Nathaniel Drinkwater #08 - In Distant Waters by Richard Woodman

Author:Richard Woodman [Woodman, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Great Britain, Historical, War & Military, Sea Stories, Great Britain - History; Naval - 19th Century, Drinkwater; Nathaniel (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 9781574090987
Google: DSLLonvu1bgC
Amazon: 1574090984
Publisher: Sheridan House
Published: 1988-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

'Just before dawn, sir…'

The cabin was still dark and Drinkwater felt a surge of irritation. The news of the previous evening that the end of their predicament was in sight had somewhat relieved his mind and the sleep he had fallen into had been profound. 'What the devil are you calling me for?'

'It's a ship, sir… a ship coming into the bay!'

Chapter Eleven - Rezanov

April 1808

'What kind of ship, Mr Belchambers? Large? How rigged?'

He was awake now, his heart pumping painfully, every shred of anxiety turned over in the previous days now fully justified. This was the Russian ship, advised of their whereabouts and now enabled to catch them half-armed and trapped in the bay. Nicolai Rezanov had paid court to the lovely Doña Ana Maria, languished awhile to recruit his people and relax from the cares of his voyage. Then he must have received reports from the local Indians and Spanish spies that could not have failed to spot the strange ship, or the unfamiliar red coats of Mount's marines at Drake's Bay. Even by the slowest burro

, news must have reached Don José Arguello of their whereabouts; even, perhaps, their unpreparedness. A sudden violently bilious spasm of hatred towards the anonymous saboteurs jerked him upright from his cot. By God they were going to pay for their treachery now!

'A ship, sir… that's all I am able to say, except that Mr Quilhampton is passing word to call the men, sir, quietly…'

'Very well, I'll be up directly, pass the word for my coxswain.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

The midshipman scuttled away as Drinkwater reached for his trousers. Beyond the curtain he could hear the sounds of the ship stirring, the muted groans of tired men dragged early from their hammocks. Where in God's name were his sword and pistols?

'Where away?' Drinkwater hissed, staring into the grey dawn light. Mist trailed away over the water, luminous from an imminent dawn which already lightened the eastern sky.

'Right astern, sir. See where the masts are outlined against the sky?'

'Yes… I have her now.' The final fog of sleep dispersed. He could see the upper masts of a ship. How far was she distant from them? How diminished by perspective?

Others were creeping aft. Fraser and Hill joined them.

'I've ordered a spring passed forrard, sir,' said Fraser, 'we can get the starboard broadside to bear…'

'Yes,' Drinkwater acknowledged flatly, simultaneously pleased that Fraser had demonstrated his initiative, and irritated that he had not thought of the thing himself.

'What d'you make of her?' he asked Hill, who peered intently through his glass. Daylight grew by the minute and, Drinkwater thought, they were hidden as yet against the land and the retreating night. If the intruder was meditating surprise she had better loose it upon them quickly. 'Well?'

'I don't think it is the Russian, sir… at least not that two-decker we sighted off the Horn.'

'Then what the devil is it?' Drinkwater snapped testily, abusing his rank and giving vent to his high-keyed state.

'Want me to take a boat and see, sir?'

'Too big a risk… but thank you.

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