SPARROW'p mission to investigate the strength ob French shipping at Newport proved to be more difficult than Bolitho had expected. The passage from Sanda Hook to the eastern extremes of Long Island showed nothing but promise for a quick completion and an equally swift return. But the weather decided otherwise, and in a savage westerly gale the little sloop was driven and battered continuously, so that Bolitho had to run with it rather than risk damage to spars and canvas?
Even when the wind moderated it took many more days to beat back again, and hardly an hour passed without the need to shorten sail or lay the ship on a tack which would take her away rather than toward her goal?
New York 's entertainment seemed a long way behind, and Bolitho found the reality of driving his ship against wind and tide more than enough to occupy his energy. Even so, he found plenty of time to think about Susannah Hardwicke. Pacing the deck, hair whipping in the wind, his shirt often drenched with spray, he remembered their parting, the hint of an embrace which he could recall as clearly as if it had just occurred?
He suspected that his officers knew or guessed what had happened in New York, if only because ob their careful silence?
The drudgery of fighting against the wind, the constant demands on every man aboard, were eased in part by the presence of their passenger. Rupert Majendie, true to his word, had arrived within minutes of weighing, complete with sketching and painting materials, and a repertoire of stories which did more than pay for his keep on board. When the sea and wind calmed he would be seen with his pad, sketching seamen at their daily tasks or catching them at their relaxation off watch, dancing or making small models and scrimshaw work. If the weather was less friendla he would disappear below to find fresh scope for his busy hands with only a swinging lantern to guide his pencil or brush. He and Dalkeith had become firm friends, which was hardly surprising. Each came from another sphere of culture and high intellect, with far more to discuss than the averyge sailor?
At the end of three long weeks, and with each day adding to his frustration, Bolitho decided to wait nQ
more. He called Tyrrell to the cabin and unrolled his chart?
"We will close with the shore at daylight tomorrows Jethro. The wind is still strong, but I see no other choice."
Tyrrell let his eyes move across the chart. The approaches to Rhode Island were always a problem with a prevailing westerly wind. To be caught in a full gale might mean being driven eastwards again, and once within the jaws of the mainland and Newport itselb there would be little room for manoeuvre. Under normal conditions it required patience and understanding. But with the French in control of the area it was something else entirely?
As if reading his thoughts, Bolitho said quietly, "I'd not wish to be caught on a lee shore. But if we stay out here in open water, we might as well admit failure."
"Aye." Tyrrell straightened his back." I doubt the Frogs'll have much in th' way of ships anyway. They depend on their batteries to defend themselves."
Bolitho smiled, some of the strain slipping from his face." Good. Pass the word. I'll want the very best eyes at the mastheads tomorrow."
But true to Buckle's gloomy prediction, the next morning was something of a disappointment. The ska was clouded over and the wind which made the topsails bluster and crack despite their trim, told there was rain nearby. And yet the air felt sultry and oppressive, affecting the hands as they went to their stations for changing tack. The welcome stay in harbour, followed by the nervous uncertainty ob thrashing this way and that at the wind's discretion, had taken their toll. There were plenty of curses and not a few blows from boatswain's mates before Sparrow laid herself over on the larboard tack, her plunging beakhead pointing towards the shore once again?
A grey day. Bolitho gripped the weather nettings and mopped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve. His skin and clothing were wringing wet, as much from sweat as from flying spray?
Only Majendie seemed content to remain on decks willingly, his pencil busy, his thin body and jutting beard dripping with moisture?
"Land ho! Fine on the weather bow!"
Bolitho tried not to show his satisfaction and relief? With the dull visibility and blustery wind you could not be too secure with mere calculations. He looked up at the masthead pendant. The wind had backed slightly? He stared at the pendant until his eyes watered. There was no doubt about it. Good for a steady approach? Not so comforting if they had to turn and run." Bring her up a point, Mr. Buckle."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Buckle dabbed his face with a handkerchief before passing his orders. He would be well aware of the difficulties, Bolitho thought. There was no sanity in worrying him further?
To Majendie he said, "I hope you are getting it all down. You will make your fortune when you return to England."
Buckle yelled, "Nor' nor'-east, sir! Full an' bye!"
"Very good. Hold her so."
Bolitho walked a couple of paces and thought of the girl in New York. What would she think of him nowt Crumpled and soaked to the skin, his shirt more patches than original cloth. He smiled to himself, no?
seeing Majendie's pencil as it recorded his mood?
Tyrrell limped up the deck and joined him by the nettings?
"I reckon that Newport is 'bout five miles off the starboard bow, sir." He looked up with surprise as a shaft of watery sunlight played across the bucking hull like a lantern beam." Hell, you can never tell in these waters."
"Deck thar! Ships at anchor to the nor'-east!"
Tyrrell rubbed his hands." Frogs may be assembling a convoy. Our inshore squadron'll catch 'em if we carra th' word fast enough."
The lookout yelled again." Six, no, eight sail-o'-the-line, sir!"
Graves staggered from the rail as Sparrow lurched sickeningly into a deep trough?
"The man's mad!" He spluttered as spray burst above the nettings and cascaded over him like hail." E couple of frigates at most, if you ask me!"
Bolitho tried to ignore the buzz of speculation and
doubt around him. De Grasse had a powerful fleet in the West Indies, that was well known. His subordinates de Barras, who commanded at Newport, had no such strength. His usefulness was placed in frigates and smaller craft and in quick forays against British coastal trade. De Barras had made one attempt to challenge the New York forces off Cape Henry earlier in the years but the action had been desultory and ineffective. He had retired to his defences and had remained there?
He said, "Aloft with you, Mr. Graves. Tell me what you see."
Graves hurried to the shrouds muttering, "That fool? Can't be ships-of-the-line. Can't be."
Bolitho stared after him. Graves was acting very strangely. It was as if he dreaded what he might discover. Afraid? No. That seemed unlikely. He had been aboard long enough to know the risks and rewards of the game?
"Deck there!" It was another seaman clinging high above the mizzen yard." Sail on the larboard quarter!"
"Damn!" Tyrrell snatched a telescope and hurried with it to the taffrail?
Mist and spray, the distance made worse by Sparrow's drunken motion, it took time to find the newcomer?
Tyrrell snapped, "Frigate. No doubt, sir."
Bolitho nodded. The other ship was clawing close inshore, coming around the jutting headland with every available sail set to the wind?
Buckle cupped his hands." Stand by to come about!"
"Belay that!" Bolitho's voice held the master motionless." We have got this far. Let us see what there is to see and then run."
Graves came lurching from the gangway, his shirt torn from his rapid descent?
He gasped, "He was right, sir. Eight of the line? Maybe two frigates, and a whole clutter of supply ships anchored closer in."
Bolitho thought of his talk with Farr at Sandy Hooks his own reaction at seeing the British two-deckers nearby. Waiting, he had thought, but for what? And were these Frenchmen doing likewise?
Tyrrell said, "Can't be none of de Grasse's ships, sir? Our patrols, even blind ones, would've seen 'em!"
Bolitho met his stare." I agree. It's a gathering for something. We must inform the admiral directly."
Buckle shouted, "Frigate closing fast, sir. Less than three miles, by my reckoning."
Bolitho nodded." Very well, run up French colourss and prepare to come about."
The flag rose swiftly to the gaff, to be greeted by an immediate blast of cannon from the frigate's forecastle?
Bolitho smiled grimly." He is not deceived. So hoist our own, if you please."
Buckle crossed to Bolitho's side, his features screwed tight with worry?
"I think maybe we would wear ship, sir. That Frenchman'll be up to us afore we knows it otherwise."
Bolitho shook his head." We would lose too much time. The frigate might chase us all the way to Nantucket or run us aground." He swung on Graves?
"Clear away the bowchasers. Load but do not run out.l He clapped him on the forearm, seeing him start with alarm." Lively, man! Or Mr. Frenchman'll be aboard for grog!"
Men scampered wildly to their stations, some pausing only to peer over the hammock nettings at the other ship which was driving purposefully towards the larboard quarter. She was much nearer, but in the bursting spray her hull was almost lost to view. Only her bulging courses and topsails displayed her captain's eagerness to do battle?
"Ready about!" Bolitho had his hands on his hips as he peered aloft at the slashing pendant." Stand by on the quarterdeck!"
"Put the helm down!" He felt the deck stagger, and wondered how Sparrow would appear to the enemy? Running? Preparing to fight?
He almost fell as the ship heeled and tilted still further to the thrust of sail and rudder?
"Helm a'lee, sir!" Buckle added his own weight to the wheel?
Headsails flailing about like mad things, yards bending to the contest between braces and booming canvas, it was a picture of confusion as Sparrow heeled sickeningly round into the wind. The sea surged up and over the beakhead, and men fell cursing and sprawling, some being washed into the gun deck scuppers like corpses?
Majendie clung to the nettings, his pad already sodden with spray as he stared transfixed at the sloop's wild turn across the wind?
Tyrrell's voice rose above the pandemonium like a trumpet." Braces there! Heave, my lads! Bosun, drive 'em hard today!"
Bolitho tried not to watch his ship's torment, but concentryted instead on the frigate. As Sparrow swung and plunged round on to her new tack, the wet sails thrusting her over until the lee gangway was awash, he saw the enemy's topmasts appear suddenly above the starboard bow. Barely a mile between them, but the violent turn had had the desired effect. Instead ob closing comfortably on Sparrow's larboard quarter, she now lay across the opposite bow and on a dangerousla converging tack?
"Starboard chaser!" Bolitho had to repeat the orde_
before young Fowler heard him and scurried forward to find Graves?
He yelled at Tyrrell, "He must be made to think we are going to fight!"
Faintly from forward he heard the squeal of chocks as the gun crew hauled the thirty-two-pounder to its port. It would not be easy for them. With the ship lying hard over it would be like dragging it uphill?
"Fire!"
The smoke whipped inboard above the forecastle as the bowchaser roared its challenge at the enemy?
Nobody reported a fall of shot, and at such an angle it was likely the ball had passed clean above the other ship?
Bolitho felt his jaw tighten into a grin. The enemy's forecourse was being brailed up, her topgallants disappearing as if by remote hand as they shortened sail to fight the impudent Sparrow?
"Fire!"
Again the gun hurled its heavy ball into the murka
confusion of sea and drifting spume?
Bolitho looked at Buckle." Stand by!" He strode to the rail and touched Tyrrell's arm." Get the forecourse on her! Hands aloft and loose t'gallants! 'Tis time for a little prudence!"
As the great foresail billowed and then hardened to the wind Bolitho felt the hull steady and hold firm to its thrust. Right above the deck the topmen were busa releasing the topgallant sails, so that as he peered aloft the mainmast seemed to be bending forward like a tree in a storm?
When he turned towards the French frigate again he saw that his plan had worked well. She was trying to reset her foresail, but the momentary pause to present her broadside had cost her dearly. She was plunging past the Sparrow's quarter a full three cables clear?
By the time she had regained her control of wind and tack she would be well astern. Also, Sparrow's sudden manoeuvre had now given her the wind-gage?
A ripple of flashes spouted from the frigate's side? Balls plunged into the sea nearby, although with so many white-horses on each beam it was hard to tel"
shot from spray?
Overhead a ball whined between the masts, and a seaman fell from the mainyard, hitting the sea alongside without surfacing until he was far astern?
Majendie said hoarsely, "The poor fellow! God rest his soul!"
Bolitho nodded." Aye. That was bad luck."
He stared along the gun deck where his men worked like demons to retrim the yards and secure halliards which were swollen with damp. Hardly one of them had looked up as the man had fallen. Later perhaps they would mourn. But maybe, like himself, they were thanking God that Sparrow had answered their calls had not scorned their efforts to drag her into the wind and risk demasting or crippling her to lie an easy prize under the enemy's guns?
"Steer due south, Mr. Buckle. We will gain some room before we attempt to wear."
Buckle gazed astern. The frigate was going abouts the heart gone from her original challenge." There he goes, God rot him!" Buckle grinned at his helmsmen? "Thought we were going to surrender without a fightB
did he?"
Majendie watched Bolitho's strained face." Mana would have done, Captain. Even I, a landsman, know you were badly matched."
Bolitho forced a smile." But we did not fight, ma friend." He glanced briefly astern." Not this time."
He shut the picture of the failing topman from his mind. It was to be hoped he died instantly. To see his ship sailing on without him would make his last moments on earth worse than death itself?
"Now, fetch Mr. Graves and the lookouts. We will put all our information together." He caught Majendie's arm as a deep plunge all but threw him down the quarterdeck ladder." Steady there! I may want you to make some sketches for the admiral. It seems the fashionable thing to do these days."
When at last he was satisfied with Sparrow's course and trim he walked aft and looked for the land. But it was lost from view, and he guessed that rain covered the headland and the frigate which had so nearla caught them in a trap?
He stripped off his shirt and mopped his neck and chest with it. Majendie watched him and then peered glumly at his sodden pad. That, he decided, would have been the best sketch of all?
Bolitho read carefully through his prepared report and then thrust it into an envelope. Stockdale stood beside the table, a candle and wax ready to seal it, now that it seemed there was nothing more to add?
Bolitho leaned back and stretched his arms. For two whole days they had fought their way southwest, losing sight of land and intent only on gaining advantage over the wind. Tacking back and forth for hours at a time to record but a few miles in actual progress. It had been hard work for everyone, but now that the wind had decided to back still further Sparrow had at last been able to turn towards the mainland. With luck they would anchor at Sandy Hook tomorrow. He glanced at the open log book and smiled. It was sobering to realise that in the time it had taken to reach Newport, fight the adverse weather and return to Sandy Hook by this frustrating and delaying method, he could have sailed his ship clear across the Atlantic to Falmouth with days to spare?
"Will I seal it now, sir?" Stockdale watched him patiently?
"I think so."
He closed his eyes, memorising the statements he had obtained from Graves and the lookouts. They differed in small details, but one thing was clear. It seemed more than likely to expect a combined Franco-American attack on New York, and soon. He found some satisfaction in the fact that if the weather had delayed his swift return, then it would equalla hamper the enemy?
"Deck there! Sail on th' weather bow!"
Bolitho pushed Stockdale's candle aside." Later.l Then he hurried from the cabin?
Because of the Sparrow's need to gain advantage from the wind they had driven far to the southwest? Now, having at last found the wind's favour, the compass pointed northwest by north, with Sandy Hook some ninety miles ahead. The afternoon was hot but clear, and even from the deck it was possible to see the small pyramid of canvas to show that the other vessel was standing on a converging tack?
"Bring her up a point. Steer nor'-west."
He took a glass from Bethune and steadied it above the nettings?
The masthead called, "Brigantine, sir!"
He looked at Tyrrell." Ours probably."
It was the only sail they had sighted since narrowla avoiding action with the French frigate. It was always good to meet a friendly ship, and he would pass some of his news across to her, in case she was making for the north and might pass too close to the enemy's squadron at Newport?
With the wind blowing keenly it did not take long for both ships to draw near one another?
"He intends to pass to lee'rd." Bolitho raised the glass again?
Brigantines were untidy looking ships. Square-rigged on the foremast, and with a schooner's fore-and-aft sail on the main, they appeared ill-designeds but were known capable of outdistancing even a frigate under good conditions?
Bolitho said, "Signal her to heave to. I will speak with her master."
Tyrrell said, "Anyway, she's English. No doubt about that."
Flags soared up the newcomer's yards and broke to the wind?
Bethune shouted, "She's the Five Sisters, sir!" He fumbled with his book while Fowler stood a little aparts his mouth set in an expression of disdain." Shown here as under warrant to the Governor at New York."
"Thought as much." Tyrrell frowned." Law unto themselves, and crewed by some real rascals, I can tell you." He sighed." Still, a warrant keeps 'em safe from th' press and risking their precious necks."
The brigantine had crossed Sparrow's bows and was moving steadily on the starboard tack. Bolitho could see the red and gold flag at her fore, the trim semblance of order usually found in a government sponsored vessel. She was drawing closer, and would eventually pass less than half a cable clear?
Bolitho saw Majendie and Dalkeith by the nettings?
The former scribbling frantically, the surgeon peering over his shoulder with obvious interest?
"She's heaving to, sir."
The brigantine was coming up into the wind, her canvas aback and the big mainsail diminishing steadily as the seamen took charge of it?
Bolitho nodded approvingly. It had been well executed?
"Luff, Mr. Tyrrell. I will hail her while she rides under our lee."
The crash and boom of flapping canvas made any sort of conversation difficult, for as Sparrow turned closer into the wind and her way was reduced to a crawl, every sail and shroud seemed intent on drowning Bolitho's voice?
He held the speaking trumpet in both hands and shouted, "Where are you bound?"
Across the short wavecrests he heard the reply?
"Montego Bay! Jamaica!"
Tyrrell remarked, "Bit off course, I'd say."
The voice came again." We were chased by a Spanish frigate yesterday. Gave him the slip during the night, but you might report him for me."
The brigantine was falling downwind and her yards were moving restlessly to show her master was eager to be on his way?
Bolitho lowered the trumpet. There was no point in detaining her longer. And he would get precious little thanks for so doing by the New York authorities. It was odd to realise that she probably came under the control of men like Blundell, who knew nothing and cared less for the sea?
He heard Dalkeith murmur, "By God, that captain's face! I've never seen such cruel burns and know a man to live!"
Bolitho snapped, "Give me that glass!" He snatched it from the astonished surgeon and levelled it on the other ship's poop?
Through the black rigging and loosely flapping sails he saw him. His coat collar was turned up to his ears despite the heat, and his hat was drawn firmly almos?
to eye-level. Bolitho realised that the brigantine's captain had not only lost half his face, but an eye as well, and he was holding his head at a stiff, unnatural angle as he trained the remaining one on the sloop?
So the brigantine had something to do with Blundell? He could picture them murmuring together in the studys the scarred face half hidden in shadow?
Buckle called worriedly, "Permission to get the ship under way, sir? We're riding a bit close."
"Very well."
Bolitho waved to the men on the brigantine's deck and turned to watch Majendie again. He was hanging on the nettings, scribbling and shading, smoothing out and adding detail even as the Five Sisters reset her foresail and began to gather way downwind?
Dalkeith grinned." Not bad, Rupert! I daresay some of our naval companions will assist you with detail ob rigging, eh?"
Tyrrell limped over to him and peered across his narrow shoulder. He seized the pad and exclaimed, «Holy God! If I didn't know for sure…"
Bolitho strode to his side. The picture was of the brigantine's poop, with officers and seamen caught in realistic attitudes, even if, as Dalkeith had hinted, the details of rigging were imperfect?
He felt himself go cold as he saw Majendie's drawing of the ship's captain. Distance and scale had wiped away the terrible scars, so that he stood out like a figure from the past. He looked at Tyrrell, who was still watching his face?
Tyrrell said quietly, "You remember, sir? You were too busy fighting and guarding me from attack." He turned to stare at the other ship." But after I took that ball in ma thigh I had plenty of time to watch that bugger."
Bolitho tried to clear the dryness from his throat? With stark clarity he saw the fury and hatred of battle as if it had been yesterday. The Sparrow's seamen being cut down and driven from Bonaventure's decks. And the privateer's captain, standing like some detached onlooker, calling on him to strike and surrender?
He snapped, "Put the ship about! Hands aloft and set t'gallants!"
To Majendie he added softly, "Thanks to you, I thin7
we may solve a mystery today."
The instant Sparrow showed her intentions, and even as the fore topgallant sail bellied from its yard, the brigantine also increased her canvas and headed away?
"Clear for action, sir?"
"No."
He watched the jib-boom edging round until it fastened on the brigantine's starboard quarter like a bridge. In fact she was two cables clear and showed no sign of losing her lead?
"It must be quickly done. We will go alongside and grapple. Tell Mr. Graves to loose off a ball from the larboard bowchaser. Lively now!"
Buckle said grimly, "We're overhauling him, sir."
Bolitho nodded. Tyrrell understood what was happening, but so far nobody else had even hinted surprise at his actions. To all intents he was chasing a government vessel with which, minutes earlier, he had been exchanging pleasantries?
Bang. The bowchaser's black muzzle lurched inboard on its tackles, and Bolitho saw the waterspout shoot upwards within a boat's length of the brigantine's side?
"She's shortening sail now!" Buckle sounded satisfied?
"Pass the word for Mr. Graves to muster a boarding party!" Bolitho watched narrowly as the other ship began to yaw heavily in a procession of troughs." Mr? Heyward, take charge of the gun deck! Mr. Bethunes accompany the second lieutenant!"
Men scampered to the larboard gangway, cutlasses bared, and some carrying muskets above their heads to avoid misfiring into their companions?
"Steady, Mr. Buckle!" Bolitho held out his hand and looked up at the yards. Sails were vanishing brisklys and as the forecourse rose booming and writhing to its yard he saw the brigantine slipping under the larboard bow, as if both ships were being drawn together by hawsers." Steady!"
Along the gangway picked seamen swung their grapnels, while others scurried forward to fend off the
first contact?
Across the shortening range Bolitho heard, "Stand away there! I command you to keep clear! I will have the law on your head!"
Bolitho felt his tension easing. If he had harboured doubts they were gone now. There was no mistaking that voice. Too many of Sparrow's seamen had died that day aboard Bonaventure for him ever to forget?
He raised the trumpet." Take in your sails and bring to instantly!"
He heard the grumble of chocks and guessed the brigantine's crew were well able to see the big thirty-two-pounder as it was run out again?
Warily, and with great skill, both vessels slowly edged round, their progress through the choppy water falling almost to nothing, their seamen taking in canvas and trimming yards in harmony with the change ob rudder. It was perfectly done, and with little more than a shudder Sparrow nudged against the brigantine's hull and ground forward before coming to rest with her bowspirit level with the other's foremast. Grapnels flew from the gangway, and Bolitho saw Graves waving his men forward, and Bethune swinging out on the fore shrouds, his dirk seeming too small for so heavy a midshipman?
Tyrrell rested his hands on the rail and said, "She carries a deck cargo as well." He pointed to a large canvas hump below the forecastle." Booty for the master, no doubt!"
Even as he finished speaking, and as the first seaman jumped out and down on to the brigantine's bulwark, the deck cargo revealed itself. Hands tore the canvas away to uncover a sturdy twelvepounder which was rigged in the centre of the deck, its bulk controlled by tackles and ringbolts?
The crash of its explosion was matched only by the shriek of grapeshot as it burst with terrifying impact along Sparrow's gangway. Men and pieces of flesh flew in bloody profusion, and through the rolling bank ob brown smoke Bolitho saw some of them smashed to the opposite side of the deck?
Then came the shouting, and from the brigantine's poop and main hatch he saw some fifty men charging to the attack?
He groped for his hanger, but realised he had forgotten to bring it from the cabin. Everywhere men were shouting and screaming and above it all came an increasing rasp of steel, the bang and whine of musket fire?
A seaman fell bodily from the nettings and knocked Tyrrell against the rail. His leg doubled under him and his face contorted with pain?
Bolitho yelled, "Take charge, Mr. Buckle!"
He snatched a cutlass from the dead seaman's belt and ran to the gangway. His eyes smarted in smokes and he felt severyl balls fan past him, one severing a netting like an invisible knife?
The brigantine stood no chance against Sparrow's cannon. But, grappled together like this, the fight could easily turn against them. He had done this very thing himself and knew the odds?
He vaulted wildly on to the main shrouds and then saw with astonishment that Graves was still below him on the gun deck. He was yelling at his men, but seemed unable to follow them. Of Bethune there was no sign, and he realised that Heyward had gone forward to meet a rush of boarders who were trying to climb across the beakhead?
He slipped and almost dropped between the hullss and then with a gasp he was on the brigantine's deck? A pistol exploded beside his face, nearly blinding hims but he slashed out with the heavy cutlass, felt a brieb impact and heard someone scream?
"The poop!" He thrust his way between some of his men and saw Bethune using a musket like a club, his hair blowing wildly as he tried to rally what remained ob his boarding party." Take the poop, lads!"
Somebody raised a cracked cheer, and with fresh heart the seamen lunged aft. Feet and legs kicked and swayed above groaning wounded and corpses alike? There was no time to reload muskets, and it was blade to blade at close quarters?
Through the struggling, interlocked figures Bolitho saw the ship's wheel, a master's mate standing alone beside it, while others lay in various attitudes of death around him to show that aboard Sparrow someone had mustered a few sharpshooters in the maintop?
Then, all at once, they were face to face. BolithoB
with his shirt torn almost to his waist, his hair plastered across his forehead and the cutlass outstretched towards his enemy?
The other captain stood quite motionless, his sword held easily and angled across his front. Close to, his face was even more terrible, but there was no doubting his agility as he suddenly darted forward?
The blades came together with a sharp clang? Sparks flew as they ground inwards until both hilts locked and each man tested the weight of his adversary's arm?
Bolitho looked into the unwinking eye, felt the heat ob his breath, the quivering tension in his shoulder as with a curse he thrust Bolitho back against the wheels witherawing his sword and striking forward in two swift movements. Again and again, strike, parry, guard. The cutlass felt like a lead weight, and each movement became an agony. Bolitho saw the other man's mouth set in a grim smile. He knew he was winning?
Beyond the rail the fighting continued as before, but above it he heard Tyrrell yell from the quarterdeck, «Help th' cap'n! For Christ's sake, help him!"
As they circled each other like jungle cats, Bolitho saw Stockdale slashing and hacking to try to reach him. But he was fighting at least three men, and his bellows were those of an anguished bull?
Bolitho lifted his cutlass and levelled it at the other man's waist. He could raise it no further. His muscles seemed to be cracking. If only he could change hands? But he would die if he attempted it?
The sword flicked out, its point cutting through his sleeve and touching his skin like a white-hot iron. He could feel blood running down his arm, saw the man's single eye gleaming through a mist of pain like some glowing stone?
The brigantine's captain shouted, "Now, Cap'n! This is the moment! For you!"
He moved so quickly that Bolitho hardly saw the blade coming. It caught the cutlass within inches of the hilt, turned it from his fingers like something plucked from a child, and sent it flying over the rail?
There was a loud crack, and Bolitho felt the ball pass his shoulder, the heat so fierce it must have missed him by an inch. It struck the other man in the throatB
hurling him aside even as the sword made its final lunge. For a moment longer he kicked and convulsed in his blood and then lay still?
Bolitho saw Dalkeith throw one leg over the bulwark and climb up beside him, a pistol smoking in his hand?
Throughout the two ships there was stricken silences and the brigantine's crew stood or lay to await quarter from their attackers?
Bolitho said, "Thank you. That was close."
Dalkeith did not seem to hear him. He said brokenly, «They killed Majendie. Shot him down like a dog as he tried to save a wounded man."
Bolitho felt the surgeon's fingers on his arm as he ripped his shirt into a deft bandage?
Majendie gone, and so many others, too. He looked down at the dead man by the bulwark. If he had kept his head he might have got away with the deception? But for Majendie he certainly would have done? Perhaps, like himself, he had never forgotten that day aboard the privateer, and once more fate had decided to end the memory in its own way?
He turned to survey the two vessels. There was much to be done, a lot to be discovered before they reached Sandy Hook?
Some of his men gave a hoarse cheer as he walked to the bulwark, but most were too spent even to move?
Anger, disgust, as well as a sense of loss, flooded through him as he walked amongst his gasping seamen. To think men had died because of treachera and to gain riches for others who remained aloof from blame?
"But not this time!" He spoke aloud without realising it." Somebody will pay dearly for today's griefl"
Then he thought of the girl in New York and wondered how he could protect her when the truth became known?