The first strike from the Huma’s cannon persuaded Schiller that he must not hesitate in returning fire. After a slow start, the China Flyer had weighed anchor and thankfully paid off, her topsails catching the strong breeze off the island. As she gathered way towards the open sea, the bows met the first rollers, spray bursting into feathery silver fans.
On the island the cannon continued firing, but Schiller saw that the Huma was well out of the battery’s range. He did not understand, though, why the reed-sailed junks across the harbour had made no attempt to intercept the Marine frigate since she had broken from her shore cables. Did they consider themselves inferior in fire-power or manoeuvrability?
Moving his spyglass from the Chinese junks, Schiller again studied the Huma, in relentless pursuit of the China Flyer, bearing down on her stern. Who was in command of the Marine Frigate? He thought he detected one or two European seamen among the Asian crew. Had the Chinese released Adam Horne from prison? But only an escapee would have to sneak aboard his own ship and break from shore cables.
The idea of not knowing who was giving him chase amused Schiller. Whoever they were, he would give them a good run.
If the wind held, he gauged that he would soon be free of Kam-Sing-Moon. Then he could tack and enjoy the advantage to return gun-fire.
The anticipation of battle excited him, and the gathering speed was tonic to the dejection he had felt since the very beginning of this voyage. Nevertheless, deep within him was a nagging anxiety.
The East India Company wanted George Fanshaw for stealing gold from Fort St George and commandeering the China Flyer from the Madras roads. Schiller believed that Fanshaw should indeed be apprehended for these crimes—and more. Apart from being a thief and a liar, he was a murderer.
Should he, Schiller, remain loyal to such a man?
Where was Fanshaw? He had ordered Schiller to Kam-Sing-Moon to be ready to escape if the Chinese turned against him. Was he on his way down river at this very moment?
If Fanshaw fell into disfavour with the Chinese, where could he go? The East India Company would arrest him if he returned to Fort St George; without Chinese support, there would be no new trading company welcoming him back to England. There might also be a price on his head there, sponsored by the East India Company.
Feeling the deck rise and fall beneath his boots, Schiller asked himself if he wanted to be on the run for the rest of his days with the likes of a man such as George Fanshaw, in command of a stolen ship. Would it be better to face the British authorities at this juncture, tell his honest version of the story and take the punishment owing to him for partaking in Fanshaw’s unlawful venture?
A cry aloft cut through the sigh of the rigging.
‘Sail ho … sails to the west …’
Schiller raised his spyglass and saw eight spine-sailed junks moving out from Macao—the replacement for the Kam-Sing-Moon watch.
Astern, the Huma bore down on him.
Schiller reviewed his choices.
If the China Flyer proceeded west, she would sail directly into the Chinese who would undoubtedly return him to the protective custody of Macao. He might never again be able to leave China, or at least, would have to remain here longer than he wished.
The second choice would be to lead the Huma farther to sea and engage her in battle until one of them was destroyed.
The third choice was tempting, but was it sensible? The best for his future? Too much of a risk? He would be gambling on the kind of man the Huma’s captain was—if indeed it was the Bombay Marine in command of the Huma. There was no way of gauging his character with nothing but giant rollers crashing between them.
Remembering that he had taken chances all his life, Schiller decided to risk the third choice: he would show his open gun ports to the Marines and see how quick they would be to fire.
* * *
‘Are we going to chase Fanshaw all the way back to India?’ Babcock stood at his post near Horne on the quarterdeck.
‘We don’t know if it’s Fanshaw.’
‘Who’s in command?’
‘I would guess the German. Lothar Schiller. Fanshaw’s probably still up-river in Whampoa.’
‘What you got in mind?’
‘The question, Babcock, is what Mr Schiller has in mind, if indeed that is whom we are pursuing.’
As the main topsail cracked in a strong gust pushing off the island, Jud hailed above the cry of the rigging.
Horne snapped open his spyglass and studied the western horizon. ‘Manchu war junks.’
He looked back at the China Flyer beyond the harbour mouth.
‘Is the German turning to the Chinese for help?’ asked Babcock.
Horne steadied the glass to his eye. ‘No sign yet that he is.’
‘Are the Chinese going to follow him?’
Horne looked back to the war junks. ‘No. So far they’re keeping formation. They’re awkward in the open sea with European ships, and they know it.’
‘So what do we do, Horne? Get set for a long chase?’ asked Babcock.
Horne did not reply; he was studying the China Flyer changing course.
‘She’s going to try to go about—’ he began and stopped.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Babcock, turning to Horne.
‘She’s opened her gun-ports.’
‘Now’s your chance to blast away,’ goaded Babcock.
Horne hesitated. Why had the German not tried a ranging shot?
‘What are you waiting for?’ asked Babcock. ‘You’ve got it clear and wide.’
Horne studied the distant frigate. The ports were open but no guns were run out. What was Schiller doing?
‘What you waiting for?’ Babcock asked a second time.
Horne could not explain how he felt. The open gun-ports might be a sign, some kind of invitation or test: Schiller might want to see whether the Huma would rush an attack or hesitate. If the Huma held back, Schiller would know that fair treatment awaited him and his crew if he surrendered …
Seeing a flutter aboard the distant ship, Horne raised his spyglass to verify his suspicion. Smiling, he saw that, yes, a white flag of truce was being run up as the China Flyer changed course yet again to sail south from Kam-Sing-Moon.