How true. Towards sunset when they were lying off the Men Glas waiting for the tide the wind settled in the northeast again, and although there were patches of true fog still in the east and north-east, over the land, most of the bay to larboard was no more than misty.
Indeed some fishing-boats could dimly be seen on the larboard beam half a mile away: larboard, because at this point Jack was some way along his northward run, the ordinary routine patrol. When darkness was almost complete he desired Harding to summon the
officer of the watch, Whewell in this case, the master’s mates and midshipmen: and when they were all there on the quarterdeck he said, ‘Gentlemen, in fifteen minutes I shall put the ship about. I should like this manoeuvre to be executed as silently as possible, and with almost nothing in the way of light; and we shall proceed under reefed courses alone.
There is no mad hurry: we are not running a race:
but let there be no singing out. Each officer must pick his men. This is no caper for raw hands, however stout and willing. Mr Reade, you have checked the blue cutter, I believe?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Reade, smiling in the dark. ‘And I believe all is as you could wish.’
Against strong opposition from the more conservative, and from his own heart, Jack had rigged davits above the Bellona’s quarter-galleries, taking away somewhat from her beauty and committing an innovation; but now he rejoiced in the thought of that boat hanging there fully equipped, ready to be stepped into by the less expert and lowered down without danger, without anxiety on either part. He had put Stephen ashore in many and many a place, generally by night; and the anguish, even in a dead-calm sea, of watching his unsteady, lurching journey down the side, though helped by gravity and devoted hands, had added years to his apparent age: any innovation, however barbarous, was worth the relief of seeing him sitting there with his hands folded, his baggage beside him, and the whole, container and contents, very gently descending until it touched the surface, with Bonden there to fend off and the cutter’s crew leaping down like cats.
All this, however, was in the future. Once the ship had been put about – which was done with creditable speed, in near silence – and once she was heading south by east under reefed courses with the wind a little abaft the beam, as inconspicuous as a ship of the line could ever hope to be, her captain’s station was in the foretop with the pilot, an attentive midshipman on deck to relay his orders.
For a long while there were no orders to relay. Jack and the pilot discussed the clearing of the mist, likely to be complete by the morning; the Bellona’s leeway, very slight; and her present position. ‘On the starboard bow, sir, you can just make out the Bas Wenn. The course half a point to larboard, sir, if you please: thus, very well thus. And was it day you would see Dead Men’s Bay to leeward.’ A long silence, in which they heard the muted strokes of five bells in the first watch.
‘Now, sir,’ said Yann, ‘we are well into the Raz, the tide running three knots and more; and in ten minutes, on the larboard bow, if God wishes you will see the white water on the Vieille. This westerly breeze across the strong ebb should throw it quite high.’
Jack stared, stared hard over the larboard bow. His eyes were perfectly accustomed to the darkness, yet they were not what they had been. One had been damaged in battle:
‘My solitary point in common with Nelson’, he had once said, when half-seas over, and had blushed for it afterwards. It was Yann who cried, ‘There she is! Just a little more forward, sir.’ And presently Jack caught it, a rhythmic
whiteness that travelled from left to right in time with the moderate roll of the ship.
‘Now, sir,’ said Yann, when they had contemplated this for a while, ‘if we steer south-east we should come as near as I dare take you to Dog-Leg Cove in half an hour.’
‘Thank you, pilot,’ said Jack. ‘Lie to, if you please, when we are as close in as you think fit.
I shall take my measures.’
He climbed out of the top with the nonchalant ease of one to whom shrouds and ratlines were as natural a path as’ a flight of stairs, and walked along the dark, silent gangway aft.
In the cabin, its lamp hidden from without by deadlights, he found Stephen and Bernard playing chess. Stephen frowned, Bernard made as though to get up, but Jack begged him to remain seated and finish the game: there was perhaps half an hour left.
‘Shall we call it a draw?’ asked Bernard, after what seemed to Jack an endless pause of the most intense concentration.
‘Never in life,’ said Stephen. ‘Let me record the position, and with the blessing we shall play it out another day.’
‘Stephen,’ said Jack, ‘have you any messages, requests, letters you should like me to send?’ Before action he and Stephen usually exchanged wills and the like.
‘Not this time, my dear, I thank you very kindly. Lawrence holds all three farthings I possess, and dear Diana knows just what I should wish.’
‘Then perhaps we should think of getting ready. The ship will heave to in a very little while; the sea is still and for the moment fairly smooth; and although you will be fifteen minutes before your time, I had sooner set you both ashore with dry coats upon your backs and…
Come in.’
It was a midshipman: ‘Mr Harding’s duty, sir, and there is a light on shore, winking three times, then one.’
Stephen nodded and said, ‘Let us go.’
Their meagre baggage was already in the boat: Jack led them across the darkened deck, absurdly hand in hand, helped them into the cutter, and leaning down grasped Stephen’s shoulder with an iron grip by way of farewell. He heard the sheaves turn smoothly,
‘Handsomely, hand-
somely,’ murmured the bosun, saw the boat touch and bob:
Bonden shoved off: Jack called ‘Row dry, there,’ and watched the cutter pull away towards the still-winking light. When at last it went out he turned from the rail, gave the orders that would carry the Bellona to her anchorage, and went below, deeply sad. He had seen Stephen off like this many and many a time, but his grief and anxiety never grew less.
As he went he noticed a dim star or two in the zenith; and by the time the boat rejoined, with Bonden’s report
‘that there was a parcel of gents on the beach, talking foreign, but right glad to see the Doctor – carried him and his mate ashore dryfoot’, there was a fine sprinkling of them, with Saturn in the middle, and they so clear and sharp that their light showed him not only
the now much greater surf breaking on the reef south of the Ile de Seim but the black, rugged outline of the island itself.
Chapter Six
The grief and anxiety did not die away, but of necessity they receded, and as the Bellona worked her way, tack upon tack, round the Saints to regain the bay at dawn, the top of his mind was taken up with the handling of the ship and with a very close watch to see just what harm the lax but harsh command of his jobbing captain had done. He had already looked through the recent gunnery records, which contained no account whatsoever of live firing, only of rattling the great guns in and out: the log, on the other hand, spoke of frequent flogging, more punishment than Jack would have inflicted in a quarter.
At one bell in the morning watch the Bellona’s tender, the Ringle, now commanded by that valuable young man Reade, a fast, weatherly, sweet-sailing schooner with much less draught than the great seventy-four, hailed to say that she was shoaling her water: ten fathoms, then nine. ‘What do you say, Yann?’ asked Jack – the pilot was standing at his side.
‘What him bottom?’
‘Arm your lead,’ called Jack; and shortly after the reply came back across the calm, gently heaving sea, ‘Hake’s teeth and white sand, if you please, sir.’
‘Carry on, sir,’ said Yann. ‘Next cast ten, eleven, twelve.’
A presence behind him, and a very agreeable smell. ‘Which I thought you might like some coffee, sir,’ said Killick, passing the mug. ‘The Doctor said it preserved the frame from falling damps.’
‘Bellona’ called the tender, ‘nine fathoms, if you please.’ A pause. ‘Ten, and grey sludge.’
Yann nodded with satisfaction. ‘If we carry on till come
two bells, and then wear ship and stand east-south-east and half east, we fine, we all right, sir.’