8_4

Melchior had moved to the fore castle where he was out of the way of the Captain and the crew, and from where he had anticipated being able to see the action more clearly. Unfortunately there was very little to see. Around midnight the ship had moved closer in to the island, and not more than ten minutes previously the smugglers had been sighted, their vessel, floating idly in the waves, almost collided with the far larger war ship and had the moon not surfaced from beneath the clouds, then the two ships would have come into contact.
Instead the shout had gone up from a sailor in the head and other voices could be heard swearing in consternation over the water.
Captain Fellows had ordered the smaller dark ship to come under his lee even as the look out had spotted the distant signal on Saint Albans island, but the smaller craft had instantly hauled a sail aloft and had turned away from the big ship, almost into the wind and directly into the path of the Alert and her boats which were spread out in a long crescent, some where in the darkness out towards the east. Melchior had turned at the look outs hail, but he had failed to see the signal. In the darkness there was no indication of the island at all. When he turned back, the smuggling craft had already gained two ships lengths on the Pegasus before the larger craft had managed to get herself under way.
Two long barrelled cannon had been prepared in the bows but neither gun had been fired, and the common understanding was that the guns were only to used as a last result. Still, their appearance had galvanized Melchior and he had his flint lock pistol under his jacket just in case.
Slowly the bigger ship began to gather speed, but still the smaller craft was slipping ahead. Although he knew the plan was to drive the smugglers towards the waiting Alert and her boats, Melchior still felt an unreasonable desire to catch the ship and take her. For a brief moment he imagined himself dropping down onto the unknown deck, pistol in one hand and cutlass in the other and chuckled at his imaginative daring.
“What’s so funny?” de Hogue asked as he approached.
“Not much” Melchior replied. “In fact there doesn’t seem to be very much happening at all!”
They stared into the murky night, catching only the faintest glimpse of the fleeing ship. As they strained to catch a glimpse, time slowed down and the apart from the wind and the sea, the straining of the rigging, there was nothing indicate that anything untoward was taking place. Above and behind them, all about the ship, the crew moved back and forth with the ease of men who had already been at war for many years.
Suddenly there was a flash in the dark.
Ahead of the ship, some thousand yards or so in the distance came a sudden fuselage of small arms fire, then the single crack of a carronade.“Might they not hit us?” Melchior asked in concern, but de Hogue did not answer. He strained to see, cursing the moon for its lack of illumination, then a minute later he grasped Melchior’s shoulder in a grip of iron as a single blue rocket flew up in to the sky and exploded in a shower of blue white sparks.

“Here we go!” Bailey urged in a low shout. He staggered to his feet, Norris stopping to haul him up, and the two men began running up towards the ruined tower.
“Come on lads” a voice cried out from some where to his left, and he glanced back to see two of the Chatham men following him.
Norris was younger and faster and he was the first to reach the vacant door way at the base of the tower. Bailey saw him pause then jump in through the door way, there was no door, and was following him when the flash of a gun, and its sudden sharp retort brought him to a halt. He stepped aside as Norris staggered back through the door way clutching at his stomach, his face a writhing mask of pain, then caught him, and lowered him gently to the ground.
“He went up the stairs” Norris barked.
“Up the stairs!” Bailey told the two Chatham men who had followed him. They ran in through the door and their footsteps died away as they ran up the stone steps.
Arkwright and Stokes arrived with several other men, and taking one look at Norris they all ran for the door way but Bailey grabbed Arkwright and held him back.
“Give us a hand here Joe, I don’t know ‘ought about this sort of thing!”
“I’m fine.” Norris cried from between gritted teeth.
Bailey took one look at the slick mess of Norris’s waistcoat and nodded emphatically.
“Aye, you’re doing grand lad. Just hold on and we’ll get you down to the village.”
He looked up at Arkwright’s serious face, but at that moment Arkwright’s attention was caught by something over Bailey’s shoulder.
“No you don’t!” Arkwright yelled and with one quick movement he pulled out his flint lock and fired it.
Bailey ducked, swearing horribly, as the weapon discharged right over his head, showering him with sparks and burnt powder. Norris threw down the smoking pistol and broke into a run. Bailey looked to see why but all he saw was Norris running away into the dark.
Stokes burst from the tower door a second later and stood looking wildly around.
“He jumped from a window!” he cried. “Which way did he go?”
Bailey pointed and Stokes took off, running fast after Arkwright. Several of the Chatham men followed him but three of them stopped with Bailey to help carry Norris back down to Welles.