Bolitho clapped his arm. `I know. And I have no excuse for taking out my temper on you.'
Allday squinted up at the timbered fort above the palisades, the white figure in one of the windows.
Under his breath he said, `I know just how it feels, Captain.'
Bolitho twisted in the sternsheets to watch the boats busying themselves alongside the schooner. It had sounded so simple, so neat. To take two anchored frigates in a confined space was better than matching gun for gun in open waters. But many would curse his name as they died, nonetheless.
He sighed as the gig gathered speed towards the frigate. Puigserver had been right. He had learned a great deal since their meeting at Santa Cruz. Mostly about himself.
`All present, sir.' Herrick seated himself beside the cabin door and waited for Bolitho to speak.
Beyond the stern windows it was very dark, but it was possible to see the yellow lanterns moving back and forth between the settlement and the surf as the business of loading the schooner continued without pause.
Bolitho looked at the faces around the cabin. Everyone was here. He let his gaze rest briefly on Midshipman Keen. Even him, although the surgeon had told him he. would not be responsible for his condition. Keen looked strained, and whenever he moved it was easy to see the pain on his mouth and eyes. But he had insisted on rejoining the ship.
Mudge and Soames, Fowlar, looking slightly self-conscious at his first important conference. Davy, whose handsome features were still showing some of the dismay remaining from Bolitho's news about the schooner. Captain Bellairs, debonair and bland-faced in the gently spiralling lantern light. The purser, as mournful as ever. Armitage and Penn, like illmatched brothers, and lastly, below the skylight, Whitmarsh, the surgeon, his face glowing like a great beetroot.
Bolitho clasped his hands behind him. An average wardroom, he thought. No better, no worse than most, yet he was about to ask more of them than would be expected from a veteran company.
`You know me well enough by now to understand that I dislike speeches. Making or listening to them.'
He saw Herrick grin, and Mudge's tiny eyes vanish on either side of the great nose.
`At the beginning of this commission there were many aboard, wardroom included, who thought my methods too hard, my ideals too high for a ship on a peacetime mission. Now all of us know that things have changed, and our experience, our training is the only thing of value we have to protect us, and more to the point, those who are depending on our ability.'
He nodded to Herrick. `Open the chart.'
As Mudge leaned forward to weigh down Herrick's chart with books and brass dividers he took another glance at their faces. Anviety, trust? It was too early to know.
He continued, `The schooner will sail directly into the main channel, using the easterly headland for cover until the last available moment. Once on course for the rocks at the foot of the cliff,' he paused to lay the dividers on the small cross, `the helm will be lashed, and the crew will take to the boat. They will be recovered later.' He made himself smile, although his heart felt strangely heavy. `After we have excised the two frigates while their people are still collecting their wits!'
Penn said, `We'll show 'em, sir!' He quailed under Mudge's withering stare.
`And sve,' Bolitho smiled at the scarlet-faced midshipman, `driven on by Mr. Penn's enthusiasm, will move into the channel, rake both anchored ships, come about and rake 'em again.' He looked at Davy. `So tell all gun crews to look alive. The first broadsides will be the telling ones.'
Bellairs drawled, `Bit of a chance for the schooner, I'd say, sir. All that gunpowder aboard. One heated ball from the battery, and up she goes.' He blinked under Bolitho's level stare and added, `No disrespect to the bold fellows aboard her, of course, but where would it leave us?'
Bolitho shook his head. `The battery is old. I am almost certain that heated shot will not be available, for fear of splitting the guns. Normally they would not need it. With such an arc of fire, the battery can hit any vessel once itis within the two main channels.'
He smiled to hide the sudden doubt which Bellairs had laid in his mind. Suppose there was heated shot already simmering in furnaces? But he would have seen them, surely? No baskets could hoist glowing balls to that high rampart.
He said, `And we will know that most of that battery is lying in the sea, where it should have been years ago.'
`We will weigh at first light tomorrow. The wind seems to be in our favour, and with luck it will serve our purposes. There remains just one matter. ..' He paused and saw Herrick watching him 'from across the cabin.
But he must not think of his friend. The best and firmest one he had ever had. He was his first lieutenant, the most competent officer in the ship. Nothing more counted. It must not.
He continued, `Mr. Herrick will command the schooner.'
Herrick nodded, his face expressionless. `Aye, sir. I'll take six good hands. Should be enough.'
Bolitho held his gaze, the rest of the officers fading around him as he said, `I will leave it to you. If Potter wishes to join with you, then take him.' He saw Whitmarsh rising to protest and added harshly, `He knows the channel. We need all we can get.'
The door opened slightly and Carwithen thrust his head into the lantern light.
`Beg pardon, sir, but the water casks 'ave been stowed, an' a message 'as been sent to say that the schooner is fully loaded.'
His gaze shifted to Fowlar, but there was no recognition. Fowlar's first step to promotion had already marked them apart, although it was possible they had never had much in common, Bolitho thought.
`Very well.' Bolitho waited for the door to close. `Carry on, gentlemen. You '-all have your duties to attend.' He faltered, wondering why there were never the right-words when you needed them most. `We will have little time for discussion until this matter is settled.' Or we are all dead. `Remember this, and remember it well. Our people will be looking to you, more than they, or you ever expected. Most of them have never been in a real sea fight, and when we last met with Argus many still believed we had won a battle rather than secured a retreat. This time there can be no retreat, for us, or the enemy. Le Chaumareys is a fine captain, probably the best ever produced by France. But he has one weakness.' He smiled gravely. `One which we have not yet enjoyed. That of supreme confidence in his ship and himself. His belief, and your skill and determination will win the day for us if anything can.'
They stood up, silent and grim-faced, as if only just aware _ of their responsibilities. The finality of their position.
Then as they moved towards the door Bolitho said, `A moment, Mr. Herrick.'
Alone together in the gently pitching cabin, Bolitho said, `I had no choice.'
`I would have been dismayed, had you selected a junior, sir.' Herrick smiled. `So there's an end to it.'
Bolitho held out his hand. `May God protect you, Thomas. If I have misjudged this affair, or the enemy outwits us, then pull back at once. If I signal a recall, then abandon your attempt. If die we must, then I want you with me.'
Herrick gripped his hand tightly, his blue eyes suddenly concerned.
`Enough of this talk, sir! It is not like you. Win we must, and here's my hand on it!'
Bolitho followed him towards the door. Hating the moment. Conscious of the weight which he had caused to fall on his own shoulders. She had seen his danger, as had Le Chaumareys. Perhaps Herrick also.
On deck, in the noise and bustle of preparing for sea, the contact was at last broken.
Herrick said, `I'll go and pick my hands, sir.'
Bolitho nodded, his heart aching. `Carry on, Mr. Herrick. The second lieutenant will relieve you forthwith.'
As Herrick melted into the shadows Davy crossed the quarterdeck and touched his hat.
Bolitho said, `I am sorry about your schooner. I seem to have little choice in anything at the moment.'
Davy shrugged. `It does not seem to matter any more, sir. For once, I cannot see further than the nex
t few days, nor care either.'
Bolitho seized his arm savagely and swung him round. `Has nothing I said to you made any sense?'
Davy struggled in his fierce grip and blurted out, `I-I am sorry, sir!'
`You will be if I hear you talking like that again! Your responsibility is to me, the ship and the people you command. Not to your own personal considerations. When a man starts to believe there are no more tomorrows, he is as good as sewn up in a hammock between two round-shot. Think of the tomorrows, believe in them, and the men who depend on your skill, or lack of it, will see their own survival on your face!' He relaxed his hold and added in a steadier tone, `Now be off with you.'
He began to pace along the larboard side, his feet stepping automatically over ringbolts and gun tackles, although his eyes saw none of them. He had not been reprimanding Davy, but himself. It was no time for doubt or recrimination, but only for living the role he had adopted, had earned in a dozen battles or more.
`Boat ahoyl' The challenge rang out from the gangway where lanterns glinted_on-levelled-muskets-and bayonets.
From the bay itself came the reply, `Don Luis Puigserver wishes to come aboard!'
Davy came hurrying aft. `Is that in order, sir?'
Bolitho smiled, calm again. `I was expecting him, I believe.' The stocky figure rose through the port and hurried across
the deck to greet him.
Puigserver said, `I had to come, Capitan. Nervion's loss made me a part of this. I cannot withdraw until the matter is settled.' He patted the ornate pistols beneath his coat. `And I am an excellent shot, no?'
`I could order you to leave, senor.'
`But?' Puigserver tilted his head to one side. `But you will not. In any case, I have left written word to explain my deeds and my reasons. If we survive the battle, I will tear it to pieces. If not. ..' He left the rest unsaid.
`Then I accept your offer, senor. With gratitude.'
Puigserver walked to the nettings and stared across at a glittering riding-light. `When will the schooner set sail?'
`Before dawn. She will need all the time available to work into her position to best advantage.'
Again the ache. The thought of Herrick sailing his floating magazine into the muzzles of Muljadi's battery.
`I see.' Puigserver yawned. `Then I think I will join your offwatch officers for a glass in the wardroom. You will need your solitude tonight, I am thinking.'
Some hours later Bolitho was awakened by Allday's hand on his shoulder. He had fallen asleep in the cabin, his head on his forearm across the chart where he had been working.
Allday watched him anxiously. `Schooner's weighed, Captain.'
Bolitho rubbed his eyes. Was it almost dawn? He felt suddenly chilled. Desperate for sleep.
Aliday added quietly, `Mister Pigsliver's gone, too.'
Bolitho stared at him, wondering if he had expected this. Had known it was what Puigserver had wanted from the moment he had outlined his plan.
`Is she well clear?'
`Aye, Captain.' Allday stretched and yawned. `Stood round the headland half an hour back.' He added slowly, `He'll be good company for Mr. Herrick, and that's no error.'
Bolitho looked at him. `You knew, didn't you?'
`Aye, Captain.' Allday watched him sadly. `I thought it for the best.'
Bolitho nodded. `I expect it is.' He walked to the windows as if to see the riding-light still twinkling above the water. `It is a bad thing to be alone.'
Aliday glanced at the tarnished sword which hung from the bulkhead. For a moment he thought about Bolitho's other coxswain, who had died protecting his back from French marksmen at the Saintes. They had come a long way together since those times, he thought. Soon now, it might all end. He looked at Bolitho's shoulders as he peered through the stern windows.
But you will never be alone, Captain. Not while I've a breath left.
17
Close Action
Bolitho rested his hands on the quarterdeck rail and peered searchingly along his command. In the darkness the decks and gangways made a pale outline against the sea beyond the bows, and only the irregular drift of spray, the swirling white arrowhead from the stem gave any true hint of their progress.
He restrained himself from going aft again to examine his watch by the shaded compass light. Nothing had changed since his last inspection, and he was well aware of the danger of adding to the tension around him.
Three days since they had left the anchorage in Pendang Bay, making good speed with favourable winds for most of the time. They had stood well clear of the land, even the approaches to the little whale-shaped islet, in case Muljadi or Le Chaumareys had thought fit to place another craft there to warn of any unwelcome sail.
The previous evening, just before sunset, they had sighted Herrick's schooner, a tiny dark sliver on the copper-edged horizon, seemingly motionless as she idled to await Undine's arrival at the arranged point of rendezvous. A brief dipping signal from a lantern before both vessels had lost each other again in darkness.
Bolitho shivered, feeling the cool, clammy air exploring his face and throat. The middle watch had only just run its course, and there was still an hour or so before any lightening of the sky could be expected. But overnight, while all hands had worked to prepare the ship for action, the clouds had gathered and thickened, brushing out the stars so that Undine seemed to be sailing remorselessly into a void.
He heard Mudge moving restlessly below the hammock nettings, rubbing his palms together to keep warm. The sailing master seemed unusually preoccupied. Perhaps his rheumatism was troubling him, or like Bolitho, he was thinking of Herrick, somewhere out there on Undine's larboard bow.
Bolitho straightened his back and looked up at the blacker outlines of yards and rigging. The ship was sailing under topsails and jibs, and with only the great forecourse hiding the sea ahead of the bowsprit. It was strange to feel so chilled, when within hours the sun would be back to torment them, to add to whatever else, lay in store.
He asked, `How is the wind, Mr. Mudge?'
Mudge was glad to break the silence. `Still sou'-west, sir. By an' large.' He coughed noisily. `Under most occasions I'd be grateful for that.'
`What are you thinking?'
`Not sure, sir.' Mudge moved away from the seamen waiting by the quarterdeck six-pounders. `It's too uneven for. my tastes.'
Bolitho turned to peer forward again. The big forecourse seemed to echo Mudge's doubts. Undine was steering almost due north, and with the wind coming across her quarter she should have been making easy-going of it. But she was not. The forecourse would billow and harden, making the stars and shrouds hum and vibrate, holding the ship firm for several minutes. Then it would flap and bang in disorder before falling almost limp against the foremast for another frustrating period.
Mudge added doubtfully, `You never knows in these waters. Not for sure.'
Bolitho looked at his untidy outline. If Mudge was worried, with all his experience, how much worse it would be for many of the others.
He called, `Mr. Davy! I am going forrard directly.' He saw the lieutenant's shape detach itself from the rail. `Tell Mr. Keen to keep me company.'
He slipped out of his tarpaulin coat and handed it to Allday. He had been so occupied with his own thoughts and doubts he had not fully realised how heavily these dragging hours must be affecting his company. He had ordered the ship to be prepared for action as soon as he was satisfied with the final leg of their course towards the Benua islands. Working in almost total darkness, the hands had completed the task almost as quickly as in broad daylight, so familiar had they become with their surroundings. Their home. It was a simple precaution. Sound travelled too easily at sea, and the clatter of screens being torn down, the scrape and squeak of nets being spread above the gun deck and chain slings being rigged to every yard seemed loud enough to wake the dead. But from then on they had nothing to do but wait. To fret on what daylight might bring, or take away.
Keen came out o
f the darkness, his shirt pale against a black six-pounder.
Bolitho asked, `How is the wound?' `Much better, thank you, sir.'
Bolitho smiled. He could almost feel the pain which was probably showing on Keen's face.
`Then take a stroll with me.'
Together they walked along the lee gangway, ducking below the taut nets which Shellabeer's men had rigged to catch falling cordage or worse, seeing the upturned faces of each gun crew, the restless shapes of the marine sentries at hatchways, or powder-monkeys huddled together while they waited to serve the silent cannon.
On to the forecastle, where the squat carronades pointed from either bow like tethered beasts, their crews shivering in the occasional dashes of spray.
Bolitho paused, one hand. gripping the nettings as Undine sidled unsteadily into a deep trough. Most of the seamen were stripped to the waist, their bodies shining faintly above the d rk water alongside.
`All ready, lads?'
He felt them crowd around him, their sudden interest at his arrival. Of necessity, the galley fire had been doused when the ship had gone to quarters. A hot drink now would be worth more than a dozen extra guns, he thought bitterly.
To Keen he said, `Pass the word to Mr. Davy with my compliments. A double tot of rum for all hands.' He heard the instant response around him, the murmur of appreciation as it flowed aft along the gun deck. `If the purser complains, tell him he'll have me to reckon with!’
'Thankee, sir! That was right thoughtful, sir!'
He strode to the ladder, turning away in case they could see his face through the darkness, or sense his mood. It was too easy to raise their spirits. So simple that it made him feel cheap, hypocritical. A double tot of rum. A few pence. Whereas within hours they might have given their lives, or their limbs.
Bolitho paced aft beside the main hatch, seeing Soames's great figure towering above that of Tapril, the gunner. He nodded to Fowlar nearby, and to the larboard crews of the twelve-pounders. All were his men, his responsibility.
He thought suddenly of Rear Admiral Sir John Winslade, all those weeks and months ago in his office at the Admiralty. He had needed a, frigate captain he could know and trust. One whose mind he could follow even though it was on the other side of the globe.
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