The Scent of Betrayal Read Online Free PDF Page B

normally held his carronades in place. Bolted to the deck, they had runners that allowed the guns to recoil, rather than the normal breechings. Carronades, short-barrelled cannon that fired a huge ball, were called smashers because of the effect they had on an enemy hull, but they were useless at long range. The relative positions of the French ships barred his preferred method of confounding the enemy, by doing the unexpected, and heading right into the arc of Villemin’s fire he knew that something must be done about guns, even if the sight of them being rigged only served to cheer his men. A glance aloft showed him that though rapid progress was being made, he could not escape one or two broadsides. But assuming nothing vital was wounded he should then be able to bear up into the wind and use his superior sailing ability to put some distance between them.
    That would very quickly bring him into contact with the twobrigs, an altogether different problem. They couldn’t know he was unarmed, and that alone, if he manoeuvred aggressively, would induce caution, especially if they’d exchanged any information with the Mariannes. They must have discussed the previous battle with either Villemin or his officers, giving them a very clear idea of the accuracy, and power, of their opponent’s gunnery. Marianne had felt the effect of the carronades when Harry had removed great chunks of Villemin’s bulwarks in mid-Atlantic, and aimed at the hull of a smaller ship they would do correspondingly more damage. Yet time was against him still. There was not enough of it to arm more than one side of the ship. Even that might prove impossible and it certainly wasn’t a task he could entrust to his brother.
    Pender was back on deck, dishing out his tots, and Harry called for him, as well as both the Caufields, to join him by the wheel. Once they’d assembled, he explained what he wanted.
    ‘Do you really think that will do any good?’ asked Matthew, glumly.
    ‘All I know is that it will do no harm,’ replied Harry sharply. ‘If it makes just one of them sheer off a trifle …’
    The boom of the Marianne ’s guns killed the rest of his sentence. Great founts of water shot up, well forward of the starboard fore-chains, which seemed to indicate that the enemy had fired at too great a range.
    ‘That was a wasted shot,’ said Matthew, aiming a rude gesture in the Frenchmen’s direction.
    ‘Don’t underestimate him. That was deliberate, a mere warning, an invitation to strike.’
    ‘Guess he would rather take us in one piece if he can,’ added Matthew’s father.
    Caufield senior gave Harry a look that said, quite plainly, that if no one else on deck had the sense to see how bad things were, he certainly did. But whatever thoughts he had he kept to himself. The calls from aloft, telling the Captain that his sails were ready, began to float down, first from the foremast, then from themain. Looking up to check Harry saw the pennant which identified him as a British letter of marque.
    ‘Pender!’ Harry snapped. ‘Get on the mainmast halyard. Shiver our pennant a trifle as though you’re trying to get it down and it’s stuck.’
    ‘Aye, aye, Captain.’
    Such a ploy was too late for the second broadside, which was certainly well within range of Villemin’s longer cannon. But the way the guns were aimed confirmed that the Frenchman wanted him whole. They could see the balls quite clearly, arcing through the clear blue sky, fired from cannon set at maximum elevation. Although everyone on deck was drenched by flying water, not one of them struck the hull. Captain Caufield gave him a wry smile. As Harry gave the orders to let fall, sending others to man the braces, he pulled at his son’s sleeve and both men ran to carry out their allotted task. Pender tugged away at the halyard as the commands rang out. The slight dip of the flag would make his enemy wonder. Likewise the men running to their places on the deck. They could be