Betrayal

Betrayal Read Free Page B

Book: Betrayal Read Free
Author: Julian Stockwin
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Action & Adventure, War & Military
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the yard missed his hold and fell backwards with a shriek, cut off when he bounced off the bellying lower sail and into the sea.
    ‘
Man oooverboooaaard!

    Kydd hesitated only for a moment, then blurted the orders to heave to and lower a boat. His features were thunderous. ‘Where away?’ he called to the after lookout. Obediently the man pointed – it was his duty to keep his eyes fixed on the unfortunate in the water until the boat came up with him.
    The gig in the stern davits was swung out to serve as the ship’s lifeboat and it kissed the water smartly, stroking strongly away at the lookout’s direction and soon found the topman, who lay gasping as they hauled him over the gunwale. The boat lost no time in making it back.
    ‘Where is that damned villain?’ Kydd spluttered, vainly casting about, looking for their quarry. ‘The lookouts, ahoy! How’s the Frenchy bear?’
    There was no answer. He realised they had glanced away to check the progress of their shipmate’s rescue and neglected their duty. He had now lost sight of the chase. ‘I’ll see those scowbunking beggars afore me tomorrow, Mr Gilbey,’ he threw at his first lieutenant angrily.
    Had the corvette gone north – or south? Choose the wrong one and he would lose this precious chance of at least establishing that Maréchal was at large in the Indian Ocean and at best gaining a notion of the squadron’s rendezvous position. Back to the north? That would mean a run near close-hauled in this slight wind and, as well, against the current. To the south would give a handsome quartering breeze and going with the current – but was this what the other captain wished him to conclude?
    ‘Bear away t’ the south, if you please,’ Kydd decided. This was something
L’Aurore
did well, a slight wind on the quarter – there were few that could stay with her in those conditions and if the Frenchman had headed to the south he would quickly overhaul it. And on the other hand if it was not sighted within a few hours he could be certain that it was off to the north. Then any contest between one out with the ocean breezes and the other anxiously dodging the shallows would be a foregone conclusion.
    Their only chart was a single small-scale one painstakingly copied from the Portuguese of nearly a century before, sketchily detailing the littoral with precious few depth soundings – and the mud-banks would surely have shifted in the years since then. Closing with the coast as near as they dared, they could be sure, however, that the brightness of the chase sails could be seen against the darker shore.
    The land slid past, a dense variegation in dark green with occasional palms and small hills in otherwise unrelieved flatness. After three hours there had been no sighting.
    ‘He’s gone north. ’Bout ship, Mr Curzon,’ Kydd ordered.
    It was late afternoon: they had to press on to overhaul the corvette before night fell giving it cover to escape. ‘Bowlines to the bridle, Mr Curzon,’ Kydd said crisply, ordering the edge of the big driving sails drawn out forward for maximum speed.
L’Aurore
stretched out nobly for the horizon to the north, her wake creaming ruler-straight astern and lookouts doubled aloft.
    An hour – two, more – and still there was no sign.
    Perplexed, Kydd and the sailing master did their calculations. With an essentially onshore wind there was no possibility that their quarry could have made a break directly to seaward while they were away in the south, and even if they had made off as close to the wind as they could, their ‘furthest on’ was still firmly within the circle of visibility of
L’Aurore
’s masthead. It was a mystery.
    ‘He’s gone t’ ground,’ Gilbey growled.
    ‘Aye, but where?’
    There was no response.
    ‘I rather think up a river,’ Renzi suggested.
    ‘In a ship-rigged vessel?’ Gilbey said scornfully. ‘Even a mongseer corvette draws more’n the depth o’ water of any African river I’ve

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