 Call all hands. Beat the quarters. Tell me better. One broadside into it, please, Captain Bush. Pointes on target. Twin stops ready. Have sea-ass foresters, indomitable man of the sea, or ratio hornblower? We're fighting them for a very life. The Baltic was our lifeline of supply. French privateers raiding our traders there must be quite tight. One of these, the Blanche Fleur, had already caused much damage and I was resolved to track her down. She'd been reported entering the Baltic only a day or so ahead of us. Our squadron had seen no action since we'd had to shoot our way in through the straits a few days earlier. The officers and men at the Nonsuch were growing restless, but one morning, there was a sudden hail from the market. Hail! A sail! Maybe the Blanche Fleur. How will you say it? That's French Corvette. If it's the Blanche Fleur, we're in luck. I'll trouble you to give me the glass if you please, Captain Bush. Aye, aye, sir. Can you see her, sir? Ah, it's a confounded fog. Yes, I can just make out her topsoil. Is she a 20 gunner? A Corvette? She's not far off. It's hard to tell, though, in this mist. Whoever she is, she's coming straight for us. Call all hands and man the guns, please, Captain. Aye, aye, sir. All hands on deck. Run out the guns and stand by. Run out the guns and stand by! Excitedness. Yes, she's tacky. Aye, sir. She's on the port, tack, bearing east by north, east. If we get away, it must be a Frenchman. Set all sail, Captain Bush, will you please? Aye, aye, sir. Set all sail! Loose the royals! And also, of course, two points to starboard, Captain. We'll intercept her. Aye, aye, sir. Two points to starboard! Up with the stencils! Yes, I can see her better now. She's no Corvette. She appears to be quite unarmed. She's not a hard chaser, I'm afraid, Captain Bush. Then why did she tack the moment she cited it, sir? Any ship beating up for the sound would have to tack here. I suppose you're right, sir. I don't think so, Captain Bush. She looks like a merchant man. Hey, Mars Head, what do you see there? Can you make out her colors? No, Captain. We'll soon find out. Hold her, of course, Bush, and we'll intercept her anyway. I can see her now, sir. She's wearing British gowns. Oh, she's a British gown! Excellent. Now, at least, we'll get some news and information. Badly needed, too. Lay a course to pass her within hail, if you please. Aye, aye, sir. Starboard a point, quartermaster. Get those stencils in the game, Mr. Hurst. Aye, aye, sir. She's a merchant man, all right. I can see her cargo now. Looks like timber. I can't be too careful in these waters. Better ask her for the private code, Captain. Very good, sir. Mr. Hurst, signal her to give the merchant ship private code numeral. Aye, aye, sir. We'll see what she replies. Here comes her flag, sir. A-T... numeral 5-7. That's the correct reply for last winter, sir. She's loaded with cargo, sir. She's going to be home to receive the new code. Signal her to heave to her, please. They've heave to her, Mr. Hurst. Aye, aye, sir. There. She's backing her men top, sir, but... Wait. What flag she's hoisted? Look, sir. Yes, I see. That's the yellow flag she's hoisting now, sir. The fever flag. Must have some kind of pestilence aboard her. Look what she's hoisted there. The yellow flag! So it is. I'll wager she's got the pox aboard her. She's attached to her. That must be her captain there on the poop deck. Give me the trumpet. Oh! Sir, we must... ...multiply turn his round to his side. Get much of them. Any news of her import? The patient must be violent for us to hear his shrieks way over here. Yes, sir. It's horrible. You may be hit with it, and now, sir, they say the Tsar is meeting Bernard Conference. Somewhere in... The Tsar is not quite right. Was he trying to distract me for all that groaning and shouting? Could I have maybe just one man? Sounded more like a chorus. And this captain... I felt a sudden stab and suspicion. He said all the right things, but wasn't he ashamed? Too glib, a little too professional. Still, if you were telling the truth, it was a big risk, of course. And yet a man must make decisions. Captain Bush, send the boat for the boarding party over to that ship. Sir, which small box aboard? We have hundreds of men crammed into close quarters here. It would sweep us like wildfire. I appreciate your concern for the man, Bush, but do you suppose I'd risk their lives without sufficient reason? No, sir, of course not, Clive. I merely... I know from your face, Bush. You're still hoping I'll be considered, aren't you? Well, I'm sorry, Captain. The order stands. Come along. I want to get another look at that. All right, sir. Both of them, man the whaler with the boarding party. Aye, aye, sir. Right to the deck, all. Lower on to the whaler. But Abel Green doesn't look over there. Yes, that mate. She's got the yellow flag. We have ordered to board her. No, Doth, mate. I ain't boardin' no flagship, not for the king himself. A good fight with knives and cutleries is one thing. But if we board that, we will come back for the box as sure as Sunday. And if one gets it, we all get it. And it ain't no pretty way to die. Ah, Captain wouldn't do this. It's the Commodore. It's a test for tears. Aye, let him board the plankship. So say I. The book is worse than the yard arm any day. We're done for, whichever way. Here he comes, back with his blooming trumpet. As in cars, stay home, too. Well, what is it? Commence, sir. The version tells me they're afraid. They don't want the boarder's ship with the yellow flag. Oh, then command of this vessel, Captain Bush. It's up to you to maintain discipline. I need not to mind, too, that the Admiralty will not be afraid. Aye, aye, sir. Bosun, tell the men that if there's one more minute's delay in manning the boat, they will all be tried for mutiny and hangs. They say they prefer the gallows to the calling box. Yes, sir. Aye, I'll tell the wait. I'm going along with the boarding party myself. Tell the men that. You, sir. Aye, Captain Garth. We're sending a boat to you. We're coming aboard. This was exactly what he should have said. A sick pang of dark shots through me. But it would have been quite impossible to turn back now on my own orders. My little brother, the Commodore is coming along. Look out, my brother. The Commodore is going with us. I'm with him for one. Ah, that's you, Tom. Lower away. Come on, mate. Over we go. She'll be ready for you to board in a moment. Thank you, Connors. But just someone's search and choke, please. We'll take him along. Aye, aye, sir. What's going on over there on the Maggie? It's thrown down his trumpet and he's stamping a butt. I got crazy, man. He's reshelting some kind of an order. This will soon find out what all that racket's about. It does seem strange, sir. At any rate, she's had a good view now of our 74 guns. She'll hardly try to run for it. Oh, hold on, I get it. Pots or no pots, we're on the way. And take this word of warning. Stay hold, too, or I'll sink you. Where is Captain Garth? We wish to surrender, sir. What's this? We wish to surrender. We are helpless against your guns. And we did not expect to meet the British Navy. Who are you? I speak for the French crew for the board to take the Maggie into port. I thought a pilot crew. This ship is a prize. Yes, sir. A French prize taken two days ago. By what ship was she captured? By what ship, answer me. By the Blanche Fleurs. We are of the Blanche Fleurs crew. The Blanche Fleurs. Do you hear that, Connors? The Blanche Fleurs were hot on her tail, finally. The Maggie's no plague ship. She's a great piece of luck. That yellow flag was hoisted to keep us from boarding her. A clever trick, I suppose it ought to be, sir. I think so myself. Here, take this man prisoner and round up the others, Connors. Aye, aye, sir. Get on, lad. Get the French user and find this Captain Clark. I'm most curious. You were up there. What have you done with Captain Clark? Stick up. He's on the way instead. What's that? He shot himself, sir. The Captain shot. Confund it, Connors. If one of your men did that, I'll have his head out. Break him, court martial him, ruin him, and have him begging bread in the gutters all the time. Oh, no, sir. Big pardon, sir. But it wasn't any of us. He'd done it himself, sir. He shot himself. The gun's still smoking in his ass. Is he dead? No, sir. He's still alive. Well, fetch the surgeon immediately. The surgeon's with him now, sir. He's over there, sir. Aye, come on. Looks pretty bad. What's his condition, surgeon? He's dying, sir. Can't last long. Want to do something for him? Not very much, sir, I'm afraid. We've just released the English crew, sir. They were shot over the folks door. It was them making all that noise. Oh, fuck it, we ought to teach you who his majesty is, baby. Here comes the real skipper of the Maggie. Captain Elfby, his name is, sir. Oh, then, Clyde. I think he's renegades. They're working for the French. Commodore Hollblore? Captain Elfby, how do you do, sir? Thanks. Have you came? Oh, we yelled and, uh, hoping you'd hear us. Almost blew our lungs out. Good work, Captain. We heard you. You're afraid that Clark fellow had fooled you. He was a devilish clever impostor. We heard the shot. I'd like to find out something more about him. Clark. Clark. Can you hear me, sir? I don't know, sir. He's sinking far. Why should an Englishman betray his own country like this? Did he choose what he forced? Oh, we'll never know. He's trying to speak, sir. Burnabout will rule the world. Long live Burnabout. Apparently, that is my answer. Swine. Traitor. Quiet. I tried. She did indeed. How is he, sir? It was unconsciousness, sir, but, uh, there's still a pulse. He may linger for a while. That's an hour. That's not it. We must hang him, sir, before he dies. What did you say, Captain Elfby? We can convene a court-martial. Time on the spot will have done with it at short order. He's committed high treason, sir. He should be executed for it. He's incapable of defending himself. What defense could he possibly offer, sir? You have scores of witnesses against him. Myself, the English crew, the captured pirates. What more could you ask, Commodore? A fair trial, Captain, and that will be impossible under the circumstances. He'll slip through our fingers, sir, if you delay. Let him. But treason is no light matter, sir. Lords of the Admiralty might very well agree with you, Elfby, but I can't do it. I will not hang a man who is already so near death. But the example to the man, sir, we must always think of that. It discourages discussion. What sort of an example would it be to hang a dying man? If I can't hold men's loyalty without that sort of thing, I'm not fit to command them, that's certain. No, my mind is right up, Captain. I'll hear no more of it. As you say, Commodore. Come, come, Captain. Let him die in peace. Peace? He deserves no peace. I said we'll leave him with the surgeon, Captain Elfby. As we walked away from the dying man, it was horrible to see the look on Elfby's face. A man still lusted for revenge against that helpless, rich Englishman. Elfby didn't know and probably would never learn that near revenge is always stale and unprofitable. However, this was no time to compare morality. Now, tell me more about this pirate ship, the Blanche Fleur. She's our real target. She's a chuprig, flush deck, 20-gullar, what do you friends call our corvette, sir? She's to be reckoned. Yes, yes, I know. Where were you when she attacked? Just off the island of Ruegan on the Swedish coast. Oh, the island of Ruegane? Yes. That would make an effective base. She could lie and wait there, then pounce on our trading ships as they come down from Finland and Russia. The worst part of it is, sir, in order to get safely by the island, you must pass through a narrow. That's a 2,000 shoal. Yes, sir. I remember that shoal from the charts. So she hemmed you in between the shoal and the land. Exactly, sir. We would have her mercy. But what could we do against her 20 guns with all our escape cut off? Well, you did what you could, Captain. At any rate, your shouts rescued the Maggie. The rest is up to us. The Blanche Fleur must be punished before she finds more victims in the Baltic. We set the Maggie to rights again and saw her off the home. Then we patrolled the coast, hoping for a glimpse of the Blanche Fleur. There was almost constant fog broken by fitful intervals of chilly sunshine. I took what advantage I could of one such interval. A barf at sea is a fine thing under a splashing pump on the washdeck, where you can stand up straight and pounce around through, if that's your fancy. A bar cry from being cramped up into one of those little infernal sitting tubs on land. But now, in my faithful coxswain, we stood by with a big towel reshivering and looking thoroughly miserable again. What's the matter with you, Brown? You look positively blue. Oh, it's the water, sir. It's icy. Well, you're not in it. I am. I know, sir. But right out of the freezing Baltic. Well, I can't persuade myself it's a tall, helpful view. Oh, rather, of course, it is. Best tonic in the world. Fresh from the blast, sharp from the whip, sir. You ought to try it, Brown. Oh, will you please, sir? Oh, I'm much more than open. He's mediated just to watch you, sir. Come on over, sir. Sir. I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir. The Captain Bush sent me over. What is it? Can't you see I'm... Oh, here. Turn off this jet, will you? Turn off this jet, I say. Is everybody dead? Well, now, what is it, Mr. Hurst? Hand me a towel, Brown. No, come on. The big one. Oh, shall I get your rope, too, sir? This breezy. Send my towel down to here. Yes, sir. Oh, but really, sir, All right, young man. Watch your head. Now, speak up, there. There's a sail been sighted to Lua. What? What? A ghost? Just say so. I'll come to the quarter-deck immediately. It might be the Blanche, sir. But, sir! You're a clown. You... Don't bother me, Brown. This is him for... Give me the glass, Captain Bush. Now, where is she? She's gone. We've lost her, I'm afraid, sir. It's misting up over there again. She's disappeared into the fog. And this blasted fog is coming our way to her own confound of weather. Could you tell what her course was, Bush? North by Norris to half north, sir. No, sir. She may have seen us. I'm not sure. We'll have to take a chance. Pursue her on that course, Captain. Aye, aye, sir. Now, to wait till this scurvy fog list. Oh, I'll stand watch with you. Aye, sir. Excuse me, sir, but there's a north wind. Well, that is, I mean to say, sir. Aren't you cold in that towel? Oh, good heavens. I've forgotten all about it. Where are my clothes, anyway? Here, Brown! Brown, what do you mean by letting me charge off that way without a stitch of clothes on? This whole ship has gone mad. Quite mad, I tell you. We've heard our chase through the increasing fog, the other ships at the squadron keeping course is best they could. The next day, about noon, the wind freshens and the mist began to clear. She was nowhere in view. She's probably spotted us intact, sir. I'm afraid she's got away. Oh, sure, of course, Captain. Aye, aye, sir. Oh, come, don't look so grilly, Bush. This sea is not as wide as the Atlantic, you know? Well, sir, almost three days without a sign. Don't you suppose... Let me have the glass. Aye, aye, sir. Can you see her? What is she? Glasses, certainly, aren't as good as they were once. I can't see one confounded thing. Must head there. What's the position? Call it. Please, why set back the port? Now, there she is. And she's our chasel, like a flush-decked 20-gunner. Then the French colors must be the blanche. Set all sail, Captain, at once. She's sighted us now, sir. No doubt about it. She's making off on the full speed. And if I'm not mistaken, she's heading straight for those narrows of Ruegen Island. Good. Why, that's exactly where she trapped the Maggie, isn't it? Yes. Then why is the blanche fur allowing us to... Those are neutral Swedish waters, Bush. The blanche fur knows that we know that. She's counting on our fear of offending Sweden's neutrality. It's not un-clever of her, is it? That's hardly a trick. Look at her in there, almost wide, almost leering at us. What can we do, sir? We can't do that. You'll keep the nuns out here this side of the tunnel. We'll post the lotus at the other end. The blanche fur has bottled herself up. We'd better make the most of it. Then you intend... I think I'll go aboard one of the bomb catches. Why not the moth? She's got a good range. She's easy to maneuver. Besides, her Captain Duncan's just a youngster. But, I mean, it's awesome action, don't you think? You're going to throw bombs, sir, but... Sweden. Our orders were to maintain Sweden's friendliness. It's possible. It's possible. I know, I know. But who can have their cake and eat it, too, eh? I only meant you told me yourself, sir. Our greatest hope is to bring Sweden and the Russians in as allies. Yeah, Bush, I wish you'd stop sounding like the voice of my consul, sir. I wonder if... Oh, no, it can't be helped. We can't hold off. Sweden wants the best of both worlds to make both France and England happy. But I... No, Bush, our first concern must be the blanche fur and her finish. I hope you're right, sir. I hope I'm right, too, Bush. I'd better be if I'm not the admiral till I have my eyes. When Duncan, just because your comradores are bought the moth, you needn't change your habits, man. For some sake, relax. Put your hand to your pockets, if you must, and leave our fidgeting. Thank you, sir. How much longer do you think we'll have to wait? I know you're eager for action, Duncan, but do have a little patience. The mortars are quite accurate, I suppose. Oh, yes, yes, indeed. And I talk the fuses myself, sir. If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll go far. We're in rains now. Yes, I'll go with you. There she is, riding at anchor over there, feeling snug and snug and sound, eh, Duncan? Right where she's pounced on other prey besides. Ah, poetic justice. Weather's still a little sticky, sir. I'll cut the fuses, one and eleven sixteenths. How do you figure that? I found during practice maneuvers that the fuse burns at different speeds according to the weather. This scene's about right for today. We wouldn't want the show to burst in air. Right, sir, right, sir. This must be a surprise. Well, proceed when ready, Duncan. Aye, aye, sir. 1,100 yards. We'll try a pound and three quarters of powder, Mr. John. Aye, aye, sir, pound and three quarters. Now the lean stock. Yes, sir. To the fuse. Let it catch. One, two, three, four, five. She's caught, sir. Ready? Fire! You can see the shell rising over the mast head. The shell burst in the air. My fuses are at fault. Not necessary. Let's try a little more powder. We'll try two more pinches of powder this time, Mr. John. Aye, aye, sir. Now, ready? Fire! Keep heat, sir, sir. Wait till the smoke clears. Then we can... Yes. A squaring hit on her bow. A man are taking to the boats. Another shell into our farm. Aye, aye, sir. Now jump to it, men! Both mortars together! Be right here! It wasn't long before the blanched blur lay a smoking, helpless wreck. Her raiding days were over. I must say, though, I find myself feeling a little chilled and empty. This had been a brutal business. We had destroyed a ship which had no chance of filing back effectively. Oh, of course. It would read well in my reports, and brother officers would tell each other in the clubs of hornblowers knew his success. Then, why this feeling of inglorious dissatisfaction? But naturally, I couldn't speak of this to anyone, especially since that very night aboard my flagship we celebrated. And now, gentlemen, I would like to give you all a toast to a young officer whose careful attention to duty and whose marked professional ability resulted in the destruction of the enemy, Captain Duncan of the Mosque. Aye! Well, aren't you going to reply, Mr. Duncan? It wasn't I at all. It was the Commodore who... Well, after all, I mean Captain Duncan. If you wish to advance in his majesties, maybe never try to offset commendation when it's due. I suggest you might show off your vocal powers to greater advantage by favoring us with one of your songs. Oh, yes, I've heard about them ever here. Come on, come on. Come on, come on. Why, thank you, sir. Well, let me see it. I was thinking of someone left behind at home. I know I was. I thought of Barbara.