In Gallant Company by Alexander Kent

moving like paddles in his efforts to reach the look-out.
    Then he shouted, ‘Too small for a frigate, sir! But I think she’s sighted us!’
    Bolitho watched the tossing grey water. They would all be able to see the newcomer soon. Too small for a frigate, Libby had said. But
like
one in appearance. Three masts, square-rigged. A sloop-of-war.
Faithful
’s slender hull would be no match for a sloop’s sixteen or eighteen cannon.
    â€˜We had better come about, sir, and hoist our recognition signal.’ He saw the uncertainty on Sparke’s narrow features, the scar very bright on his cheek, like a red penny.
    The other look-out called excitedly, ‘Two small craft to loo’rd, sir! Standin’ inshore.’
    Bolitho bit his lip. Probably local coasting craft, in company for mutual protection, and steering for the bay.
    Their presence ruled out the possibility of parleying with the patrolling sloop. If they were nearby, so too might other, less friendly eyes.
    Frowd suggested helpfully, ‘If we come about now, sir, we can outsail her, even to wind’rd. I’ve been in schooners afore, and I know what they can do.’
    Sparke’s voice rose almost to a scream. ‘How dare you question my judgement! I’ll have you disrated if you speak like that to me again! Come about, wait and see, run away. God damn it, you’re more like an old woman than a master’s mate!’
    Frowd looked away, angry and hurt.
    Bolitho broke in, ‘I know what he was trying to say, sir.’ He watched Sparke’s eyes swivel towards him but did not drop his gaze. ‘We can stand off and wait a better chance. If we continue, even with the darkness soon upon us, that sloop-of-war has only to bide her time, to hold us in the shallows until we go aground, or admit defeat. The people we are supposed to meet and capture will not wait to share the same fate, I think.’
    When Sparke spoke again he was very composed, even calm. ‘I will overlook your anxiety on Mr Frowd’s behalf, for I have observed your tendency to become involved in petty matters.’ He nodded to Frowd. ‘Carry on. Hold this tack as long as thewind favours it. In half an hour send a good leadsman to the chains.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Will that satisfy you?’
    Frowd knuckled his forehead. ‘Aye, aye, sir.’
    When the half-hour glass was turned beside the compass the other vessel’s topgallant sails were in sight from the deck.
    D’Esterre, very pale from the hold’s discomfort, came up to Bolitho and said hoarsely, ‘God, I am so sick, I would wish to die.’ He peered at the sloop’s straining sails and added, ‘Will she catch us?’
    â€˜I think not. She’s bound to go about soon.’ He pointed to the creaming wash alongside. ‘There’s barely eight fathom under our keel, and it’ll soon be half as much.’
    The marine stared at the water with amazement. ‘You have done nothing to reassure me, Dick!’
    Bolitho could imagine the activity aboard the pursuing sloop. She would be almost as big as the
Destiny
, he thought wistfully. Fast, agile, free of the fleet’s ponderous authority. Every glass would now be trained on the scurrying
Faithful
and her strange red device. The bow-chasers were probably run out with the hope of a crippling shot. Her captain would be waiting to see what the schooner might do and act accordingly. After months of dreary patrol work, with precious little help from the coastal villages, he would see the schooner as some small reward. When the truth was discovered, and Sparke had to explain what he had been doing, there would be a double-hell to pay.
    He could understand Sparke’s eagerness to get to grips with the enemy and do what Pears expected of him. But Frowd’s advice had been sound, and he should have taken it. Now, they would have the sloop to contend with while they hunted for the