Command a King`s Ship

11. Luck of the Game

Bolitho studied the masthead pendant and then walked aft to the compass. North-west by west. It was mid-afternoon, and despite the sky's unclouded, relentless glare there was sufficient wind to make it easier to endure. Undine had been made to lie at anchor in Pendang Bay almost until dusk the previous day, the set of the coastal currents and the wind's determination to remain from the south-west making a night passage too dangerous even to attempt. But in the last moments the wind had backed considerably, and with her sleek hull tilting to its pressure, Undine had beaten out of the bay, losing the settlement and its grim memories in purple shadow.

But if the wind had remained fresh it was still necessary to hold the ship close-hauled, the yards braced round to keep each sail drawing and steer Undine clear of the land. Should the wind veer without warning, and she lay too close to that undulating pattern of green coast, Undine could easily find herself hard upon a lee shore, and in real danger.

Herrick asked, 'How much longer will we continue, sir?'

Bolitho did not reply immediately. He was watching the tiny triangular sails of Undine's cutter as it tacked daintily around a small clump of rocky islets.

Then he shifted his gaze to the maintop where Midshipman Keen sat with one bare leg dangling over the barricade, a telescope trained on the distant boat. Davy had the cutter, and would signal the moment he sighted anything. There was no sense in taking the ship too close when good visibility remained.

He said, 'We are off the south-western cape, or as near as I can calculate. There are marshes and swamps a'plenty, accord ing to Mr. Mudge and Fowlar. If Captain Vega's information is correct, the Muljadi's vessels may be close by.'

He turned his face into the wind, feeling the sweat drying on his forehead and neck.

'The Benua Islands are about a hundred miles to the west'rd of us. A goodly piece of open water, if we get the chance to run these pirates down.'

Herrick watched him doubtfully, but was comforted by Bolitho's apparent optimism.

'What do we know of Muljadi, sir?'

Bolitho walked up the slanting deck to the'e weather rail and tugged the sticky shirt clear of his ribs.

'Little or nothing. Originally he came from somewhere in North Africa, Morocco or the Barbary Coast, jtt is said. He was taken as a slave by the Dons and chained in one of their galleys.

He escaped and was recaptured.'

Herrick whistled quietly. 'I imagine the Dons were hard with him.'

Bolitho thought suddenly of the elderly Colonel Pastor and his impossible mission.

'The Dons lopped off a hand and an ear and left him marooned on some desolate beach.'

Herrick shook his head. 'Yet somehow he reached the Indies, and can now strike fear into his old masters.'

Bolitho regarded him impassively. 'Or whoever stands between him and his final goal, whatever that may be.'

They both stared up as Keen yelled, 'Deck there! Cutter's signalled, sir! Mr. Davy points to the north'rd 1'

Bolitho snatched a glass. 'Of course! I should have realised!'

He trained it on the cutter, and then beyond to the gently sloping cape. Tiny islets, crumbling ridges and rocks, and everywhere the unbroken backcloth of green. Any small vessel could work her way through there, as Davy's cutter was now doing.

Herrick slammed his fists together. 'Got 'em, by God!'

Bolitho said crisply, 'We will remain on this tack for the present. Hoist the recall signal for Mr. Davy and then beat to quarters.' He smiled, if only to ease the mounting excitement. 'In ten minutes maybe?'

Herrick waited until Keen had shinned down a backstay to rejoin his signal party and then yelled, 'Beat to quarters! Clear for action!'

A solitary drummer-boy did the best he could, his sticks blurring in double-time as the tattoo brought the hands tumbling from hatchways and gratings.

'That might frighten 'em off, sir.'

Mudge was by his helmsmen, his jowl working on some meat or a quid of tobacco. There was little to choose between them, Bolitho often thought.

'I believe otherwise.'

Bolitho watched the bare-backed seamen dashing to their guns, casting off the lashings and groping for the tools of their trade. A reduced detachment of marines, under the command of a solitary corporal, was parading across the quarterdeck, while a handful more clambered aloft to the foretop and its swivel gun.

The cutter had already turned bows-on, her sails lowered, and thrusting through the inshore swell under oars alone.

'They will not have met with many frigates, I'm thinking. Their leader will try to reach open sea and outreach us, rather than face a blockade or the risk of our landing marines at his back.' He touched Mudge's arm impetuously. 'He'll not know how unused we are to such affairs, eh?'

Mudge pouted. 'I only 'ope that bugger Muljadi is 'ere, too! 'E needs to be taught a lesson, an' double quick, in my reckonin'!'

'Deck there!' The lookout at the masthead waited until the scamper on the gun deck stopped. 'Sail on th' lee bowl'

'By heaven, so there is!' Midshipman Keen gripped a seaman's arm and added excitedly, 'Schooner by the cut of her!'

The seaman, pigtailed, and with ten years in the Navy, glanced at him and grinned.

'By God, I envy you young gennlemen your learnin', sir!'

But his sarcasm was lost in the excitement of the moment.

Herrick held up his hand as the last gun captain faced aft towards him. From the break below the quarterdeck a bosun's mate shouted, 'All cleared aft, sir!' Herrick swung round and saw Bolitho examining his new watch.

'Cleared for action, sir.'

'Twelve minutes, exactly.' Bolitho glanced up at the masthead. 'But for the lookout's hail, I believe you may have done it in less.' He let the mock formality drop. 'Well done, Mr. Herrick and pass the word to all hands.'

He walked back down the angled deck and trained his glass across the nettings. Two raked masts with big dark sails. Like wings. They appeared motionless, the hull still hidden beyond one more probing spit of land. It was an illusion. She was edging around the last dangerous point. After that she would be up and away. But it would take her a good while yet.

He swung round. 'Where is that damned cutter?'

Mowll, the master-at-arms, and easily the most unpopular man aboard, called, 'Comin' up fast, sir!'

'Well, signal Mr. Davy to make haste. I'll have to leave him astern otherwise.'

'Deck there! 'Tis another sail on th' lee bow!'

Herrick watched in silence until he had discovered the second pair of sails in his glass.

'Another schooner. Probably Company ships taken by these pirates.,

'No doubt.'

Bolitho turned to watch the cutter swinging round to drive beneath the main chains with a shuddering thud. Curses and clattering oars, all were finally quenched by Davy's angry voice and the more patient tones of Shellabeer, the boatswain, who was studying the whole manoeuvre from the gangway with obvious disgust.

Allday had been standing behind Bolitho and whispered, 'Should have had young Mr. Armitage in charge, Captain. He'd have driven right through into the spirit store, cutter an' all!'

Bolitho smiled and allowed Allday to buckle on his sword. He had not seen his coxswain since breakfast, just after dawn. Yet the moment of danger, a hint of action, and he was here. Without fuss, and hardly a word to betray his presence. Maybe.'

He saw Midshipman Armitage with Soames below the foremast, checking a list of gun crews which Soames had reallotted on passage from India. He found a moment to wonder what Armitage's mother would think if she saw her adored boy now. Leaner, and well tanned, his hair too long, and his shirt in need of a good wash. She would probably burst into tears all over again. But in one way -he had not changed. He was still as clumsy and as lacking in confidence as his first day aboard.

Little Penn, on the other hand, who was strutting importantly beside the starboard battery of twelve-pounders and waiting to assist Lieutenant Davy, had no such handicap. If anything, he was prone to attempt tasks which were several spans of experience beyond his twelve years.

Davy came struggling aft, ducking beneath a swinging shadow as the cutter was hoisted inboard and on to its chocks above the gun deck. He was soaked in spray, but very pleased with himself.

Bolitho said, 'That was well done. By making a quick sighting-report, you have given us an edge on those two vessels.'

Davy beamed. 'Some prize-money perhaps, sir?'

Bolitho hid a smile. 'We will see.'

Herrick waited for Davy to join his gun crews and then said, 'Just the two schooners. Nothing else in sight.' He rubbed his hands noisily.

Bolitho lowered the telescope and nodded. 'Very well, Mr. Herrick. You may load and run out now.' He glanced at the masthead pendant for the hundredth time. 'We will make more sail directly, and show these pirates what they are against.'

'Both schooners are keeping well inshore, sir.' Herrick lowered his telescope and turned to watch Bolitho's reactions. 'With that rig they can sail really close to the wind.'

Bolitho walked to the compass, the picture of the two other vessels sharp in his mind. For over half an hour they had worked slowly and methodically between a small crop of islets, and were now following the coastline towards a sloping spur of headland. Around that there was yet another bay, with more jutting spits of land, but the schooners would choose their moment most carefully. Go about and dash for the open sea, separate perhaps, and so lessen Undine's chances of conquest.

They were both well-handled vessels, and through his glass he had seen an assortment of small cannon and swivels, and an equally varied selection of men.

Mudge watched him gloomily. 'Wind's backed a'piece, sir. Might 'old.'

Bolitho turned and stared along his ship, weighing the risks and the gains. The green headland was reaching down towards Undine's starboard bow, or so it appeared. In fact, it was still some three miles distant. The two schooners, black against the lively wave crests, seemed to overlap into one ungainly craft, their great sails etched across the land.

He said firmly, 'Get the t'gallants on her, and alter course two points to starboard.'

Herrick stared at him. 'It'll be close, sir. If the wind veers we'll be hard put to beat off the shore.'

When Bolitho did not reply he sighed and lifted his speaking trumpet.

'Man the braces!'

From further aft the helmsmen spun their spokes, the senior one squinting at the flapping canvas and at the tilting compass bowl until even Mudge was satisfied.

'Not'-west by north, sir!'

'Very well.'

Bolitho studied the headland again. A trap for the two schooners, or a last resting place for Undine, as Herrick seemed to think.

Herrick was watching the topmen, waiting until the topgallant sails were freed and then brought under control like bulging steel breastplates. Undine was moving swiftly now, for with the wind sweeping tightly across her larboard quarter, and with topsails and topgallants braced to best advantage, there was little doubt the range was falling away.

Mudge asked worriedly, 'D'you think they'll try to go about, sir?'

'Perhaps.' Bolitho shivered as a curtain of spray lifted and burst across the weather rail, soaking him to the skin, adding to his rising excitement. 'They'll try and weather the headland as close as they dare and use the next bay to change tack. Or, if one or both loses his head, we'll rake 'em as he goes about on this side of the headland.'

He peered at the gun deck, at the figures beside each twelvepounder. One good broadside would be more than enough for any schooner. The second might strike without risking a similar fate. He shut it from his mind. The fight was not even begun yet.

He pictured Conway back there in his remote kingdom. He would know better than Puigserver or Raymond what was at stake. With any luck Undine might settle Conway's security long enough for him to demonstrate what he could do.

A faint crack echoed across the water and a white feather of spray showed itself for just a few seconds., well away from the starboard bow. It brought a chorus of jeers from the waiting gun crews.

'Run up the Colours, Mr. Keen.'

Bolitho saw the handful of marines in the foretop adjusting their swivel gun. Some more were already cradling their long muskets along the hammock nettings, their faces stiff with concentration.

'One of 'em's making a run for it, sir!'

Bolitho caught his breath as the sternmost schooner tilted at a steep angle, her great mainsail sweeping above her deck like a huge wing while she altered course hard to larboard.

Somebody yelled, 'By Jesus, she's in irons! Look at th' bugger!'

The schooner's captain had mistimed it very badly, for as his command pounded round to cross the wind's eye and find sea-room elsewhere, the sails flapped and rippled in hopeless confusion.

Bolitho shouted, 'We'll take him first! Stand by, the larboard battery!'

He saw Soames hurrying down his line of guns, the captains crouching like athletes behind each breech, trigger lines taut as they peered through the open ports for a first sight of the target.

Bolitho straddled his legs and tried to hold his telescope on the nearest vessel. She was falling awkwardly down-wind, her narrow deck clearly visible as her crew fought to bring her back under control. Undine was overhauling her so rapidly that she was already lying some two cables from the larboard bow, and seemed to swell in size even as he watched. He saw the strange flag at her peak, black, with a red emblem in its centre. A prancing beast of some sort. He closed the glass with a snap and saw Keen flinch at the sound.

Allday grinned. 'Two minutes, Captain. Just right.' He nodded towards the opposite bow where the other schooner was holding steadily on course towards the headland. 'He seems content to let his mates go under.'

Soames was peering aft, his curved hanger glittering in the bright sunlight as he raised it slowly above his head. The glare was making him grimace so badly that he appeared to be grinning like a madman.

Bolitho looked at Mudge. 'Let her fall off another point.' He forced a smile. 'Not a moment longer than necessary, I promise.'

He pulled out his sword and held it casually across his shoulder. Through his crumpled shirt it felt like ice.

The helmsman yelled hoarsely, 'Nor', nor'-west it is, sir!'

There was no time to perfect the set of the yards, no time for anything now as with barely a stagger Undine turned even further towards the shore, the movement dragging the labouring schooner into the view of the eager gun captains.

Bolitho shouted, 'As you bear, Mr. Soames!'

Soames bellowed, 'Stand by!' He came loping aft, pausing at each gun to peer along its muzzle. Satisfied, he jumped aside and yelled, 'Fire!'

Bolitho tensed as the uneven broadside belched and shuddered along his ship's side. Soames had done well. To an extra puff of wind which had pushed the frigate over to leeward, he had judged it perfectly, taking the enemy ship on the uproll, raking her savagely from end to end.

Bolitho grasped a stay, his eyes blinded with smoke as the wind funnelled it back through every port. Men were coughing and swearing in the thick brown fog, but urged on by shouts and threats they were still managing to sponge out and reload for another broadside when needed.

He stared with amazement at the schooner as the smoke cleared away from the quarterdeck. Dismasted, almost buried under a chaos of fallen spars and ripped canvas, she seemed a total wreck.

'Bring her back to nor'-west by north, Mr. Mudge.'

He did not see the master's face, his look of relief and admiration. His ears were still ringing to the thunder of cannon fire, the sharper, probing cracks of the quarterdeck six-pounders. He hoped the less experienced men had found time to tie their scarves over their ears. Caught at the wrong angle, it only took one shot to deafen a man. Often permanently.

'Run out!' Soames was peering at his crews as gun captain after captain raised a powder-blackened fist to show his weapon was loaded.

Herrick shouted, 'Now for t'other one!'

He waved to Davy at the starboard battery, the gesture impulsive, unnoticed by himself. Davy waved back, his movement jerky, like a puppet. As they swept after the second schooner Midshipman Penn moved slightly to place his lieutenant between him and any possible damage.

Herrick laughed aloud. 'By God, young Penn has the right idea, sir!' He peered up at the streaming pendant. 'The wind is still kind, and this is putting new heart into our people.'

Bolitho watched him gravely. Later they would talk about it. But when it was happening, to you, to those around you, it was pointless to discuss anything. You never really knew the man in action. Pride, anger, insanity, it was there, and more. Even on Herrick's homely face. His own, too, no doubt.

He said, 'We will run him as close as we can to the headland. After that it will be up to him. Strike or fight.'

He moved the sword-blade on his shoulder. The ice was gone. Now it was like a heated gun-barrel.

Mudge remarked, 'That master is a fool. 'E should 'ave gone about sooner. I would 'ave done so. Crossed Undine's bows afore we could blast 'im.' He sighed. "E'll not get a second chance, I'm tninkin'.'

Bolitho looked at him. Mudge was right of course. Undine was playing a dangerous game to drive so bravely towards a lee shore, but the schooners had taken even more of a chance.

Herrick was saying, 'Prize crew on one, and take the other in tow, eh, sir? We should get good recompense for two schooners, even if one of 'em is little more than a hulk.'

Bolitho watched the schooner without answering. Was Muljadi aboard her? Or in the other one, dying or already dead with some of his men? Better so, he thought, than fall into Puigserver's hands.

'Deck there!' The cry was almost lost above the chorus of spray and booming canvas. 'Ship on the larboard quarter!'

Bolitho swung round, imagining for a moment that the lookout had been too long in the sun. For an instant he could see nothing, and then as his vision cleared he saw the forecourse and topsail of another ship standing around the last headland, the one they had rounded so carefully in pursuit of the schooners.

Herrick gasped, 'What is she?' He stared at Bolitho. 'The Argus?'

Bolitho nodded grimly. 'I fear so, Mr. Herrick.'

He tried to keep his tone level when his whole being was screaming at him to act, to do the impossible. And how easy he had made it for them. He had allowed the schooners to draw him, like a fox after two rabbits. Argus must have been following them along the coast, waiting for the trap to be sprung, reading Bolitho's mind without even being able to see him.

Herrick exclaimed, 'Then, by God, we'll tell Mr. Frenchman to sheer off! This is none of his affair!'

Keen called, 'She's overhauling us, sir.'

Bolitho looked past him. The Argus was already beating well out on their larboard quarter, taking the wind-gage, doing exactly what he had attempted to do to the schooners. Now Undine was in the trap. Run aground, or try and claw to windward? He saw the sunlight flashing down the big frigate's exposed side, the small moving shadows above the creaming water as she ran out her whole broadside.

He thought of the man behind those guns. How did he feel at this moment?

Herrick said quietly, 'Eighteen-pounders, I'm told, sir?' He watched his face, as if hoping for a denial of Argus's strength. 'Yes.'

He drew in a long breath as a flag broke from the Frenchman's peak. Black and red, like the ones which had flown above the schooners. Letter of marque. Hired by a foreign power, the flag merely to keep up a pretence-of legality.

Keen lowered his telescope and said quickly, 'She's almost up to the dismasted schooner, sir.' He was managing to sound calm, but his hands were shaking badly. 'There are some men in the water. I think they were thrown outboard when the masts came down.'

Bolitho took the glass and watched, his mind cold as he saw the frigate ride through and over the men in the water. The captain had probably not even seen them. All he saw was Undine.

He raised his voice, hoping the others would not despair at its strangeness. 'We will alter course directly.' He ignored the unspoken protest on Mudge's heavy face. 'Get the t'gallants off her, Mr. Herrick. The Frenchman will expect us to do so if we are about to fight.' He looked at Mudge again. 'Without so much canvas we may be able to gain a little room to give an account of ourselves.'

Mudge replied harshly, 'It'll mean crossin' 'er bows, sir! Even if we gets round without 'avin' the sticks torn out of us, what then? The Argus will overreach us and put a full broadside through our stern as she passes!'

Bolitho regarded him bleakly. 'I am relying on his desire to retain the wind-gage, for without it he might change places with us.' He saw no agreement in Mudge's tiny eyes. 'Or would you have me haul down our colours, eh?'

Mudge flushed angrily. 'That ain't fair, sir!'

Bolitho nodded. 'Neither is a battle.'

Mudge looked away. 'I'll do me best, sir. Lay 'er as close to th' wind as she's ever bin.' He tapped the compass bowl. 'If th' wind 'olds, we should be able to steer almost due west.' He strode to the wheel. 'God 'elp me.'

Bolitho turned and saw the topmen sliding down to the deck again, felt the more sluggish motion as Undine plunged ahead on topsails and forecourse. A glance at the other ship told him that her captain was doing likewise. He had no need to worry. Undine would have to stand and fight. There was no room left to run away. He walked slowly back and forth, stepping unseeingly over the six-pounder tackles, his knee brushing against a crouching seaman as he passed. Argus's captain would be watching his every move. The advantage, if there was one," would last only seconds, a few minutes at best. He looked at the headland. It seemed very close now, extending far out beyond the larboard bow, like a great arm waiting to snatch them whole.

Then he strode to the quarterdeck rail and called, 'Mr. Soames 11 will want a broadside as we put about. You have small chance of hitting him, but the sudden challenge may have an effect.' He let his gaze move slowly along the upturned faces. 'You will have to reload and run out quicker than ever before. The Argus is a powerful ship and will endeavour to use her heavier iron to full advantage. We must get to close quarters.' He felt the grin frozen to his lips like a clamp. 'Show him that our lads are better, no matter what damn flag he wears!'

A few raised a cheer, but it was not much of a rally.

Herrick said quietly, 'Ready when you are, sir.'

It seemed very quiet. Bolitho looked aloft yet again. The pendant flicked out as before. If the wind backed further it would be some small help. If it veered it would be disaster. Then he looked at Soames as he clumped heavily aft and disappeared below the quarterdeck. To supervise the sternmost twelvepounders, which would bear first once they had altered course. Davy was by the foremast, sending some of his own gun crews across to assist the larboard battery. If Argus's eighteenpounders got to grips they would need plenty of replacements, he thought grimly.

He faced Herrick and smiled. 'Well, Thomas?'

Herrick shrugged. 'I'11 tell you what I think when it's over and done with, sir.'

Bolitho nodded. It was an unnerving feeling. It always was, of course, and yet you imagined that each time was worse than the one before. In an hour, in minutes, he could be dead. Thomas Herrick, his friend, might be fighting a battle not of his choosing, or screaming out his life on the orlop deck.

And Mudge. Hand-picked because of his vast store of knowledge. But for this commission he would have been discharged now. Living with his children, and his grandchildren, too, in all probability.

He snapped, 'So be it then! Put the helm down!' 'Man the braces. Lively there!'

Shuddering and groaning in protest, Undine slewed round to the thunder of wind and wildly flapping canvas. Bolitho saw spray bursting through the open ports as she swayed further and further to the violent change of tack. From the corner of his eye he saw the Argus's topsails lifting above the hammock nettings, her shape shortening as Undine swung round across her bows. A gun banged out, and the ball whimpered some where overhead. Someone must have fired too soon, or perhaps the French captain had already guessed what they were trying to do.

Soames was ready and waiting, and the first crash of gunfire shook the deck violently, the smoke swirling up and over the nettings in a writhing pall. Gun by gun down the side, from stern to bow, the six-pounders joining in as the Argus crossed each black muzzle. Bolitho saw her foresail jerk and throb to the onslaught, holes appearing like magic as Soames's gun crews fired, reloaded and fired again.

When he peered forward Bolitho saw that the headland had eased back to starboard, the schooner already tiny as she scuttled around it and into the next bay.

Mudge yelled, 'West by north, sir! Full an' bye!' He was mopping his eyes with his handkerchief, clinging to the mizzen mast pike rack to hold himself upright.

He gestured towards the gaff where the red ensign streamed almost abeam. 'Close as we can get, sir!'

Bolitho winced as the six-pounders barked out again, and saw the nearest one bounding inboard until caught and held by its tackle. Its crew was already sponging out and groping for fresh charges and another ball from the shot garland, eyes white and staring through the grime, voices lost in the crash and roar of cannon fire, the squeal of trucks as like angry hogs the heavy guns were run out towards the enemy.

The Argus had at last followed Bolitho's lead. She was swinging round, her yards braced almost fore and aft, to hold the wind and keep Undine under her lee.

Even as he watched Bolitho saw the long orange tongues flashing from her ports, the bombardment unhurried and carefully aimed as gun by gun she fired through the swirling curtain of smoke and spray.

A ball screamed above the quarterdeck and slapped through the maintopsail before dropping far abeam. Others were hitting the hull, above or below the waterline, Bolitho had no idea. He heard someone screaming through the choking smoke, saw men dashing hither and thither like prisoners in hell as they rammed home the new charges and threw their shining, blackened bodies to the tackles again and again.

Above the din he heard Soames's deep voice rallying and cursing as he kept his men at their guns. A swivel banged out from the top, and he imagined the marines were firing more to ease their own fears than with much hope of hitting anything,

A quarterdeck gun port seemed to explode in a great burst of flame, and Bolitho saw men, and pieces of men hurled in all directions at once as a ball tore splinters from the bulwark and transformed them into hideous darts.

One marine ran sobbing from the nettings, his hands clawing at what remained of his face. Others stood or knelt by their fallen companions, firing, reloading, firing, reloading, until it seemed life itself had stopped.

A down-draught of wind swirled the smoke away, and Bolitho saw the other frigate's yards and punctured sails barely fifty yards abeam. He saw the filtered sunlight touching pikes and cutlasses as the enemy prepared to board, or to fight off their attempt to do likewise. He gasped as another line of bright tongues darted through the smoke, felt the planks buck under his feet, the crash and clatter of a gun being overturned or smashed to fragments.

When he peered upwards he saw that the maintopsail was little better than a rag, but every spar was still intact. A wounded seaman clung to the mainyard, his blood running down one leg unheeded to the deck far below. Another seaman managed to reach him and drag him to safety, and together they crouched below the maintop, caught in the severed ratlines like two broken birds.

Herrick was yelling, 'He's trying to cripple us, sir! Take us as a prize!'

Bolitho nodded and stopped to drag an injured man clear of a six-pounder. He had already guessed Argus's intentions. Another ship for Muljadi's use, or perhaps to replace Argus so that she could return to France.

The thought seemed to drive into his heart like a knife.

'We'll put the helm hard down! Swing the bows right into him!' He did not recognise his own voice. 'Tell Davy to get ready to grapple!' He seized Herrick's arm. 'We must grapple! He'll pound us to splinters at this rate!'

He felt the blast of a ball past his head, heard it strike the opposite bulwark and send a mass of wood splinters scything across the deck like arrows.

Herrick was yelling to Mudge and the men at the braces, and through the smoke Bolitho saw Argus's shadowy outline loom above the forecastle, the sudden movement of figures in her bows as the two ships drove together.

Above the din of gunfire and shouting he heard the sails jerking and banging, the wind lost to them, the ship already falling sluggishly abeam.

Herrick staggered in some blood and gasped, 'No use! Can't grapple!'

Bolitho stared past him. The enemy was already edging ahead and across Undine's larboard bow, a few guns firing as she went, holding the wind and changing course very slightly while Undine floundered helplessly, her remaining sails almost aback.

She was going to rake Undine with every available gun, but give Bolitho time to haul down his colours before she reached his stern and finished what she had begun.

He felt Herrick tugging his arm.

'What now?'

Herrick pointed up through the smoke, where the sunlight was making a small path through the drifting smoke.

'The lookout, sir! He's reported a sail to the west'rd!' His eyes were shining with hope. 'The Frenchman's making off!'

Bolitho looked at him dully. It was true, and he had heard nothing. Deafened by gunfire, or fogged in his own despair, he did not know. But the Argus was already spreading her mainsail and was driving down-wind with gathering power towards the open strait.

Bolitho said, 'Hands to the braces, Mr. Herrick. Lay her on the larboard tack again. If we can signal this newcomer we may still be able to give chase.'

He heard a small cry, and when he turned he saw two seamen kneeling beside Keen's body. The midshipman was trying to reach down to his stomach, but one of the seamen was gripping his wrists while the other slit open his bloodstained breeches with a dirk and threw them aside. A few inches above the groin there was something like a broken bone, but Bolitho knew it was far worse. A wood splinter blasted from the deck, and probably held tight by its own barbs.

He knelt down and touched it with his fingers, seeing the blood pulsing across the youth's thigh, hearing his sobs as he tried not to scream.

Bolitho thought of Whitmarsh, far away in Pendang Bay,

helping to heal the sick and wounded from the garrison.

One of the seamen said, ''E'll not last, sir. without 'elp.

I'll fetch a surgeon's mate.'

Allday was kneeling beside him and said, 'No. I'll do it.' Bolitho looked at him, seeing the determination on his face.

Then he turned and said, 'Easy, Mr. Keen. You'll be about again soon.'

He felt the rising anger and despair pricking his eyes. What had he brought them all to? He touched the midshipman's bare shoulder. It was smooth like a woman's. He had not even begun to live yet.

He snapped, 'Are you sure, Allday?'

The coxswain eyed him calmly. 'I'm as good as those other butchers.'

Davy came hurrying aft and touched his hat. 'Masthead has reported the other ship to be the Bedford, sir. The Frenchman must have thought her to be a man-of-war.'

He looked at Keen's wound and said hoarsely, 'My God.' Bolitho stood up slowly, watching the midshipman's fingers opening and closing like trapped animals in the seaman's strong grip.

'Very well, Allday. Take him aft to the cabin. I'll be down myself as soon as I've attended to things here.'

Allday looked at him. 'Don't you fret, Captain. It's the luck of the game. Our turn will come.' He nodded to the two seamen. 'Pick him up.'

Keen gave a sharp cry as they moved him to the cabin hatch, and before he vanished below Bolitho saw that his eyes were fixed unwinkingly on the sky above the tattered sails. Trying to hold on to it? So that by keeping the picture in his mind he might retain his life itself.

Bolitho bent and picked up the midshipman's dirk from the stained deck. He handed it to Davy and said, 'We will make contact with the Bedford. There is nothing more we can do for the present but return to the settlement.'

Herrick said, 'The old Bedford.' He sounded bitter. 'A bloody storeship from Madras full of seasick soldiers and their womenfolk.'

Bolitho watched the helmsman bringing Undine carefully back on course, the skilful way they were allowing for the punctured sails' loss of power.

'If Argus had known that, she'd have done for both of us.' He saw the surprise and sudden concern and added simply, 'But not before we had rendered her equally useless.'

He glanced aloft at the masthead pendant. How many times had he done that? He took out his watch and flicked open the guard. Remembering. The whole sea-fight had taken less than two hours, and already Argus was almost lost in the offshore haze which marked the coming of evening. He shaded his eyes to look for the Bedford, and saw her topsails on the horizon like small yellow shells.

Then he looked around at the splintered planking, the small line of corpses which had been dragged below the weather gangway. There was much to do, and he must not give way for an instant if his men were to keep the will to fight again if the time came. He saw another corpse being carried up from the forehatch, and knew he would have to deal with the reports of damage, arrange for replacements and repairs. And burials.

He heard another sharp cry through the cabin skylight, and thought of Keen being spreadeagled there while Allday tried to extract the splinter.

He said, 'I am going below, Mr. Herrick. Deal with reports on damage and casualties.' He saw him nod. 'Thank you.'

As he hurried below I-Herrick said quietly, 'No. Thank.you.'

Bolitho brushed past the sentry at his door and then stopped. It was very quiet in the cabin, and when he saw Keen's naked body lying on the deck he thought he was too late.

Allday said, 'All done, Captain.' He held up the jagged red. lump in some pincers. 'I think he did very well, for a lad.'

Bolitho looked down at Keen's ashen face. There was blood on his lips where one of the seamen had held a strap between his teeth to prevent him from biting through his tongue. Noddall and' he other seamen were finishing tying the dressing around the wound, and there was a thick smell of rum in the air.

Bolitho said quietly, 'Thank you, Allday. I never knew you understood such things.'

Allday shook his head. 'Did it to a sheep once. Poor thing fell down a cliff on to a broken sapling. Very much the same really.'

Bolitho walked to the stern windows and sucked in a lungful of air. 'You must tell Mr. Keen that when he is well again.' He turned and watched him gravely. 'Do you think he will fully recover?'

Allday nodded. 'Yes. Another inch or so and it might have been the end.' He forced a grin, seeing the strain on Bolitho's face. 'For the ladies, anyway!'

The door opened and Herrick said, 'We are within signalling distance of Bedford, sir.'

'I'11 come up.' He paused and looked down at Keen. Even a glance told him his breathing was easier. 'Casualties?'

Herrick dropped his eyes. 'Ten killed, sir. Twenty wounded. It's a miracle we didn't lose far more. The carpenter and his mates are below, but it seems most of the holes are above the waterline. She's a lucky ship, sir.'

Bolitho looked from him to Allday. 'I'm the lucky one.' Then he walked from the cabin.

Allday shook his head and sighed, releasing more rum into the smoke air.

'My advice is to leave him be, Mr. Herrick, sir.'

Herrick nodded. 'I know. But he has taken this setback badly, though I know of no captain who could have done better.'

Allday dropped his voice. 'But one captain did do better today. And ours'll not rest until he's met with him again, I'm thinking.'

Keen gave a soft moan and Allday snapped, 'Come on, you idlers! Basin to his head! I've poured so much grog into his guts he'll spew all over the cabin when he comes to the surface again!'

Herrick smiled and walked out towards the ladder, seeing the men replacing the lashings on the guns, glancing at him and grinning as he passed.

One of them called, 'We showed the bastards, eh, sir?' Herrick paused, 'That we did, lads. The captain was proud of you.'

The seaman grinned more broadly. 'Aye, sir. I seed 'im in the thick of it, walkin' about like 'e was on Plymouth 'Oe. I knew then that we was goin' to be all right.'

Herrick climbed towards the sunlight and stared up at the torn sails. If only you knew, he thought sadly.

He found the other lieutenants and warrant officers already assembled on the quarterdeck giving their various reports while Bolitho leaned against the mainmast trunk.

When he saw Herrick he said, 'There is still a good span of daylight left. We'll put the hands to replacing canvas and running-rigging while it lasts. I have ordered the galley fire to be lit, and we'll see that our people get a good meal.' He gestured towards the labouring storeship which was now less than a mile away. 'We might even poach a few extra hands from her, eh?'

Herrick saw the others watching Bolitho dully, their bodies almost limp with exhaustion and delayed shock. He guessed that this other Bolitho, cool, confident, filled with ideas again, was the one the seaman on the gun crew had pictured throughout the battle.

The fact that he knew the real Bolitho behind the shield made him feel suddenly privileged and restored.