“Mr. Jones! I want two reliable bos’n’s mates. Quietly, if you please.”
That breeze was still blowing, ever so gently, a little more fitful than might be desired, and the moon had not cleared the mountains yet.
“Now, you two, pay attention. Go quietly round the ship and see that every man is awake. Not a sound — you hear me? Topmen are to assemble silently at the foot of the masts. Silently.”
“Aye aye, sir,” was the whispered reply.
“Carry on. Now, Mr. Jones —”
The gentle patter of bare feet on the deck as the men assembled acted as accompaniment to the whispered orders Hornblower was giving to Jones. Over there was the vast bulk of the Mejidieh; two thousand ears which might catch the slightest unusual noise — an axe being laid ready on the deck, for instance, or capstan bars being gently eased into their sockets. The boatswain came aft again to rejoin the little group of officers round Hornblower and to make his report in a whisper that accorded ill with his bulk and power.
“The capstan pawl’s thrown out, sir.”
“Very good. Yours is the first move. Go back, count a hundred, and take up on the spring. Six turns, and hold it. Understand?”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Then off you go. You others are clear about your duties? Mr. Carslake, with the axe at the cable. I’ll attend to the axe at the spring. Mr. Smiley, fore tops’l sheets. Mr. Hunt, main tops’l sheets. Go to your stations.”
The little ship lay there quietly. A tiny rim of the moon came up over the mountains, and broadened momentarily, revealing her lying peacefully at anchor. She seemed inert, incapable of action. Silent men had swarmed up the rigging and were waiting for the signal. There was a gentle creaking as the spring to the cable tightened, but there was no clank from the capstan, for the pawl had been thrown out from the ratchet; the men at the capstan bars walked silently round, and when their six turns had been completed they stood, breasts against the bars, feet braced on the deck, holding the ship steady. Under the pull of the spring she lay at an angle to the breeze, so that when sail should be set not a moment would be wasted gathering stern way and paying off. She would be under command at once.
The moon had cleared the mountains; the seconds went slowly by.
Ting‑ting went the ship’s bell — two bells; the signal.
Feet pattered in unison. Sheaves squealed in blocks, but even as the ear caught that sound topsail yards and forestay had blossomed into sail. Forward and aft came brief sullen thumpings as axe blades cut through cable and spring — with the sudden end of the resistance of the spring the capstan spun round, precipitating the men at the bars to the deck. There were bruises and grazes, but nobody paid attention to the injuries; Atropos was under way. In five seconds, without giving any warning at all, she had transformed herself from something stationary and inert to a living thing, gliding through the water towards the entrance to the Bay. She was clear of the peril of the Mejidieh’s broadside, for the Mejidieh had no spring on her cable to swing her round. She would have to weigh her anchor, or cut or slip her cable; she would have to set sail enough to give her steerage way, and then she would have to yaw round before she could fire. With an alert crew, awake and ready for the summons, it would be at least several minutes before she could turn her broadside upon Atropos, and then it would be at a range of half a mile or more.
As it was Atropos had gathered speed, and was already more than clear before Mejidieh gave her first sign of life. The deep booming of a drum came sounding over the water; not the high‑pitched rattle of the Atropos’ side‑drum, but the far deeper and slower tone of a bass drum monotonously beaten.
“Mr. Jones!” said Hornblower. “Rig in those boarding nettings, if you please.”
The moon was shining brightly, lighting the water ahead of them.