Command a King`s Ship

13. No Quarter

'Some more 'ot coffee, sir?' Noddall held his pot above Bolitho's mug without waiting for a reply.

Bolitho sipped it slowly, feeling the scalding liquid running through him. A taste of rum, too. Noddall was certainly doing his best.

He eased his shoulders and winced. Every bone and fibre seemed to ache. As if hehad been in actual battle.

He studied the weary figures who were moving about the upper deck, made curiously ghostlike and unreal by the heavy vapour which rose from sodden planking and clothing alike.

It had been just that, he thought gravely. A battle, no less than if cannon had been employed. For three days and nights they had fought it out, their confined world made even smaller by the great roaring expanse of wavecrests, their minds blunted by the ceaseless shriek of the wind. Like him, the ship seemed to have had the breath knocked from her. Now, under barely drawing topsails, her littered decks steaming once more beneath an empty sky, she was thrusting only slowly above her reflection. In places paint had been pared away to display wood so bare it could have been the work of a carpenter. Everywhere men were at work, marlin spikes and needles, hammers and tackles, endeavouring to restore the ship which had carried them through such a frenzy that even Mudge had admitted it was one of the bitterest he had endured.

He came across the deck now, his coat steaming gently, his jowls almost hidden in white stubble.

'Accordin' to me reckonin', sir, we've overreached the Benua Group by a fair piece. When we checks the noon sights I'll be 'appier.' He squinted upwards towards the flapping pendant which had lost almost half its length in the storm. 'But the wind's veered as I thought it might. I suggest we 'old your new course, nor' nor'-east, until we gets a better fix of our position.' He blew his nose loudly. 'An' I'd make so bold as to say 'ow well you 'andled 'er, sir.' He puffed out his cheeks. 'A couple o' times I thought we was done for.'

Bolitho looked away. 'Thank you.'

He was thinking of two men less fortunate. One had gone during the second night. Swept away without a sound. Nobody had seen him go. The other had slipped from the larboard cathead where he had_ been -working -feverishly to repair chafing lashings around the anchor stock. A solitary wavecrest had pulled him from his perch almost casually, so that for a while longer he had still imagined he would be saved. Willing hands had reached out for him, but another wave had flung him not outwards but high in the air like a kicking doll before hurling him against the massive anchor with savage force. Roskilly, a bosun's mate, had insisted he had heard the man's ribs cave in before he had been dragged screaming into the frothing water alongside.

Including the man who had fallen from aloft, that made three dead, with some seven others injured. Broken bones, fingers torn raw by bucking, sodden canvas, skin inflamed by salt, by wind, and by lines snaking through clutching hands in pitch darkness, made up most of the surgeon's list.

Herrick strode aft and said, 'I'm having a new jib bent on now, sir. The other's only fit for patching.' He took a mug from Noddall and cradled it gratefully to his mouth. 'Heaven help the poor sailorman!'

Bolitho looked at him. 'You'd not change it.'

Herrick grimaced. 'A few times back there I wondered if I'd get the choice!'

Davy, who had the watch, joined them by the rail.

'What are our chances of a landfall, sir?'

He looked older, less assured than he had before the action with the frigate. During the storm he had behaved well, so perhaps he still believed the only real menace came from a cannon's mouth.

Bolitho considered his question. 'That will depend on fixing our position. Allowing for our drift, and the shifting of the wind, I'd say we might sight the islands before nightfall.'

He smiled, the effort making him more conscious of the strain he had been under.

Herrick said dourly, 'The damned Frog will be laughing at us. Sitting in harbour under that bloody pirate's guns.'

Bolitho looked at him thoughtfully. The same idea had only left him occasionally, and that when he had needed all his thoughts elsewhere. To parley with the French captain was one thing. To accept that he was serving under Muljadi's flag meant far more. It would be an open admission of failure. An acceptance that Muljadi's sovereignty did exist. If Conway agreed to the latter, every other European power which had trading and protection rights in the Indies, especially the powerful Dutch East India Company, would see it as England's move to take all the advantages for herself. Which was exactly what the French would like.

What should he do if the French captain refused to be moved by Conway's message? Patrol up and down outside the islands and draw Argus into combat? It would be a one-sided affair. Le Chaumareys was an old hand in these waters, knew every islet and cove where he had once hidden to avoid British frigates in time of war. Equally, he would be well advised to lie at anchor, living off the land, until Undine was made to withdraw.

He felt his tiredness putting an edge to his anger. If only the politicians were here to see what their ideas of world strategy actually represented in flesh and blood, in wood and canvas.

'Land ho! Fine on th' starboard bow!'

Davy rubbed his hands. 'Nearer than you thought, sir.'

Mudge said quickly, 'Never!' He fumbled with his slate and made some rapid calculations. 'There's a small islet, some forty miles to the south'rd of the Benuas, sir.' He peered round until he had discovered Midshipman Penn's diminutive shape by the taffrail. 'Aloft with ye, Mr. Penn, an' fetch the big glass for company.' He eyed him fiercely. 'Take a look, an' make me a sketch just like I taught you!'

He waited until the boy had scampered for the main shrouds and chuckled. 'Cap'n Cook 'ad the right idea, sir. Sketch an' describe every damn thing you see. Time'll come when every man-o'-war will 'ave a complete set o' pictures to study.' He watched Penn's progress. 'Not that some'll 'eed 'em, o' course.'

Bolitho smiled at Herrick. 'Better than I had expected. We'll have a man in the chains and begin soundings as we pass this islet of the master's. The chart describes some nineteen fathoms hereabouts, but I'd prefer to be certain.'

Twenty minutes later Penn returned to the deck, his brown features sprinkled with sweat. He held out his grubby pad and stood back to watch Mudge's reactions.

Over his shoulder Davy said, 'Looks like a whale to me.'

Mudge eyed him coldly. 'So it does.' To Penn he said, 'Fair work. It is 'ow I recalls it.' His small eyes returned to Davy. 'Exactly like a great rocky whale.' The merest pause. 'Sir.'

'Anything there?'

Bolitho took a glass and trained it above the gun deck. As yet he could see nothing but the same, painful glare. He wondered momentarily where the storm had gone, how it could vanish after showing so much fury.

'Bless you, no, sir.' Mudge beamed at Davy's discomfort. 'Just a fistful o' rocks, like the tip of some undersea ridge, as no doubt it was one time. But I suppose it could be used as shelter in a full gale.'

Bolitho watched some seamen hauling a new length of hemp along the larboard gangway. Tired and unshaven perhaps, but there was something else, too. The way they worked together. Confidently.

He said, 'We will alter course a point, Mr. Davy, and take a look at your whale.'

Davy hurried to the rail. 'Mr. Penn! Pipe the hands to the braces!'

Herrick watched him, smiling easily. 'Any reason, sir?'

Bolitho shrugged. 'More of a feeling.'

He watched the men thronging along the decks, where the steamy vapour continued to drift amongst them. From forward he saw real smoke, as Bogle, the cook, got busy with the first hot meal they would have eaten since the storm had come and gone.

He saw the yards swinging to the pull of the braces, heard the helmsman cry, 'Nor'-cast by north, sir!'

Davy hurried past to consult the binnacle and the set of the sails. 'Another pull on the weather mainbrace, Mr. Shellabeer!' He dabbed his streaming face. 'Now belay!'

Bolitho smiled. When Davy was irritated he always performed his duties better, for some reason.

He said, 'Put another good lookout aloft, if you please. I want that islet watched until we are up to it.'

He glanced at the sun's blinding patterns beyond the gently pitching bowsprit.

'I am going below to shave and to bribe Noddall into finding a clean shirt.'

Later, as he lay back in a chair while Allday busied himself with his razor, he found time to wonder what he would do if or when he met with Argus's captain.

The hastily heated water, the skilful movement of the blade against his skin was making him relax, muscle by muscle, and he could feel the air from the open stern windows across his bare shoulders like a soothing embrace.

All around the world the King's captains were going about their affairs. Fighting scurvy and disease, carrying despatches for an admiral or some lonely outpost not marked on any schoolboy's map. Or pondering behind a cabin bulkhead in dread of mutiny, or planning some diversion to prevent one. Fighting maybe, with some dissident ruler who had attacked the King's subjects, defiled the flag, butchered men and women. He smiled. And some would be like himself. A tiny extension to a half-formed plan.

Through the open skylight he heard the lookout's cry, 'Deck there! Ship at anchor close inshore!'

He jumped to his feet, seizing the clean shirt and using it to dab away the soap from his chin.

Allday stood aside and grinned admiringly. 'By God, Captain, you must have more wiles than a farmyard cat! How did you know there was a ship?'

Bolitho was tucking the crumpled shirt inside his breeches. 'Magic, Allday!'

He hurried for the door, and then forced himself to wait until Midshipman Penn appeared in the entrance.

'A ship, sir! Mr. Davy's respects, and he believes it may be a schooner.'

'Thank you, Mr. Penn.' It was all he could do to appear calm. 'I will come up when I have completed dressing. My complimmts to the first lieutenant, and please ask him to meet me on the quarterdeck.'

He turned and saw Allday hiding a smile. 'Is something amusing you?'

'Why, no, Captain.' Allday watched him gravely. 'But I am always ready to see my betters at their affairs.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Then I hope you learn from it.'

He walked into the passageway and made for the ladder.

Herrick greeted him excitedly. 'A schooner, sir! The man in the foremast crosstrees is my best lookout, and I had a glass sent aloft to him.' He stared at Bolitho with open astonishment. 'It is uncanny!'

Bolitho smiled shortly. 'A fair guess, if the truth be told. But it was a bad storm, and when the master suggested this small isle as a place for shelter I began a'thinking.'

He took Penn's telescope and trained it towards the bows. There was the islet now, an uneven blob of grey/blue. The masthead would be able to see much more.

'Where is the wind?'

Davy said, 'From the south-west, sir.'

Bolitho let his mind move accordingly. 'Alter course and lay her on the larboard tack.' He crossed to the binnacle, seeing the helmsmen watching him curiously. 'We will steer nor' nor'-west.'

He waited as a bosun's mate dashed to pipe the hands to the braces again.

Then to Herrick and Davy he added slowly, 'This way we will keep the isle between us and the other vessel and hold our advantage to wind'rd. Get the courses on her, but keep the t'gallants furled for the present.'

Herrick understood at once. 'Aye, sir. The less canvas we display, the less likely they are to sight us.'

Bolitho glanced at Mudge, who had appeared with Fowlar beside the helm.

'You put the thought in my mind. I have always wondered why Muljadi has good warning of our movements. I think we shall soon know his methods.' He looked at the washed-out blue sky above the tapering masts. 'But for the storm we would have approached directly from the east'rd. Thanks to the weather's rough mood we have gained something for once.'

Herrick asked softly, 'What of the admiral's instructions, sir?' Then he grinned. 'I can see from your expression that you intend to choose your own moment, sir.'

Bolitho smiled. 'One cannot bargain if one is a beggar. I have learned that long since.'

He looked up as with sails cracking and shivering to the new tack Undine turned purposefully to larboard, the small, humped islet moving away from the weather bow as if released from an anchor.

'Nor' nor'-west, sir! Full an' bye!'

Bolitho beckoned to Davy. 'Get the courses on her now.' To Mudge he called, 'How long, by your consideration?'

Mudge pouted. 'Two hours, sir.'

'Good. Then once the sails are drawing well we can send both watches for their meal.'

He watched the scurrying figures clawing along the yards, others standing below on deck ready to sheet home the great fore and main courses.

Herrick nodded approvingly. 'Bit different from when they came aboard, sir.'

Bolitho found he was desperately hungry. 'I think that applies to most of us.'

He strode to the cabin hatch, knowing that the unknown vessel might be harmless, or an old wreck long abandoned. Or one more trick to delay or deceive him.

Noddall watched him warily. 'It's salt beef again, sir.'

'That will be excellent.' He ignored the amazement on Noddall's rodent features. 'And I'll take some claret to wash it down.'

He leaned over the sill and stared at the frothing wake below the counter.

Chance, luck, call it what you will, he thought. It was all they had, and he intended to make good use of it.

'By th' mark seventeen!' The leadsman's cry rose easily above the sounds of flapping canvas as Undine, her courses again brailed up to the yards, glided steadily towards the islet.

Bolitho saw Shellabeer touch the leadsman's shoulder and reach out to feel the tallow arming in the bottom of the heavy weight before calling, 'Rocky bottom, sir!'

Bolitho nodded. As Mudge had described it, the small islet was more like an isolated rock pile than part of the sea-bed.

'Prepare to anchor, Mr. Herrick.' '

He took a glass from Penn and moved it slowly over the ragged.outline. They were five cables offshore, but it was close enough to see that the first smooth impression of a surfaced whale had changed severely. The rocks were blue/grey, like Cornish slate, and cut by wind and tide into massive steep gullies, as if some giant had hacked the islet into slices. Apart from a few clumps of gorse or rock flowers, it looked bare and unwelcoming, but there were plenty of sea-birds perched in little clefts, or circling busily above the highest point, which he estimated to be some three hundred feet above the water.

He heard Herrick shouting his orders, the creak of rigging as Undine dipped and rose again in a sudden swell. The water looked deep, but it was an illusion. He could see some narrow, stony beaches at the foot of the nearest cliff, and guessed that the safest anchorage was on the opposite side where the other vessel lay hidden. There was surf, too, steep and angry as it licked and spluttered around the one visible landing place.

'Helm a'lee!'

He moved his glass in time with the ship as she turned easily into the wind, watching for any sign of life, the merest movement to show their approach had been seen.

'Let go anchor!'

The sound of the anchor hitting the water seemed unusually loud, and he imagined he could hear it echoing back from those desolate cliffs.

Herrick shouted, 'Lively, lads! Secure those lines!' To Davy he added, 'Lowering parties, man the tackles!'

Bolitho said, 'Have the leadsman watch his line now and see that the anchor is holding fast. If we begin to drag because of the rocky bottom we will veer more cable directly.'

'Aye, sir.'

Herrick hurried away, his face totally absorbed in his own duties.

With the ship swaying and pulling lazily to her cable, it was even quieter, and Bolitho saw some of the birds quitting their precarious perches to fly'and circle above the mastheads.

Herrick returned, breathing heavily. 'We seem safe enough, sir. But I've told the anchor-watch to keep alert.' He squinted towards the shore. 'It looks like a graveyard.'

'We will need two boats.' Bolitho spoke his thoughts aloud. 'Gig and cutter will suffice. They will have to run smartly through that surf. The beach is steep by the look of it. So put a good cox'n in the cutter.'

He saw Allday signalling with his fist as the gig rose jerkily from its chocks, the guy-ropes tautening to swing it round and above the gangway.

He added with a smile, 'I think my boat is in safe hands.'

Herrick looked at him anxiously. 'Areyou going, sir?'

'It is not for want of glory, Thomas.' He lowered his voice, watching the chosen hands as they mustered by the arms' chests. 'But I need to know what we are against, if anything.'

Herrick sounded unconvinced. 'But if the other craft is one of the pirate's, sir, what then? Surely you'll want to sweep round and rake the devil as he slips his cable?'

'No.' He shook his head firmly. 'He will be safely anchored yonder. In shallower water than I'd dare enter close enough to rake him. Once clear he could lead us a merry maypole dance, and I fear we would never match his agility in these conditions.' His tone hardened. 'Besides which, I want to take him!V

'Boats lowered alongside, sir.' Davy came aft, a curved hanger dangling from his belt.

Bolitho touched his own sword-hilt and saw Captain Bellairs watching the boats with visible irritation at being left behind.

He called, 'Captain Bellairs, I would be obliged if I could have three of your very best sharpshooters in each boat!'

Bellairs brightened considerably and snapped at Sergeant Coaker, 'Well, lively, Sar'nt! Although they should all be excellent marksmen, what?'

Herrick grinned. 'That was thoughtful, sir.'

'Perhaps.' Bolitho shifted the glass again to watch some birds landing delicately along the clifftop. They would never do that if men were close by. 'But if seamen are better at scaling cliffs, there is no beating a well-aimed ball at the right moment!'

He nodded to Davy. 'Man your boats.' To Herrick he added casually, 'If things go wrong, you will find the admiral's orders in my cabin.'

'You can rely on me, sir.' Herrick was looking troubled again. 'But I'm certain that-'

Bolitho touched his arm and smiled. 'Yes. But just bear it in mind. If you have to, act upon them, asyou see fit.'

He walked slowly towards the entry port, seeing the watching seamen and marines as he passed. Familiar now, he could put a name and a value on all of them.

Midshipman Armitage was looking confused and embarrassed. 'Sir! The sharpshooters will not remove their coats, sir!' He blushed as some of the oarsmen in the boats nudged each other and chuckled.

Bellairs snapped, 'Can't have my fellows tramping about like damn vagrants, what?' He saw Bolitho and added quickly, 'I mean, can we, sir?'

Bolitho slipped out of his blue coat and tossed it to Noddall who was hovering by the quarterdeck ladder.

'It is all right.' He nodded to the unsmiling marines. 'If II can shed a little authority, I am certain your men can.' He saw the sergeant gathering up the red coats and shakos, honour apparently restored. He added, 'And it will be a rough climb, with who knows what at the end of it.'

He paused above the swaying boats, trying to think of some thing he might have missed or forgotten.

Herrick said quietly, 'Good luck, sir.'

Bolitho ran his glance along the crowded gangway and up to the men in the shrouds.

'And you, Thomas. Have the people stand-to, watch and watch about. You know what to do.'

He saw Armitage staggering between the oarsmen in the gig. It was almost cruel to take him. A liability. But he had to begin somewhere. It was a marvel he had ever got to sea at all with a mother like his. If Keen had been here, he would have taken him. He saw Penn peering wistfully from the gun deck. He would have gone with the boats like a shot. He smiled to himself. No wonder the seamen called him 'The Tiger'.

Then he climbed down into the gig. No ceremony this time. As the boats shoved away from the side he was conscious of sudden tension.

'Take the lead, Allday.'

He watched the rocky cliffs rising higher and higher with each pull of the oars, and could feel the strong undertow as the inshore swell frothed and mounted into seething lines of breakers. When he glanced astern he saw the cutter's stem lifting and plunging through the flashing spray, Davy's head and shoulders swaying above the oarsmen while he, too, peered at the land. What was he thinking about? Being killed in this Godforsaken place? Taking a step nearer that badly needed prize-money? Bolitho wiped the spray from his face and concentrated on the swift approach. There was more chance of being drowned than of anything in the immediate future.

He glanced at Allday who was standing in a half crouch, one fist gripping the tiller-bar, as he peered from bow to bow, gauging the set of the angry surf, the diagonal lines of breakers as they hurried noisily into the shadows below the cliffs. No need to warn him. Any suggestion at all might have the opposite effect and bring disaster.

Allday remarked, 'Very steep beach, Captain.' His sturdy figure swayed with the hull. 'Go in fast, put her bow round at the last moment t'wards the surf and beach her broadside-to.' He glanced down at him quickly. 'Does that sound fair, Captain?'

Bolitho smiled. 'Very fair.' It would also give them time to scramble ashore and help the cutter as she followed them in.

He felt a sudden chill and realised that the shadows had finally reached out to cover them, and he heard the slap of water, the creak of oars in rowlocks echoing back from the cliffs, as if there was a third and invisible boat nearby.

They almost planed across the last of the surf, the oars desperately keeping with the stroke until Allday yelled, 'Now!' And as he slammed the tiller hard round he added, 'Back-water to larboard!'

Floundering and tilting dangerously the gig came to the beach almost broadside, the keel grinding across loose pebbles and weed in a violent, protesting shudder.

But men were already leaping into the spray, holding the gunwale, guiding the gig to safety with sheer brutestrength.

'Clear the boat!'

Allday steadied Bolitho's arm as with Armitage and the others he waded, reeled and finally walked on to firm beach.

Bolitho ran to the foot of the cliffs, leaving Allday to supervise the business of getting the gig safely secured.

He waved his arm towards the three marines. 'Spread out! See if you can find a way to the top V

This, they understood, and with barely a glance towards the onrushing cutter they loped up the first crumbling rock-slide, their muskets primed and held ready.

Bolitho waited, staring up at the jagged clifftop, the pale blue sky above. No heads peering down. No sudden fusilade of musket balls.

He breathed moreevenly and turned to watch the cutter as it edged round and plunged wildly before driving on to the beach and amongst the waiting seamen.

Davy staggered towards him, gasping for breath, but loading his pistol with remarkably steady fingers.

Bolitho said, 'Muster the men, and send your three marines after the others.'

He looked for Armitage, but he was nowhere to be seen. 'In God's name!'

Davy grinned as the midshipman came round a large boulder, buttoning his breeches.

Bolitho said harshly, 'If you must relieve yourself at such times, Mr. Armitage, I would be obliged if you would remain in sight!'

Armitage hung his head. 'S-sorry, sir.'

Bolitho relented. 'It would be safer for you, and I will try and hide any embarrassment you might cause me.'

Allday crunched over the loose shingle, chuckling as he, too, loaded a brace of pistols with fresh, dry powder.

'Bless me, Mr. Armitage, but I can understand how you feel P

The youth stared at him unhappily. 'You can?'

'Why, once, I was hiding in a loft.' He winked at the cutter's coxswain. 'From the bloody pressgang, believe it or not, and all I could think of was pumping my bilges!'

Bolitho said to Davy, 'That seems to have helped his mind a little.'

He forgot Armitage's troubles and said, 'We'll leave four hands with the boats.'

He saw Undine swaying like a beautiful model, her sterq windows flashing in the sunlight, and imagined Herrick watch, ing their progress. He could send aid to the beached boats i f trouble arrived. He looked up at the cliffs again. Damp, clammy deceptively cool. That would change as soon as they reached the top and the waiting sun.

Bolitho waited for Davy to rejoin him. 'Best be moving off,'

He examined his landing party carefully as Allday waved them towards the cliffs. Thirty in all. Apart from Davy anti Armitage, he had brought a master's mate named Carwithen knowing the man would have resented being left behind after Fowlar's previous involvements. A dark, unsmiling man, he was, like Bolitho, a Cornishman, and hailed from the fishing, village of Looe.

He waited while they checked their weapons. His chain of command. Ship or shore, it made no difference to them.

Carwithen said, 'I hope they've a drop to drink when we get, t'other side.'

Bolitho noticed that hardly anybody smiled at his remark, Carwithen was known as a hard man, given to physical vio, lence if challenged. Good at his work, according to the master, but little beyond it. How different from Fowlar, Bolithc; thought.

'Lead your party to the left, Mr. Davy, but allow the marine; to set the pace.' He looked at Armitage. 'You keep with me.'

He saw a marine waving from a high ledge, indicating tht path up the first section of cliff.

It was strange how sailors always hated the actual moment of leaving the sea behind. Like having a line attached to your belt, dragging you back. Bolitho eased the sword further around his hip and reached out for the nearest handhold, Smoothed away by timeless weather. Stained with dropping; from a million sea-birds. No wonder ships avoided the place.

As he moved carefully up the fallen boulders he felt a small pressure against his thigh, the watch she had given him ir, Madras. He thought suddenly of that moment when she hay? offered him far more. And he had taken it without even smallest hesitation. How soft, how alive she had felt in hip arms.

He grimaced as his fingers slipped in a pile of fresh droppings. And how quickly circumstances could change, he thought grimly.

The passage across the small islet was to prove harder and more exhausting than anyone could have expected. From the moment they topped the first cliff and the sun engulfed them in its searing glare, they realised they must climb immediately into a treacherous gully before they could begin scaling the next part. And so it went on, until they were finally tramping across an almost circular depression which Bolitho guessed was the central part of the islet. It held the heat and shielded them from any sea-breeze, and their progress was further delayed by the clinging carpet of filth which covered the depression from side to side.

Allday gasped, 'Will we rest up once we get to the far side, Captain?' Like the others, his legs and arms were caked with muck, and his face masked in a fine film of dust. 'I am as dry as a hangman's eye!'

Bolitho refrained from looking at his watch again. He could tell from the sun's angle that it was late afternoon. It was taking too long.

He peered across to the other side of the unsheltered depression, seeing Davy's straggling line of men, the marine sharpshooters walking like hunters through a cloud of pale dust, their muskets over their shoulders.

He replied, 'Yes. But we must go carefully with the water ration.'

It was like being on top of the world, the curving sides of the depression hiding everything but the sun and open sky. One of the long, slanting shadows behind him faltered and then sprawled in the inches-deep bird droppings, and without turning he knew it was Armitage.

He heard a seaman say hoarsely, 'Give us yer 'and! Gawd, you do look a sight, beggin' yer pardon, sir!'

Poor Armitage. Bolitho kept his gaze fixed on the pale breeches of the marine directly ahead of him, his body smoking in haze and dust. There were rocks beyond the marine, probably marking the end of the depression. They could take a rest. Find brief shelter while they regained their senses.

He turned and sought out the seaman who had helped Armitage to his feet. 'Can you raise the breath to carry a message to the scouts ahead, Lincoln?'

The man bobbed his head. Small and wiry, his face was disfigured by a terrible scar from some past battle, or in a tavern brawl. A surgeon had made a bad job of it, and his mouth was drawn up at one side in a permanent, lopsided grin.

'Aye, sir.' The man shaded his eyes.

'Tell them to halt at those rocks.'

He saw Lincoln hurry ahead of the column, his tattered trousers flapping and stirring up more choking dust.

It took another hour to reach those rocks, and Bolitho had the impression he was taking two paces backwards for every one he advanced.

Davy's party arrived amongst the tall rocks almost at the same time, and while the men threw themselves down into the small patches of shade, gasping and wheezing like sick animals, Bolitho called the lieutenant aside and said, 'We will take a look.' He saw Davy nod wearily, his hair bleached so much that it was like corn in the sunlight.

They found a marine on the far side of the rocks, his eyes slitted with professional interest as he stared at the gently sloping hillside which continued without a break towards the sea. And there, cradled inside the narrowest sweep of the islet, the 'whale's tail', was the schooner.

She was so close inshore that for an instant longer Bolitho imagined she had been driven aground in the storm. Then he saw the drifting smoke from a fire on the beach, heard the muffled tap of hammers, and guessed her crew were carrying out repairs. They might even have had the schooner careened to put right some damage to her bilge or keel, but at first glance she looked well enough now.

Tiny figures moved about her deck, and there were several more on the beach and scattered amongst the rocks. The heaviest part of their work was apparently completed.

Davy said, 'They're looking in rock pools, sir. After shellfish or the like.'

Bolitho asked, 'How many, d'you reckon?'

Davy frowned. 'Two dozen, at a guess.'

Bolitho fell silent. It was a long way down the hillside, and no cover at all. His own men would be seen long before they could get to grips. He bit his lip, wondering if the schooner intended to wait another day, or longer.

Carwithen had joined them and said hoarsely, 'They'm not ready to quit yet, sir.' He was whispering, as if the schooner's crew were a few feet away. 'They've got their boats hauled well up the beach.'

Davy shrugged. 'I expect they feel very safe.'

Bolitho took a small glass and trained it carefully between the rocks. One false move, and the sunlight would throw a reflection from the telescope which would be seen for miles.

A lookout. There must be at least one on the shore. A man so placed that he could watch over the tiny cove and see everything but the far side of the island where Undine now lay at anchor. He smiled grimly. It was hardly surprising they had found no sentries when they had landed when he thought of their exhausting trek from the beach.

He stiffened, seeing a small movement on a ridge, almost in line with the motionless schooner. He adjusted the glass very slowly. A white, floppy hat, the darker blob of a face underneath.

'There's a lookout on that ridge. The one with the rock pools directly below it.'

Carwithen said, 'Easy. From the sea, no, but I could take him from behind with no trouble at all.' He sounded brutally eager.

The crash of a shot made them crouch lower, while from behind Bolitho heard the sudden clatter of weapons as his men dived for cover.

Something white and flapping fell from the sky and lay quite still on the beach. The searching sailors from the schooner paid very little attention as one of their number walked over to it and picked it up.

Carwithen, said, 'One of 'em's shot a booby. They make fair eatin' if you've nothin' better.'

The marine said, 'Then 'e must be a bloody good shot, sir.' Bolitho looked at him. His own thought exactly. It would

make a frontal assault virtually fatal for all of them.

He said, 'I'll send a message back to the ship. We must wait until dark.' To the marine he added, 'Take this glass, but keep it well shielded.' No need to add a warning or a threat. The marine had just proved he could think as well as shoot.

They found the others relaxed again amidst the rocks, and Allday said, 'Take a drink, Captain.' He held out a flask. 'Tastes like bilge water.'

Bolitho scribbled on his pad and handed it to one of the seamen. 'Take it back to the beach and give it to the petty officer there.' He saw the despair on his face and added gently, 'You need not return. You will have earned a rest by the time you reach Undine.'

He heard another shot, muffled this time by the rocks, but it was followed by a different sound, a soft thud.

Carwithen was on his feet in a second. ' 'Nother bird, sir!'

Bolitho followed him to where they had left the marine. He was staring with amazement at the big booby which had dropped almost at his feet, wings outspread, its breast clotted with bright blood.

Davy said harshly, 'Now, how in the name of hell did-'

But Bolitho held up his hand, freezing them all to silence.

Faintly at first, and then more insistently, he heard the scrape and clatter of loose stones as someone hurried up the hillside to collect the dead sea-bird.

He looked round swiftly. You could not hide thirty men amongst these few rocks. He saw Allday signalling everyone to remain quite still, saw the anxiety in Armitage's eyes as he stared transfixed at the last barrier where the sea's edge shone against the sky and rocks like the top of a great dam.

The sounds were much louder, and Bolitho could hear the man's heavy gasps as he struggled up the last part of the hill.

Nobody moved, and he saw the marine staring at his musket which was two feet away from his fingers. The slightest sound and they were done for.

It was then Carwithen acted. He was closest to the rock barrier, and with barely a sound he reached out and gathered up the dead bird, holding it just a few inches below the top of the nearest rock. His free hand he held under his short blue coat, and Bolitho could see his fingers moving beneath the cloth, trying to free something, while all the time his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the bird.

It seemed to take an eternity before anything else happened. When it did, it was all too fast to follow.

The man's dark face gaping down at them, his eyes flicking from the bird to Carwithen even as he groped forward to retrieve his prize. The master's mate dropped the booby, the movement so swift that the man was thrown off balance, his hand groping at his belt and the gleaming butt of a pistol.

Carwithen murmured, 'Not so, my pretty one!' It was said quietly, almost gently.

Then the other hand came out of his coat, a boarding axe twisting in his fingers as he brought the rearmost end, with its short, savage barb, hard down in the man's neck. With a great heave he gaffed him bodily over the rocks, withdrawing the axe, turning it again just as swiftly before hacking him full across the throat with its blade.

Armitage fell against the marine, whimpering and retching, blood spurting over his legs as the axe jerked free, hesitated and cut down again.

Bolitho seized Carwithen's arm, seeing the axe quivering above the bulging eyes and that great gaping wound. He could feel the pent-up hatred and madness in his biceps, the effort to shake him away and drive the axe again and again into the choking, bubbling thing at his feet.

'Easy! Enough, damn you!'

There was another terrible silence while they stared at each other or. at the corpse which was sprawled across the dead booby.

Carwithen whispered hoarsely, 'That bugger'll never raise hell again!'

Bolitho forced himself to examine the victim. Probably Javanese. Dressed in little better than rags, but the pistol was inscribed with the crest of the East India Company.

He heard Carwithen say, 'Took it off some poor sailor, the bastard!'

Nobody looked at him.

Bolitho knelt by the rocks and studied the beach with the glass. Carwithen had acted quickly and efficiently. But he had enjoyed it. Relished it.

He watched the distant lookout in his rocky ledge, the small figures still searching aimlessly amongst the pools.

He said quietly, 'They saw nothing.'

Davy looked at the sobbing midshipman and asked quietly,,Will this change things for us, sir?'

Bolitho shook his head. 'Only when this man is missed by his companions.' He looked at the slanting shadows from the rocks. 'So we must bide our time and hope for darkness to come.'

He saw Carwithen wiping his boarding-axe on some cloth he had just cut from the dead man's smock. His face was devoid of anything but satisfaction.

Davy gestured to the others. 'Take this thing away and cover it with stones.' He swallowed hard. 'I'll not forget this day in a hurry.'

Bolitho gripped the midshipman's shoulder and pulled him away from the rocks. 'Listen, Mr. Armitage.' He shook him roughly, seeing the youth's eyes as he stared at the red smudge left by the corpse. 'Get a grip on yourself! I know it was a foul thing to witness, but you are not here today as a mere onlooker, d'you understand?' He shook him again, hating to see the pain and the revulsion in his eyes. 'You are one of my officers, and our people will have to look to you!'

Armitage nodded dazedly. 'Y-yes, sir. I'll try to-' He retched again.

Bolitho added gently, 'I'm sure you will.' He saw Allday watching him over the midshipman's quivering shoulders, the almost imperceptible shake of his head. 'Now be off with you, and check that my message has been sent.'

Allday said quietly, 'Poor lad. He'll never get used to this sort of thing.'

Bolitho looked at him gravely. 'Did you? Did I?'

Allday shrugged. 'We learned to hide what we thought, Captain. It's all a man can do.'

'Perhaps.' He saw Davy kicking dust across the drying blood. Then he looked at Carwithen's dark features as he examined the dead man's pistol. 'Although there are some who have no feelings at all, and I have always found them to be less than men.'

Allday followed him back into the shade. Bolitho's mood would soon change at a hint of action, and for the present it was best to leave him to his thoughts.