The Blighted Cliffs (41 page)

'Of
course.' She grinned. 'If I can sneak past that Isaac. Wouldn't want
me costing you a shilling.'

'For
you, my dear, a guinea.'

In
the taproom, Ducker had ignored my advice regarding the coffee, and
looked as though he regretted it. With him before me, and flanked by
two of the crew, I proceeded to the docks.

The
smell of fresh tar and shaven wood was thick about
Orestes
,
and the new mast and rigging looked sharp enough, if a little
delicate against the weathered timbers of her hull. The shipshape
atmosphere must have infused the men as well, for they worked with
rather more exertion than I had noticed before.

Crawley
seemed surprised to see me. 'You've come,' he said, restraining any
pleasure he felt in the event. 'I had thought – feared - your
condition might preclude your joining us.'

'I
may not be patched up as well as
Orestes
,'
I said bluffly, 'but the doctor's jury-rig should serve. Where are we
bound?'

'Up
the coast. And then back down the coast. And then we shall retrace
that path, and repeat it again, until it brings us into action with a
smuggler. Whatever it is that has cursed our efforts of late, it will
not be want of trying this time. Mr Ducker! Stand ready to cast off.'

We
must have made a fine sight sailing proudly out of the harbour, our
new sail bellying out in the firm breeze and a thick foam surging off
our bows as we drove through the water. I saw Crawley and Ducker
giving frequent attention to the new spars, but they seemed to hold
well enough, harnessing the beam wind to urge us ever for ward. The
air snapped and billowed around my ears, and I had to grip the rail
with a tender arm to hold myself upright on the steeply heeling deck.
As Dover shrank behind us, I experienced a rare joy in the sensations
of the sea, of being on a small ship under full sail, alive to every
gust and eddy of the wind.

Whatever
pleasure it afforded me, though, there was little practical work for
me to do, save perhaps repeat orders that could be heard as well from
Crawley's mouth as from my own on that small deck. Thus, once we were
some way away from shore, Crawley handed me a small glass and told me
to watch the shore from the weather rail.

'But
it's barely lunchtime,' I objected. 'Surely there is none who would
be so bold as to run contraband on a clear day in broad daylight?'

'These
are villains who will take their chances any hour God sends,' said
Crawley sharply. 'Particularly if they think their enemies too
laggard to watch for them. Be ready, Mr Jerrold. "In such an
hour as ye think not, the smuggler cometh." '

The
rest of the morning, and much of the afternoon, saw the dogged
unfolding of Crawley's dogged plan. We sailed up the coast as far as
Deal, then brought our bows around and sailed down again for Dover. I
enjoyed the first leg more, for on the return the wind rose.

Now
the frothing sea was never far from the gunwales, and frequently
spilled over the side to wash my shoes and chill my shivering feet. I
began to regret leaving nay bed behind, for Crawley was not the least
impressed with my stoicism, and I had precious little service to
offer aboard ship.

We
were about halfway back from Deal, with the turrets of Walmer castle
just slipping from view, when I saw it: a small boat, drawn up on the
beach in a narrow cleft in the cliff-face. At first I supposed it to
be a fisherman, and felt sufficiently wretched that I might not have
looked any further had I not also been bored to distraction by the
monotony of the day. With a tired sigh, I hauled a larger glass from
the rack and, balancing precariously against the bulwark, trained it
towards the shore. My gaze swung from side to side as I struggled to
pinpoint what I had seen previously; then I found my bearings, and
honed in on the small vessel.

She
was a cutter, I decided, like ourselves - the tall mast and the long
bowsprit identified her readily enough, though she was some length
shorter than
Orestes
.
A few small figures topped her deck; a few more were at work on the
beach. The boat's rig obscured my view for the moment, but
Orestes
was making steady progress along the coast, and as we drew away I
gained a clear line of sight through to the shore party. My hand
clenched tight about the glass. There was no mistaking it now: they
were offloading casks from their boat, and rolling them quickly, but
unhurriedly, up the beach.

'Captain
Crawley, sir,' I shouted in excitement. 'A landing! Broad on the
starboard quarter.'

Crawley
was beside me in an instant, a glass already in his hand and aimed
where I had indicated.

'By
the good Lord you're right, Mr Jerrold,' he muttered. 'Not much size
to her, granted, but perhaps a beginning.'

'Long
as they're not landin' salt water again,' mumbled one of the men.

Crawley
ignored him. 'Steersman, put us about. Mr Jerrold, run up the signal:
"Prepare to be boarded." Once we are about, clear for
action. They may yet try to run for it.'

Though
I saw no tell-tale
flashes of a spyglass ashore, they must have been watching us. I had
lost sight of them for a moment as we went about, and by the time I
could make them out again the beach was cleared, and the boat well
into the water. We would be hard pressed to cross her bows before she
passed on to the seaward side of us.

'A
point to leeward, if you please,' shouted Crawley. 'I want the gunner
to put a shot in front of her, slow her down.' His face trembled with
tension. 'I will not see her pass us.'

Ropes
creaked as
Orestes
eased to starboard. We were aiming further out to sea now, on a
course that would give us more time to intersect our quarry, more
time for the advantage of our sail area to tell. But the smuggler, if
smuggler she were, was fairly racing along, almost bursting out of
her goose-winged canvas she moved so fast.

Our
deck shook as the for'ard cannon fired, and I saw the bow slew round
from the shock. The mainsail buckled and slapped, spilling out wind
from the brief change of course, while a cloud of acrid smoke swept
over us. Crawley was shouting at the steersman and the men on the
halyards to get us back on our line, but we had lost precious speed
and time before we managed it. And the shot had not shown the least
effect on our opponents.

'She's
laying off a bit,' shouted Ducker from amidships. 'Showing us her
arse.'

Through
my glass I could see the truth of what he said: she had now turned
her bow away from us on to almost the same course as we held, though
several cables ahead.

'That's
a queer move,' said Crawley. 'They'll never beat us canvas to canvas.
I'd have said their only chance was to outmanoeuvre us.'

'At
least on our bow they know we can't get a cannon on to them,' I
thought aloud.

I
saw Ducker moving aft, his face grim. A creased chart was clasped in
his fist.

'It
ain't that,' he said shortly. He unfurled the paper, and jabbed his
finger on it. 'They're aimin' to use their draught to see 'em over
the sands.'

Crawley's
face went grey and his shoulders slumped; without a word he turned
his back on us, as if unable to meet our gaze, though we only looked
for orders. Suddenly, and for wholly obvious reasons, I remembered
Davenant's words at the assembly: cracked her open like a walnut. It
was not a thought to inspire me to accompany Crawley over the Goodwin
Sands, graveyard of unnumbered ships. And the tide was receding ever
further.

Crawley
turned back to face us, and I hastily tried to don the mask of
confidence, though I fear it might have seemed more like sickly
terror.

'We
will continue with the chase.'

Though
they were not the words I wished to hear, his determined tone at
least fed me a little strength.

'And
trust our lives to almighty God,' he added after a short pause.

'And
a man with a lead?' asked Ducker, not missing a beat.

'No,
Mr Ducker. We have no time for that. We cannot shorten sail while our
quarry continues to spread hers.'

We
moved apart, Ducker to oversee the steerage, Crawley to fix his stare
on the boat ahead of us, and I to the rail. I looked down at the
heaving water under our gunwale, trying desperately to see past the
waves and foam to the hidden depths beneath. I felt almost ill with
the effort, and with the thought of the doom which might be rising,
de
profundis
,
to snatch us.

With
a shiver that might have been the chill but probably wasn't, I tore
myself away. If I saw anything, after all, it would almost certainly
be too late - not that that thought was any comfort.

Looking
forward, I could see that we were at least holding our own against
our target, were in fact inching slowly closer. Though inches were
little against the distance that still divided us, and less still
against the shrinking fathoms below our keel.

'We're
overhauling her,' said Ducker.

'We'll
be at the hook of Holland before we catch her,' snapped Crawley.
'Look at that sail - it's loose as a Plymouth whore.'

I
could not believe he spoke with authority, nor with accuracy, for the
sail could not have slipped more than a fraction from its intended
trim. Ducker, though, was all bustle, mustering men on the halyards
and hauling on the mainsail with a great commotion until it was just
to his liking. To my unexacting eye, he did not appear to have
changed it a whit, but Crawley seemed happier. Or at any rate, not
quite so sour.

'She'll
be plumb over the worst of it now, I reckon,' said Ducker, watching
our quarry with a measured gaze. 'An' still goin' strong.'

I
followed his eyes. For all Crawley's hectoring - or perhaps because
of Ducker's infinitesimal adjustments, I allowed - we had gained
clear distance on her; had we a bow chaser mounted, we might well
have chanced a shot. I could see the men on her deck now without a
glass, could see them scurrying about with a firm purpose, as intent
on escaping us as we were on capturing them. A couple were on her
stern looking back, though whether with fear or defiance I could not
tell.

And
then I could not care, for suddenly I had been flung to the deck with
the unflinching thud of complete surprise. My bandaged body screamed
in agony, even as I registered that there had been a ghastly lurch in
our momentum, accompanied, so I thought, by a deep rasping from our
hull. I looked up wildly: half the crew at least were as prone, some
shouting in alarm or pain, but the sails were still full and the boat
still moving forward.

'The
sandbar! Put her about!' roared Crawley from behind me.