Herrick asked sharply, `What did you mean, Martin, "at each end"?'
'Oh, I forgot, sir.' Martin grinned. `They've got six pieces of artillery along the side of the cliff.'
Herrick felt strangely relaxed. Not knowing the odds was always worse than actually facing them. Almost to himself he said, `Just two sentries, you say?'
Martin nodded. 'Aye, sir. An' about thirty men lyin' beside the guns.' He chuckled. 'I could'a cut their throats easily!'
Herrick said, `You may have to.' Suddenly it was quite clear what he had to do. The Andiron slept at anchor because she was well protected by firmly mounted field pieces. No doubt each gun was already loaded and ranged to cover the whole anchorage. It was not an uncommon arrangement where no proper harbour was available.
He felt suddenly cold at the thought of what would have happened if his boats had made their planned attack. The casualties and the noise would have killed any chance of success.
He said flatly, `Get to the beach, Mr. Maynard. Send every available man up here as fast as you can. Anchor the boats and let the remaining men swim ashore. Tell McIntosh and the others that I intend to rush the guns and put 'em out of action. Then we'll take to the boats and go for the Andiron as planned!'
They all watched him in silence. Then Maynard said, `And you, sir?'
Herrick patted Martin's shoulder. 'Our poacher is going to earn his keep tonight, Mr. Maynard!'
Martin pulled a knife from his belt and handed his heavy cutlass to Allday. He said cheerfully, `Easy, sir! It don't seem fair, do it?'
When Martin and Maynard had slithered back into the darkness Herrick said quietly, `Those soldiers must be silenced as they sleep. Killed or clubbed, I don't care. But they must be kept from raising the alarm!'
Allday winced as Maynard's dirk clattered on a rock below and then said, `It's them or us, isn't it, sir?’
'How is your arm, Mr. Belsey?' Bolitho heard the master's mate move somewhere in the pitch darkness and knew he had asked the question merely to break the nerve-jarring silence. With Belsey and Farquhar he had been hustled below and locked unceremoniously in a tiny unused storeroom somewhere beneath the Andiron's forecastle, and after a short attempt at conversation each man had lapsed into silence and the apprehension of his own thoughts.
Belsey said, `Fair enough, sir. But this motion is makin' me sweat!'
The ship's uneasy movement had certainly increased even during the last hour. The storeroom was below the Andiron's water-line, and the savage jarring of the anchored hull was all the more apparent. The crew had already paid out more hawse to compensate for the sudden change of wind which now swept across the once protected anchorage with mounting ferocity. `
Belsey added, 'Maybe the Phalarope will stand out to sea again, sir? Surely they'll not send boats out in this lot?'
Bolitho was glad the others could not see his face, A change of weather would make little difference to Vibart's determination to produce a victory, he thought. From the moment the signal had been flashed down the hillside to the hidden defenders he had felt a growing despair, the fretting certainty of calamity and destruction for the Phalarope and her company. And he was powerless to help a single man.
He felt a sudden pressure at his shoulders as the ship heeled in a deep swell. She was snubbing at her cable at regular intervals, now, and he could feel the deck lifting and then sliding back with each shuddering jerk.
He found himself thinking again of his brother, and wondered what he was doing at this moment. His earlier eagerness at the proposed massacre of Phalarope's boarding party must have given way a little to the anxiety for his own ship's safety. At any other time he would have made sail and headed for the more sheltered side of the island. It was strange how the unexpected change of weather had taken a part in the game. Not that it could have any final effect. It merely prolonged the misery of waiting.
Farquhar said absently, `I wish something would happen! This waiting is getting on my nerves!'
Bolitho shifted his position to stare at the brightly lit crack in the storeroom door. Occasionally a shadow blotted out the tiny sliver of light as a sentry moved his position in the narrow passageway beyond. As he rearranged his cramped limbs Bolitho felt the warm touch of steel against his leg and remembered the hidden dirk. For all the use it was now he could have left it in the cabin, he thought wearily.
It was strange that the guards had not bothered to search him. But they were so openly confident, and with such good reason, that it was only to be expected. Even his brother had found time to see him just as he was being led below to the storeroom.
Hugh Bolitho had been wearing their father's sword, as well as a brace of pistols, and seemed to have gained new life and excitement from the impending battle.
`Well, Richard. This your last chance.' He had stood easily on the swaying deck, his head on one side as he had watched his brother with something like amusement. `Just one decision, and it is yours to make!’
'I have nothing to say to you. Not now. Not ever!' Bolitho had tried not to stare at the sword. It had been like a final insult.
`Very well. After this I may see little of you. I will have much to do.' He had stared up at the angry sky. `The wind is rising, but I expect to have visitors none the less!' He had added in a harder tone, `You will have to take your chances with the French authorities. I must take Andiron to join the combined fleets.'
He had seen his brother's immediate caution and had continued calmly, 'I can tell you now, Richard. For you will be unable to flake part. The French admiral, de Grasse, will join with a Spanish squadron. Together with our ships they will at tack Jamaica.' He had made a curt gesture as if to demon strate the finality of the campaign. 'I am afraid King George will have to find fresh fields to conquer elsewhere!'
Bolitho had said to his guard, 'I wish to go below.'
His brother had called after him, `You are foolish, Richard. And what is worse, you are wrong!'
As he sat in the swaying storeroom Bolitho found plenty of time to relive the bitterness and the sense of defeat.
There was a scraping of metal as the bolts were drawn from the door, and Belsey groaned. 'Comin' to gloat again! God rot their bloody souls!'
But as the lamplight flooded the storeroom and seared their eyes Bolitho could only stare with surprise. Stockdale stood blinking in the doorway, a heavy boarding axe swinging from his hand.
Bolitho struggled to his feet and then caught sight of the sentry sprawled below the swinging lantern, the back of his head smashed in like an eggshell.
Stockdale said humbly, 'I am sorry it took me so long, Captain! But I had to win their confidence.' He grinned sheepishly. `Even now I'm not sure I done as you expected.'
Bolitho could hardly speak. He gripped the man's massive arm and muttered, `You did rightly, Stockdale. Have no fear of that!' To the others he said, `Are you with me?'
Farquhar replied dazedly, `Just tell me what to do, sir!'
`Quick, Stockdale!' Bolitho stepped into the passageway and peered into the darkness beyond the lantern. `Tell me what is happening!'
The ex-prizefighter answered thickly, `They're getting worried up top, sir. No sign of an attack, an' the ship's taking the wind badly.' He thought for a moment. `Maybe we could swim for the beach, sir?' He nodded with rare excitement. `Yes, we could do it with luck!'
Bolitho shook his head. `Not yet. They will be watching like hawks. We must not think of ourselves. We must try to save the Phalarope before it is too late!'
Stockdale glanced at the corpse by his feet. `They change the guard in half an hour, sir. There's not much time!'
`I see.' Bolitho tried to stifle the excitement and urgency in his mind and think more clearly. `We cannot fight the whole crew, but with luck we might still surprise them!'
Belsey said, 'I'd like to take a few of the buggers with me!'
Bolitho drew the dirk from his breeches and held it glinting in the lamplight. 'Lead the way, Stockdale. If we can get to the for
ecastle there is something which we can do to provide a diversion!'
Farquhar picked up the dead guard's cutlass and murmured bleakly, `Are, you thinking of the cable, sir?'
Bolitho shot him a swift glance of approval. `The -ship is already dragging hard at her anchor. If we could cut the cable she would be in serious danger. Our men are out there somewhere, and they will soon pull clear when they see Andiron drifting towards the point!'
Belsey broke in excitedly, `The Andiron'll have to make sail, sir! Even then she might not be in time! She'll run hard aground with the wind in this quarter.'
`Begging your pardon, sir.' Stockdale looked at Bolitho sadly. 'They've already got a strong anchor party in the bows looking out for trouble!'
Bolitho smiled coldly. `I'm not surprised.' He gestured to the others. `Come, we have little time.' As they crept along the passageway he added, `Remember that nine-pounder on the forecastle, Mr. Farquhar?'
Farquhar nodded, his eyes gleaming. `Yes, sir. One of the bow-chasers!'
Bolitho paused below a narrow ladder, straining his eyes towards the hatch above. It might just work. They would all die for their efforts, but he knew that each man now understood that well enough.
He said quietly, `The gun was lashed there while the rail was being repaired from Phalarope's mauling. If it were cut loose now, in this gale, it would run amuck like a maddened bullock!'
Belsey sucked his teeth. 'My God! A nine-pounder weighs well over a ton! It'd take a bit of holding down!'
Bolitho said, 'If I cut the lashings, Stockdale, could you.......’
The man grinned down at him. `Say no more, Captain!' He swung the heavy axe. `Just a few minutes is all I'd need!'
`A few minutes are all you'll get, my lad!' Bolitho eased himself up the ladder and peered through the hatch. Again the whole deck area was deserted. He stared up the next and final ladder and then said, `You can stay behind, Belsey. You can't fight with one arm.'
`Nor can I sit an' do nothin', sir!' Belsey eyed him stubbornly. `Never mind me, sir. I can still do a bit.'
Any sound made by their stealthy. footsteps was drowned by the creak of spars and the thrumming rattle of shrouds and rigging. Bolitho peered quickly at the nearest line of lashed guns and the shadowed shapes of their crews. Most of the men were lying on the deck or resting against the bulwark, and only a few were still on their feet. And they were watching outboard, their eyes only just raised above the hammock nettings.
Bolitho saw the solitary nine-pounder, its long outline jutting aft towards the maindeck. He could hear it creaking gently, as if angered by the lashings which held it tethered and impotent beside the capstan.
Bolitho brushed the sweat from his eyes and cursed the painful beating of his heart against his ribs. It was now or never. At any moment they would be seen for what they were and the gesture would have been in vain. While the others 'watched him with fixed fascination he stood up and sauntered openly towards the gun. Then he seated himself noisily on the deck and folded his arms across his chest as if trying to sleep.
Farquhar said between his teeth, `God, look at him! Surely one of those men will realise who he is?'
But the very openness of Bolitho's movements seemed to have killed any immediate interest, and while the Andiron rolled from one sickening arc to another the ship's forecastle remained quiet and undisturbed.
Belsey turned on his side by the hatch roaming and croaked, `Look! There's an officer coming!'
They watched in stricken silence as the blue and white shape of a ship's lieutenant made its way slowly forward from the maindeck towards the forecastle ladder. The officer had to pause halfway up the ladder as a heavier squall than usual struck the ship's side with a crash of spray which made the foremast vibrate like a young tree.
Then Stockdale who had turned his gaze back to Bolitho said, `He's done it!'
As the frigate's bows lifted and yawed against her anchor cable the nine pounder began to move. At first the movement was hardly noticeable, then with its small chocks squealing it thundered down the full length of the forecastle to smash with shivering force against the foot of the foremast.
Everyone was yelling and shouting at once. Some of the shouts changed to cries of fear as the gun swung malevolently as if controlled by invisible hands and then charged crazily back across the sloping deck.
The lieutenant called, `You men! Get handspikes and fresh lashings! Lively there, or it'll smash through the sidel'
The anchor watch rose from their concealed positions and ran back from the bows to join the stampede of men at the break of the forecastle. In the centre of the confusion, jubilant and deadly, the long nine pounder turned its muzzle as if to sniff out new havoc, and then careered squeaking and rumbling towards the opposite side. It crashed against another gun and scattered a shot rack like loose pebbles. The rolling cannon balls added to the pandemonium, and some could be heard thudding on to the deck below.
A braver seaman than some leapt across the gun's breech, his hands already fastening a rope's eye around the muzzle. But as the gun trundled back again he screamed and fell against the bulwark to receive the twenty-six hundredweight of wood and metal full on his chest.
Bolitho seized Farquhar's arm-and snapped, 'Look! They've got a wedge under the carriage! We've not long now.'
Even as he spoke some of the seamen around the gun turned and stared, their expressions of shock and disbelief changing to cold fury. Bolitho and his two companions slowly retreated towards the bows, the wind and sea at their backs, a converging mass of men driving towards them, all the more terrible because of their complete silence.
Then, to break the spell, a man bellowed, 'Kill them! Cut the bastards down!'
Pressed on by the men behind, the whole mob swept forward, only to sway to an uncertain halt as something like a gunshot. echoed around the deck, followed instantly by Stockdal's great shout of triumph.
'It's parted! The cable's cut!'
For a moment longer the Andiron's seamen stared at one another, and then as the realisation of their unexpected peril dawned on their minds they hesitated no longer. An officer was yelling from the maindeck, and the cry was carried forward by men who had still managed to keep their heads.
'Hands aloft! Hands aloftl Loose tops'ls!'
From aft Bolitho heard his brother's voice magnified and hardened by his speaking trumpet. 'Man the wheel there!' And then as the ship trembled from stem to stem like a released animal he shouted, 'Mr. Faulknerl Drive those men to the braces!'
Bolitho leaned against the rail, the dirk still held across his body as the frigate heeled still further and began to fall away. Men were running wildly up the shrouds, and already a small patch of canvas was billowing and flapping against the dark sky.
The speaking trumpet called again. 'Cover those men on the fo'c's'le! Shoot them down if they try to escape!'
Belsey wiped his forehead and muttered, 'If our lads is out there they'll not want to try an' board!' He peered at Bolitho's tense face. 'I can die in peace now, sir! I reckon we did right well tonight!'
Bolitho saw his face light up with a bright orange glow, and as he turned in surprise the air around him seemed to come alive with the searing whine of gunshot. Stays and halyards parted, and beyond his feet the deck planking splintered and cracked as a thousand balls swept across the forepart of the ship.
Farquhar pointed. `Look! The battery has fired on us!' He waved his hat. `The stupid fools have fired on their own men!'
Bolitho pulled him down. 'And us! So keep your head lowered, Mr. Farquhar. You may have use for it still!'
There was no further gunfire, but the one, carefully loaded salvo was sufficient. The prompt action by the Andiron's officers and the quick response of her more level-headed sailors might have taken her clear of danger. But as the whining barrage of grapeshot swept her shrouds and yards free of men and cut down some of the hands still cramming her maindeck, the last opportunity was lost. The black outline of Dogwood Point ap
peared to grow double in size until the ship was dwarfed beneath it. Even then it looked as if the wind and tide would carry her clear, but as Bolitho pulled his gaping companions to the deck the Andiron gave a long-drawn-outshudder, followed instantly by a tremendous crash which threw the remaining seamen from their feet.
Belsey stared up at the sky and crossed himself. 'The mainmast is fallin'! My God, so is the mizzen!'
Fascinated, Bolitho watched the two great masts shiver and then bow very slowly towards the starboard side. Then as stays parted and the angle became more acute the masts thundered down in a flapping tangle of spars and torn sails to plunge eventually into the white-crested water alongside.
Another crash and yet another shook the bull, and while the deck tilted more and more towards the sea Bolitho dragged himself to his feet and shouted, 'She's hard on the sandbar! She'll break her back and capsize in minutes!'
He could hear guns tearing themselves from their lashings and charging across the deck to carve through the screaming, struggling remnants of their late masters. There was to hope of lowering a boat, and nobody even attempted it. Already some were leaping overboard, to be swept away instantly in the strong current. Others ran below as if to find safety in the darkness, and all around voices cried and pleaded, threatened and cursed as their ship broke up beneath them.
The foremast splintered some four feet from the deck and followed the rest into the sea. From a trim frigate the Andiron„ was changed into a lolling, dismasted hulk, already a thing of ugliness and horror.
Belsey shouted above the din, `There's a hatch cover, sir! Look, floating by the' bowsprit!' He watched Bolitho wildly, 'We could jump for itl'
Bolitho turned to watch as the deck shivered yet again and another released gun charged through a group of crawling seamen. Then he saw his brother standing alone by the quay.. terdeck rail, his body appearing to be at a forty-five-degree angle on the heeling deck. He was not calling any more, but was standing quite motionless, as if to share the agony of his ship to the last.
To Glory We Steer Page 21
