As though in answer to his thoughts, the _Bon Ventura _started to heel slowly about, like an angered bull. But the _Discovery_ now had the windward position secure, and the Portuguese ship would have to tack laboriously into the wind. Her canvas was close-hauled and she would be slow. We've got the weather gage now, Hawksworth told himself, and we'll hold it. Then he noticed that the second galleon in the row, the _St. Sebastian_, had also begun wearing around, bringing her stern across the wind as she too turned to meet the _Discovery_. "They've deciphered our plan," Hawksworth said quietly to himself, "and now it's two of the bastards we'll face. But with luck we'll engage the _Bon Ventura_ before the _St. Sebastian _can beat to range. And the _Bon Ventura_ is drawing away from the fleet. That bit of bravado will cost her." The _Discovery _was closing rapidly on the _Bon Ventura_. In minutes they would be within range. Mackintosh was at the whipstaff now, holding their course, his senses alert to every twist in the wind. He involuntarily clenched and unclenched his teeth, while his knuckles were bloodless white from his grip on the hardwood steering lever. Hawksworth raised the glass again, knowing what he hoped to see. "The Portugals have just made their third mistake, Mackintosh." He tried to mask his excitement. "They've sealed the lower gunports to shut out water while they're tacking. So after they get position they'll still have to run out the lower guns." "Aye. That's why two-deckers won't buy a whore's chastity on a day like this. But they'll have the upper guns on us soon enough." "Wait and see, Mackintosh. I'll warrant their upper guns are overheated by now. They'll think twice about trying to prime them just yet. They'll have to wait a bit. Perhaps just long enough for us to get alongside. Then the upper guns'll touch nothing but our rigging." The breeze freshened even more, driving the _Discovery _rapidly toward her target. Mackintosh eyed the galleon nervously, knowing the frigate was heavily outgunned. Finally he could bear the tension no longer. "We've got range now. Permission to bring her about." "Steady as she goes. They're slow on the helm." Hawksworth glanced at the line of seamen along the port side, untying bundles of musket arrows and lighting the linstock. "Bosun! Are the men at stations?" "Aye, sir." A gravel voice sounded through the din. "Stocks were a bit damp, but I warrant the hellish sun's dryin' 'em out. We'll give the fornicators a fine English salute." Hawksworth gauged the galleon's course, estimating her speed and her ability to maneuver. Then he saw her start coming about in the water, turning to position the starboard battery for a broadside. Gunports on the lower deck flipped up and cannon began slowly to emerge, like hard black fangs. Nervous sweat began to bead on Mackintosh's brow as the _Discovery _held her course directly down the galleon's windward side.