The Devil's Own Luck Read Online Free Page A

sails. The man at the wheel spun it quickly and the Medusa wore round. Another command had the men hauling again, this time bowsing the sails tight. The Medusa was round, with the wind abaft the beam, and heading quickly for the Verite before the Frenchman, having missed stays in his attempt to tack, had got any way on him.
    Harry, having had James standing by, added the signal “General chase” to the one already flying. He knew that he risked causing offence. No naval officer would take kindly to any sort of command from a mere privateer. But he could think of no other clear way to signal his intentions, other than the use of the Navy’s own signal book. He left the signal flying long enough to ensure that it had been read, before hauling it down and replacing it with “Am engaging.”
    The seventy-four was cracking on. Harry saw sails flashing in and out as the captain looked for his best point of sailing. The Magnanime heeled over under the press of sail, her lower larboard ports under water as she shot along, her bowsprit sending up great cascades of water. Harry himself was gaining fast on the Verite. His first task was to outreach her and get ahead so that the Medusa could interfere with her attempts at flight. But before that he must sting her in the tail, sting her so hard that she would turn to deal with him while the gap between her and the Magnanime was still wide enough to ensure escape.
    The guns were run out to starboard. He could not run out his larboard guns. The heel of the ship was too great to allow that. But they had been run out, loaded, run back in, and bowsed tight inboard. They were ready to fire the minute the Medusa shortened sail and the deck became level again. Right now it was like a pitched roof.
    Harry stood there, his arm looped round a backstay as he watched the relative positions of the three ships. He was gaining fast on the Verite. He raised his glass to watch the Frenchman’s quarterdeck. At all costs he must ensure that they didn’t best him by turning to fight him before he had got into position. Again he noticed how the French captain was overpressing her, pushing her head down by carrying too many upper sails, more obvious now with the wind pushing him forcefully. That, and what he had seen of her attempt to bear up and get away, underlined his earlier feeling that it was not only the captain who lacked experience, but the entire crew.
    The whole scene seemed to freeze. Men stood still, and to an untrained eye so did the ships. The gain seemed barely noticeable, and James, exhilarated in spite of his doubts, felt the first pangs of impatience begin to invade his excitement. His drawing materials had been put aside.
    “How long before we catch him?” he shouted to his brother.
    “Within the hour,” said Harry, as though that meant immediately.
    They raced on, with only the position of the Medusa seeming to alter, as she slowly increased the distance between herself and the seventy-four, and drew closer to the Verite. Yet the seventyfour was gaining. Harry could see the French officers plainly now, gathered at the taffrail, their glasses concentrated on the Magnanime. They would be content, sure that if need be they could deal with him and still get away. He was looking forward to surprising them.
    Harry steered the Medusa until she was sitting in the Frenchman’s wake. There was a flash from the stern and he saw the ball fired by the stern chaser fly overhead to land harmlessly in his wake. They would keep shooting at him, hoping that they would wound a spar, or even better the mast, and thus reduce his speed.
    “Is there nothing we can do in reply, Harry?” shouted James, as the second ball sent up a plume of water on the starboard side.
    “Not for a while. We could only use the starboard chaser, and on this deck I would think we would just be wasting powder and shot. But when we pay them back, it will be more than in kind.”
    Ball followed ball, one better aimed than