Richard Bolitho Midshipman

by Alexander Kent

  `No, sir.' He met his hostility and added, `I think we may have been too close inshore. That fortress has our exact range.'

  Men, who seconds earlier had been hurrying to the opposite side, paused to watch. The towering bulk of the lieutenant and the slim midshipman, angled to the deck, their arms at their sides like antagonists meeting for a duel.

  Wellesley said nervously, `The captain1nows best.'

  Tregorren stared at him. `Do you have to explain to a midshipman?' He looked from one to the other. `Now stand to your guns!'

  But the order to fire the larboard was not given. Instead there was a long and uncertain silence, broken only by the occasional movement of seamen on the upper deck, the twitter of calls as the hands went to braces and halliards for altering course.

  The gun captain near Bolitho said darkly, `Told you. Cap'n's standin' out to sea. Just as well, if you asks me.'

  During the long and tiring gun drills Bolitho had never found time to consider how cut-off this deck could become. Now, as seamen and their officers stood or lounged beside the ports, he felt a growing sense of apprehension and uncertainty. He could tell from the slant of the sun that the ship was heading away from the land, but apart from that there was nothing to break the frustrating sense of being quite apart from the world above.

  `Secure guns!' The messenger's white breeches caught the filtered sunlight on the ladder. `All officers lay aft, if you please, sir!'

  Bolitho said to Dancer, `I think the captain has been worried all along, Martyn.'

  Dancer looked at him grimly. `But surely he would not run from a damned pirate?'

  `Better than be left swimming without a ship, eh?' Bolitho tried to cheer him up. `I know which I'd rather have.'

  But if the lower gundeck was remote and as before, the quarterdeck was not. Bolitho stood blinking in the harsh glare, seeing the two great holes in the main topsail, a streak of scarlet on the planking to mark where a man had fallen, or died. He stared

  over the rail and saw the land shimmering in a blinding haze. Already the island and its fortress had merged with the mainland and the anchored ships quite lost from sight around the same point which they had so confidently rounded a few hours earlier. Of the barquentine there was no sign at all.

  Dancer asked anxiously, `Where is the City of Athens, do you think?'

  Little Eden said, `She's s-standing off t-to keep an eye on the d-devils.'

  Dancer nodded. `Bit of luck getting hold of her.'

  They fell silent as Verling dismissed the hands from the quarterdeck nine-pounders and beckoned the other officers to close around him. He appeared as irritable as ever, Bolitho thought, his beaky nose checking who was present and who was yet to arrive.

  Captain Conway crossed from the weather side and stood by the quarterdeck rail looking down at the eighteen-pounders below him, their crews checking their equipment and refilling the shot garlands.

  There was a rank smell of powder in the air, of heated metal and charred wood.

  Verling said, `All present, sir.'

  The captain turned and regarded them thoughtfully, his back against the rail, his palms resting on the polished wood.

  `We are standing offshore and will anchor further along the coast. As you know, we were fired on, and fired on with a confidence I dislike.' He spoke calmly and unhurriedly, with less emotion than when he had awarded a flogging. `The enemy is well

  prepared, and our bombardment, such as it was, made no impression. But I had to be certain. To gain some knowledge of what we are against.'

  Bolitho could tell from the expressions of some of those nearby, who had been on the upper deck throughout the brief engagement, that there was something more to come.

  Captain Conway continued in the same tone, `Some months ago it was reported that one of our brigs, a new vessel which was employed in these waters, was overdue and therefore presumed lost. There had been some foul weather, and several ,merchantmen were also wrecked.' He glanced up at the masthead pendant, his eyes shining in the glare. `When we rounded the point this morning the City of Athens was well in the lead. The lookouts reported sighting two vessels at anchor. There may have been more under the island's protection.' His voice hardened for the first time. `But one of them was the missing brig, His Majesty's Ship Sandpiper of fourteen guns. Because of her, the City of Athens must have imagined that all was well, that Sandpiper's captain had already done our work for us.'

  Dancer gave a gasp as he added, The brig was the bait which we, but for our prize, would have taken. We would have laid under the guns of the fortress, and without the speed and agility to beat clear, would have been destroyed. As it was, the barquentine was hit several times. I doubt if any of her people survived.'

  There was absolute silence. Bolitho was remembering the din on the lower gundeck, the importance

  and excitement they had all felt. He recalled the unsmiling face of Midshipman Grenfell, a face which had hidden a warmer and kinder nature than many imagined. And it had all happened without a word being passed from the quarterdeck. It would have changed nothing, could have done nothing to help. And yet .. .

  The captain added slowly, `When we took the City of Athens, Mr Tregorren suggested that the pirates made off upon sighting another vessel. It now seems very possible that the other sail was ours, and the reasons for the pirate's haste was that he did not want to be seen for what he is! A captured British man-o'-war. Imagine, gentleman, what havoc he may have been wreaking in our country's name?' He spat out the words like poison. `No master of any peaceful vessel would challenge a ship so obviously British and in the King's service! That is not piracy, it is cold-blooded murder!'

  Mr Verling nodded. `It would be simple, sir. Whoever commands these scum has a sharp mind to attend him!'

  The captain did not seem to hear. `Some of our prize crew may have survived.' He glanced down at the dried blood by his feet. `We may never know. However, our next task is to seize the brig and discover all we can of what is happening.'

  Bolitho looked at the others. Seize the brig. Just like that.

  `A cutting-out operation must be done tonight. No moon, and the weather favours us at present. The marines will provide a distraction. But I want that vessel retaken, the shame she has been made to endure and promote wiped out!'

  He turned as the surgeon appeared on the ladder. `Well?'

  `The lookout died, sir.' Laidlaw's hooded eyes were expressionless. `Broke his back.'

  `I see.' The captain turned to the silent officers. `The lookout was the one who first sighted Sandpiper. The balls which passed close above us from the battery ashore must have thrown him to the deck.'

  Bolitho watched the surgeon for some sign, knowing he was remembering that same lookout was the man who had been flogged.

  The captain licked his lips. It was very hot on the quarterdeck, with the worst of the day yet to come.

  He said, `Mr Verling will give you your instructions. There will be two boats for the cutting-out. More would lessen our chances.' He walked away adding, `Carry on.'

  Verling watched him go. `Two lieutenants and three midshipmen will take charge of the attack.' He eyed Tregorren coldly. `You will command. Take only trained hands. This is no work for ploughmen.'

  Eden whispered, `What does it m-mean, Dick?' He looked very small beside the others.

  The sulky midshipman named Pearce said, `We board the brig in the darkness, and cut 'em down before they return the compliment!' He added harshly, `Poor John Grenfell, We grew up together in the same town.'

  Verling said, `Return to your duties. The hands

  can fall out from quarters and secure. Keep 'em busy, I want no bleating and sobbing for what has happened.'

  They began to break up, each man wrapped in his own thoughts on the suddenness of death.

  Tregorren said, `Thirty men will be needed -'

  He hesitated as Midshipman' Pearce called, `I'd like to volunteer, sir.'

  Tregorren regarded him calmly. `Mr
Grenfell was a friend of yours. I had forgotten. A pity that.'

  Bolitho watched him, sickened. Despite all that had happened, even the sudden likelihood of his own injury or death, Tregorren still found delight in taunting the grim-faced Pearce.

  The lieutenant said abruptly, `Request denied.' His eyes settled on Eden. `You will be one of the lucky midshipmen.' He smiled as Eden paled. `A real chance to prove yourself.'

  Bolitho said, `He is the youngest, sir. Some of us have had more experience and . . .' He faltered, seeing the trap opening.

  Tregorren shook one finger. `I forgot about that, too. That our Mr Bolitho is always afraid that someone else will steal his thunder, deny him of honour, so that his high-and-mighty family might frown a bit!'

  'That is a lie, sir. And unfair!'

  Tregorren shrugged. `Is it? No matter. You are also going, and the clever Mr Dancer.' He put his huge hands on his hips and looked at each in turn. `The first lieutenant said only trained hands should be detailed. But we need experienced midshipmen

  for handling the ship. On a cutting-out raid we only require the right number!'

  He took out his pocket watch. `I want the full party mustered in an hour. Mr Hope will be my subordinate. Report to him when you are ready.'

  Dancer said bitterly, `Better Hope than Wellesley. He is as weak as watered milk.'

  They walked along the weather gangway, thinking of Grenfell and the others who had been lost in the shattered barquentine.

  Eden said fiercely, `I - I'm n-not afraid! R-really I'm not!' He looked at them wretchedly, his eyes filling his face. `It's just that I d-don't want to go with Mr T-Tregorren! H-he'll be the d-death of us all!'

  Dancer looked down at him and tried to smile. `We'll be with you, Tom. It may not be too bad.' He turned suddenly to Bolitho. `What is it like, Dick? You've done this sort of thing before.'

  Bolitho stared across the nettings towards the misty hump of land and the glittering expanse of water.

  `It's quick. Everything depends on surprise.'

  He did not look at them. What could he say? Tell them of the fearful cries and curses of men fighting with cutlasses and knives, with axes and pikes. Of the touch of an enemy, the feel of his breath and his hatred. It was not like a sea fight, with the enemyjust another ship. It was people. Flesh and blood.

  Dancer said quietly, `I can tell from your silence. Let us hope we are lucky.'

  Down on the orlop they found Pearce and two other midshipmen restoring the chests and well-used chairs to their proper places, the surgeon's mates

  having removed their instruments and medicines ao soon as the secure was piped.

  In its place against one of Gorgon's great frames was Grenfell's chest, his best hat and dirk hanging above it.

  Pearce said, `He always said he'd never rate lieutenant. He never will now.'

  Bolitho looked round as Midshipman Marrack entered, impeccable as ever in a clean shirt.

  Marrack said shortly, `Leave his gear alone. There may still be a chance.' He threw his coat on a chair and added, `You should have seen her go. The City of Athens never stood a chance. She was actually shortening sail to close the brig when the fortress battery took her.' He stared at nothing. `She took fire and then turned turtle. I saw some of our people swimming. Then the sharks came.' He could not go on.

  Dancer looked at Bolitho. `I remember reading something about the Sandpiper.

  Marrack said, `One thing is certain. Our captain will never allow a King's ship to remain in enemy hands, no matter what it costs to recover her.' He reached into his chest and took out a leather case. `Take my pistols, Dick. They're better than any others aboard. My father gave them to me.' He turned away, as if annoyed at showing a softer side to his nature. `See what confidence I have in you?'

  The small servant scuttled into the berth. `Beg pardon, sirs, but the fourth lieutenant is lookin' for you, and yellin' murder!'

  `That Tregorren !' Dancer was unusually bitter.

  `I agree with little Tom here. The damned bully is too full of himself for my liking!'

  They made for the companion ladder, and only then realized that Eden was still by the side. He was staring at Grenfell's chest and his dirk which swung easily to the ship's movements.

  Bolitho said gently, `Come on, Tom. There's a lot to be done before sunset.'

  To himself he added, and after.

  6

  Face to Face

  `Easy there! Watch your stroke!' Hope, the Gorgon's fifth lieutenant, hissed in the darkness, craning forward from the sternsheets as if to seek out the noise.

  Bolitho crouched beside him and turned to peer astern. Only an occasional feather of white spray or a trailing glow of phosphorescence around the oars betrayed the position of the other cutter. It was very dark, and after the cloudless day, surprisingly cold. Which was just as well, he thought, for they had come a long way. The boats had been lowered and manned before dusk, and while Gorgon made more sail and went about to leave them to their own resources they had settled down to a long, steady pull towards the slab of headland.

  When darkness had arrived it had been sudden, like the fall of a curtain, and Bolitho found himself wondering what was going on in the lieutenant's mind. It was a far cry indeed from the time when he had thrown open the door of the Blue Posts at Portsmouth and bellowed at the midshipmen. He remembered what Grenfell had said then about Hope's worries of promotion. The memory saddened him. Grenfell was dead, and Hope would indeed be moving up a place when the captain chose to accept that the lieutenant who had been in charge of the City of Athens was also killed.

  Eden was leaning against him, his head lowered almost to the gunwale.

  Bolitho said quietly, `Still a way to go yet, Tom.'

  It was an eerie sensation. The cutter thrusting jerkily across the inshore currents, the oars rising and falling on either beam like pale bones, their usual noise muffled by rags and thick layers of grease.

  Ahead of the boat there was a darker wedge to show the division between sea and sky, and Bolitho thought he could smell the earth, sense its nearness.

  In the bows, bent over the stem and a viciouslooking swivel gun, was a leadsman, his boat's lead and line sounding the way above sandbars and hidden rocks.

  Turnbull, the master, had explained to the two lieutenants that it was best to creep right inshore, so that once around the headland they would lie somewhere between the beach and the anchored ships.

  It had all sounded so easy. Not now, as a man caught his foot in a cutlass and set it clattering across the bottom-boards, and Hope snarled, `God, Rogers, I'll have you beaten senseless if you make another sound!'

  Bolitho looked at his profile, a shadow against the oars' spray alongside. A lieutenant. A man who knew that Tregorren was following close astern, depending

  on his ability to lead the way. Thirty men. For a press-gang, or for manning a couple of heavy guns, it was ample. For taking a ship against odds, and without surprise, it was disaster.

  A strong eddy pushed the hull aside, so that the coxswain had to use his strength at the tiller to bring it back on course. The air felt different again and the sea across the larboard beam looked livelier.

  Bolitho ventured, `We are round the headland, sir.'

  Hope swung on him and then said, `Yes. You'd know, of course. You must have grown up with rocks like these in Cornwall.' He seemed to be studying him in the darkness. `But a long pull yet.'

  Bolitho hesitated, unwilling to break the little contact between them. `Will the marines attack the battery, sir?'

  `Some mad scheme like that.' Hope wiped his face as spray lanced into the boat. _'The captain will tack as close as he dares to the seaward end of the island and pretend to attempt a landing. Plenty of noise. Major Dewar will be good at that, he's got plenty to say in the wardroom!'

  The whisper came back along the oarsmen. `Vessel at anchor on th' starboard bow, sir!'

  Hope nodded. `Steer a point or so to larboard.' He twisted round to
make sure the other boat was following. `That must be the first of 'em. The brig is anchored beyond her, a couple of cables yet.'

  Someone groaned, more worried apparently at the prospect of pulling a heavy oar for another four hundred yards than the possible closeness of death.

  `Watch out!' The bowman dropped his lead and line and seized a boathook.

  The oars went into momentary confusion as something large and black, like a sleeping whale, loomed over the cutter, banging into the blades and making what seemed like a tremendous noise.

  Eden murmured shakily, `It's p-part of the b-barquentine, Dick!'

  `Yes.'

  Bolitho could smell the charred timbers, could even recognise a part of the City of Athens' tafrail before it lurched away into the darkness.

  The unexpected appearance of part of the wreck had quite an effect on the seamen. There was something like a low growl, and tired though they were, the oarsmen started putting an extra power into their stroke.

  Hope said softly, `These are seasoned hands, Bolitho. They have been in Gorgon together for a long while and had plenty of friends aboard the prize.' He stiffened as the sweeping masts and yards of an anchored vessel passed slowly abeam. `There she goes. Nary a damn sound.'

  Bolitho peered at the darkened ship. Moored alongside the Gorgon she would look dwarfed. Out here, and from the cutter, she appeared enormous.

  Hope was thinking aloud. `Small frigate most likely. Not English. Too much rake on her masts.' He sounded completely absorbed. `This devil has gathered quite a fleet, it seems.'

  `Ease the stroke!' The coxswain whispered fiercely, `Here comes t'other one!'

  Hope rose to his feet, steadying himself on Bolitho's shoulder. Bolitho could feel the power of his grip, could imagine his anxieties at this moment.

  Hope said, `If only I could look at my watch.'

  The coxswain grinned. `Might as well send the devils a signal, sir.'

  `Aye.' Hope sighed. `Let's pray that Major Dewar and his bullocks are punctual.'