The tension was palpable on the ship as they waited. The French ships had maneuvered themselves closer to get a better look. The Whispering Wind and the Tempest were painted not only to look like ships of the line but also that they had double rows of gun ports. If the French raiding party got in close enough Redgrave hoped they would think themselves outgunned, though it wasn't true.
The HEIC vessels were in position, forming an official battle line, waving the Union Jack; by noon they got their answer the French fleet had chosen to flee. The ruse had worked.
"What now, Commander?" Mr. Cree asked.
"We pursue."
Clara's eyes shot up and her look of surprise was unmistakable. Redgrave laughed in spite of the gravity of the situation. "We must continue the ruse," he explained. "The British would give them no quarter. They would choose to drive them off, or engage and take them down."
"However, Mr. McCree... signal we are to follow but do not engage unless fired upon," Redgrave ordered and Mr. McCree signaled the other ships.
Almost immediately into the pursuit did they spy that one frigate had broken off. "The guard wishes to pursue, sir." The HEIC guard ship, the Dauntless was the only naval battleship in the fleet making it the largest and most heavily armed.
Redgrave thought this might be the approach the French would take. Evasive maneuvers only to circle back and try to attack from behind, especially if they believed them to be merchant ships. "Let them know they have permission to engage."
The Whispering Wind and Tempest, however, stayed close to the other frigate, though the ship was still far off on the horizon. Since the French vessel chose not to engage Redgrave was convinced they must think the ships part of the line and feared to engage him. However, Redgrave was under no misconception. He knew that the frigate was much stronger than his own ship.
By midday, they had gotten a report that French ship, the Dauntless pursued, had fired shots and though the battle continued so far no real damage had been inflicted and they had zero causalities to report. Redgrave was grateful for that.
As night fell they had lost sight of both the Dauntless and the French frigate they were in battle with, therefore all communication had stopped. Redgrave hoped that the fighting had ceased and that the naval guard ship would soon be able to regroup with them.
He ordered Claremont to get the powder monkeys to light lanterns in every gunport whether or not there was a cannon in the port. She quickly sprung into action and the ship was lit up like a leering jack-o-lantern on the night sea.
Clara returned topside and felt the ship change positions. They were closing the distance. She looked on amazed as the Whispering Wind pulled alongside the French Frigate. Redgrave hailed the other ship and demanded them to surrender. Clara thought he was taking this ruse too far. They should have broken off and disappeared under the cover of night. What was he thinking?
The ships held their collective breath as they waited for the commander of the French Frigate to respond. When he chose to strike his flag and come aboard the Whispering Wind to surrender formally, Clara allowed herself to exhale.
Redgrave received the Commander and his First Lieutenant onboard the Whispering Wind. It was evident that once onboard the Commander of the French Frigate realized that he was duped. That there were far fewer guns than were portrayed.
"May I ask to whom am I surrendering?" the French Commander asked.
Redgrave stood tall, when he announced, "To a Merchantman."
The commander looked appalled. "A Merchantman? A Merchantman! I refuse! I shall not surrender and demand to be returned to my ship immediately that I may conduct a proper, formal naval battle."
"You'll have to excuse me, Commander, if I reject your demands. You and your men will be given provisions, and the ability to guide yourselves to the nearest island. Your ship and its contents belong now to the EIC until of course it is turned over to the British Navy to do with as they see fit."
The EIC troops had already boarded and started ushering the crew off of the captured frigate. The Commander was enraged. "You cannot do this! It is not proper and ..." as the commander continued on his tirade, Redgrave turned to walk away.
That was when Clara had seen the Lieutenant pull out a hidden gun. It seemed to materialize suddenly in his hand. Without thinking she screamed a warning.
The shot was fired, Commander Redgrave turned too late, but it was Mr. McCree that took the hit. He dove in front of his Captain and the shot had pierced his chest.
Redgrave yelled what could only be considered a war cry and ran the Lieutenant through with his sword. The man dropped to his knees, his gun falling at his side.
The Commander made the mistake of trying to reach for the gun but was met with Redgrave's sword at his throat, his hands raised in surrender as he slowly rose to a standing position.
Clara scrambled to reach Mr. McCree. This was bad. This was really bad. He took the bullet at close range. The bleeding was profuse. She took out her pocketknife and tore her sleeve trying to staunch the bleeding.
McCree looked up into her face. "You...you spoke."
"And I'll do so again. Don't you dare die on me! Is that understood?"
McCree tried to laugh but came out a gurgle. "Not even I get a say about that."
Clara commanded the closest men to take McCree to the surgeon. They looked at her surprised but scrambled to do her bidding. Clara refused to leave McCree's side.
Commander Redgrave had the French Commander ushered off of his ship. He chose not to hold him responsible for his Lieutenant's actions and the Commander was most grateful. The crew of the Lyre was set adrift and the crews of the Whispering Wind and the Tempest, split up their duties to provide enough men to crew the new vessel. The addition of the released impressed men from the Voyager came in handy.
Now each ship was adequately equipped to continue the voyage.
It was quite some time before he could join Claremont and the Surgeon to get a report on how Mr. Cree faired. When he opened the door no report would be necessary as it was evident by the sheet clad form and Claremont's tear-streaked face that Mr. Angus McCree was dead.
The strike of those two images together felt like the shot hit true to its mark, the pain felt unbearable, but Redgrave could not let it show. The Surgeon approached. His blood-soaked sleeves told of his struggle.
"I'm sorry Phineas there was nothing I could do."
Phineas Redgrave put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded not trusting himself to speak at the moment. The Surgeon just bowed his head. Redgrave swallowed the lump in his throat. "I am certain you tried your very best."
The Surgeon left to wash up, leaving Claremont and Redgrave alone with the newly departed Mr. McCree. Claremont looked away and scrubbed at his face, with his one shirtsleeve. The other sleeve had been torn when he tried to staunch McCree's wound. Claremont's scar was clearly visible.
So much pain. So much loss.
Redgrave came to stand at Claremont's side his hand rested on Clara's shoulder. She was not cut out for this. She knew she needed to be stronger, but this wound had cut her deep.
Though they did not have an auspicious beginning, Mr. McCree had come to enjoy her company and often took the time to show her the ropes of working the ship that she might one day improve herself. He had high hope for her. He looked out for her and his presence felt like family. She felt the same for Sturgis and Lord Fitton both.
She looked over the large sheet clad form and could not fathom that he was gone. She tried to dry her tears but they still continued to travel their now etched path along her cheeks.
"There's no shame in it, Claremont. Mr. McCree... Angus was far more than an officer, or sailor. He was my closest friend."
Clara looked up and watched as Redgrave stared straight ahead at Angus' body and clenched his jaw in an effort to keep the floodgates closed. "When the time is right. We will hold a proper burial at sea for him."
He looked down at her. "Would you care to say a few words?"
Clara looked away. His grip tightened on her shoulder, almost painfully so.
"I know what I heard. What I heard saved my life. But why, Claremont? Why keep the truth from me?" Redgrave said.
Clara looked back. She did not want to speak, especially at this moment. She just wished she could mourn in peace. Instead, she gave him the only answer she knew she could.
"I did what I must. It was vital to my mission, that I did."
"Your mission? The one you mentioned in your letter? Why would that require the ruse of a mute?"
Clara knew very little mattered now. Her fate will be whatever he wishes it. She stood and looked him square in the eye.
Her voice so ragged from crying, she almost thought it ironic that her answer wouldn't seem obvious, but she said it all the same...
"Because I am a woman."