Artemis - Kydd 02 Read Online Free Page A

over-loud, the cordage tension in working so close-hauled producing a finely tuned high frequency in the wind. Suddenly dry in the mouth, Kydd crossed to the centre of the gundeck, and scooped at the scuttled butt of vinegar and water.
    Relatively short-handed, they had crews to fight the guns on one side only, but with a single opponent this was no disadvantage. Rowley paced at the forward end of the gundeck with a London dandy's nonchalance. His action clothing was plainer than usual, but Kydd noticed just a peep of lace at the sleeves, and his buttons gleamed with the glitter of gold. His sword, however, held an air of uncompromising martial serviceability.
    'What'n hell?' Doggo shouted.
    They crowded to the gunport.
    Citoyenne was shortening sail and slowing. As they watched, she relaxed her hard beat to windward into a more comfortable full and bye, and soon lay quietly under topsails. She was ready to turn on her tormentor.
    'No — you will await my order!' Powlett's roar was directed at Parry, who had drawn his sword and was pacing about like a wild animal. Artemis surged on, the distance rapidly closing. 'Shorten sail to topsails, Mr Prewse. Lay me within pistol shot to windward of her, if you please,' Powlett ordered.
    The big courses were brought to the yards and furled, seamen working frantically as if determined not to miss the excitement to come. Artemis slowed to a glide.
    The ships drew closer. 'Damn me that he doesn't risk a raking broadside,' muttered Merrydew.
    As Artemis turned for the final run in to place herself parallel to the Citoyenne she would necessarily expose her bow to her opponent. Even one round-shot passing down the length of the vessel could do terrible damage, smashing through the guns one after another, maiming and killing in an unstoppable swathe of destruction.
    But there was no cannon fire. In silence Artemis glided towards the enemy friga te, her own broadside held to a hair trigger. Parry glanced at Powlett, who stood four-square on the quarterdeck, facing the Citoyenne as the two ships converged. 'On my signal,' snarled Powlett.
    At a walking pace Citoyenne slipped forward, enough way on for the rudder to answer. Men crowded on her decks, the knot of officers on her quarterdeck clearly distinguishable. From her open gunports the muzzles of cannon menaced, each one ready to deliver a crushing blow. But still they rested silent.
    'Their captain,' Party whispered.
    The blue and gold figure opposite stood erect and proud. His arm swept up and he removed his hat with a courtly bow.
    'My God!' Parry blurted.
    'Shut up!' Powlett snapped. He removed his own hat, sweeping it down in an elegant leg, then stood tall and imperious. 'Long live His Majesty King George,' he roared. 'Huzzah for the King!' Dumbfounded, the group of officers removed their hats at the wild cheering that erupted from all parts of their vessel.
    Opposite, the French Captain waited pati ently for the sound to die. Now the ships ran parallel at an easy pace some two hundred yards apart. The Captain turned to one of a nearby gun crew and seized his cap, holding it aloft. It was a Phrygian cap of liberty. ' Vive la Republique!’ The emotion in his voice was evident even across the distance. A storm of hoarse cheering broke out. The Captain clutched the cap once to his bosom, then thrust it at a seaman. Followed by cheering acclamation the man swarmed up the main shrouds, and at the masthead nailed the cap in place.
    Powlett straightened. 'Enough of this nonsense,' he snorted, and clapped his hat back on his head. It was the signal. After the briefest of pauses Artemis’s broadside smashed out in a brutal, thunderous roar, instantly filling the space between the two ships with acrid rolling gunsmoke.
    The first broadside was an ear-splitting, mind-blasting slam of sound, choking the gundeck with writhing masses of smoke. Immediately Citoyenne's broadside answered. It arrived in a storm of violence, iron round-shot beating