STO'B 32

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But the French gunnery officer did not fire, though by Philip’s estimation the Badger and Chasseur were within long shot of his guns. Even better than long shot, he reflected, thinking of the wicked peppering he and the rest of the crew of the Intrepid had received from the pair of French long guns of the Le Corbosie battery as they attempted to take that tower in 1837. The memory remained strong: 36 pound shot hulling the poor Intrepid again and again, smashing the main mast and its attendant rigging, taking off Captain Lawrence’s head at the shoulders so that one moment that kind man was talking to him, calming his fears (it was Philip’s first time under fire); and the next moment his head was gone, replaced by a spurting red fountain that soaked Philip as the captain collapsed at his feet. “I beg your pardon, Mr Wilkins?” he said.

“Chasseur is signaling sir, asking for direction,” repeated the midshipman.

Theoretically, Chasseur was the senior vessel, she having apparently captured the Badger, but now was not the time to deal with that - not in front of the enemy, with the blue peter flying on one - he swung his glass back to the clustered merchantmen - two vessels. And as he watched the snow’s anchor broke free of the water, and water started to cream along her bow. Might the snow lead the others out?

The Chasseur fired a gun, attempting to draw Philip’s attention to her signal, but Philip took the captain’s prerogative and ignored it. Perhaps the shore might think that the signal was for them, though Philip saw no navy vessels in the harbor. He shifted his glass back to the fortress, the other potential source of orders, and with dismay he noted that the gunnery officer still had his telescope raised, though now he appeared to be looking at the Chasseur.

Philip turned his own glass to the Chasseur, bringing her startlingly close. He could make out the weave of the rigging, count the stripes on the helmsman’s shirt as he stood by the wheel, make out the bright gold braiding on Lieutenant Grey’s epaulettes; he could almost make out the lettering on the brig’s bell. He swung his glass back to the lieutenant’s epaulettes. To his English lieutenant’s epaulettes. That was what the gunnery officer was staring at, and now the fort was firing a gun.

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