10. Another Flag

'Ship cleared for action, sir.' Herrick watched Bolitho's face anxiously.

Bolitho moved the telescope slowly from bow to bow, trying to avoid the overlapping mesh of shrouds and stays as he stared fixedly at the shore. Because of the glare which filtered through then morning haze it was impossible to fix any proper mark or to take an accurate'bearing.

He replied, 'Too long, Mr. Herrick. I want the time cut to twelve minutes.' He was speaking merely to give himself another moment to gather his thoughts.

The distant gunfire had stopped, but there had been at least a dozen shots. Sharp and loud, despite the range. Probably small pieces.

He swung the glass further to starboard, seeing the lowlying wedge of land reaching out to lie parallel with their slow approach. The eastern headland of Pendang Bay. There was no room for further doubt.

Something dark intruded into the lens, and he saw the brig tilting to the low breeze, her yards alive with tiny figures as she finished reefing. A huge Spanish flag had been hoisted to her peak, blinding white in the glare, and he found time to wonder how Rosalind's master was reacting to Puigserver's show of national pride.

Almost without intending to speak aloud he said, 'I wish the Don was here with us. I think combined thought and action may be called for.'

He heard Conway grunt. 'Unnecessary. Ours is the ship of war, Bolitho. I want no damned Spaniard under my feet today.'

Herrick asked quietly, 'What d'you make of it, sir?' Bolitho shook his head. 'An attack on the settlement maybe.

But I understand the place is well defended and-' Conway interrupted harshly, 'All this fuss over a few bloody savages!'

Herrick was standing beside Mudge and whispered, 'I expect that is what poor Captain Cook said!'

Bolitho turned sharply. 'If you've all nothing better to do than make stupid remarks…' He swung away and added, 'Two good leadsmen in the chains immediately. Begin sounding.' To Mudge he snapped, 'Let her fall off a point.'

The edge in his tone was having the right effect. Men who seconds earlier had been chatting and gossiping about what might be happening ashore were now silent and alert, standing to their guns, or grouped at halliards and braces for the next command.

The wheel creaked, the sound very loud in the sudden stillness, and the helmsman called, 'Nor'-east by north, sir!'

'Very well.'

Bolitho glanced at Conway's profile, the glassy intentness in his eye.

From forward came the leadsman's cry, 'No bottom, sir!'

Bolitho looked at Mudge, but the master's heavy face was expressionless. He probably thought it was a waste of time to take soundings. The chart, and all available information, told them the water was deep until the last cable or so. Or maybe he thought his captain was so nervous that he was afraid to leave anything to chance.

Another, single crack echoed out from the mist-shrouded coast and died away very gradually.

Bolitho tugged out his new watch and stared at it. At this speed it would take near on an hour to close the land. But it could not be helped.

'No bottom, sir!'

He said, 'Pass the word for Captain Bellairs. I'll want a full landing party. Tell Mr. Davy to prepare the boats for lowering once we have anchored. He will take charge of them.'

Conway said briefly, 'Good beach, I'm told. The settlement and fort are on a slope to the western side of the bay.'

Herrick strode aft and touched his hat. 'Shall I order the guns to load, sir? He sounded guarded.

'Not yet, Mr. Herrick.'

Bolitho trained his glass across the larboard bow. Settlement, fort, they could have been imagination. The blurred green outline of the land looked totally deserted.

He heard the marine sergeant bellowing orders, the stamp of boots as his men were divided and sub-divided in readiness to disembark. Bellairs was watching them from the starboard gangway, his face completely blank, but his eyes missing nothing.

'By the mark twenty!' The leadsman sounded triumphant.

Mudge nodded gloomily. 'About right. Twenty fathoms hereabouts.'

Some small birds darted across the sea's face and circled above the braced yards. Bolitho watched them, recalling the swifts flying about the grey stone house in Falmouth. It would be fine there today. Sunshine, bright colours. The hills dotted with sheep and cattle. The town itself busy with farmers and sailors, each depending on the other, as it had always been.

He saw Herrick nearby and said quietly, 'Forgive my anger ust now.'

Herrick smiled. 'No matter, sir. You were right. We have been caught unawares already on this venture. Trouble will not fade away merely because we turn our backs on it.'

'Rosalind's settin' 'er fores'l again, sir!'

They turned to watch as the brig dipped to the wind and gathered way.

Conway snarled, 'By God, the Don intends to lead us inshore, blast him!V

'It is his right, sir.' Bolitho trained his glass on the other vessel, seeing the busy figures above and below, the great slash of her ensign with its crowned shield bright in the sunlight. 'It is still the territory of the Spanish Royal Company until he says otherwise.'

Conway scowled. 'That is mere formality.' He stared hard at him. 'Fire a warning shot, Captain!'

Bolitho looked at Herrick. 'Pass the word forrard. One ball.

But mind it drops well clear of the brig.'

The leadsman called again, 'Deep eighteen!'

Bolitho shut his ears to the squeak of gun trucks as the fore, most twelve-pounder was run out. The gun captain was peering along the muzzle, and as the light touched him Bolitho saw that

one hand was a metal hook. Turpin.

Herrick shouted, 'Ready, sir!'

'As you will then.'

The gun crashed out, and seconds later a thin waterspout rose like a feather far beyond the brig's bowsprit.

Bolitho said, 'Well, atleasttheywill knowwe are coming, sir,' Conway snapped, 'Savages. I'll soon get to the bottom of this little matter.'

Bolitho sighed as the brig fell off slightly, her foresail already being brailed up in response to his rough signal. The thought of having a poorly armed brig lying between an enemy and his own artillery was a worry he could not afford. And she was aboard Rosalind, too.

He turned round sharply, angry with himself for allowing his thoughts to drift. Right now he needed-to be completely clear. His mind like steel.

'Mr. Mudge, d'you know much of this place, other than you have already told me?'

The master shrugged. 'Very few people 'ave seen inland, sir.

'Ead 'unters, warrin' tribes there are a'plenty, I'm told. But the natives are often sailors, pirates from the north of Borneo. Sea-Dyaks they calls 'em. Many a good ship 'as been overrun at anchor by them devils.' He shook his jowls. 'Then it's snip, snip with their long knives, an' poor Jack is no more!'

At that moment a seaman beside a six-pounder pointed aloft as the masthead pendant licked out with renewed energy.

Like a long, low curtain the sea mist began to move and shred itself, vanishing into the land, and laying bare endless stretches of beach, thick jungle, and finally the overlapping hills beyond.

Herrick lowered his telescope and exclaimed, 'And is that the settlement, sir?'

Bolitho steadied his own glass, not daring to look at Conway's face. What he had first taken to be a heap of lopped and piled trees was shaping itself into long, spiked palisades, supported and guarded at regular intervals by squat, timbered blockhouses. As the mist slipped away he saw what must be the governor's residence. It had to be, for it was the largest building in sight. Again, it was built entirely of timber, with an upper and lower rampart and one spindly watchtower in its Centre, above which the Spanish flag lifted occasionally in the sea breeze.

Conway said thickly, 'In God's name!' The words were,,rung from his throat.

BolithO watched the distant fort for some sign of life other than the flag. The place looked crude, but was well sited, easy to defend. There must be settlements like this all over the world, he thought. But what about before? Someone had first to wade ashore from a boat, or march through swamp and jungle to plant a flag. To claim the land for his own country. He had heard of islands in the Pacific which were regularly claimed and re-claimed by half a dozen nations, sometimes out of the genuine desire to colonise, but often merely because their ships paused there for no other reason than to find water and firewood.

'By the mark ten!'

He looked at Herrick. 'We will anchor in eight fathoms.' He saw Allday scrambling over the gig on its chocks. 'Then boats away as fast as you can.'

He turned his attention to the cruising wavelets which had risen to enjoy the freshening breeze. It was a large but wellsheltered bay. It was said that the Spanish Royal Company had claimed it years earlier almost by accident. They had intended to place their settlement further north, to gain access for trade with the Philippines. But fever, losses in ships and resources had found them here instead. It was easy to understand why the Spaniards had lost heart, easier still to realise how much more important it would be to the British. Within reach of both India and the vast, barely-tapped resources of the China Seas, it could be a vital link, given time and skilful handling. With the French and Spaniards gone from the area, only the power of the Dutch East Indiamen offered any sort of competition. He glanced quickly at Conway's stiff features. But was he the one to begin it, he wondered?

Fighting men rarely saw much further than the strategy and tactics of the moment. And one made bitter and desperate by past mistakes would be less inclined to compromise.

'People leaving the palisade, sir!'

Bolitho raised the glass again. Twos and threes, some carrying muskets, others limping down the sand towards the water's edge and a long, partly-constructed pier of rough timber and piles. Most of them were so dark-skinned they could be natives, but the uniforms were Spanish well enough.

Not one of them waved. They merely stood or sat dejectedly watching the frigate's careful approach.

Herrick said under his breath, 'God, they look like scarecrows!'

'What did you expect, Mr. Herrick, sir?' Unseen and unheard, the surgeon had appeared on the quarterdeck, his face and neck like raw meat.

Bolitho watched him impassively. 'You are recovered, it seems, Mr. Whitmarsh?'

The surgeon turned his gaze on him. His eyes were redrimmed with strain, so that they looked too hot for their sockets.

He muttered vaguely, 'We have arrived, I see, sir.' He reached out for support and, finding none, almost fell headlong. He mumbled, 'Pattern never changes. First they hand over their power of protection to us. With ships and men if needed to give power to that protection. When all is safe the traders will come, and the Company's flag will be supreme.'

Bolitho asked coldly, 'And then what?'

Whitmarsh regarded him emptily. 'The place will become a colony, a possession. Or if we have cleaned it out like an empty shell, we will simply…' he retched, '… discard it. Cast it away!'

Conway seemed to hear him for the first time. 'Get off this deck, you drink-sodden creature!' His face was working with despair, a need to release his anger. 'Or by heaven you will be sorry!'

The surgeon gave an awkward bow. 'But I am sorry, believe me! Sorry for you, sir, at being given this wretched task.' He swayed towards Bolitho. 'For the good captain, who will eventually be made to stand between justice and tyranny. And more sorry perhaps…' He pitched forward in an untidy heap and lay completely still.

'By the mark eight!'

The leadsman's call brought Bolitho back to reality.

He snapped, 'Have him taken to his quarters.'

As some seamen seized the inert surgeon and carried him to the ladder, he caught the sour odour of vomit and spilled wine. The stench of a man's decay.

Conway was still staring at the deck. 'Another second and I'd have had him in irons!' He glared at Bolitho. 'Well?'

'There was something in what he said, sir. What is on a sober man's mind is often on a drunkard's tongue.'

Herrick called, 'Close enough, I think, sir.'

Bolitho hurried to the quarterdeck rail, glad to be free of Conway's mood. He studied the lie of the smaller headland to larboard, the great eastern one on the opposite beam, thrusting out to sea, and already a delicate green in the early sunlight.

'Signal our intention to Rosalind, and then wear ship, if you please.' He waited until the anchor party had assembled above the cathead. Then he added, 'Tell Davy to keep our people together once we are ashore. I want no plague raging through Undine.'

'D'you think there is fever here, sir?'

For just a moment there was fear in Herrick's eyes. Like most seamen he could accept blood and broadside, as well as the harsh discipline which guided his daily life. But the unknown, the terror of plague which could render a whole ship useless, turn her into a floating tomb, was entirely different.

'That we will discover directly.'

'Rosalind's acknowledged, sir!'

Keen seemed his usual carefree self. Even Armitage was watching the land with something like expectancy.

'Wear shipV

'Man the lee braces!'

Bolitho saw the helm going over, and moved to Conway'ss side to avoid the rush of seamen across the quarterdeck as the frigate turned slowly into the wind.

'Will you wait for Don Puigserver, sir?'

Conway looked at him, a nerve jumping in his throat, as the anchor plunged into the clear water in a mighty cascade of spray.

'I suppose so.' He peered towards the brig which was already swinging easily to her cable. 'I wish you to accompany me.'

'An honour, sir.'

'You think so?' Conway removed the gold-laced hat and ran his palm over his grey hair. He smiled bitterly. 'We shall see.'

Noddall came on deck with Bolitho's sword, but quailed as Aliday rasped, 'Here, give me that!'

He hurried to Bolitho's side and carefully buckled the scabbard into place, muttering, 'The very idea!'

Then he straightened his back and stared at the boats which were being swayed up and over the nettings.

'A long way we've come together, Captain.' He turned to watch the brig's boats being lowered into the water. 'It's not a happy place, I'm thinking.'

Bolitho did not hear him. He watched the marines clambering out and down into the swaying boats, their coats very red, their boots slipping and clattering as they always did. Captain Bellairs was studying each and every one of them, especially the young corporal who carried the sheathed Union Flag which would soon be planted on foreign soil.

Like many sea officers, Bolitho had often thought about such moments, but the mental picture had always been grander and vaster. Endless lines of men, bands playing, cheering people, and the anchored ships looking splendid and secure at the sea's edge.

Now he understood differently. It was only a beginning. Small, but no less impressive because of that.

Conway said, 'Well, we had best begin. I see the Don is already on his way.'

The brig's boats were indeed moving inshore, one bearing the Spanish flag, the others that of the Company.

Bolitho was thankful Viola Raymond was remaining aboard the Rosalind.

Conway followed him into the gig, and with the armed and crowded boats fanning out on either beam they started towards the nearest beach.

Bolitho could smell the jungle long before they were within hail of the people by the frothing surf, like incense, heady and overpowering. He gripped his sword-hilt tighter and tried to compose himself. It was a moment he must always try to remember.

He glanced quickly at Conway for some sign or reaction.

He looked remote and sadly stern.

The new governor of Teluk Pendang had arrived.


Lieutenant Thomas Herrick walked a few paces across the quarterdeck, his movements restless as he watched Bellairs' marines and some seamen below the nearest palisade. It was ast noon, with the sun blazing down on the anchored ships with savage intensity. Most of the unemployed hands were sheltering by the guns beneath the gangways, but Herrick felt unable to leave the deck, even though his head was swimming, his shirt plastered against his body like a wet rag.

Tugging at her cable, the Undine had swung her stern towards the long, pale beach, and with the visibility sharp and clear, it was easier to see the extent of Conway's new command. Larger than he had first imagined, it had obviously been planned and constructed by a military engineer. Even the unfinished timber pier looked neat and strong, but like the rest of the place, was in a state of bad neglect.

As he had paced the quarterdeck, or peered across the taffrail, Herrick had seen Bolitho and some of the landing party moving along the wooden ramparts, or exploring the ground between the two separate palisades which guarded the approaches to the fort and its surrounding buildings. The boats lay like dead fish on the beach, exactly where they had ground ashore some four hours earlier. He had watched some marines hauling the swivel guns towards the fort, others, harried by the massive Sergeant Coaker, had manned the ramparts, or could now be seen patrolling near the pier. The handful of Spanish soldiers had withdrawn into the fort, and of the enemy, or whatever the garrison had been firing at, there was not a sign.

He turned as a heavy step fell on the tinder-dry planking and saw Soames shading his eyes with one hand, and munching a biscuit with the other.

'Any sign yet, sir?' Soames eyed the distant settlement without enthusiasm. 'What a place to end your years, eh?

Herrick was worried. Something should have happened by now. There were supposed to be some three hundred Spanish soldiers and followers in the settlement, and God alone knew how many local natives. From what he had seen there were hardly any. The same old thought crossed his mind. Plague perhaps? Or something even more terrible.

He replied, 'They appear to be examining the inner defences. I am not surprised the Dons wish to be rid of it.' He shuddered. 'From here it looks as if the damned jungle is pushing the whole lot back into the sea.'

Soames shrugged and pointed his half-eaten biscuit at the gun deck. 'Shall I dismiss the gun crews? There seems to be little here to excite action.'

'No. There are only five of them manned. Change 'em round and send the others below for a spell.'

He was glad when Soames walked away. He needed to concentrate, to decide what to do if he was suddenly required to act without Bolitho at his elbow. It had been different the last time. A sort of wild recklessness had come over him, prompted as ever by the need to dash to Bolitho's aid in the only way he knew.

But here were no yelling savages, no darting canoes which a few bursts of canister could scatter. Silence, and depressing immobility.

Midshipman Penn called in his shrill voice, 'One of the boats is being launched, sir!'

Herrick felt his heart lift as the distant figure thrust Undine's green-painted gig into the shallows. He saw Bolitho's tall figure striding down the beach, pausing to say something to Davy before swinging his legs over the gunwale.

At last. Soon they would know what was happening. Only four hours, but to Herrick it felt an age.

'Muster the side party. Stand by to receive the captain!'

Bolitho looked strained and thoughtful as he climbed up through the entry port, his coat covered with sandy dust, his face damp with sweat. He glanced at the motionless side party but did not seem to see them.

He said, 'Have the surgeon and his mates sent ashore to report to Mr. Davy. When the other boats arrive I want powder and shot, food and fresh fruit sent over, too.' He peered towards the anchored brig and at another boat which was pulling quickly towards her. 'I have sent word for Rosalind to assist in every way she can.' He looked at Herrick's round face and smiled for the first time. 'Easy, Thomas. It is not the end, though it was nearly so. Come to my cabin when you have dealt with my orders. Allday has a list of things required.'

When Herrick finally joined Bolitho in the stern cabin he found him stripped to the waist and drinking a large tankard of lemon juice.

'Sit down, Thomas.'

Herrick sat, aware that although Bolitho sounded controlled and level, there was something else, something familiar which told him his mind was busy along another tack.

'When the war ended there was a garrison of about three hundred here.' It was as if he was drawing a picture, just as it had been painted for him. 'The commandant, the King of;Spain's trusted controller, was Colonel Don Jose Pastor, a dedicated soldier to all accounts, and one well used to building such settlements. He gained some trust from the natives, and by barter and other inducements, as well as the usual Spanish use of force, he was able to create a strong defence line, as well as clear much of the surrounding land. There is even a road of sorts, although that now is overgrown. A wilderness.'

Herrick ventured, 'Fever?'

'That, of course, but no more than you might expect in such a place.' He studied Herrick for several seconds, his eyes very grey in the reflected light. 'The settlement has been under almost constant attack for over a year. At first they thought it was only the work of marauding tribesmen, Dyak pirates maybe who were becoming worried by the spread of Spanish influence in their midst. Colonel Pastor had set up a Catholic mission above the settlement. The monks were found terribly mutilated and headless.' He did not see Herrick's expression of horror. 'Then others died when the fresh-water pools were, poisoned. The garrison had to fall back upon its own little stream within the walls. But for it, the fight would have ended long ago. Think of it, Thomas, if you had been an officer here. Trying to hold up morale, fighting an unseen enemy, while day by day your strength is dwindling. Each dawn you would be watching the horizon, praying for a ship, any vessel which could bring relief. Only one came in the whole of that time, but would not land its people for fear of the plague. She merely dropped despatches and left. God knows, I can understand that. They are like living skeletons over yonder.' He looked round as a boat pulled clear of the hull. 'Let us hope our surgeon will find others to help and think less of himself.'

Herrick asked quietly, 'What will Admiral Conway do, sir?'

Bolitho closed his eyes, remembering the small gathering in the room at the top of the wooden fort, hearing Puigserver's emotional voice as he had translated the report of the settlement's one remaining officer, Captain Vega.

The attacks had gone on and on, and when once an armed picket had been ambushed, the fort's defenders had nearly been driven mad by the screams and pitiful cries as their comrades had been tortured to death within sight of the walls.

Bolitho said, 'To the west of us is a small cluster of islands. The Benua Group.'

Herrick nodded, unable to understand. 'Yes. We passed them a day back.'

'They lie astride the strait between Borneo and the islands of Sumatra and Java.' His tone hardened. 'This self-styled prince, Muljadi, has his stronghold there. The Dutch built a fortress in one of the isles many years ago, but abandoned it when disease killed most of the garrison.' He looked through the stern windows, his eyes grave. 'Not like Conway's new domain, Thomas. It is built of stone.'

Herrick attempted to shift Bolitho from his mood of passive despair. 'But a few ships and men would soon destroy this damned Muljadi, surely?'

'Once, perhaps.' Bolitho drained the glass and stared at it. 'This morning there was a final attempt to overthrow the defences here. I expect the attacker saw Undine pass through the strait yesterday and knew they must make haste. Now they are gone into the jungle. Captain Vega of the garrison says they will head west to the marsh district, where they will be taken by sea to Muljadi's stronghold.' He gave a great sigh. 'Of all the men at the settlement, there are but fifty survivors. Poisoned darts, musket balls, for they have our weapons, too, and fever have wrought a terrible price from them. There was even a mutiny, when Vega's men fought with their own native soldiers, most of them too crazed with drink and despair to know what they were about.'

Herrick stared at him. 'What of Colonel Pastor, Sir? Is he also killed?'

Bolitho sat down and massaged the white scar above his ribs. 'I am coming to that part. Weeks back, a ship did finally arrive. Not to bring help, or to offer relief to people from their own part of 'the world. She was the Argus, Thomas.' He swung round, the weariness falling away like a cloak. 'Of forty-four guns, under the hand of Capitaine Le Chaumareys. He landed himself and met with Colonel Don Pastor. He brought a message from Muljadi. Personally.' He gripped the desk with both hands. 'And required him to lower the flag, to relinquish all claims on the settlement in the name of Spain.'

'My God.'

'Indeed. Apparently the colonel told of help which would soon arrive, but Le Chaumareys laughed at him. Said there would be no relief, no ships coming to his aid.'

'Then the French do have a hand in this, sir?'

'A big one.' His face lit up. 'Cannot you see it, Thomas? Le Chaumareys was instructed to force the Spanish to surrender their rights here. He knew better than most that Nervion or Undine, or both, would be delayed by any means available. With the settlement handed over to Muljadi, and a written agreement from Pastor, who after all is his King's representative here, there would be nothing we or anyone else could do. I have no doubt Le Chaumareys had further orders to recognise Muljadi's rule in the name of France, and to offer him whatever he needed to control his alliance.' He looked towards the beach, at the seamen who were unloading two of the boats. 'But we did come, Thomas. Too late for Colonel Pastor, for he left in the Argus to parley for his men with Muljadi. I pity him, even if I admire his courage.'

Herrick nodded slowly, his eyes clouded. 'And when he had gone, the last attack began. No governor, few defenders. Dead men have little to say.'

Herrick thought of their slow approach that morning, the mist on the water distorting the sounds of cannon fire. No wonder the remaining, ragged defenders had not been able to wave or greet them. Undine must have seemed like a miracle.

Bolitho said, 'Don Puigserver is our one real card. He can act in the name of Spain and assure Conway of his country's confidence.'

'How did he react to the news?'

Bolitho thought of the Spaniard's face as he had listened to Vega. Anguish, shame and then fury. He had seen it all. Only Conway's attitude still remained in shadow. He had said little, and not even argued with Raymond when he had started off on what Parliament would or would not support. Only one thing was certain. The affair had to be contained. No build-up of additional force, no acceptance that there had been a change in rulership, here or anywhere else. As Raymond had explained more than once, the Dutch were too busy recouping their losses caused by the war to want another conflict in their midst. If France thrust more naval might into the area, then Spain, too, might change her views about her untried allegiance with Britain. It could be war, all over again.

Only when Bolitho had made to leave for his ship had the rear admiral drawn him into a corner.

He had said very calmly, 'Politics, a need for furthering trade or colonial power, all are attitudes. Only one thing is properly clear to me, as it must be to you, Bolitho.' He had held his gaze, searching for a reaction before adding, 'Every puzzle must have a key. This one has two. Undine and Argus. Governments may try to use more power later on, but by then it will be too late for us all. If Undine is lost, so are we. Be sure that Le Chaumareys is already well aware of it!'

When Bolitho had made to question him further he had said, 'He is a good officer, make no mistake. Our squadrons had cause to damn his eyes in the war. France has loaned Muljadi their best, as I hope England has aided me in the same manner!'

Much of his thoughts Bolitho had spoken aloud, for Herrick exclaimed, 'But it is not war, sir! No Frenchman will cross swords for fear of starting one!'

Bolitho watched him and was glad he was here. 'Le Chaumareys will have a letter of marque. He is far from a fool. When he runs out those forty-four guns it will be Muljadi's flag at his peak, not the Fleur de Lys of France.' He stood up and moved vaguely about the cabin. 'But behind each breech will be an experienced crew, the cream of his navy. While we.'He half turned, his face suddenly drained again. 'But that is enough. Battles are not won or lost on daydreams.'

Herrick nodded. 'And what will we do now, sir?'

Bolitho tugged the shirt over his head, the same stained one as before.

'We will weigh when the tide is right. If I\Iuljadi has vessels in the area we must close with them. Show him we mean to continue what we have begun.'

He pulled Herrick towards the stern windows as a bugle wailed sadly across the glittering water. Above the fort there was Conway's new flag, the little group of marines beneath it glowing like tiny red insects.

'See, Thomas, there is no drawing back. Not for Conway. Not for any of us.'

Herrick watched the little tableau doubtfully. 'Better to await the Bedford, surely? With troops and more cannon we would stand a better chance.'

'That is what Le Chaumareys will be thinking.' He smiled, his face suddenly very young. 'At least, I hope that is so!'

Herrick groped for his hat, glad of something to occupy his mind and to hold back the apprehension Bolitho's news had brought.

'Will we leave Bellairs and his marines?'

'Half of them. There is much to be done. With corpses lying unburied, the place is a dunghill. The defences are stout, but in need of good men to patrol them. Rosalind will remain also under the protection of the battery, such as it is. I think her master is eager to get clear of this place, but Conway is more than a match for him.'

Herrick moved towards the door. 'It is not what I was expecting, sir.'

'Nor I. But like it or not, we have a duty. If Muljadi and his threat is to be overcome, then he must be seen as a common pirate.' He ran his hands along the desk top. 'Argots or no!'

Herrick hurried out, his thoughts tugging in several directions at once. He found IVIudge in the wardroom staring gloomily at a plate of salt beef.

The master asked, 'Are we off again, Mr. 'Errick?'

Herrick smiled. Fact soon grew from rumour in a small ship.

'Yes. The Argus is busy here, it seems. As a privateer, and not openly in the name of France.'

Mudge yawned. Unimpressed. 'Nothin' new. We used to do the same for the Company in India. A few ready muzzles always seemed to impress a doubtin' rajah if a little strength was called for.'

Herrick looked at him and sighed. 'So the Frogs will back an armed uprising, and we will support the protection of trade. But what of the people in between, Mr. Mudge?'

The master pushed his plate away with disgust. 'Never asked 'em!' was all he said.

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