STO'B 14

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Philip paused, looking across at the Chasseur. His ankle hurt abominably, swollen insode his boot where the Chasseur's cannonball had rolled into it. But he had to keep his lieutenant in countenance - the man was a splendid disciplinarian and he could not be on bad terms with him. "She's a flier," he said, "a good brig. She'll certainly be bought into the service."

"Yes, sir," said Lt Grey, relaxing somewhat, for in all likelihood the Chasseur represented his promotion. "Fourteen 18-pounders, plus two nine-pounders on the quarterdeck. Her hull hasn't suffered in the least, so we should make good work of her by the time we rejoin the fleet. She should fetch a pretty penny."

"Yes," said Philip, catching the smile from his lieutenant, "but she shouldn't have been able to get so close to us without us knowing."

"Boone was the maintop lookout, sir, and O'Keefe was in the foretop. but both are dead, sir."

"And the port side lookouts? I don't suppose that the man at the bow -"

"Luccock, sir."

"Luccock, would have seen anything, but the gangway and quarter men should have."

"Liddle and Wight, sir."

"Liddle and Wight. Who was it saw the brig first?"

"Liddle, sir."

"And Wight?"

"No, sir."

"I see." Wight should have seen the brig. So should Boone and O'Keefe, for that matter, but both were dead, which was but justice. Philip cast his eye over the Badger, pumping out the water that continued to work past the plugs, rudderless, her rigging and masts a mess. She had been caught sleeping, and she had suffered. "Place him in irons. We'll have the hide off of him in the morning. Liddle, too. How could he not see the brig until it was firing at us? Now, Mr Grey, I believe the maintopmast is ready to be swayed up, if you would be so kind."

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