The Torrid Zone (The Fighting Sail Series) (24 page)

“Do you think we will see any more of the Frenchman today?” King asked, breaking the silence that had lasted for some while.

“I doubt it, and the anchorage is well protected if we do,” Banks grunted. “What worries me more are the other vessels.”

“The corvettes?” King was surprised; the two accompanying ships had stayed further out to sea, but must be of little danger to
Scylla,
compared to a heavy frigate. “You surely are not contemplating an attack by fireship?” he asked finally. Such a ruse was not unknown, but normally would only be used against a mass of moored shipping. Apart from
Scylla,
there were only small craft and fishing vessels at the anchorage.

Banks shook his head. “No, but I secretly wonder if they are what we think. You remember the action? One was left pretty much a wreck, yet this morning two were sighted, and both seemed to be sailing sprightly enough.”

“The second was indistinct,” the younger man reminded him.

“And stayed further out to sea,” Banks agreed. “Yet the other came in almost as close as the frigate, and both were annoying the shore batteries for some while.”

“Is that so unusual?” King asked. “They seemed to be sounding out the island's outer defences; surely that is pretty standard practice when dealing with unknown gun emplacements?”

“So why did the French not use all three vessels?”

King said nothing; it was a question he had not even considered. The third ship might certainly have been weakened in the earlier action, and ordered to stay on the horizon although, as the captain had stated, she seemed to be sailing quick enough.

“How about if she were unarmed?” Banks suggested.

“Unarmed?”

“Unarmed, and not, in fact a warship. I should say the badly damaged corvette was either sent back for repair, or sunk after the action.”

King was about to ask of the other when the answer came to him like the cold wave of sudden sickness. “And you think the far off sighting might have been the Company packet?” he asked, appalled.

“I do; it is strange that those on watch did not recognise her, but she were a long way off, and thought to be several hundred miles north of here.”

That was quite true; the service vessel had left more than three days before. She was fast and reputed to be well handled, but some mixture of ill luck and timing might easily have led her to be taken.

“So the French may well hold Lady Hatcher,” King said slowly, his voice notably free of concern.

Banks nodded; for the last few months the governor's widow had been a blight on his very existence and even now, when she had officially left the scene, the woman continued to haunt him. Silently he wondered if he would ever be free of her.

Thoughts of the capture had led him to consider other implications. For a ship as fast as the packet to be caught implied an element of surprise, in which case the transport's captain could easily have been remiss in ditching the confidential papers. So, in addition to his nemesis, the French might also have his carefully worded report. There was nothing so terribly damaging there, but news of Sir Terrance's death would inevitably be delayed for even longer, and that would hardly improve its eventual reception in London.

On the other hand he had been given time and, in theory at least, a golden opportunity to put matters right. He need only take
Scylla
to sea and defeat the French to make all well again, although that would be no easy task. A single French frigate would be problem enough; the presence of another armed corvette must add to his worries considerably while a captured transport, especially one likely to be carrying the widow of an important government official, could only confuse matters further.

The first of many lanthorns was being lit aboard
Scylla
. Time was still very much the enemy, and work would continue throughout the night, with the carpenter's team, as well as those hands who had associated skills, standing double tides until it was completed. But the fact that dusk was falling brought a slight chill to the air and, without reference to the other, both men turned to begin the long walk back to the town proper.

There was no doubting the departure of Lady Hatcher had made the island a far friendlier place. Like King, Banks had worries in England and he was also developing a strange affection for this tiny community set in the middle of nowhere. Knowing that a child was due, and family life would soon begin, had altered his own thinking considerably. For the first time in his naval career he wondered if being a man-of-war's captain was really the correct occupation for one with other responsibilities. Unlike King, he could not imagine spending his days in a place so isolated, though the reminder that normal, domestic life did exist, and could even be open to one such as him, was timely indeed.

The two walked through the archway at the end of the drawbridge as the light started to fade, and by the time they were crossing the parade ground it was quite dark. The change from day to night came suddenly; however long each spent in a land less than a thousand miles from the equator, the transition would probably always come as a shock. Then the harsh staccato sound of a far off signal gun cut into their thoughts, to be followed, ten seconds later, by another and almost immediately afterwards a bugle began to be blown hurriedly and quite close by. Presumably a parade or some form of evening inspection was being called, but such a thing was of no concern to them, and both continued to walk without mentioning the matter, or considering it further.

Then a lamp, shining high up on one of the two massive hills that dwarfed the town, caught their attention. The light was shielded and revealed several times in a seemingly random manner, presumably a signal, although the code was not obvious. This time Banks did turn to King and was about to comment when a group of uniformed men came hurrying out of the night and across the empty ground towards them. Their lack of order and obvious haste was disconcerting and as they passed Banks stopped one who appeared to be in charge. The man undoubtedly resented being delayed and gave a sharp reply.

“It’s the battery,” he said, adding a grudging “sir,” after a glance at the bullion on Banks' tunic. “The gunners are being called to duty.”

“Is your artillery not usually manned?” King asked, surprised.

“Only with a skeleton crew,” the man replied, clearly eager to follow his men. “Enough remain on hand to maintain the equipment and carry out saluting duties, but the full compliment are officially designated for field service and only summoned when there is cause.”

“And there is cause now?” Banks asked.

“Indeed, sir,” the man almost snapped back. “Did you not notice the signal?”

Neither officer replied and the man continued at little more respectfully.

“The watch on Diana's Point has sighted an unknown vessel,” he explained. “And those on Ladder Hill confirm that a raider is in sight to the north; probably one of the warships that was bothering us this afternoon. It is a common enough occurrence during the shipping season and can cause a nuisance. Fortunately Captain Walker's vessel has already sailed, so there is only the fishing fleet to worry about. That and the wrecked Navy frigate, of course, but she is hardly our problem.”

A rocket rose up from the roof of Government House, illuminating the surrounding area. By its light the man seemed to focus on their uniforms, apparently recognising them for the first time. “And if you are anything to do with it, gentlemen, I would return there forthwith,” he added, before disappearing into the night.

* * *

B
ut both men had no thought of turning back to
Scylla
; poorly manned, and with scant armament, their presence aboard could do little good. Instead Banks and King rushed after the artillery men as they made for the batteries. As sea officers they were unaccustomed to running any great distances, and tired easily, but a further signal from Ladder Hill, together with what sounded like far off cannon fire made them hasten their step. As it was they arrived at the entrance to the small fortress, only to find themselves halted by a sentry who held his musket firmly across their path.

“There will be no entry to the casemate during an action,” the man said, as if reciting the words from a book.

Banks was too used to being in command and felt his anger rise as he gasped for breath. Fortunately King interposed.

“We are king's officers,” he explained. “Kindly alert whoever is in charge to our presence.”

The sentry eyed them suspiciously before finally calling out. The duty sergeant duly appeared and was followed, after a slight pause, by another figure that Banks immediately recognised.

“Sir Richard, or should it be Captain Banks?” Major Morris asked, a supercilious smile upon his face as he emerged from the darkness. “Are you here in an official capacity, or is this merely a social visit?”

“My ship is in danger,” Banks said; the words were still coming in gasps but his face was now red as much from the young man's attitude as any recent exertions. “I demand you let me through.”

“Demand, is it?” the major asked, just as another distant barrage of artillery was heard. “I hardly think you in a position to make even a request.” His smile increased. “But then my uncle's widow will be well on her way to England by now, so there should be no harm in your at least witnessing what is about to happen.”

He nodded at the sentry, and Banks and King followed him under a low stone doorway. “However you must remember that we are the experts here,” Morris cautioned. “You will not interfere with anything we do, and if I find your presence in the least annoying, you will be removed. Do I make myself clear?”

* * *

C
aulfield had also seen the signal from Ladder Hill and was equally in the dark about its meaning but, when viewed from the quarterdeck of an immovable ship that was on the verge of sinking, he took it even more seriously.
Scylla
had struck her topmasts, so the highest viewing platform was her maintop, less than a hundred feet above deck, but still he sent a midshipman up to supplement the lookout in the hope of seeing what was about. Darkness was complete and the moon had yet to rise; nothing could be seen to seaward, although on land things were far more active.

Lights were appearing on the wharf and about the town entrance that must be silhouetting
Scylla
beautifully, while there seemed to be a deal of activity at Munden's Point, the far eastern headland. But both of the two main batteries that protected him to the south remained apparently deserted. It was on them that the frigate's safety depended, and Caulfield was starting to worry.

* * *

O
n the main eastern battery it was indeed dark. Banks stumbled after Major Morris as he sped down a stone staircase that led to what was clearly the main gunnery level. Still there were no lanterns, but all around men were active, and enough reflected light came from over the low parapet for King and Banks to make out a line of heavy cannon that were in the process of being served. From the headland to the east there came a series of bright pinpricks of light, too large for musket fire but not in the same league as the heavy monsters that surrounded them.

“Field pieces,” Banks said, half to himself.

“And too far off to be a real danger to shipping,” King agreed. Noise of the barrage reached them; the sound was high pitched – it was indeed small calibre shot, hardly likely to damage a determined enemy bent on entering the anchorage and destroying anything within.

Both officers peered out into the darkness. The fire from the far off guns had left their eyes slightly dazed but, if there were an enemy out there, surely it would be in sight by now?

A blinding flash seemed to erupt from the sea itself and illuminate the bay; King actually went to raise both hands to his face, so sudden was the shock.

“The Frenchman,” Banks murmured, as the simultaneous broadside landed on the edge of the anchorage. The target was unclear; possibly the battery on the eastern headland or perhaps one of the small clusters of fishing boats that lay beneath. But the intense light was etched on their retinas for several seconds, while thoughts of what might be to come remained with them far longer.

“She's travelling east to west,” King added urgently, as the image of a ship slowly became clear. It was indeed a frigate, and almost certainly the same one they had met at the equator. And she was passing, close hauled, on the larboard tack: sweeping in towards where
Scylla
lay, anchored and vulnerable.

“That would explain the field fire,” Banks said. “They probably have a temporary battery established there.” Both men immediately peered at the eight heavy guns that lay in the gloom before them. Their range must be sufficient to reach the enemy ship and the modern carriages would give an arc of fire more than wide enough to find it even now. In fact a lucky shot might well damage the Frenchman; delaying would make the job more certain, admittedly but must also risk hitting
Scylla
. Banks looked about for Morris, who seemed to have disappeared.

“Where is your officer?” he snapped at one of the nearby gunners.

“Sergeant's here, sir, but Major Morris and Captain Hamilton will be in the guard 'ouse, more'n likely.” The man indicated a small brick room that could just be discerned at the far end of the line of guns. Banks bounded towards it in the dark, tripping over a wooden crate, and all but colliding with another of the gunners as he went. He pounded on the door and when a voice came from inside, he entered.

* * *

“S
hut that bloody door, you oaf!” Morris was sitting at a table with another officer. Both were drinking what smelt like spirit and the other man was holding up his hat, in an attempt to shield the small lantern that sat on the table between them.

“An enemy ship is entering the harbour, and yet your men are making no move to even lay their weapons on it. When do you intend to open fire?” Banks demanded.

“We probably won't have to,” the other officer, younger than Morris, responded cheerfully. “Not if you insist on signalling the battery's position to them.”