Command a King`s Ship

6. Attack Overland

'Well, Thomas, what d'you make of it at close quarters?' Bolitho's voice was hushed, as with the others around him he stared towards the shore.

They had made a careful approach since dawn, seeing the land gaining shape and substance, and then as the sun had found them again, they had watched the colour, the endless panorama of green.

With two experienced leadsmenin the chains, and under minimum canvas, Undine had felt her way towards the land. It had looked like an untouched world, with jungle so thick it seemed impossible for anything to move freely away from the sea.

Herrick replied quietly, 'The master seems satisfied, sir.' He trained his telescope over the hammock nettings. 'As he described it. A round headland to the north. And that strangelooking hill about a mile inland.'

Bolitho stepped on:to a bollard and peered down over the nettings. Undine had finally dropped anchor some four cables offshore to give her sea-room and a safe depth at all times. Nevertheless, it looked very shallow, and he could even see the great shadow of Undine's coppered hull on the bottom. Pale sand. Like that on the various small, crescent-shaped beaches they had seen on their cautious approach.

Long trailers of strange weed, writhing to the current far below the ship as if in a tired sort of dance. But to larboard, as the ship swung to her cable he saw other shapes, browns and greens, like stains in the water. Reefs. Mudge was right to be so careful. Not that anyone would need reminding after Nervion's fate.

Alongside, the first boats had already been swayed out, and Shellabeer, the boatswain, was gesticulating with his fists at some Spanish seamen who were baling one of them. It would do the frail hulls good to be afloat again, Bolitho thought.

He said absently, 'I shall go with the boats, and you will keep a good watch in case of trouble.'

He could almost feel Herrick's unspoken protest, but added, 'If anything goes wrong ashore it might help some of our people if they see I'm sharing it with them.' He turned and clapped Herrick's shoulder. 'Besides which, I feel like stretching my legs. It is my prerogative.'

On the gun deck Davy was striding back and forth inspecting the men mustered for the boats, checking weapons and the tackle for hoisting and lowering water casks when the work was begun.

Overhead the sky was very pale, as if the sun had boiled the colour from it and had spread it instead across the glittering stretch of sea between ship and shore.

Bolitho marvelled at the stillness. Just an occasional necklace of white surf along the nearest beach and at the foot of the headland. It was as if it was holding its breath, and he could imagine a thousand eyes watching the anchored frigate from amongst the trees.

There were loud thumps as the swivel guns were lowered into the bows of launch and cutter, and more shouted orders while the bell-mouthed musketoons found their proper mountings in gig and pinnace. The jolly boat was to remain with the ship. It was too small for the great casks, and might be needed in an emergency.

He rubbed his chin and stared at the land. Emergency. It appeared safe enough. All the way along the coast, as they had slipped past one bay or inlet after another, and all of which had seemed identical to everyone but Mudge, he had waited for some sign, a hint of danger. But not a boat drawn up on the sand, not a wisp of smoke from a fire, not even a bird had broken the stillness.

'Boats ready, sir!' Shellabeer tilted his swarthy face in the glare.

Bolitho walked to the rail and looked down at the gun deck. The seamen seemed altered yet again. Perhaps because of their cutlasses, the way they glanced at each other, their torment of thirst momentarily put aside. Most of them were very different from the men who had first joined the ship. Their bared, backs were well browned, with only an occasional scar of sunburn to mark the foolish or the unwary.

He called, 'Over yonder is Africa, lads.' He felt the rustle of excitement expanding like a wind over corn. 'You'll be seeing many more places before we are homeward bound again. Do as you are bid, stay with your parties, and no harm should come to you.' He hardened his tone. 'But it is a dangerous country, and the natives hereabouts have had little cause to like or trust the foreign sailorman. So keep a good watch, and work well with the casks.' He nodded. 'Man your boats.'

Mudge joined him at the gangway as the first men swung their way down the side.

'I should be a'goin' with you, sir. I've told me best master's mate, Fowlar, what to look for, an"e's a good man, that 'e be.'

Bolitho lifted his arms as Allday buckled on his sword.

'Then what troubles you, Mr. Mudge?'

Mudge scowled. 'Time was when I could swim 'alf a mile an' then march another with a full load on me back!'

Herrick, grinned. 'And still have the wind to bed a fine wench, I'll be bound!'

Mudge glared at him. 'Your time'll come, Mr. 'Errick. It ain't no pleasure, gettin' old!'

Bolitho smiled. 'Your value is here.'

To Herrick he said, 'Rig boarding nets during our stay. With only an anchor watch and the marines at your back, you might be in bother if someone tries to surprise you.' He touched his arm. 'I know. I am over-cautious. I can read your face like a chart. But better so than dead.' He glanced at the shore. 'Especially here.'

He walked to the entry port. 'The boats will return two by two. Send the rest of the men as soon as you can. They'll tire easily enough in this heat.'

He saw Puigserver wave to him from the gangway, and Raymond watching from right aft by his wife's little canopy. He touched his hat to the side party and climbed quickly down into the gig where Allday waited by the tiller.

'Shove off!'

One by one the boats idled clear of the frigate's shadow, and then with oars moving in unison turned towards the land. Bolitho remained standing to examine his little flotilla.

Lieutenant Soames with the launch, Undine's ' largest boat, every inch of space filled with men and casks, while in the bows a gun captain crouched over the loaded swivel like some kind of figurehead. Then the cutter, also deeply laden, with Davy in control, his figure very slim against that of Mr. Pryke, Undine's portly carpenter. As was proper, Pryke was going ashore in the hopes of finding timber suitable for small repairs about the ship.

Midshipman Keen, accompanied by little Penn, had the pinnace, and Bolitho could see them bobbing about with obvious excitement as they pulled steadily across the water.

Bolitho glanced astern at his ship, seeing the figures on her deck already small and impersonal. Someone was in the cabin, and he guessed it was Mrs. Raymond, watching the boats, avoiding her husband, probably neither.

Then he looked down at the men in the gig, at the weapons between their straddled legs, at the way they avoided his scrutiny. Right forward he saw a man moving the musketoon from side to side to free the mount from caked salt, and realised it was Turpin, the one who had tried so desperately to deceive Davy at Spithead. He saw Bolitho watching him and held up his arm. In place of his hand he had a hook of bright steel. He called, 'The gunner had it fixed up for me, sir!' He was grinning. 'Better'n the real thing!'

Bolitho smiled at him. He at least seemed in good spirits.

He watched the slow moving hulls. About eighty officers and men with more to follow when he could spare the boats. He sat down and shaded his eyes with his hat. As he did so he touched the scar above his eye, remembering that other watering party he had been with so long ago. The sudden charge, screams all about him, that great towering savage brandishing a cutlass he had just seized from a dying sailor. He had seen it only for a second, and then fallen senseless, his face a mask of blood. It had been a close-run thing. But for his coxswain, it would have been the end.

Herrick probably resented his landing with this watering party. It was work normally given to a lieutenant. But that memory, like the scar, was a constant reminder of what could go wrong without any sort of warning.

'Cable to go, Captain!' Allday eased the tiller bar slightly.

Bolitho started. He must have been dreaming. Undine looked far away now. A graceful toy. While right across the bows and reaching out on either hand like huge green arms, was the land.

Once again Mudge's memory proved to be sure and reliable. Within two hours of beaching the boats and sorting the hands into working parties, the master's mate, Fowlar, reported finding a little stream, and that the water was the freshest thing he had tasted for years.

The work was begun immediately. Armed pickets were placed at carefully chosen vantage points, and lookouts sent to the top of the small hill, below which Mudge's stream gurgled away into the dense jungle. After the first uncertainty of stepping on to dry land, with all the usual unsteadiness to their sealegs, the sailors soon settled down to the task. Pryke, the carpenter, and his mates quickly assembled some heavy sledges upon which the filled casks would be hauled down to the boats, and while the cooper stood watchfully at the stream the other men were busy with axes, clearing a path through the trees under Fowlar's personal supervision.

With Midshipman Penn trotting at his heels to act as messenger, Bolitho retained contact between beach and stream, making several journeys to ensure the operation was working smoothly. Lieutenant Soames was in charge of the beach, and of allocating more men to the work as they were ferried ashore. Davy had the inland part, while Keen was usually to be seen with some armed men at his back trudging around the labouring sailors to make sure there were no unwelcome visitors.

Fowlar had discovered two native fireplaces almost immediately. But they were decayed and scattered, and it seemed unlikely that anyone had been near them for months. Nevertheless, as he paused to watch over the progress of each party, Bolitho was conscious of a feeling of menace. Of hostility, which was hard to define.

On his way inland to the stream yet again he had to stand aside as a heavy sledge, hauled by some two dozen blaspheming seamen, careered past him, shaking the undergrowth, and making several great red birds flap between the trees, squawking discordantly. Bolitho watched the birds and then stepped back on to the crude trail. It was good to know something was alive here, he thought. Beneath the trees, where the sky was hidden from view, the air was heavy, and stank of rotting vegetation. Here and there, something clicked and rustled, or a small beady eye glittered momentarily in filtered sunlight before vanishing just as swiftly.

Penn gasped, 'Might be makes, sir!' He was panting hard, his shirt plastered to his body from his exertions to keep up.

Bolitho found Davy beneath a wall of overhanging rock, marking his list as yet another cask was sealed by Duff for the bumpy ride to the beach.

The second lieutenant straightened his back and observed, 'Going well, sir.'

'Good.' Bolitho stooped and cupped his hands into the stream. It was like wine, despite the rotten looking roots which sprouted from either bank. 'We will finish before dark.'

He looked up at a patch of blue sky as the trees gave a stealthy rustle. It was unmoving air below the matted branches, but above and to seaward the wind was holding well.

'I am going up the hill, Mr. Davy.' He thought he heard Penn sigh with despair. 'I hope your lookouts are awake.'

It was a long hard walk, and when they moved clear of the trees for the final climb to the summit, Bolitho felt the sun searing down on his shoulders, the heat through his shoes from the rough stones, like coals off a grate.

But the two lookouts seemed contented enough. In their stained trousers and shirts, with their tanned faces almost hidden by straw hats, they looked more like castaways than British seamen.

They had rigged a small shelter with a scrap of canvas, behind which lay their weapons, water flasks and a large brass telescope.

One knuckled his forehead and said "Orizon's clear, Cap'n!'

Bolitho tugged his hat over his eyes as he stared down the hill. The coastline was more uneven than he had imagined, water glittering between the thick layers of trees to reveal some inlet or cover not marked on any chart. Inland, and towards a distant barrier of tall hills, there was nothing but an undulating sea of trees. So close-knit, it looked possible to walk upright across the top of them.

He picked up the telescope and trained it on the ship. She was writhing and bending in a surface haze, but he saw the boats moving back and forth, very slowly, like tired water-beetles. He felt grit and dust under his fingers, and guessed the telescope had spent more time lying on the hillside than in use.

He heard Penn sucking noisily at a water flask, and could sense the lookouts willing him to leave them in peace. Theirs might be a thirsty job, but it was far easier than hauling casks through the forest. He moved the glass again. All those men, sledges and casks, yet from here he could see none of them. Even the beach was shielded. The boats, as they drew near the shore, appeared to vanish into the trees, as if swallowed whole.

Bolitho turned to his right, the movement making the men stir with alarm. In the telescope's lens the trees and slivers of trapped water grew and receded as he continued his search. Something had touched the corner of his eye, but what? The lookouts were watching him doubtfully, each caught in his own attitude as if mesmerised.

A trick of light. He blinked and rubbed his eye. Nothing.

He began another slow scrutiny. Thick, characterless forest. Or was that merely what he expected to see? And therefore… He stiffened and held his breath. When he lowered the glass the picture fell away into the distance. He waited, counting seconds, allowing his breathing to steady.

The lookouts had begun to whisper again, and Penn was drinking as before. They probably imagined he had been too long in the sun.

He lifted the glass very carefully. There, to the right, where he had already noticed a faint gleam of water, was something darker, at odds with the forest's greens and browns. He stared at it until his eye watered so painfully he could not continue.

Then he closed the glass with a snap and said, 'There is a ship yonder.' He saw Penn gaping at him, transfixed. 'To the south'rd. It must be some sort of inlet which we did not see earlier.'

He shaded his eyes, trying to estimate the distance, where it lay in relation to Undine and the beach where he had come ashore.

One of the lookouts exclaimed, 'Oi never saw nothin', sir.' He looked frightened, and worse.

Bolitho stared past him, trying to think.

'Take this glass and make sure you can see it now!'

He knew the seaman was more frightened of his captain, or what might become of him because of his negligence, than anything this discovery might mean.

Bolitho's mind recorded all these reactions as he said, 'Have you found it?'

'Aye, sir!' The man bobbed unhappily. "Tis a mast, right enough.'

'Thank you.' Bolitho added dryly, 'Keep your eye on it. I do not want it to vanish again!'

Penn dropped the flask and scuttled after him as he strode down the hill.

'Wh-what might it mean, sir?'

'Several things.' He felt the trees looming around him, a small relief from the sun's torment. 'They may have sighted us and are lying low until we weigh. Perhaps they are intent on some other mischief, I am not certain.'

He quickened his pace, ignoring creepers and fronds which plucked at his body. But for that brief flaw in the lens's picture he would have seen nothing, known nothing about the other vessel. Perhaps it would have been better that way. Maybe he was worrying to no purpose.

He found Davy as before, lounging in the shade of the hillside, his features relaxed as he watched his men filling the casks. 'Where is Mr. Fowlar?'

Davy came out of his torpor with a jerk. 'Er, on the beach, sir.'

'Damn!'

Another hard mile before he could examine Fowlar's chart and Mudge's notes. He looked up at the sky. Hours yet before sunset, but when it did come it would be quick. Shutting out the light like a curtain.

'I have discovered a ship, Mr. Davy. Well hidden, to the south'rd of us.' He saw the carpenter emerge from the under growth, a saw glinting in one fist. 'Take charge here, Mr. Pryke.' He beckoned to Davy. 'We are going to the beach.'

Pryke nodded, his fat face glowing like a ripe apple. 'Aye, sir.' He looked at Duff. 'There be only five more casks, by my reckonin'.'

'Well, speed the work. I want our people mustered as soon as the last one is filled.'

Davy hurried along at his side, his handsome face puzzled.

'Do you think this ship may be an enemy, sir?'

'I intend to find out.'

They completed the journey in silence, and Bolitho knew that Davy, like the lookouts, thought he was making too much of it.

Fowlar listened to him calmly and then examined his chart.

'If it is where I believe, then it is not marked here. So it must lie somewhere 'twixt this beach and the next bay.' He made a mark. 'About there, I would suggest, sir.'

'Could we reach it before dark? Overland?'

Fowlar's eyes widened but he answered, 'It looks close enough, sir. No more'n three mile or so. But that is four times as much in the jungle.' He dropped his eyes from Bolitho's gaze. 'You might be able to do it, sir.'

Davy asked, 'But if we wait until tomorrow, sir? We could have Undine anchored nearer this vessel you have found.'

'It would take too long. She may have weighed and gone overnight. And if they are aware of our presence and purpose, a boat attack would be useless in daylight, and in a confined inlet. You should know that, Mr. Davy.'

Davy looked at his shoes. 'Yes, sir.'

Another heavy cask lurched down the beach, the men panting like animals running from the hounds.

Soames, who had trudged up the beach to listen, said suddenly, 'She might be a slaver. In which case she will be well armed.' He rubbed his chin and nodded. 'Yours is a good plan, sir.' His thick forefinger scratched over the chart. 'We could cross the bottom of the hill where it reaches for the sea and strike south. If we travel lightly we should be at the inlet before dark.' He looked at Davy, his eyes hard. 'I'11 pick some good men. Ones who won't falter when the passage gets rough.'

Davy said nothing, he was obviously smarting because Soames had offered a course of action rather than an unthinking suggestion.

Bolitho looked towards the ship. 'Very well. We will rest the hands for half an hour. Then we will begin. Forty men should be sufficient if we are careful. It may be a complete waste of time.' He thought of the silent jungle. Watching. 'But to be anchored so dangerously inland? I doubt it.'

He beckoned to Penn. 'I will write my orders for the first lieutenant, and you will take them across directly. Undine will send her boats tomorrow morning and pick us up from seaward. By then we should know.' He glanced at Davy. 'One way or the other.'

He saw Keen coming out of the trees, a pistol hanging casually from his belt. As he turned towards the sea he halted and raised one arm to point. It was the jolly boat, darting across the water at full speed, the oars winking in the sunlight like silver.

Eventually it ground on to the beach, and without waiting for it to be made fast, Midshipman Armitage leapt over the gunwale and then fell face down on the sand.

Allday, who had been watching critically, exclaimed, 'God damn me, Captain! That young gentleman will stumble on an acorn!'

Armitage hurried up the beach, his cheeks scarlet as he dashed past the groups of grinning seamen.

He stammered, 'Mr. Herrick's respects, sir!' He paused to wipe sand from his chin. 'And we have sighted some small craft to the north of here.' He pointed haphazardly into the trees. 'A whole party of them. Mr. Herrick thinks they may come this way, although…' he stopped, screwing up his face as he usually did when passing a message, '… although they have vanished for the present.' He nodded, relieved, as he recalled the last part. 'Mr. Herrick suggests they have gone into another beach for some purpose.'

Bolitho gripped his hands behind him. The very thing he had been expecting had happened. It could not have come at a worse time.

'Thank you, Mr. Armitage.'

Davy said quietly, 'That has put paid to the venture, sir. We cannot be divided if hostile natives are about.'

Soames said scathingly, 'A plague on that, Mr. Davy! We have enough powder and shot to scatter a thousand bloody savages!'

'That will do!' Bolitho glared at them, his mind struggling with the problem. 'Mr. Herrick is probably correct. They may have gone ashore to hunt, or to make camp. Either way, it makes our mission all the more urgent.' He watched Soames thoughtfully, seeing the mixture of anger and triumph in his deepset eyes. 'Select your men at once.'

Davy asked stiffly, 'What will I do, sir?'

Bolitho turned away. In a hand-to-hand struggle Soames would be the better man. If things went against them, Herrick would need brains rather than brawn if he was to continue the voyage on his own resources.

'You will return to the ship with the last of the shore parties.' He scribbled a note on Fowlar's pad. 'And you will convey my… 'he hesitated, not seeing the desperation which clouded Davy's face, '… my ideas to him as best you can.'

Davy said tightly, 'I am senior to Soames, sir. It is my right to take part in this!'

Bolitho looked at him calmly. 'I will decide where your duty lies. Your loyalty I take for granted.' He watched Soames marching up and down a double line of men. 'Your turn will come, be sure of that.'

A shadow fell across Fowlar's chart and Bolitho saw the Spanish lieutenant, Rojart, watching him, his face as sad as ever.

'Yes, Teniente?'

He must have come ashore in one of the other boats.

Rojart said, 'I arrive to offer my services, Capitan.' He looked at Davy and Allday, his face very proud. 'Don Luis 'as instructed me to do all I can to 'elp you.'

Bolitho sighed. Rojart had already shown himself to be somewhat of a dreamer. Or perhaps his cruel experiences in the shipwreck had made him as he was. But one more officer, Spanish or not, would be useful. He also provided an excuse.

He said to Davy, 'So you see, Mr. Herrick will need your services more than ever now?'

To Rojart he replied, 'I accept your offer, Teniente, thank you.'

The Spaniard gave a flashing smile and bowed. 'Your servant, Capitin!'

Allday grinned and murmured, 'God help us all!'

Another cask was being manhandled on to the beach, and Duff puffed out of the trees, folding his spectacles as he shouted, 'That be the last 'un, sir!' He beamed at the onlookers. 'A full load!'

Soames tightened his swordbelt and said, 'Ready when you are, sir.' He pointed to the assembled seamen. 'All armed, but without any unnecessary gear to drag 'em back.' He ignored Davy.

Keen and his pickets were gathering at the end of the beach, and by the shallows Pryke stood guard over an odd pile of timber which his mates had collected for him.

Davy touched his hat formally. 'I wish you luck, sir.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Thank you. I hope we will not need it just yet.'

He glanced at Fowlar. 'Lead the way and make notes as we go. Who knows, we may come here again some day.'

Then he turned his back on the sea and strode up the beach towards the trees.

'We will rest now.'

Bolitho dragged his watch from his breeches pocket and peered at it. Its face was harder to see than the last occasion. When he looked up at a gap in the trees he thought the sky was already duller, the trees touched with purple instead of gold. Around him the seamen dropped wearily on their knees or leaned against the trees, trying to gain relief after their forced march. The first part had not been too difficult. With axes swinging to carve a trail, they had made good time, but as they drew closer to where Bolitho and Fowlar estimated the inlet lay, they had stopped using axes, and had fought their way through the brush and creeper with bare hands.

He looked at them thoughtfully. Their shirts were ripped and torn, faces and arms bloody from encounters with treacherous branches and thorns. At their backs the intertwined trees

had grown blacker, and seemed to shiver in the vapour of dead vegetation as if in a wind which could not be felt.

Soames was wiping his face and neck with a rag. 'I've sent scouts ahead, sir.' He knocked a water bottle from a man's mouth. 'Easy, damn you! That may have to last awhile yet!'

Bolitho saw him with different eyes. Like the men Soames had selected as scouts, for instance. Not the toughest or the most seasoned seamen as a lieutenant of his background might be expected to choose. Both scouts were from Undine's newest recruits and had never been to sea before. One had worked on a farm, and the other had been a Norfolk wildfowler. Excellent choices both, he thought. They had gone off into the trees with hardly a sound.

Allday muttered, 'What d'you think, Captain?'

His sturdy figure, familiar and reassuring, made Bolitho relax slightly.

He replied, 'I think we are very near now.'

He wondered how Herrick was managing, and whether he had sighted any more native craft. He shivered. Like most of his men, he felt out of place here.

'Cut off.' Fowlar hissed, 'Stand to, lads! Someone's a'comin'!'

Muskets moved blindly in the gloom, and a few men started to draw their cutlasses.

Soames snapped, 'A scout!' He strode towards the shadow. 'By God, Hodges, that was quickly done.'

The man stepped into the small clearing and looked at Bolitho.

'I found the ship, sir. She be about 'alf a mile away.' He stretched out one arm. 'If we veers a piece we should be able to reach 'er within the hour.'

'What else?'

Hodges shrugged. He was a lean man, and Bolitho could well picture him as a wildfowler, creeping about in the Norfolk marshes.

He said, 'I didn't stray too near, you'll understand, sir. But they're anchored close in. There's more on 'em ashore in a clearing. I 'card someone,' he faltered, 'sort of moanin'.' He shuddered. 'It made me flesh tingle, I can tell you, sir.'

Soames said harshly, 'As I thought. Bloody slavers. They'll have a camp ashore. They collect the poor devils and sort 'em into groups. Girls in one party, men in t'other. They weigh 'em, then decide who will last the voyage to wherever the cargo is bound.'

Fowlar spat on the dead leaves and nodded. 'The rest they leave behind. Cut their throats to save powder and shot.'

Bolitho looked at the scout, trying to shut Fowlar's blunt comment from his thoughts. Everyone knew it happened. Nobody seemed to know how to deal with it. Especially when many influential persons reaped a rich profit from the trade.

'Are there guards about?'

'I saw two, sir. But they seem well content. The ship 'as two guns run out.'

Soames grunted. 'No doubt. A bellyful of grape or canister if anyone tries to free those bastards!'

The Spanish lieutenant moved amongst them. Despite the rough passage through the trees he managed to remain very elegant in his ruffled shirt and wide cuffs.

'Per'aps we should continue towards the shore, Capitan.' He shrugged eloquently. 'There is no sense in arousing this ship if she is a mere slaver, yes?'

Soames turned away, saying nothing. But Bolitho guessed that like most sailors he was disgusted that Rojart could accept slavery as a natural state of affairs.

'We go forward, Teniente. In any case, our boats will not come for us until tomorrow.'

He looked at Soames. 'Take charge. I am going to see for myself.' He beckoned to Midshipman Keen. 'You, too.' As he felt his way out of the clearing he added, 'The rest of you, be ready to follow. No talking, and hold on to each other if you fear getting separated. Any man who fires a musket by whatever means or accident will feel my anger!'

Hodges pushed ahead saying, 'My mate, Billy Norris, is keepin' a weather eye on 'em, sir. Follow close. I've marked the way.'

Bolitho took his word, although he could see no marks anywhere.

It was amazing how near they had been. It seemed no time at all before Hodges was tapping his arm and gesturing for him to take cover amidst some sharp-toothed scrub, and here, opening up like a theatre, was the inlet. And how much lighter it seemed, the sunlight still lingering on the trees, and painting the sluggishly moving water with rippling reflections.

He eased himself forward, trying to ignore the painful jabs in his hands and chest. Then he froze, forgetting all the discomfort and uncertainty as he saw the ship for the first time.

Behind him he heard Allday voicing his thoughts.

'By God, Captain, it's the one which lured the Dons on to that reef!'

Bolitho nodded. The brigantine appeared larger in the confined inlet, but there was no mistaking her. He. knew he would not forget her for many a year to come.

He heard the same pitiful moaning Hodges had described, and then the sharp clatter of steel on the,far side of the inlet.

Allday whispered, 'Putting manacles on the wretches.'

'Yes.'

He wriggled forward again, seeing the brigantine's anchor cable, a boat alongside, the glow of light from her poop. As before, no flag. But there was no doubting her watchfulness. Two guns already run out, muzzles depressed to rake any attacker.

A boat glided from the shore, very slowly, and Bolitho tensed as a woman cried out, the sound dragging at his nerves as it echoed around the trees.

'Taking slaves aboard.' Allday ground his teeth. 'They'll be off shortly. That's my guess.'

Bolitho agreed.

To Keen he said, 'Fetch the others. Tell them to take care.' He sought out the crouching shape of the second scout. 'You go with him.'

To Allday he said quietly, 'If we can seize her, we'll know for sure who was behind Nervion's destruction.'

Allday had his cutlass in both hands. 'I'm for that, Captain!'

More thuds and sounds from alongside the brigantine, and another shrill cry rising to a scream until it was swiftly silenced by a blow.

Bolitho tried to estimate how far this point was from the sea. The slaver's master would need to be able to slip away as quietly as he had entered. He would require stealth. As little noise as possible until he was clear. It seemed incredible to be watching this same vessel. While Undine had waited to search for Nervion's survivors, and had then taken wide detours to avoid land and other ships, the slaver had pushed on with his own affairs. As if nothing had happened. It took iron-hard nerves for that. There were more sharp cries. Like animals at slaughter. Slavers had no nerves. No pity.

He heard furtive noises behind him and Soames's voice, flat, unemotional.

'Young Keen was right then. It is the same vessel.' He squinted at the tree-tops beyond the brigantine. 'Not much time left, sir. It'll be as black as a boot in an hour. Maybe less.'

'What I believe, too.' Bolitho looked at the clearing where the slaves were being gathered. A few wisps of smoke from fires. Probably for a blacksmith to work on the manacles. But it was the weakest point. 'Take twenty men and move around the camp. At the first sign of alarm you open fire with everything you have. Create panic if nothing else.'

'Aye. Makes sense.'

Bolitho nodded, his mind chilling with excitement. A kind of madness which always came at such moments.

'I'll want ten men who can swim. If we can board her while the slaves are being loaded, we might be able to hold the poop until you rush the boats and join us.'

He heard Soames rubbing his chin.

'A wild plan, sir, but it's now or never, it seems to me.'

'It's settled then. Tell Rojart to keep a few hands here to protect our flank. For this is the way we must go if all fails.' Soames started to crawl away, hissing his orders into the forest until he appeared satisfied.

Other figures rustled and grunted nearby, and Keen said, 'Our party is ready, sir.'

'Our party?'

Keen's teeth looked very white in the fading light. 'I am an excellent swimmer, sir.'

Allday muttered anxiously, 'I hope there are none of those damned serpents in the water.'

Bolitho looked around at their faces. How well he had got to know most of them. He saw it all in these last moments. Fear, anxiety, wildness to match his own. Even brutal eagerness.

He said shortly, 'We will slide into the water below the bushes. Leave your shoes and everything else but your weapons.' He sought out Allday. 'See that the pistols are well wrapped. It should keep them dry for a while.'

He studied the sky. It was darkening swiftly, and only the tree-tops still held the gentle glow of sunlight. In the inlet and around the anchored brigantine the water was dull. Like liquid mud.

'Nosy!'

He caught his breath as the water came up to his waist and then his neck. It was very warm. He waited a few more seconds, expecting to hear a shout or the sound of a musket. But the muffled cries from the camp told him he had chosen the time well. They were too busy to watch everywhere at once.

The others were in the water behind him, their weapons held high as they paddled slowly away from the bank.

Keen was overtaking him, his arms moving smoothly. He whispered, 'I'll make for the cable, sir.' He was actually grinning.

Further, and further still, until they had passed the halfway, and Bolitho knew if they were discovered now they would be lost. The masts and yards stood high overhead, the furled sails sharp against the sky, the lantern light shining more brightly in the descending gloom. Feet thudded on deck and a man laughed wildly. A drunkard's laugh. Perhaps you needed extra rum for such work, he thought.

And then, as if by magic, they were all together, clawing the rounded hull below the starboard cathead, the current dragging at their legs, folding them against the rough timbers as they fought to stay concealed.

Allday gasped, 'The boats'll never see us here. We're safe for a bit.'

At that very instant a terrible cry floated across the water, and for a moment Bolitho imagined someone had been killed.

But the seaman at his side was floundering and pointing towards the bank which they had just left.

Even in the dying light it was easy to recognise Rojart's ruffled shirt. He was standing in the open, his arms held out as if to seize the inlet and everything it contained. He yelled again and again, waving his fists, stamping his feet, as if he had gone raving mad.

Rojart's sudden appearance had brought a complete hush to the brigantine's deck, but now as voices babbled and shouted and more feet thudded along the planking, Bolitho knew any hope of surprise was gone.

Keen had been clinging to the bobstay below the bowsprit, but now allowed himself to drift down towards him.

He gasped wretchedly, 'Nobody told Rojart it was the ship which sank Nervion. He must have just discovered-'

The sound of the shot was deafening and seemed to come from almost overhead. The smoke gushed and eddied across the swirling water, making more than one man duck his face to avoid a fit of coughing.

Before it hid the bank Bolitho saw Rojart hurled away by a full charge of canister. A bloody rag. Not a man at all.

He clung to the line which Allday had bent on to the bobstay and tried to clear his mind. The unexpected and unforeseen.

He winced as another shot crashed out from further aft, the hull shivering under his fingers as if alive. A ball this time, he heard it smashing through the trees and then fading away completely.

And it was then, from beyond the hidden camp, that Soames's men opened fire.