Herrick strode up the slope and said, `Shall we return to the ship, sir?'
Bolitho shook his head. `We'll walk a little further, Mr. Herrick.'
He pushed through a line of sun-scarred bushes and headed away from the beach. Herrick walked beside him in silence, no doubt thinking of the strangeness of the land around him. The sea's gentle hiss was gone and the air was heavy with alien smells and a thick, clinging humidity.
Bolitho said at length, `I hope Okes can get the men working quickly. Every hour may be precious.'
`You are thinking of the French, sir?'
Bolitho wiped the sweat from his face and nodded. `De Grasse may have sailed by now. If he behaves as Sir George Rodney believes he will, his fleet will already be striking west for Jamaica.' He looked up fretfully at the limp leaves and cloudless sky. `Not a breath of wind. Nothing. We were lucky it held long enough for us to reach here!'
Herrick was breathing heavily. `My God, sir, I'm feeling this!' He mopped his face. `I have not set foot ashore since Falmouth. I had almost forgotten what it was like.'
Falmouth. Again the name brought back a flood of memories to Bolitho as he strode unseeingly through the thick scrub. His father would still be waiting and wondering, nursing the hurt which Hugh had left with him. Bolitho wondered momentarily what would have happened if he had seen and recogpised his brother on the Andiron's poop on that first savage encounter. Would he have pressed home his attack with such fervour? If he had caused Hugh's death it might have eased the minds of the Navy, but in his heart Bolitho knew that it would only have added to his father's grief and sense of loss.
Perhaps Hugh already had another ship. He dismissed the idea at once. The French would not trust another prize to a man who had allowed Andiron to fall into her own snare. And the American rebel government had few ships to spare. No, Hugh would have his own problems in plenty at this moment.
He thought too of Vibart, left behind in charge of the Frigate. It was strange how Evans' murder had affected him. Bolitho had always thought Evans to be more of a toady than s friend of the first lieutenant. Yet his death seemed in some way to have deprived Vibart of something familiar and reliable, the last outlet from his own isolation. Bolitho knew that Vibart blamed him for Evans' death, as much as he hated Allday for the deed. Vibart viewed humanity like sentiment. To him both were useless. hindrances to duty.
He also knew that he would never see eye to eye with Vibart whatever happened. To Bolitho the humane treatment of his men, the understanding of their problems, and the earning of their loyalty, were as precious as gold. Equally he knew he must uphold this difficult and bitter man, for commanding a ship of war left little room for personal animosity amongst officers.
Bolitho halted with a jerk and pointed. `Is that a marine?'
Herrick stood beside him breathing deeply. A red coat flashed between the dull foliage and then another, and as Bolitho started forward, Sergeant Garwood appeared at the head of a file of sweating marines.
Bolitho asked sharply, `What are you doing ashore, Sergeant?'
Garwood stared fixedly over Bolitho's shoulder. `Mr. Vibart 'as sent all the marines across, sir.' He swallowed hard. `The prisoner Allday 'as escaped, sir. We've been sent to catch 'im again!'
Bolitho heard Herrick catch his breath and glanced quickly at his, streaming face. He could see the shock and disappointment plain on the lieutenant's' features, as if he was personally involved.
`I see.' Bolitho controlled the sudden rise of anger and added calmly, `Where is Captain Rennie?’
'T'other side of the island, sir.' Garwood looked unhappy. `The relief sentry found the cell guard clubbed senseless an' the prisoner gone, sir. 'Is manacles 'ad been struck off too, sir.,
'So someone else was involved?' Bolitho stared hard at the sergeant's bronzed features. `Who else is missing?'
The marine gulped. 'Yer clerk, Ferguson, sir!'
Bolitho turned away. `Very well, I suppose you had better carry on now that you are here.' He watched the man clump gratefully away and then said tightly, `Mr; Vibart was over hasty to send all the marines ashore. If the ship was surprised at her anchor by another vessel, there woud be insufficient men to repel an attack.' He turned abruptly. `Come, we will go back to the beach.'
Herrick said wretchedly, 'I am sorry, sir. I feel to blame more than ever. I trusted Allday, and I was the one who chose Ferguson as your clerk.'
Bolitho replied flatly, `It has proved that we were both wrong, Mr. Herrick. An innocent man does not run!' He added, `Mr. Vibart should not have allowed his anger to blind his judgement in this matter. Allday will surely die if he is left here. He will go mad on this island once the ship has sailed, and will not thank Ferguson for his rescue from a cell!'
They hurried across the beach, and the drowsing gig's crew jerked into life as the two officers climbed aboard.
Bolitho shaded his eyes to look at the anchored frigate as the gig moved slowly across the placid water. The sun was only just showing above the nearest hump of land, and the Phalarope's: yards and topmasts were shining as if coated with
gilt.
Herrick asked quietly, 'If the marines catch Allday, sir. What will you do?'
`I will hang him this time, Mr. Herrick. For the sake of discipline I have no choice now.' He glanced back at the land. `For that reason I hope they do not find him.'
The bowman hooked on to the chains, and Bolitho pulled himself through the entry port.
At his elbow Herrick snapped, `Why did you not hail the gig, man?' His own unhappy thoughts put an unusual edge to his voice.
The seaman at the entry port blinked and stammered, `I'm sorry, sir. I-I ..: His voice trailed away as he stared up at the quarterdeck.
There was a tight group of seamen beneath the quarterdeck, and as the cold realisation seeped into Bolitho's brain, they pushed out into the growing sunlight which shone and reflected on their raised muskets.
Herrick thrust Bolitho aside and reached for his sword, but a giant sailor with a pistol snapped, `Stay where you are, Mr. Herrick!' He pointed up at the quarterdeck rail. `Otherwise it will go hard with that one!'
Two more men appeared from behind the cabin hatch, between them carrying the small, struggling figure of Midshipman Neale. One man drew a knife from his belt and laid it across Neale's throat, grinning down at the two officers as
he did so.
The tall seaman, whom Bolitho now recognised as Onslow, stepped slowly across the maindeck, his pistol trained on Herrick. `Well, Mr. Herrick? Do you drop your sword?' He grinned lazily. `It's all the same to me!'
Bolitho said, `Do as he says, Mr. Herrick.' He had seen the brightness in Onslow's eyes, and knew that the man was eager, desperately eager to kill. He was only just keeping his pent up madness in check. One false move and there would be no more time left to act.
The sword clattered on the deck. Onslow kicked it aside and called sharply, `Take the gig's crew forrard and batten 'em down with the other pretty boys!' He tapped his nose with his pistol. `They'll all join us later, or feed the fish!'
Some of the men laughed. It was a wild, explosive sound. Brittle with tension.
Bolitho studied Onslow, the first shock giving way to sudden caution. Every captain dreaded such a moment. Some had earned it, others had fallen foul of uncontrollable circumstances. Now it had happened to him. To the Phalarope.
It was mutiny.
Onslow watched as the gig's crew was bundled below deck and then said, `We'll up anchor as soon as a likely wind blows. We have the master below, and either he or .you will take the ship to open waters.'
Herrick said hoarsely, `You're mad! You'll swing for this!' The pistol barrel came down sharply, and Herrick dropped to his knees, his hands across his forehead.
Bolitho saw the blood bright across Herrick's fingers and said coldly, `And if the wind fails to arrive, Onslow? What will you do?'
Onslow nodded, his eyes searching Bolitho's face. `A good question. Well, we have a good
little ship beneath us. We can sink any boat which tries to board us, do you not agree?'
Bolitho kept his face impassive, but realised that Onslow had good reasons for confidence. Outnumbered by the rest of the crew and Rennie's marines, Onslow was still in a position of king. Even a handful of men could keep boats at bay with the frigate's guns loaded with grape. He glanced at the sun. It would be hours yet before Okes started on the long march back to the beach.
He said slowly. `So it was you all the time.'
Another man, small and stinking of rum, capered round the two officers. `He done it all! Just as 'e said 'e would!'
Onslow snarled, `Stow it, Pock!' Then more calmly, `Your clerk told me when the ship was nearing land. All I had to do was foul the fresh-water casks with salt.' He laughed, amused by the very simplicity of his plan. `Then, when you headed this way, I killed that rat Evans.'
Bolitho said, `You must have been afraid of Aliday to incriminate him with murder!'
Onslow glanced along the deck and then said calmly, 'It was necessary. I knew if the bullocks were still aboard some of my white-livered friends might not be so willing to sieze the ship!' He shrugged. `So I had Allday released, and the bullocks went charging off after him. Just as I knew they would!'
`You've damned yourself, Onslow!' Bolitho kept his voice level. `But think of these other men with you. Will you see them hanged?'
Onslow shouted, `Shut your mouth! And -think yourself lucky I've not had you strung up at the mainyard! I'm going to barter the ship for our freedom! No bloody navy'll catch us after that!'
Bolitho hardened his tone to hide his rising despair. `You are a fool if you believe that!'
His head jerked back as Onslow struck him across the face with the back of his hand. `Silence!' Onslow's shout brought more men pressing around. Herrick was dragged to his feet and his hands were pinioned behind him. He was still dazed, and his face was streaming with blood.
Bolitho said, `You can send the officers ashore. They are nothing to you, Onslow.'
'Ah now, Captain; you're wrong there!' Onslow's good humour was returning. `Hostages. You may fetch a good price, too!' He laughed. `But then you must be getting used to that!'
Pook yelled, `Why not kill 'em now?' He waved a cutlass. `Let me have 'em!'
Onslow looked at Bolitho. `You see? Only I can save you.1 'What have you done with the first lieutenant? Bolitho saw
Pook nudge another seaman. `Have you killed him, too?' Pook sniggered. `Not likely! We're savin' 'im for a bit o' sport later on!'
Onslow flexed his arms. `He's flogged enough of us, Captain. I'll see how he likes the cat across his fat hide!'
Herrick muttered between his clenched teeth, `Think of what you're doing! You are selling this ship to the enemy!'
`You're my enemy!' Onslow's nostrils flared as. if he had been touched with a hot iron. `I'll do what I like. with her, and with you, too!'
Bolitho said quietly, 'Easy, Mr. Herrick. There is nothing you can do:'
`Spoken like a true gentleman!' Onslow gave a slow grin. `It's best to know when you're beaten!' Then sharply he called, `Lock them below, lads! And kill the first bugger who tries anything!'
Some of the men growled with obvious disapproval. Their lust was high. They were all committed. Bolitho knew that Onslow's careful plan was only half clear in their rum-sodden minds.
Onslow added, `As soon as the wind gets up, we're off, lads! You can leave the rest to Harry Onslow!'
Herrick and Bolitho were pushed along the deck and down into the dark confines of a small storeroom. A moment later Midshipman Neale and Proby, the master, were thrust in with them and the door slammed shut.
High up the side of the cabin was a small circular port, used to ventilate the compartment and the stores it normally contained. Bolitho guessed that the mutineers had already dragged the contents elsewhere for their own uses.
In the darkness Neale sobbed, `I-I'm sorry, sir! I let you down! I was on watch when it all happened!'
Bolitho said quietly, `It was not your fault, boy. The odds were against you this time. It was just ironic that Onslow stayed aboard because he could not be trusted off the ship!'
Neale said brokenly, 'Mr. Vibart was in his cabin. They seized him and nearly killed him! Onslow stopped them just in time!'
Herrick said bleakly, `Not for long!' Then with sudden fury, `The fools! The French or the Spanish will never bargain with Onslow! They won't have to. They'll seize the Phalarope and take the whole lot prisoners!'
Bolitho said, `I know that, Herrick. But if the mutineers began to think as you do, they'd have no reason for sparing our lives!'
`I see, sir.' Herrick was peering at him in the gloom. `And I thought . .
`You imagined that I had given up hope?' Bolitho breathed out slowly. `Not yet. Not without a fight!'
He stood up on an empty box and peered through the small vent hole. The ship had swung slightly at her cable and he could see the far end of the little beach and a low hill beyond. There was no sign of life. Nor had he expected any.
Proby muttered, `Two of the mutineers I know well. Good men, with no cause to follow scum like Onslow and Pook!' He added thickly, `It'll do 'em no good. They'll be caught and hanged with the rest!'
Herrick slipped and cursed in the darkness. `Damn!' He groped with his fingers. `Some old butter! Rancid as bilge water!'
Bolitho cocked his head to listen to the sudden stamp of feet and a wave of laughter. `They've taken more than butter, Mr. Herrick. They'll be too drunk to control soon!' He thought of the knife's glitter across Neale's throat. Soon the second phase would be enacted. The mutineers. would get bored with merely drinking. They would have to prove themselves. To kill.
He said, `Can you come up here beside me, Neale?' He felt the midshipman struggling on to the box. `Now, do you think you could get through that vent?'
Neale's eyes flickered in the shaft of sunlight. He replied doubtfully, `It's very small, sir.' Then more firmly, `I'll try!'
Proby asked, `What do you have in mind, sir?'
Bolitho ran his hands across the circular hole. It was barely ten inches across. He controlled the rising excitement in his heart. It had to be tried.
He said, `If Neale could slip through ..: He broke off. The butter! Quick, Neale, strip off your clothes!' He reached out for Herrick. `We'll rub him with butter, Herrick, and ease him through, like a sponge in a gun barrel!'
Neale pulled off his clothes and stood uncertainly in the centre of the storeroom. In the faint glow from the vent hole his small body shone like some discarded statue. Bolitho took a double handful of stinking butter from the deck and ignoring Neale's cry of alarm slapped it across his shoulders. As Herrick followed suit Bolitho said quickly, 'The loyal men, Neale, where are they?'
Neale's teeth were beginning to chatter uncontrollably but he replied, 'In the cable tier, sir. The surgeon and some of the older hands as well.'
'Just as I thought.' Bolitho stood back and wiped his palms on his breeches. `Now listen. If we get you through this hole, could you climb along the forechains?'
Neale nodded. 'I'll try, sir.'
'The others will be locked in the tier by staple. If I can distract the guards you open the door and release them.' He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. 'But if anyone sees you, forget what I said and jump for it. You could swim ashore before anyone could catch you.'
He turned to the others. 'Right, lend a hand here!'
Neale felt like a greasy fish, and at the first attempt they nearly dropped him.
Herrick suggested, 'One arm first, Neale, then your head.'
They tried again, with the room plunged into total darkness as the struggling, wriggling midshipman was forced into the vent hole.
The boy was gasping with pain, and Proby said, 'Lucky he ain't no fatter.'
Then, with a sudden rush he was through, and after a few agonising seconds, while they all waited for a shouted challenge from the deck, his eyes appeared outside the
vent hole. He was scarlet in the face and his shoulder was bleeding from the rough passage.
But he was strangely determined, and Bolitho said softly, 'Take your time, boy. And no chances!'
Neale vanished, and Herrick said heavily, 'Well, at least he's out of it if the worst happens.'
Bolitho looked at him sharply. It was almost as if Herrick had read his own thoughts. But he replied calmly, 'I'll blow this ship to hell before I let it fall to the enemy, Mr. Herrickl Make no mistake about it!'
Then, in silence, he settled down to wait.
John Allday leaned against a tall slab of rock, his chest heaving from exertion as he fought to regain his breath. A few paces away, lying like a corpse with his head and shoulders in a small pool, Bryan Ferguson drank deeply, pausing every so often to give a great gasp for air.
Allday turned to look back through the tangled mass of small trees through which they had just come. There was still no sign of pursuit, but he had no doubt that the alarm was now under way.
He said, 'I've not had time to thank you, Bryan. That was a rash thing you did!'
Ferguson rolled on to his side and stared at him with glazed eyes. 'Had to do it. Had to.'
'It's your neck as well as mine now, Bryan.' Allday studied him sadly. 'But at least we're free. There's always hope when you have your freedom!'
He had been lying in his darkened cell listening to the familiar sounds of boats filling with men and pushing off from the frigate's hull. Then, as the emptied ship had fallen into silence, there had been a cry of alarm and the thud of a body falling against the door.
Ferguson had wrenched it open, his mouth slack with fear, his fingers trembling as he had unlocked the shackles and gabbled out some vague ideas of escape.
The dawn wass still a dull smudge in the sky as they had slipped quietly over the side into the cool water. Like many sailors Allday could hardly swim a stroke, but Ferguson, driven by the desperation of fear, had helped him, until choking and gasping they had both staggered on to the safety of the beach.
To Glory We Steer Page 28
