Enemy In Sight!

by Alexander Kent

  Fitzmaurice said, "An attack on the Spanish Main?"

  "Far more daring and rewarding than that!" Bolitho walked to the stem windows and stared at his own ship. "Any attack on Spanish territories out here would most certainly inflame opinion against him. But should he return to Spain itself, imagine the impact it would have!"

  Pelham-Martin gasped, "But that is absurd! The Spanish Court would hang this Perez, aristocrat or not!"

  "Alone and unaided, perhaps." Bolitho eyed him coolly. "But backed by Lequiller's squadron, and a ship with more than a king's ransom in her holds, just consider the effect!" He hardened his voice, seeing the uncertainty giving way to panic on the commodore's round face. "Lequiller has made all the moves. Divide and conquer has been his method, and he has achieved almost everything he has attempted. We were warned that he is dedicated and ruthless. The fact that he hanged helpless prisoners of war should have told us just how determined he is to achieve his ends!"

  Farquhar nodded firmly. "You are right, by God! What confidence the Spanish government might have had in our ability will go at the first sight of Lequiller's squadron. Any anger retained by the Court for this Perez will soon fade when their treasure is safely delivered."

  "The Church will see to thatl" Fitzmaurice sat down wearily. "Much of the gold plate will no doubt find its way to their coffers!" He added less vehemently, "Then all our efforts have been to no purpose? Even now Lequiller's ships may be homeward bound." He glanced tightly at the commodore's motionless figure. "We can do nothing!"

  Bolitho said, "All along I have tried to see things through Lequiller's eyes. His tactics, his complete disregard for. everything but his ultimate objective. When I saw those Spanish soldiers in French uniform I should have guessed just how great were his intentions. They must have been training those men for months, maybe longer, and the uniforms were merely to disguise the governor's real purpose. At worst he could have pleaded that his town and defences had been overrun by the enemy." He paused before adding, "At best he will have a trained force at his back when he returns to his own country, where no doubt there will be many eager to rise to his standard."

  He saw Fitzmaurice nodding and continued relentlessly, "Just think of the impact this will have on England. Spain is our only foothold in Europe, the one country still strong enough to show arms to the enemy. With a sudden uprising it would all be over in weeks, maybe days, and there would be nothing between England and a united Europe. Nothing but a strip of water and a thin line of ships!"

  Bolitho looked quickly at Mulder, seeing the anxiety his words had caused. Perhaps for the .first time Mulder was thinking as a Dutchman and not as the guardian of St. Kruis. No amount of ocean or distance could ease the pain he must be feeling for his own homeland, now crushed under the enemy's heel. Perhaps even now his country had been forced to declare war on England. It would merely be a formal signature on a treaty, but it would make this ancient ship an enemy and leave him with only one last decision.

  Just thinking about it filled Bolitho with unreasoning anger and dismay. All these weary and frustrating weeks while they had sailed and searched for the elusive enemy, Lequiller had been playing the game by his own set of rules. Rules which they had only just begun to learn when it was almost -too late. It took a very determined and ruthless admiral to leave half his squadron to face whatever the hunters tried to do, yet he had been prepared to lose four ships while he went after the big prize, the laden treasure ship and all that her wealth entailed for his cause. He must have known that even if Pelham-Martin had succeeded in destroying all four vessels his own force would have suffered so severely in battle and under the bombardment of the hidden battery they would be in no fit state to hinder him for some time to come.

  He said, "I can see no other possible explanation, sir. Nor can I see any choice for us but to act on the facts at our disposal."

  Pelham-Martin tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and stared at it blankly. "We do not know, Bolitho. Yours is just supposition. Think what it would mean if I ordered the squadron in pursuit to, somewhere-the exact location of which is a mystery-when all the time Lequiller is here, attacking and raiding, destroying the vital links which were so hard to forge!"

  "It would be prudent to consider the alternatives, sir. Our orders were to seek out and to destroy Lequiller's squadron. We have failed." He watched the words reaching the commodore's confused mind and added, "Now the San Leandro is taken, in seas which we were ordered to control and make secure. Even if we desired it, we cannot waste more time in seeking Lequiller's ships. We have only the Spartan for patrolling away from the squadron. The sloops are too frail, and easy prey for the enemy."

  "What are you suggesting now?" Pelham-Martin again tried to restore his own composure. "A return to Las Mercedes?"

  "No, sir. It would take more valuable time, and that we do not have. I believe Lequiller attacked St. Kruis when he first entered the Caribbean knowing he might need an alternative base for his ships. Due to our unexpected arrival and the show of courage by the Dutch defenders it was denied to him. That is why I am sure Lequiller did not come here just to raid and plunder. Privateers and frigates would have been more useful for such tasks. But you cannot hide a squadron of the line forever." He shot a quick glance at Farquhar. "How much did you damage the frigate Thetis?"

  "Foremast and rigging were well hit, as well as considerable damage to her main deck."

  Bolitho nodded. "And one of the ships which escaped from Las Mercedes was also badly crippled aloft. If it was essential for Lequiller to reach here with his squadron intact, it will be equally important for any future operations now that he has lost some of his force to us."

  Again it was Farquhar's quick mind which took up the train of Bolitho's spoken thoughts.

  "Then there must be some other base?" He tugged his chin doubtfully. "But we are surrounded by countless islands, it would take a fleet and a century in time to search amongst them." Then he nodded sharply. "But you are right. An anchorage where the damage can be put right and the last plans prepared."

  Fitzmaurice asked, "Do you know of such a place?"

  "Not yet." Bolitho glanced at Mulder. "But I will give it some thought."

  Pelham-Martin levered himself to his feet and leaned against the back of his chair. "If only my reinforcements would come!" Then he gave a great sigh. "But alas, I should have been warned by my past experiences." He looked at Bolitho, his face suddenly despairing. "You are my senior captain and I must consider your advice, knowing as I do that it is born of knowledge gained in the King's service. But I am in command, and mine is the final decision. We will return to St. Kruis with all haste, and then I will send a sloop with my despatches direct to England."

  Bolitho watched him impassively. It never failed to surprise him how quickly Pelham-Martin could rally and emerge from almost complete despondency. The idea that there was still some possible chance of redeeming his honour before Admiral Cavendish learned of his failure to destroy the enemy seemed to have given him fresh hope and authority. Even now he was looking at Farquhar with something approaching his old severity.

  "I had intended to reprimand you for straying from your patrol area. However, since your initiative has given us the only piece of information, I must treat you with leniency and place your action on record."

  Farquhar regarded him coldly, his arrogant features set in a faint smile. "When I served under Captain Bolitho as a midshipman I had an excellent teacher, sir. I learned then that to try and fight without information is like sending a blind man to war with a musket."

  Bolitho cleared his throat. "Will you return to my ship now, sir?"

  Pelham-Martin shook his head. "Later. I must have time to think. Rejoin your commands, gentlemen."

  Outside the cabin the three captains stood in silence while Molder hurried away to summon their respective boats.

  Fitzmaurice spoke first. "When I heard young Farquhar's report I was without hope. I felt as if I had been made fooli
sh, that all I have tried to do with my life had been wasted." He studied Bolitho searchingly. "But listening to you as you outlined your ideas I felt new strength." He searched for the right way to express himself. "My first lieutenant, Quince, put it into words when he returned from the swamp. He said that had you been in command of the squadron, Lequiller would never have lost sight of the French coast."

  Farquhar smiled. "Let us hope it not too late to make amends."

  Bolitho watched his barge pulling round from the Telarnon's quarter. It was typical of Farquhar to be outspoken when speaking with Pelham-Martin, yet refuse to give way to sentiment amongst his fellow captains.

  Farquhar need have no fear of Pelham-Martin's influence outside the Navy. His own father owned half of Hampshire, and he came of a long line of famous sea officers, several of whom had been admirals. But to display any sort of confidence which might be later be construed as conspiracy or a failure to support his commodore to the letter of his orders was as alien to his nature as it was to treat an ordinary seaman as an equal.

  Later as he stood on the Hyperion's quarterdeck and watched the Spartan clawing ahead of her slower consorts Bolitho found a touch of envy in his heart. There was always something special about a frigate. Fast, independent, and entirely personal, where, the face and behaviour of every man aboard became as familiar as the set of her sails. In a ship of the line it was like living over a tightly compressed world where several hundred souls were crammed together at every moment of the day, yet so completely separated by the standards of discipline and station. And now even this remote link with the way of life he loved so dearly seemed to be drawing further away. While he had been outlining his sketchy plan to the others he had been made conscious of the fact, and it troubled him. From obeying other captains to commanding a small ship of his own. From the harsh necessity of seeking an enemy and laying his ship alongside her until victory or destruction, to the need of understanding tactics and how they could affect other ships and outflung squadrons. And as he had spoken his mind aloud he had been very aware of what he was doing. By revealing his innermost ideas, which might later be translated into actual deeds, he had taken one more irrevocable step in his career.

  But strategy, as Pelham-Martin and others before him had been made to understand, could determine far more than the death of its planner. It might decide the fate of a cause, the very existence of a nation.

  Inch came to his side and touched his hat. "Any orders,

  sir?99

  lL Bolitho was still staring after the Spartan as she lifted and ploughed into the uneven ranks of whitecaps.

  "I am going to the chartroom." He hesitated, knowing he was going to take one more step, more personal, but no less vital. "Pass the word for the new master's mate, Selby, and. send him down to me."

  Inch shuffled his feet, his face filled with obvious curiosity.

  Bolitho looked at him. "See that I am not disturbed."

  In the dark panelled chartroom he leaned his shoulders against the bulkhead in an effort to control . the sudden flood of misgivings. The normal shipboard sounds were muffled here, and the distant clank of the pump seemed to keep time with his heartbeats.

  There was a tap at the door and he said, "Enter!"

  His brother stood on the opposite side of the chart table, his eyes guarded and watchful. "You sent for me, sir?"

  Bolitho plucked one corner of the uppermost chart, conscious of the enclosed silence, as if the ship was holding her breath.

  He said slowly, "I have need of information." He kept his tone formal, as if the man opposite was indeed a mere master's mate. "When you served in the Caribbean before." His tongue lingered on the word. Before. What grief and uncertainty it had caused their father. He added sharply,, "When you commanded the privateer Andiron you must have made good use of the islands." He circled the rambling shapes on the chart with his finger. "You had only your resources. You must then have known of inlets and bays where you could rest your men and carry out repairs."

  His brother moved closer, his features suddenly lined and tired beneath the spiralling lantern.

  "That was a long while ago." He nodded. "Yes, I knew of many such anchorages."

  Bolitho walked round the table touching the lockers and the swinging cot, yet noticing none of them.

  "You know of Lequiller of course, and what we are doing here. I believe that he will repair his ships which were damaged in battle before he . . ." He broke off, aware that his brother was watching him, his eyes pensive.

  "I have heard many things. That Lequiller has seized the treasure ship and you intend to try and catch him again." He shrugged. "News has fast legs on the lower deck, as you know."

  "When you were in Las Mercedes, did you see or hear what was going on there?"

  "Not much. We saw the troops drilling, and when the French ships put into the bay there was a great deal of excitement. I knew then that it would mean trouble for

  us."

  Bolitho could not contain his bitterness. "For us? That is a change of heart surely?"

  His brother eyed him with tired gravity. "Perhaps. But even in my short stay aboard your ship I have learned to know you again. Like that time in St. Clar when the convicts stood and cheered you." He grimaced. "There is 'ittle difference between a convict and a seaman in a King's ship, and I have heard what they think of you." He looked down at the chart. "They'd follow you anywhere. Don't ask me why, and do not expect anyone to tell you. It is something which you have, which you give to them." He gave another shrug. "But no matter. I am saying that I - do not think you should throw all away just to save your commodore's good name."

  Bolitho said harshly, "I did not call you here for an opinion on my motives!" He tapped the chart. "Well?"

  "There is a suitable place here." His finger paused. "The Isles of Pascua. Maybe fifty miles nor'-west of St. Kruis." His eyes shone with professional interest as he stooped over the chart. "Two small islands linked together by several tiny islets and a whole pattern of reefs. A dangerous anchorage, a last resort usually." He nodded slowly. "The main -advantage is that it has a dozen exits between the reefs. With your small squadron you could never control them all. His lined face twisted in a private smile. "I gave Rodney's frigates the slip many a time there!"

  Bolitho studied his lowered head with sudden understanding and near compassion. Hugh was only four years his senior, yet looked old and grey, like his father had been at their last meeting. Now he was here, reliving that one period in his life when, right or wrong, he had achieved something.

  He asked quietly, "What would you do?"

  His brother looked up at him, the expression changing from surprise to disbelief. Then he replied, "A frigate could enter through the reefs. A surprise attack would probably make any ships inside the anchorage put to sea by the main channel, where you could be waiting."

  Bolity'io studied him gravely. "It needs a man of great experience to take a ship through the reefs, does it not? Someone who knows the exact bearings from every obstacle?"

  The other man watched him, his eyes shrewd with understanding. "It does. It would be madness otherwise. When I used it for the first time I had an old mulatto fisherman as bosun. He knew it well enough and taught me what he had learned the hard way."

  Bolitho straightened his back. "Will you do it?" He saw the guard drop in his brother's eyes and added, "I know it is a great risk. The captain of our only frigate is Charles Farquhar. He might remember you as his captor."

  "I remember him. Insolent young puppy!"

  "But if all goes well, it could go a long way towards a free pardon, a last chance for you."

  His brother smiled sadly. "It is just as many of your people say. You never think of yourself first." He slapped his hand on the table. "I was not thinking of my own skin for once. Don't you realise that if Farquhar or anyone else knows about me, it would be your loss? Hiding a fugitive, compounding an act of treason, why, they would crucify youl"

  When Bolitho did
not reply he added hotly, "Think of yourself! Stop worrying about your damn commodore, me, and all the rest of them! Just this time, take care of your own self!"

  Bolitho looked away. "It's settled then. When we reach St. Kruis I will inform the commodore. We may find nothing at this anchorage of yours. But we shall see."

  His brother stepped back to the door. "There was only one man who ever got the better of me in the Caribbean. So perhaps your luck will stand you in good stead a second time."

  "Thank you." But when Bolitho turned his head the chartroom was empty.

  243

  AFT, THE MOST HONOUR...

  As his barge came to rest alongside the crude wooden piles of the jetty Bolitho climbed from the sternsheets and then paused to stare back at the bay. Pelham-Martin's squadron had anchored just two hours earlier, but even in that short time a change in the weather was apparent. The sky was hidden by a film of pale cloud which distorted the afternoon sunlight into an angry glare and painted the irregular wavecrests with a harsh bronze hue. When he shaded his eyes to study the ships he noted the way they strained at their cables, as if fearful of the land's nearness.

  Boats plied busily back and forth to the ships, while along the coast road and jetty parties of seamen waited to lower freshly filled water casks and hastily gathered fruit, before tramping inland again to collect another load.

  Inch and Gossett clambered up beside him and stood in the swirling dust clouds which covered their faces and clothing in a matter of seconds.

  The master said hoarsely, "Wind's still steady from the nor'-east, sir." He shook his head. "I'll be 'appier when we puts to sea again."

  Bolitho followed his gaze and saw the waves leaping and breaking across the protective necklace of reefs to the eastern side of the bay.