Part 14 (1/2)

If it could only be settled in a battle of wills, he knew who would emerge the victor.

'Man the lee braces!' Quantock loomed towards him. 'I've ordered both anchors to be ready, sir, and put a lieutenant in charge of the compressor. In this gale the cable might part if ...” He left the rest unsaid.

Keen regarded him calmly. 'Carry on, if you please.'

There was no change in Quantock and Keen felt strangely glad. It seemed wrong that he should change in any way because of a single reckless act. When you considered it, Keen thought, there was no other description for it.

'Tops'l clew-lines!'

Keen watched the flurry of activity above the deck. Those men had done well, he thought. To preserve their lives, their s.h.i.+p and their pride as only sailors could.

'Helm alee!'

Once again the deck tilted over, Allday's barge swinging away from the jib-boom as if it had taken flight. But the wind and sea had lost their punch. Momentarily. They would bide their time. There was always another battle.

'Let go!'

Keen heard a splash and felt the planking quiver slightly as the second anchor banged against the hull as it swung from its cat-head in readiness to drop if the other failed.

Blocks squealed, and slowly but surely the unseen topmen kicked and fisted the rebellious canvas to each yard and secured it.

The motion eased immediately, and Keen said as calmly as he could, 'Lower the remaining boats. I want a warp run out from aft. Tell Mr Rooke to report to me.' He turned away from Quantock's bitter silence. 'I also want a muster of all hands immediately. Casualties and serious injuries too, if you please.'

A tiny figure appeared at his elbow. It was Ozzard, Bolitho's molelike servant. 'Here, sir.'

He held out a silver tankard, one of Bolitho's own.

Keen held it to his lips and almost choked on rum. But it did what Ozzard intended and he handed him the tankard.

”That was thoughtful. Thank you.'

They both watched as the gig and then the jolly-boat were hoisted from the tier and swayed out above the gangway. More men were bustling aft while boatswain's mates bawled instructions for laying out a ma.s.sive warp. Against the pale planking the huge rope looked like an endless serpent.

Ozzard asked timidly, 'Will he be safe, sir?'

Keen saw a lieutenant and Harry Rooke, the boatswain, hurrying towards him for orders, but there was something in Ozzard's voice which held him.

Safe? It was a word rarely considered in the King's service.

Faith had more meaning. Faith to enter a strange harbour despite the hazards and possible consequences. Faith of men like Allday who would risk anything because of Bolitho's word and reputation.

He smiled before turning towards his waiting subordinates.

'He will be expecting a lot from us tomorrow, Ozzard, that that I do know.' I do know.'

Ozzard bobbed and nodded. It was good enough for him.

9.

A Close Thing.

Bolitho felt a hand touch his arm and tried not to groan as the stiffness plucked at his wound. Had he really been asleep? The realization shocked him into immediate alertness. 'What is it, man?'

Lieutenant Mountsteven watched him curiously, as if he did not really believe he was sharing a small rough gully with his vice-admiral.

'Dawn soon, sir. I've roused all hands.'

Bolitho sat up and rubbed his eyes. They felt raw and tired, and he noticed for the first time that the wind had almost died.

Looking back, it still seemed unreal, an impossible hallucination. He peered over the edge of the ground and saw the vague glint of water, as if he expected to see Achates Achates forcing the entrance, her sails bulging like metal breastplates, burnished gold by the spluttering flares. forcing the entrance, her sails bulging like metal breastplates, burnished gold by the spluttering flares. Achates Achates was only a small sixty-four, but in the eerie glare she had seemingly filled the harbour and had brought wild cheers and not a few tears from Bolitho's seamen. was only a small sixty-four, but in the eerie glare she had seemingly filled the harbour and had brought wild cheers and not a few tears from Bolitho's seamen.

Around him he heard men gathering up their weapons and recalled the Royal Marine corporal who had been sent by Captain Dewar to report that all his men were ash.o.r.e and in position.

That too seemed like part of a dream, the corporal apparently unmoved and immaculate in his scarlet uniform.

He grinned, despite his anxieties. By comparison he felt' like a vagrant in his stained s.h.i.+rt and his hair full of grit and blown sand.

The fortress was still lost in darkness, but the old volcano had a fine rim of grey light around its summit.

Mountsteven handed him a flask and said, 'I've put a good lookout to watch for the s.h.i.+p, sir. The marines will prevent any attempt to move a cannon from the town to fire on her.'

Bolitho held the flask to his lips and felt his eyes water as the raw brandy burned his tongue. So much depended on Rivers. Given time he could move his heavy battery to another wall where with ordinary shot he could pound Achates Achates to fragments. With heated shot he could achieve it in minutes. to fragments. With heated shot he could achieve it in minutes.

It was as if the whole island was unwilling to wake, to enter the new day. He doubted if Rivers had had much sleep, wherever he was.

He looked round as somewhere a c.o.c.k crowed defiantly in the damp air.

The third lieutenant scrambled down the slope and said breathlessly, 'They're moving artillery in the fortress, sir. I put a picket as close as I could.' He too took the flask from the other lieutenant and raised it to his lips. He grimaced and added, 'But the gates are still shut.'

Bolitho nodded, his mind grappling with such frugal intelligence. Rivers must be regaining confidence, whereas the first excitement of the landing and breaking the boom was already fading with the dawn.

Bolitho stood up carefully and wiped his face with his sleeve. What a wretched situation it was. People in England would question the need for men to die for such a cause when the French would gather all the spoils anyway. He cursed angrily and knew he was thinking only of himself, of his hopes for a future with Belinda. No wonder youthful lieutenants like Mountsteven and Scott eyed him with some curiosity. He should have known, have remembered his own service as a lieutenant. Then he had never considered the personal problems of his his superiors, their wives, or that they might be as apprehensive as their subordinates when the time came to fight. superiors, their wives, or that they might be as apprehensive as their subordinates when the time came to fight.

He shook the mood aside like an old cloak. To live without Belinda would be unbearable. But to live without honour would be beyond him.

There was a startled challenge from the waterside and Bolitho heard Allday's voice, hushed but fierce as he retorted, 'It's me, you blind fool! Hold your noise or I'll spit you, so I will!' He stumbled down the slope and peered uncertainly at the three officers.

Bolitho smiled. 'You performed a miracle. It was well done!'

Allday seemed to realize that one of the dishevelled shapes was Bolitho and bared his teeth in the gloom. 'Thankee, sir.'

Scott said, 'Thought you might have run into a guard-boat, Allday.'

Allday looked at him as if to consider if a mere lieutenant was worth his attention, then said,' We did, sir.' He drew his hand across his throat. 'No bother at all.'

The violent crash of a single cannon made several of the men gasp with surprise. Birds rose screaming and squawking in pale clouds from land and water alike, and as the sailors watched the smoke drift from the ramparts they all heard the unmistakable thud of a direct hit.