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'Hands to the mainbrace！' roared Pellew at that moment。
It was a matter of the most vital concern to trim the sails so as to lie as close as possible to the wind； a hundred yards gained to windward would count as much as a mile gained in a stern chase。 Pellew was looking up at the sails； back at the fleeting wake； across at the French ship； gauging the strength of the wind； estimating the strain on the rigging； doing everything that a lifetime of experience could suggest to close the gap between the two ships。 Pellew's next order sent all hands to run out the guns on the weather side； that would in part counteract the heel and give the Indefatigable more grip upon the water。
'Now we're walking up to her；' said Bolton with grudging optimism。
'Beat to quarters！' shouted Pellew。
The ship had been expecting that order。 The roar of the marine bandsmen's drums echoed through the ship； the pipes twittered as the bosun's mates repeated the order； and the men ran in disciplined fashion to their duties。 Hornblower； jumping for the weather mizzen shrouds； saw the eager grins on half a dozen faces…battle and the imminent possibility of death were a wele change from the eternal monotony of the blockade。 Up in the mizzen…top he looked over his men。 They were uncovering the locks of their muskets and looking to the priming； satisfied with their readiness for action Hornblower turned his attention to the swivel gun。 He took the tarpaulin from the breech and the tampion from the muzzle； cast off the lashings which secured it； and saw that the swivel moved freely in the socket and the trunnions freely in the crotch。 A jerk of the lanyard showed him that the lock was sparkling well and there was no need for a new flint。 Finch came climbing into the top with the canvas belt over his shoulder containing the charges for the gun； the bags of musket balls lay handy in a garland fixed to the barricade。 Finch rammed home a cartridge down the short muzzle； Hornblower had ready a bag of balls to ram down onto it。 Then he took a priming…quill and forced it down the touchhole； feeling sensitively to make sure the sharp point pierced the thin serge bag of the cartridge。 Priming…quill and flintlock were necessary up here in the top； where no slow match or port…fire could be used with the danger of fire so great and where fire would be so difficult to control in the sails and the rigging。 Yet musketry and swivel…gun fire from the tops were an important tactical consideration。 With the ships laid yardarm to yardarm Hornblower's men could clear the hostile quarterdeck where centred the brains and control of the enemy。
'Stop that； Finch！' said Hornblower irritably； turning； he had caught sight of him peering up at the maintop and at this moment of tension Finch's delusions annoyed him。
'Beg your pardon； sir；' said Finch； resuming his duties。
But a moment later Hornblower heard Finch whispering to himself。
'Mr Bracegirdle's there；' whispered Finch； 'an' Oldroyd's there； an' all those others。 But He's there too； so He is。'
'Hands wear ship！' came the shouted order from the deck below。
The old Indefatigable was spinning round on her heel； the yards groaning as the braces swung them round。 The French ship had made a bold attempt to rake her enemy as she clawed up to her； but Pellew's prompt handling defeated the plan。 Now the ships were broadside to broadside； running free before the wind at long cannon shot。
'Just look at 'im！' roared Douglas； one of the musket men in the top。 'Twenty guns a side。 Looks brave enough； doesn't he？'
Standing beside Douglas Hornblower could look down on the Frenchman's deck； her guns run out with the guns' crews clustering round them； officers in white breeches and blue coats walking up and down； the spray flying from her bows as she drove headlong before the wind。
'She'll look braver still when we take her into Plymouth Sound；' said the seaman on the far side of Hornblower。
The Indefatigable was slightly the faster ship； an occasional touch of starboard helm was working her in closer to the enemy； into decisive range； without allowing the Frenchman to headreach upon her。 Hornblower was impressed by the silence on both sides； he had always understood that the French were likely to open fire at long range and to squander ineffectively the first carefully loaded broadside。
'When's he goin' to fire？' asked Douglas； echoing Hornblower's thoughts。
'In his own good time；' piped Finch。
The gap of tossing water between the two ships was growing narrower。 Hornblower swung the swivel gun round and looked along the sights。 He could aim well enough at the Frenchman's quarter…deck； but it was much too long a range for a bag of musket balls…in any case he dared not open fire until Pellew gave permission。
'Them's the men for us！' said Douglas； pointing to the Frenchman's mizzen…top。
It looked as if there were soldiers up there； judging by the blue uniforms and the crossbelts； the French often eked out their scanty crews of trained seamen by shipping soldiers； in the British Navy the marines were never employed aloft。 The French soldiers saw the gesture and shook their fists； and a young officer among them drew his sword and brandished it over his head。 With the ships parallel to each other like this the French mizzen…top would be Hornblower's particular objective should he decide on trying to silence the firing there instead of sweeping the quarter…deck。 He gazed curiously at the men it was his duty to kill。 So interested was he that the bang of a cannon took him by surprise； before he could look down the rest of the Frenchman's broadside had gone off in straggling fashion； and a moment later the Indefatigable lurched as all her guns went off together。 The wind blew the smoke forward； so that in the mizzen…top they were not troubled by it at all。 Hornblower's glance showed him dead men flung about on the Indefatigable's deck； dead men falling on the Frenchman's deck。 Still the range was too great…very long musket shot； his eye told him。
'They're shootin' at us； sir；' said Herbert。
'Let 'em。' said Hornblower。
No musket fired from a heaving masthead at that range could possibly score a hit； that was obvious…so obvious that even Hornblower； madly excited as he was； could not help but be aware of it； and his certainty was apparent in his tone。 It was interesting to see how the two calm words steadied the men。 Down below the guns were roaring away continuously； and the ships were nearing each other fast。
'Open fire now； men！' said Hornblower。 'Finch！'
He stared down the short length of the swivel gun。 In the coarse V of the notch on the muzzle he could see the Frenchman's wheel； the two quartermasters standing behind it； the two officers beside it。 He jerked the lanyard。 A tenth of a second's delay； and then the gun roared out。 He was conscious； before the smoke whirled round him； of the firing quill； blown from the touchhole； flying past his temple。 Finch was already sponging out the gun。 The musket balls must have spread badly； only one of the helmsmen was down and someone else was already running to take his place。 At that moment the whole top lurched frightfully； Hornblower felt it but he could not explain it。 There was too much happening at once。 The solid timbers under his feet jarred him as he stood…perhaps a shot had hit the mizzen…mast。 Finch was ramming in the cartridge； something struck the breech of the gun a heavy blow and left a bright splash of metal there…a musket bullet from the Frenchman's mizzen…top。 Hornblower tried to keep his head； he took out another sharpened quill and coaxed it down into the touchhole。 It had to be done purposefully and yet gently； a quill broken off in the touchhole was likely to be a maddening nuisance。 He felt the point of the quill pierce the cartridge； Finch rammed home the wad on top of the musket balls。 A bullet struck the barricade beside him as Hornblower trained the gun down； but he gave it no thought。 Surely the top was swaying more even than the heavy sea justified？ No matter。 He had a clear shot at the enemy's quarterdeck。 He tugged at the lanyard。 He saw men fall。 He actually saw the spokes of the wheel spin round as it was left untended。 Then the two ships came together with a shattering crash and his world dissolved into chaos pared with which what had gone before was orderly。
The mast was falling。 The top swung round in a dizzy arc so that only his fortunate grip on the swivel saved him from being flung out like a stone from a sling。 It wheeled round。 With the shrouds on one side shot away and two cannon balls in its heart the mast tottered and rolled。 Then the tug of the mizzen…stays inclined it forward； the tug of the other shrouds inclined it to starboard； and the wind in the mizzen…topsail took charge when the back stays parted。 The mast crashed forward； the topmast caught against the mainyard and the whole structure hung there before it could dissolve into its constituent parts。 The severed butt…end of the mast must be resting on the deck for the moment； mast and topmast were still united at the cap and the trestle…trees into one continuous length； although why the topmast had not snapped at the cap was hard to say。 With the lower end of the mast resting precariously on the deck and the topmast resting against the mainyard； Hornblower and Finch still had a chance of life but the ship's motion； another shot from the Frenchman； or the parting of the over…strained material could all end that chance。 The mast could slip outwards； the topmast could break； the butt…end of the mast could slip along the deck…they had to save themselves if they could before any one of these imminent events occurred。 The maintopmast and everything above it was involved in the general ruin。 It too had fallen and was dangling； sails spars and ropes in one frightful tangle。 The mizzen…topsail had torn itself free。 Hornblower's eyes met Finch's； Finch and he were clinging to the swivel gun； and there was no one else in the steeply inclined top。
The starboard side mizzen…topmast shrouds still survived； they； as well as the topmast； were resting across the mainyard； strained taut as fiddle strings； the mainyard tightening them just as the bridge tightens the strings of a fiddle。 But along those shrouds lay the only way to safety…a sloping path from the peril of the top to the parative safety of the mainyard。
The mast began to slip； to roll； out towards the end of the yard。 Even if the mainyard held； the mizzen…mast would soon fall into the sea alongside。 All about them were thunderous noises…spars smashing； ropes parting； the guns were still bellowing and everyone below seemed to be yelling and screaming。
The top lurched again； frightfully。 Two of the shrouds parted with the strain； with a noise clearly audible through the other din； and as they parted the mast twisted with a jerk； swinging further round the mizzen…top； the swivel gun； and the two wretched beings who clung to it。 Finch's staring blue eyes rolled with the movement of the top。 Later Hornblower knew that the whole period of the fall of the mast was no longer than a few seconds； but at this time it seemed as if he had at least long minutes in which to think。 Like Finch's； his eyes stared round him； saw the chance of safety。
'The mainyard！' he screamed。
Finch's face bore its foolish smile。 Although instinct or training kept him gripping the swivel gun he seemingly had no fear； no desire to gain the safety of the mainyard。
'Finch； you fool！' yelled Hornblower。
He locked a desperate knee round the swivel so as to free a hand with which to gesticulate； but still Finch made no move。
'Jump； damn you！' raved Hornblower。 'The shrouds…the yard。 Jump！'
Finch only smiled。
'Jump and get to the maintop！ Oh； Christ…！' Inspiration came in that frightful moment。 'The maintop！ God's there； Finch！ Go along to God； quick！'
Those words penetrated into Finch's addled brain。 He nodded with sublime unworldliness。 Then he let go of the swivel and seemed to launch himself into the air like a frog。 His body fell across the mizzen…topmast shrouds and he began to scramble along them。 The mast rolled again； so that when Hornblower launched himself at the shrouds it was a longer jump。 Only his shoulders rea