* * *
The first watch became the middle watch, and toward the end of the middle watch Simkin knocked on the doorway of the coach and woke his captain. “Half a glass to the end of the watch, sir, as you requested.”
Philip swung out of his cot and stepped out to the companion. Badger’s sails looked the same as they had seven hours ago. Smoke billowed from her stack, dark against the pale background of the sails before vanishing into the night sky. He climbed the companion to the quarterdeck. The master was here, and the gunner, in low conversation. “Good morning, gentlemen,” said Philip, walking over to them.
“Good morning, sir,” they replied. “We were just thinking of calling you,” said the master. “Liddle, in the foretop, thought he saw something off the port bow, but we can’t make nothing of it.”
Philip took the offered night glass and stepped to the rail. No, nothing there. He stepped over to the bulwark and pulled himself up into the shrouds, looping one arm through to steady himself. Still, nothing, so he finally walked forward and climbed up to the foretop.
He was still fit enough to make the climb without difficulty, even with the cumbersome night glass slung over his shoulder, but he did have to catch his breath on arriving in the top. To cover this weakness he peered blindly forward and to port, asking, “where away, Liddle,” once his breathing had caught up.
“Just below Cassiopeia, sir,” said Liddle, “perhaps two cables off.”
Philip found Cassiopeia, and searched the sea beneath. Was that a vessel, a blackness in the blackness? He raised the glass to his eye.
It took only a moment to sort out the inverted image. She had two masts. No sign of a funnel, unless it was collapsed? Not that it mattered: a cold boiler took hours to warm up. She was barely silhouetted against the false dawn - Philip swung around to look at the sea beyond the Badger - no light there to show her silhouette to the stranger.
He turned back to the stranger, running before the wind, either bound for Sardinia or using it as a way point, like himself. He could avoid this engagement - it would be safer, particularly if the strange brig was a Navy vessel: several of Badger’s cannon remained dismounted, Mahon not having gun carriages to replace those destroyed in action against the Spaniard. And time was of the essence if he wanted to return to Mahon in time to keep his brig. Admiral Whyte’s words echoed in his head: “You will not dilly-dally about, nor will you go whoring after prizes.” On the other hand, if he took a prize under Whyte’s orders, the admiral would receive one eighth of the prize money. And it would hardly take him out of his way.
Not that the other vessel was yet his prize, or even necessarily a lawful prize. She could be English, or one of the many Americans that plied the Mediterranean. Or any of the states at war on the Italian peninsula; God only knew where any of them stood in relation to England at any moment: allied today, against tomorrow.
He continued to stare at the stranger, now on the Badger’s beam as they overtook her, seeking out details to reinforce his growing conviction that she was a French merchantman. French-designed bow. French-cut sails. She seemed to have taken a reef in her topsails, too: many French commanders had a habit of taking in a reef at night, but some English and allied commanders did, too; and merchant vessels of all nationalities did so as a matter of course. Two boats trailed behind.
Back to her deck, and Philip made out several barrels. Not even the Spanish Navy would tolerate that. There was still the possibility that she was allied or neutral merchant - English ships typically had English-cut sails, but not always, particularly if they were recent captures. Nevertheless, his conviction grew.
Occasional gabble floated over the water. “Liddle, go to the master and tell him, from me, that the bell is not to be struck until further orders, and all conversation shall be conducted in whisper, then return.”
“Yes, sir,” said Liddle, saluting, but as he swung his leg over the edge of the top, two bells rang, clear and loud in the darkness.
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