“Steer small, blast you,” he growled at the quartermaster.
The Lydia lay over before the gale, the waves crashing and hissing overside, the rigging playing a wild symphony. Last night she had been stealing peacefully over a calm and moonlit sea, and now here she was twelve hours later thrashing through a storm with a battle awaiting her. The wind was undoubtedly increasing, a wilder puff almost took her aback, and she staggered and rolled until the helmsman allowed her to pay off.
“Natividad won’t be able to open her lower deck ports!” gloated Bush beside him. Hornblower stared across the grey sea at the enemy. He saw a cloud of spray break over her bows.
“No,” he said heavily. He would not discuss the possibilities of the approaching action for fear lest he might be too talkative. “I’ll trouble you, Mr Bush, to have two reefs taken in those tops’ls.”
On opposite tacks the ships were nearing each other along the sides of an obtuse angle. Look as closely as he would, he could not decide which ship would be to windward when they met at the apex.
“Mr Gerard,” he called down to the lieutenant in charge of the port side maindeck battery. “See that the matches in your tubs are alight.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
With all this spray breaking aboard the flint lock trigger mechanism could not be relied upon until the guns grew hot and the old-fashioned method of ignition might have to be used — in the tubs on deck were coils of slow-match to meet this emergency. He stared across again at the Natividad. She, too, had reefed her topsail now, and was staggering along, closehauled, under storm canvas. She was flying the blue flag with the yellow star; Hornblower glanced up overhead to where the dingy white ensign fluttered from the peak.
“She’s opened fire, sir,” said Bush beside him.
Hornblower looked back at the Natividad just in time to see the last of a puff of smoke blown to shreds by the wind. The sound of the shot did not reach them, and where the ball went no one could say — the jet of water which it struck up somewhere was hidden in the tossing waves.
“Ha-h’m,” said Hornblower.
It was bad policy, even with a well-drilled crew, to open fire at long range. That first broadside, discharged from guns loaded carefully and at leisure, and aimed by crews with time to think, was too precious a thing to be dissipated lightly. It should be saved up for use at the moment when it would do maximum harm, however great might be the strain of waiting inactive.
“We’ll be passing mighty close, sir,” said Bush.
“Ha-h’m,” said Hornblower.
Still there was no means of telling which ship would hold the weather gauge when they met. It appeared as if they would meet bow to bow in collision if both captains held rigidly to their present courses. Hornblower had to exert all his willpower to keep himself .standing still and apparently unemotional as the tension increased.
Another puff of smoke from the Natividad’s starboard bow, and this time they heard the sound of the shot as it passed overhead between the masts.
“Closer!” said Bush.
Another puff, and simultaneously a crash from the waist told where the shot had struck.
“Two men down at number four gun,” said Bush, stooping to look forward under the gangway, and then, eyeing the distance between the two ships: “Christ! It’s going to be a near thing.”
It was a situation which Hornblower had visualised several times in his solitary walks on the quarterdeck. He took a last glance up at the weathervane, and at the topsails on the point of shivering as the ship tossed on the heaving sea.
“Stand by, Mr Rayner. Fire as your guns bear,” he called. Rayner was in command of the starboard side maindeck battery. Then, from the corner of his mouth to the men at the wheel — “Put your helm a-weather. Catch her! Hold her so!”
The Lydia spun round and shot down the lee side of the Natividad and her starboard side guns went off almost simultaneously in a rolling crash that shook the ship to her keel. The billow of smoke that enveloped her momentarily was blown away instantly by the gale. Every shot crashed into the Natividad’s side; the wind brought to their ears the screams of the wounded. So unexpected had the manoeuvre been that only one single shot was fired from the Natividad, and that did no damage — her lower deck ports on this, her lee side, were closed because of the high sea.