next quarter of an hour he might be killed or drowned, and that was a risk there was no escaping; but, if he did survive this one-sided action, he meant to do everything he could to preserve his identity as Colonel Breuc and, with his usual resourcefulness, he had thought of a plan which, as far as the French were concerned, should give him a fair chance of doing so.

Turning again to Formby he said, The Government having placed this sloop at my disposal to take me to France is sufficient indication of the weight they attach to my mission. If we are captured it is of the utmost importance that the French should not realise that I am an Englishman. Therefore, should you shortly decide that you have no option but to surrender, I desire that you first have me put in irons and locked in the lazaret, then tell our captors that I am a Frenchman and that you picked me up this mid-day
endeavouring to get to France in a small sailing boat which was near sinking.'

‘If that is your wish, I'll see it carried out,' Formby replied. Then he added with a sudden show of spirit, ‘But, dam' me, I'll not surrender my ship; not till she's either dismasted or holed below the waterline.'

Clapping him on the shoulder, Roger smiled. ‘To hear you express such a sentiment warms my heart, Lieutenant. Since your crew leaves much to be desired in handling ship, let us then continue to take our punishment while forging dead ahead, and pray that fortune may aid us to escape.'

As he spoke, the frigate's bow-chaser boomed again. Next moment the Quartermaster at the wheel gave a single scream and collapsed upon the deck. The cannon ball had taken him squarely in the small of the back, cutting him nearly in half and spattering his blood in all directions.

Luckily the spent shot had not seriously damaged the wheel, only shearing off one of the spokes, and it was quickly secured by the bo'sun. But the ball had cleft the air barely a yard from Roger, so that he had felt the wind of it brush his cheek. More than once he had owed his life to having no false shame about taking cover when under fire and, while others about him were still gaping at the gory remains of the unfortunate Quartermaster, he left the poop in two swift bounds for the greater safety of the well-deck below it.

He had scarcely picked himself up and stationed himself under the ladder, where he would be protected not only from a direct hit but also from flying splinters should a shot smash into the deck forward of him, than the frigate's gun boomed again. This time she missed, but her next shot smacked through the sail above him, leaving a large rent in it.

Crouching there, he thanked his stars that he was only a passenger and had no duty to perform or obligation to set an example by remaining exposed upon the poop, as was the case with Formby.

The young Lieutenant, meanwhile, white-faced but determined, remained at his post, cursing his inability to return the frigate's fire. But he ordered the after gun to be run out and loaded in readiness, for it looked as if their pursuer would soon be in range of his smaller armament.

Dusk had now fallen and the enemy's next two shots went wide. After the second, knowing there would be a minute's interval before another could be fired, Roger swung himself round the ladder and ran a few steps up it to get a quick look astern over the taffrail. The semi-darkness obscured the outline of the frigate but her position could still be clearly seen because she had lit her lanterns.

At that moment there came a sharp crack and flash. Formby had just given the gunner the order to fire the little twelve-pounder. Instead of ducking back, as he had been about to do, Roger leapt up the remaining steps of the ladder on to the poop. His action nearly cost him his life. Another ball smacked into the deck only a few feet in front of him. It would have carried off his head had it not landed on a ring-bolt which caused it to ricochet and whine away over his shoulder. Dashing forward he grabbed Formby by the arm, and shouted:

‘Are you mad to fire upon the frigate?'

Angered by such arbitrary treatment, Formby jerked his arm away. ‘How dare you address me in such terms?' he cried hotly. ‘Get back to your funk hole and leave me to fight my ship.'

‘Funk hole be damned,' Roger retorted. ‘I've killed more men than you've been months at sea. Unless you want your ship shot to pieces order your gunner to blow out his match.'

Drawing himself up, Formby snapped, ‘For this impertinence, sir, I could have you put in irons. I am the Captain of this ship and———'

‘I care not if you are the King of Spain,' roared Roger. ‘Have you not the sense to realise that though we can see the frigate on account of her lights, she can scarce see us as ours are still unlit? To her we can now be no more than a dark shadow. Another few minutes and we'll be hidden by the blessed dark. But do you continue to fire your popgun you'll be giving her a mark by which she may yet sink us.'

The frigate's gun boomed again. Seconds later the shot crashed through the stern rail, sending deadly splinters flying in all directions. One caught the Yeoman of Signals in the fleshy part of the thigh, and he gave vent to a spate of curses. But this fourth hit gave point to Roger's argument and
Formby had the grace to admit that he was right. Fighting down his humiliation, he gulped:

‘I stand corrected, Mr. Brook. The temptation at least to show fight got the better of my judgment. We'll not fire on her again and in a few minutes we'll chance a tack with the hope of getting clear of her altogether.'

Several more shots came over but no further hits were scored. As eight bells sounded, signifying the end of the first dog-watch, they turned on to a new course and, shortly afterwards, the firing ceased. They had been saved by the early coming of the winter night.

Now that the action was over, Roger began to consider how it might have affected his plans. When they had sighted the frigate they had been about five hours' sailing from Dieppe, given a continuance of the wind in roughly the same force and direction. Although by nine o'clock it would have been fully dark, only the fisher folk would have turned in for the night at that hour, so he had intended to have the sloop hold off a couple of miles or so from the shore until midnight. But for the past two hours they had been sailing away from Dieppe, and the wind would be less favourable heading back in that direction. Therefore it would now be midnight, or perhaps one in the morning, before they reached the normally deserted cove in which he intended to land. The loss of an hour was of no importance, or two for that matter. His only definite requirement was that he should be put ashore in ample time to get well away from the coast before morning.

To Formby he said, ‘Now that we are out of trouble, Lieutenant, I pray your leave to retire to my cabin. I've a hard day ahead of me tomorrow, and it's unlikely that I'll get any sleep for the best part of twenty-four hours; so I've a mind to put in a few hours before I land.'