Cut and Run: The Fourth Book in the Fighting Sail Series by Alaric Bond

will,” the pilot replied. He had taken so many of the Company's ships along to Deal that he could do it almost without his charts, and certainly didn't need some puffed-up blue coat breathing down his neck. “Just got to wait for the Navy signal, then we's off.”
           “Very good.” Willis glanced at the glass. “Retain the watch at eight bells and pipe topmen aloft,” he said. Paterson nodded. A frigate could now be seen coming from the west. Presumably this was their escort as far as the Downs. The other two Indiamen were making ready to go. Coventry had even manned her yards, so it could only be a question of minutes.
           “Ah, and I have a package for you,” the pilot said, just as eight bells rang and the new watch began to assemble. He brought out a canvas-covered envelope, heavily sealed and tarred, and passed it to Willis. This would contain confidential signals for the convoy, as well as any last-minute instructions and doubtless notice of the arrival of Miss Hanshaw, the woman Nichols had taken on board. The chief mate scrawled a receipt and handed it to the pilot, while all waited for the signal.
           “There it is!” King shouted suddenly. The frigate was almost level with the Admiral Hayes , when a string of bunting broke out from her foremast.
           “Make sail!” Willis’s voice cracked slightly, but soon the cacophony of whistles and shouts left no one in any doubt as to the task in hand. Within moments, the yards were covered with topmen, eager to be back in their natural environment, while the afterguard formed up ready at the braces, and what few that were left began to haul the hemp anchor cable in with the capstan. King watched intently. The breeze was light and coming from the west; it should be an easy run down the Thames, although he had no idea as to the amount of sail Pevensey Castle would need.
           “We'll take her along Gravesend Reach, then head north, join the Sea Reach, weatherin' Blythe Sands,” the pilot told Willis. The other officers took the information in, but made no comment; the man should know his business well enough.
           The slow but regular clank from the capstan all but stopped as the call, “Up an' down!” came from the bow.
           “Topsails!” It was Willis’s voice, and again it hardly carried, but the men knew what they were about, and the ship soon began to gather way as her last contact with solid ground was painfully brought up from the riverbed.
           “East nor-east.” The pilot glanced at his chart quickly while the ship began to drift into a slow turn. King looked up river. Coventry was also underway, and Admiral Hayes began setting topgallants as the frigate passed her to larboard.
           “T'gallants, lively now!”
           “ Shearwater, ” Paterson said to King, glancing across at the fifth rate. “Good ship, met with her on the way back last trip, and she saw us safe, despite a couple of Frenchmen with other ideas.”
           They watched while the canvas filled.
           “Mind, we went aboard to thank 'em, back in England,” Paterson continued reflectively. “Found the captain an' most of the officers Tynesiders; decent enough people but such strong Geordie accents that we couldn't make out half of what was said.”
           “Braces there!” King bellowed.
           The frigate cut through the water with all the panache of her class. Pevensey Castle was moving steadily, now that the extra sails were starting to draw, but her bluff bow seemed to stub the water head on. King had the impression of driving a nail upside down, and it was perfectly clear that she would never set any records. At that moment Drayton, dressed in a very superior greatcoat but without a hat, made his way on to the quarterdeck.
           “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said in reply to their greetings. “I trust I will not be in your