Bolitho took another look through his 'glass. No wonder Garrick had felt so safe. He had known of their arrival at Rio, and even before that at Madeira. And now Garrick had the upper hand. He could either send his vessels out at night or he could stay put like a hermit-crab in a shell.

Again Dumaresq seemed to be speaking to himself. 'All the Don cares about is the lost bullion. Garrick can go free as far as he is concerned. Quintana believes that he will excise those carefully selected vessels and what booty remains without firing a shot.'

Bolitho asked, 'Perhaps Garrick knows less than we think, sir, and may try to bluff it out?'

Dumaresq looked at him strangely. 'I am afraid not. No more bluff now. I tried to explain Garrick's mind to the Spaniard at Basseterre. But he would not listen. Garrick helped the French, and in any future war Spain will need an ally like France. Be certain that Don Carlos Quintana is mindful of that, too.'

_ 'Cap'n , sir!' The lookout beneath sounded anxious. 'The Don's makin' more sail!' Dumaresq said, Time to go.' He looked at each mast in turn and then at the deck below.

Bolitho found he could do the same without flinching.

The foreshortened blue and white figures of the officers and midshipmen on the quarterdeck, the changing patterns of men as they moved around the double line of black cannon.

For those few moments Bolitho shared an understanding with this devious, determined man. She was his ship, every moving part of her, every timber and inch of cordage.

Then Dumaresq said, 'The Spaniard may attempt to enter the lagoon before me. It is dangerous folly because the entrance is narrow, the channel unknown. Without hope of surprise he will be depending on his peaceful intentions, with a show of force if that fails.'

He climbed with surprising swiftness down to the deck, and when Bolitho reached the quarterdeck Dumaresq was already speaking with Palliser and the master.

Bolitho heard Palliser say, 'The Don is standing inshore, sir.'

Dumaresq was busy with his telescope again. Then he stands into danger. 'Signal him to sheer off.'

Bolitho saw the other faces nearby, ones he had come to know so well. In a few moments it might all be decided, and it was Dumaresq's choice.

Palliser shouted, 'He ignores us, sir!'

'Very well. Beat to quarters and clear for action.

Dumaresq clasped his hands behind him. 'We'll see how he likes that.'

Rhodes gripped Bolitho's arm. 'He must be mad. He can't fight Garrick and the Dons.'

The marine drummer boys began their staccato beat, and the moment of doubt was past.

14 Last Chance

'The Don is shortening sail, sir.'

'We shall do likewise.' Dumaresq stood in the centre of the quarterdeck just forward of the mizzen, like a rock. 'Take in the t'gan'sls.'

Bolitho shielded his eyes as he peered up through the tracery of rigging and nets as his own men began to fist and fight the rebellious canvas. In less than an hour the tension had risen like the sun, and now, with San Augustin firmly placed on the starboard bow, he could feel it affecting every man who was near him. Destiny had the wind-gage, but by overhauling the Spanish captain had placed himself between her and the approaches to the 'lagoon.

Rhodes strolled aft and joined him between two of the twelve-pounders.

'He's letting the Don get away with it.' He grimaced. 'I must say I approve. I don't fancy a one-sided fight unless the odds are in my favour.' He glanced quickly at the quarterdeck and then lowered his voice. 'What do you make of the lord and master now?' Bolitho shrugged. 'I am bounced between contempt and admiration. I despise the way he used me. He must have known Egmont would not betray Garrick's island on his own.

Rhodes pursed his lips. 'So it was his wife.' He hesitated.

'Are you 'over it, Dick?'

Bolitho looked across at the San Augustin, her streaming pennants and the white ensign of Spain.

Rhodes persisted. 'In all this, with the prospect of being blown to gruel because of some stupid event of long ago, you can still fret for the love of a woman?'

Bolitho faced him. 'I'll not get over it. If only you could have seen her . . .'

Rhodes smiled sadly. 'My God, Dick, I'm wasting my time. When we return to England I'll have to see what I can do to roust you out of it.'

They both turned as a shot reverberated across the water. Then there was a splash as the ball threw up a spindly waterspout in direct line with the Spaniard's bowsprit.

Dumaresq snapped, 'God in heaven, the buggers have fired first!'

Several telescopes were trained on. the island, but nobody was able to sight the hidden cannon.

Palliser said dourly, 'That was a warning. I hope the Don has the sense to heed it. This calls for stealth and agility, not a head-on charge!'

Dumaresq smiled. 'Does it indeed? You begin to sound like an admiral, Mr Palliser. I shall have to watch myself!' Bolitho studied the Spanish ship closely. It was as if nothing had happened. She was still steering for the nearest finger of land where the lagoon began.

A few cormorants arose from the sea when the two ships sailed past, like heraldic birds as they circled watchfully overhead, Bolitho thought.

'Deck there! Smoke above th' hill, sir!'

The telescopes trained round like small artillery. Bolitho heard Clow, one of the gunner's mates, remark, 'That be from a bloody furnace. Them devils is heatin' shot to feed the Dons.'

Bolitho licked his lips. His father had told him often enough about the folly of setting a ship against a sited shore battery. If they used heated shot it would turn any vessel into a pyre unless it was dealt with immediately. Sun-dried timbers, tar, paint and canvas would burn fiercely, while the wind would do the rest.

Something like a sigh transmitted itself along the deck as the San Augustin's ports lifted in unison, and then at the blast of a trumpet she ran our her guns. In the far distance they looked like black teeth along her tumblehome. Black and deadly.

The surgeon joined Bolitho by the twelve-pounders, his spectacles glinting in the sun. Out of deference for the men who might soon need his services, he had refrained from wearing his apron.

I am as nervous as a cat when this is dragging on.' Bolitho understood. Down on the orlop deck below the waterline, in a place of spiralling lanterns and entrapped smells, all the sounds were distorted.

He said, 'I think the Spaniard intends to force the entrance.

As he spoke the other ship reset her topgallants and tacked very slightly to take advantage of the south-westerly wind. How fine her gingerbread looked in the sun's glare, how majestic were the proud pennants and the scarlet crosses on her courses. She was like something from an old engraving, Bolitho thought.

She made' the lean and graceful Destiny appear spartan by comparison.

Bolitho walked aft until he stood' directly below the quarterdeck rail. He heard Dumaresq say, 'Another half-cable, and then we'll see.'

Then Palliser's voice, less certain. 'He might just force the entrance, sir. Once inside he could wear ship and rake the anchored vessels, even use them to protect himself from the shore. Without craft, Garrick is a prisoner.'

Dumaresq considered it. 'That part is true. I have only heard of one man who successfully walked on water, but we need another sort of miracle today.'

Some of the nine-pounder crews nearby rocked back on their knees, grinning and prodding each other over the captain's' humour.

Bolitho marvelled that it could be so easy for Dumaresq.

He knew exactly what his men needed to keep them alert and keen. And that was what he gave them, neither more nor a fraction less.

Gulliver said to nobody in particular, 'If the Don succeeds, that's a farewell to our prize-money.'

Dumaresq looked at him, his teeth bared in a fierce grin. 'God, you are a miserable fellow, Mr Gulliver. How you can find your way about the ocean under such a weight of despair I cannot fathom!'

Midshipman Henderson called, 'The Spaniard has passed the point, sir!'

Dumaresq grunted. 'You have good eyes.' To Palliser he added, 'He is on a lee shore. It will be now or not at all.'

Bolitho found that he was gripping his hands together so tightly that the pain helped to calm him. He saw the reflected flashes from the San Augustin's hidden gunports, the great gouts of smoke, and then seconds later came the rumbling: clash of ,her broadside.

Puffs of smoke and dust rose like plumes along the hill-side, and 'several impressive avalanches of rocks tumbled down towards the water.

Palliser said savagely, 'We shall have to come about shortly, sir.'

.Bolitho looked up at him. After; Destiny, Palliser had been hoping for a command. He had made little secret of the fact. But with hundreds of sea officers on the " beach and on half-pay, he needed more than an empty commission to carry him through. The Heloise could, have been a stepping-stone for him. But promotion boards had short memories. Heloise lay on the bottom and not in the hands of a prize court.

If Don Carlos Quintana succeeded in vanquishing Garrick's defences, all the glory would go to him. The Admiralty would see too many red faces for Palliser to be remembered as anything but an embarrassment.

There was a solitary bang, and another waterspout shot skywards, well clear of the Spaniard's hull. "

Palliser said, 'Garrick's strength was a bluff after all. Damn him, the Dons must be laughing their heads off at us. We found their treasure for them and now we're made to watch them take it!'

Bolitho saw the Spaniard's yards swinging slowly and ponderously, her main-course being brailed up as she edged past another spine of coral. To the anchored vessels in the lagoon she would make a fiercesome spectacle when she presented herself.

He heard someone murmur, 'They'm putrin' down boats.'

Bolitho saw two boats being swayed out from the San Augustin's upper deck and then lowered alongside. It was not smartly done, and as the men rumbled into them and cast off, Bolitho guessed that their captain had no intention of heaving to on a lee shore, with the added threat of a heavy cannon nearby.

'Instead of making for the spur of coral or for the island's main foreshore, the boats forged ahead of their massive consort and were soon lost from view.

But not from the masthead lookout, who soon reported that the boats were sounding the channel with lead and line to protect their ship from running aground.

Bolitho found he could ignore Palliser's bitter outbursts, just as he could admire the-Spaniard's skill and impudence. Don Carlos had likely fought the British in the past, and this chance of humiliating them was not to be missed.

But when he glanced aft he saw that Dumaresq appeared unworried, and was watching the other vessel more as a disinterested spectator.

He was waiting. The thought struck Bolitho like a fist. Dumaresq had been' pretending all along. Goading the Spaniard rather than the other way round.

Bulkley saw his expression and said thickly, 'Now I think I understand.'

The Spaniard fired again to starboard, the smoke gushing downwind in an unbroken bank. Mote fragments and dust spewed away from the fall of shot, but no terrified figures broke from cover, nor did any gun fire back at the brightly flagged vessel.

Dumaresq snapped, 'Let her fall off two points to starboard .'

'Man the lee braces."

The yards squeaked to the weight of men at the braces, and leaning very slightly Destiny pointed her jib-boom towards the flat-topped hill.

Bolitho waited for his own men to return to their stations.

He must be mistaken after all. Dumaresq was probably changing tack in readiness to come about and make a circular turn until they were back on their original approach.

At that moment he heard a double explosion, like a rock smashing through the side of a building. As he ran to the side and peered across the water he saw something leap in the air ahead of the Spanish ship and then drop from view just as quickly.

The masthead yelled, 'One o' th' boats, sir! Shot clean in 'alf!'

Before the men on deck could recover from their surprise the whole hill-top erupted with a line of bright flashes. There must have been seven or eight of them.

Bolitho saw the water leap and boil around the Spaniard's counter and a jagged hole appear in a braced topsail. Without a telescope it looked dangerous enough, but he heard Palliser shout, 'That sail's smouldering! Heated shot!' The other balls had fallen on the ship's hidden side, and Bolitho saw the flash of sunlight on a glass as one of her officers ran to peer at the hill-top battery.

Then, as the San Augustin fired again, the carefully sited battery replied. Against the Spaniard's heavy broadside, the returned fire was made at will, each shot individually laid and aimed.

Smoke spurred from the ship's upper deck, and Bolitho saw objects being flung outboard and more smoke from her poop as flames took hold.

Dumaresq was saying, 'Waited until she had passed the point of reason, Mr Palliser. Garrick is not such a fool that he wants his channel blocked by a sunken ship!' He thrust out his arm, pointing at the smoke as the vessel's fore-topgallant mast and yard plunged down into the water. 'Look well. That is where Destiny would have been if I .had yielded to temptation!'

The Spaniard's firing was becoming haphazard and wild, and the shots were smashing harmlessly into solid rock or ricocheting across the water like flying fish.

From Destiny's decks it appeared as if the San Augustin was embedded in coral as she drove slowly into the lagoon, the hull trailing smoke, her canvas already pitted with holes.

Palliser said, 'Why doesn't he come about?'

All his anger for the Spaniards had gone. Instead he was barely able to hide his anxiety for the stricken ship. She had looked so proud and majestic. Now, marked down by the relentless bombardment, she was heading into helpless submission.

Bolitho turned as he heard the surgeon murmur, 'A sight I'll not forget. Ever!' He removed his glasses and polished them fiercely. 'Like something I was once made to learn.

'Far away where sky met sea A majestic figure grew Pushed along by royal decree Her aggressive pennants flew.'

He smiled sadly. 'Now it sounds like an epitaph.'

A rumbling explosion echoed against Destiny's hull, and they saw black smoke drifting above the lagoon and blotting out the anchored vessels completely.

Dumaresq said calmly, 'She'll strike.' He ignored Palliser's protest. 'Her captain has no choice, don't you see that?' He "looked along his own ship and saw Bolitho watching him. 'What would you do? Strike your colours or have your people burn?'

Bolitho heard more explosions, either from the battery or from within the Spaniard's hull. Like Bulkley, he found it hard to believe. A great ship, beautiful in her arrogance, and now this. He thought of it happening here, to his own ship and companions. Danger they could face, it was part of their calling. But to be changed in the twinkling of an eye from a disciplined company to a rabble, hemmed in by renegades and pirates who would kill a man for the price of a drink, was a nightmare.

'Stand by to come about, Mr Palliser. We will steer east.' Palliser said nothing. In his mind's eye he was probably seeing the utter despair aboard the Spanish ship, although with a more experienced understanding than Bolitho's. They would see Destiny's masts turning as she stood away from the shore, and in that they would recognize their own defeat.

Dumaresq added, Then I shall explain what I intend.' Bolitho and Rhodes looked at one another. So it was not over. It had not even begun.

Palliser closed the screen door quickly, as if he expected an enemy to be listening.

'Rounds completed, sir. The ship is completely darkened as ordered.'

Bolitho waited with the other officers and warrant officers in Dumaresq's cabin, feeling their doubts and anxieties, but sharing the chilling excitement nonetheless.

All day, Destiny had tacked slowly back and forth in the blazing sunshine, FougeauxIsland always close abeam, although not near enough to be hit by any battery. For hours they had waited, and some had hoped until the last that the San Augustin would emerge again, somehow freeing herself from the lagoon to join them. There had been nothing. More to the point, there had been no terrible explosion and the aftermath of flying wreckage which would have proclaimed the Spaniard's final destruction.

Had she blown up, most of the anchored vessels in the lagoon would have perished, too. In some ways the silence had been worse.

Dumaresq looked around their intent faces. It was very hot in the sealed and shuttered cabin, and they were all stripped to their shirts and breeches. They looked more like conspirators than King's officers, Bolitho thought.

Dumaresq said, 'We have waited a whole day, gentlemen. It is what Garrick would have expected. He will have anticipated each move, believe me .'

Midshipman Merrett sniffed and rubbed his nose with his sleeve, but Dumaresq's eyes froze him into stillness.

'Garrick will have made his plans with care. He will know I have sent to Antigua for aid. Whatever chance we had of bottling him in his lair until that support arrived vanished when San Augustin made her play.' He leaned on his table, his hands encircling the chart he had laid there. 'Nothing stands between Garrick and his ambitions elsewhere but this ship.' He let his words sink in. 'I had few fears on that score, gentlemen. We can tackle Garrick's flotilla when it breaks out, fight them together, or run them down piecemeal. But things have changed .. Today's silence has proved that.'

Palliser asked, 'D'you mean he'll use the San Augustin against us, sir?'

Dumaresq's eyes flashed with sudden anger at the interruption. Then he said almost mildly, 'Eventually, yes.' Feet shuffled, and Bolitho heard several voices murmuring with sudden alarm.

Dumaresq said, 'Don Carlos Quintana will have surrendered, although he may have fallen in the first engagement. For his sake, I hope that was so. He will receive little mercy at the hands of those murdering scum. Which is something you will bear in mind, do I make myself clear?'

Bolitho found he was clenching and unclenching his hands. His palms felt clammy, and he knew it was the same sickness of fear which had followed the attack on the island.

His wound started to throb as if to remind him, and he had to stare at the deck until his mind cleared again.

Dumaresq said, 'You will recall the first shots at the Spaniard? From a single cannon to the wesr'rd of the hill. They were deliberately fired badly to encourage the intruder into their trap. Once past the point they used the battery and some heated shot to create panic and final submission. It gives an idea of Garrick's cunning. He was prepared to risk setting her afire rather than allow her amongst his carefully collected flotilla. And Don Carlos might well have persevered against an ordinary bombardment, although I doubt if he would have succeeded.'

Feet moved overhead, and Bolitho imagined the men up there on watch, without their officers, wondering what schemes were being hatched, and who would pay for them with his life.

He could also picture the ship, without lights and carrying little canvas as she ghosted through the darkness.

'Tomorrow Garrick will still be watching us, to see what we intend. We shall continue throughout the day, patrolling, nothing more. It will do two things. Show Garrick that we expect assistance, also that we have no intention of leaving. Garrick will know time is running out and will endeavour to hasten things along.'

Gulliver asked uneasily, 'Won't that be the wrong thing to do, sir? Why not leave him be and wait for the squadron?'

'Because I do not believe the squadron will come.' Dumaresq eyed the master's astonishment blandly. 'Fitzpatrick, the acting-governor, may well delay my despatches until he is relieved of his own responsibility. By then it will be too late anyway.' He gave a slow smile. 'It is no use, Mr Gulliver, you must accept your fate, as I do.'

Palliser said, 'Us against a forty-four, sir? I've no doubt Garrick's other craft will be fairly well armed, and may be experienced in this sort of game.'

Dumaresq appeared to grow tired of the discussion. 'Tomorrow night, I intend to close the shore and drop four boats. I cannot hope to force the entrance myself, and Garrick will know this. He'll have guns laid on the channel anyway, so I'd still be at a grave disadvantage.'

Bolitho felt his stomach muscles tighten. A boat action. Always chancy, always difficult, even with the most experienced of hands.

Dumaresq continued, 'I will discuss the plans further when we see how the wind supports us. In the meantime, I can tell' you this. Mr Palliser will take the cutter and the jolly-boat and land at the sou'-west point of the island. It is the best sheltered part and the least likeliest for an assault. He will be supported by Mr Rhodes, Mr Midshipman Henderson and ... ' his eyes moved deliberately to Slade, ... our senior master's mate.

Bolitho glanced quickly at Rhodes and saw how pale his face seemed. There were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, too.

The senior midshipman, Henderson,. by comparison looked calm and eager. It was his first chance, and like Palliser he would soon be trying his luck for promotion. It would be uppermost on his mind until the actual moment came.

'There will be no moon, and as far as I can discover, the sea will be kind to us.' Dumaresq's stature seemed to grow and expand with his ideas. 'The pinnace will be lowered next, and will make for the reefs to the north-eastern end of the island.'

Bolitho waited, trying not to hold his breath. Knowing what was coming.

It was almost a relief when Dumaresq said, 'Mr Bolitho, you will take charge of the pinnace. You will be supported by Midshipmen Cowdrey and Jury, and an experienced gunner's mate with a complete gun's crew. You will find and seize that solitary cannon below the hill-side, and use it as I direct.' He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. 'Lieutenant Colpoys can select a squad of picked marksmen and 'take' them to cover Mr Bolitho's actions. You will please ensure that your marines discard their uniforms and make do with slop clothing like the seamen.'

Colpoys looked visibly shocked. Not by the prospect of being killed, but at the idea of seeing his marines clad in anything but their red coats.

Dumaresq examined their faces again. Perhaps to see the relief of the ones who would be staying, the concern of those detailed for his reckless plan of attack.

He said slowly, 'In the meantime, I shall prepare the ship to give battle. For Garrick will come out, gentlemen. He has too much to lose by staying, and as Destiny will be his last witness he will be eager to destroy us.'

He had their full attention.

'And that is what he will have to do, before I let him pass!'

Palliser stood up. 'Dismiss.'

They moved to the door, mulling over Dumaresq's words, trying perhaps to see a last glimmer of hope that an open* battle might be avoided.

Rhodes said quietly, 'Well, Dick, I think I shall take a large drink before I stand my watch tonight. I do not feel like brooding.'

Bolitho glanced at the midshipmen as they filed past. It must be far worse for them.

He said, I have done a cutting-out expedition myself. I expect that you and the first lieutenant will be told to excise one of the anchored vessels.' He shivered in spite of his guard. 'I don't fancy the prospect of taking that cannon from under their noses!'

They looked at each other, and then Rhodes said, 'The first one of us to return buys wine for the wardroom.' Bolitho did not trust himself to answer but groped his way to the companion-ladder and up to the quarterdeck to resume his watch.

A large shadow sidled from the trunk of the mizzen-mast and Stockdale said in a hoarse whisper, 'Tomorrow-night then, sir?' He did not wait for a reply. 'Felt it in me bones.' His palms scraped together in the darkness. 'You'd not be thinkin' of takin' anyone else as a gun-captain?'

His simple confidence helped to disperse Bolitho's anxiety more than he would have thought possible.

'We'll stay together.' He touched his arm impulsively. 'After this, you'll lament the day you ever quit the land!' Stockdale rumbled a chuckle. 'Never. 'Ere, a man's got room to breathe!' .

Yeames, master's mate of the watch, grinned. 'I don't reckon that bloody pirate knows what 'e's in for, sir. Old Stockdale'll trim 'is beard for 'im!'

Bolitho walked to the weather side and began to pace slowly up and down. Where was she now, he wondered? In some ship heading for another land, a life he would never share.

If only she would come to him now, as she had on that other incredible night. She would understand. Would hold him tenderly and drive back the fear which was ripping him apart, -And there was another long day to endure before they would begin the next act. He could not possibly survive this time, and he guessed that fate had never intended it otherwise,

Midshipman Jury shaded the compass-light with his hands to examine the swinging card and then looked across at the slowly pacing figure. Just to be like him would be the only reward he could ever want. So steady and confident, and never too impatient or hasty with a quick rebuke like Palliser, or scathing like Slade. Perhaps his father had been a bit like Richard Bolitho at that age, he thought. He hoped so.

Yeames cleared his throat and said, 'Best get ready to pipe the mornin'-watch, sir, though I fear it'll be a long day today.'

Jury hurried away, thinking of what lay ahead, and wondering why he was not apprehensive any more. He was going with the third lieutenant, and to Ian Jury, aged fourteen years, that was reward enough.

Bolitho had known the waiting would be bad, but throughout the day, as Destiny's company laid out the equipment and weapons which would be required for the landing-parties, he felt his nerves stretching to breaking-point. Whenever he looked up from his work, or came on deck from the cool darkness of one of the holds, the bare, hostile island was always there. Although his knowledge and training told him that Destiny covered and recovered her track again and again during the day, it seemed as if they had never moved, that the island, with its fortress-like hill, was waiting, just for him.

Towards dusk, Gulliver laid the ship on a new tack to take her well clear of the island. The masthead lookouts had been unable to sight any sort of activity, so well sheltered was the lagoon, but Dumaresq had no doubts. Garrick would have watched their every move, and the fact Destiny had never tacked closer inshore might have helped to shake his confidence, to make him believe that help was already on the way for that solitary frigate. .

Eventually, Dumaresq called his officers aft to the cabin.

It was much as *before, hot and clammy, the air penned in by the shutters so that they were all soon sweating freely.

They had gone over it again and again. Surely nothing on their part could go wrong? Even the wind favoured them. It remained from the south-west, and although slightly fresher than before, gave no hint that it might turn against them.

Dumaresq leaned on his table and said gravely. It is time, gentlemen. You will leave here to prepare your boats. All I can do is wish you well. To ask for luck would be an insult to each of you.'

Bolitho tried to relax his body, limb by limb. He could not begin the action like this. Anyone fault would break him in pieces, and he knew it.

He plucked the shirt away from his stomach and thought" of the time he had purposefully donned a clean one, just to meet her on deck. Perhaps this was the same hopeless gesture. Unlike changing into clean clothing before a battle

at sea to avoid infecting a wound, this was something personal. There would be no Bulkleys on that evil island, no one to see the purpose of his reasoning, or to care.

Dumaresq said, 'I intend to lower the cutter and jolly boat in an hour. We should be in position to drop the launch and pinnace by midnight.' His gaze moved to Bolitho. 'Although it will be a harder pull for your people, your cover will be better.' He checked off the points on his strong fingers. 'Make certain your muskets and pistols remain unloaded until you are sure there will be no accidents. Examine all the gear and tackle you need before you enter the boats. Talk to your people.' He spoke gently, almost caressingly. 'Talk to them. They are your strength, and will be watching you to see how you measure up.'

Feet padded across the deck above and tackle scraped noisily along the planking. Destiny was heaving to.

Dumaresq added, 'Tomorrow is your worst day. You will lie in hiding and do nothing. If an alarm 'is raised, I cannot save you.

Midshipman Merrett tapped at the door and then called, 'Mr Yeames' respects, sir, and we are hove to.'

With the cabin pitching unsteadily from side to side, it was rather unnecessary, and Bolitho was amazed to see several of those present grinning and nudging each other.

Even Rhodes, whom he knew to be worried sick about the coming action, was smiling broadly. It was that same madness returning. Perhaps it was better this way.

They moved out of the cabin and were soon swallowed up by their own groups of men.

Mr Tirnbrell's hoisting-party had already swayed out the jolly-boat, and the cutter followed shortly over the nettings and then into the slapping water alongside. There was suddenly no time for anything . In the enclosing darkness a few hands darted out for brief clasps, voices murmured to friends and companions, a 'good luck', or 'we'll show 'em'. And then it was done, the boats wallowing round in the swell before heading away towards the island.

'Get the ship under way, Mr Gulliver.' Dumaresq turned his back on the sea, as if he had already dismissed Palliser and the two boats.

Bolitho saw Jury talking with young Merrett, and wondered if the latter was glad he was staying aboard. It was incredible to consider how much had happened in so few months since they had all come together as one company.

Dumaresq moved silently to his side. 'More waiting, Mr Bolitho. I wish I could make her fly for you.' He gave a deep chuckle. 'But there never was an easy way.'

Bolitho touched his scar with one finger. Bulkley. had removed the stitches, and yet he always expected to feel the same agony, the same sense of despair as when he had been cut down.

Dumaresq said suddenly, 'Mr Palliser and his brave fellows' will be well under way by now. But I must not think of them any more. Not as people or friends, until it is over.' He turned away, adding briefly, 'One day you will understand.'

15 A Moment's Courage

Bolitho attempted to rise to his feet, gripping Stockdale's shoulder for support as the Destiny's pinnace lifted and plunged across a succession of violent breakers. In spite of the night air and the spray which continually dashed over the gunwale, Bolitho felt feverishly hot. The closer the boat drew to the hidden island the more dangerous it became. And most of his men had thought the first part had been the worst. Being cast adrift by their parent ship and left to pull with all their might for the shore. Now they knew differently, not least their third lieutenant.

Occasionally, and now more frequently, jagged fangs of rock and coral surged past, the white water foaming amongst them to give the impression they and not the boat were moving.

Gasping and cursing, the oarsmen tried to maintain the stroke, but even that was broken every now and then as one of them had to lever his loom from its rowlock to save the blade from being splintered on a tooth of rock.

The yawing motion made thinking difficult, and Bolitho had to strain his mind to recall Dumaresq's instructions and Gulliver's gloomy predictions about their final approach. No wonder Garrick felt secure. No vessel of any size could work inshore amongst this strewn carper of broken coral. It was bad enough for the pinnace. Bolitho tried not to think about Destiny's thirty-four-foot launch which was following them somewhere astern. Or he hoped it was. The extra boat was carrying Colpoys and his marksmen, as well as additional charges of gunpowder. What with Palliser's large party which had already been put ashore on the south-west of the island, and Bolitho's own men, Dumaresq was short-handed indeed. If he had to fight, he would also need to run. The idea of Dumaresq fleeing in retreat was so absurd that it helped to sustain Bolitho in some way.

'Watch out, forrard!' That was the boatswain's mate Ellis Pearse up in the bows. A very experienced seaman, he had been sounding with a boat's lead-and-line for part of the way, but was now acting as a lookout as one more rock loomed out of the darkness.

The noise seemed so great that somebody on the shore must hear them. But Bolitho knew enough to understand that the din of the sea and surf would more than drown the clatter of oars, the desperate thrusts with boat-hooks and fists to fight their way past the treacherous rocks. Had there been even a glimmer of moon it might have been different, Strangely enough, a small boat stood out more clearly to a vigilant lookout than a full-rigged ship standing just offshore. As many a Cornish smuggler had found out to his cost.

Pearse called hoarsely, 'Land ahead!'

Bolitho raised one hand toshow he had heard and almost tumbled headlong.

It had seemed as if the broken rocks and the mill-race of water amongst them would never end. Then he saw it, a pale suggestion of land rising above the drifting spray. Much larger close to.

He dug his fingers into Stockdale's shoulder. It felt like solid oak beneath his sodden shirt.

'Easy now, Stockdale! A little to starboard, I think!' Josh Little, gunner's mate, growled, 'Two 'ands! Ready to go!'

Bolitho saw two seamen crouching over the creaming water and hoped he had not misjudged the depth,

Somewhere astern he heard a grating thud, and then some splashing commotion of oars as the launch regained her balance. It had probably grazed the last big rock, Bolitho thought.

Little chuckled. 'I'll bet that rattled the bullocks!' Then he touched the man nearest him. 'Go!'

The seaman, as naked as the day he was born, dropped over the side, hung for a few moments kicking and spitting out water, and then gasped, 'Sandy bottom!'

'Easy all!' Stockdale swung the tiller-bar. 'Ready about!' Eventually, stern on to the beach, the pinnace backed-water, and aided by two men gripping the gunwales surged the last few yards on to firm sand.

With the ease of a man lifting a stick from a pathway, Stockdale unshipped the rudder and hauled it inboard as the pinnace rose once again before riding noisily on to a small beach.

'Clear the boat!'

Bolitho staggered up the beach, feeling the receding surf dragging at his feet and legs. Men stumbled past him, snatching their weapons, while others waded into deeper water to guide the launch on to a safe stretch of sand.

The first seaman who had been detailed to go outboard from the pinnace was struggling to pull on his trousers and shirr, but Little said, 'Later, matey! Just shift yerself up to the top!'

Somebody laughed as the dripping seaman hopped past, and again Bolitho marvelled that they could still find room for humour.

"Ere comes the launch!'

Little groaned. 'Hell's teeth! Like a pack 0' bloody clergymen!' Hoisting his great belly over his belt, he strode . down to the surf again, his voice lashing at the confusion of men and oars like a whip.

Midshipman Cowdroy was already clambering up a steep slope to the left of the beach, some men close at his heels. Jury remained by the boat, watching as the last of the weapons, powder and shot and their meagre rations were passed hand to hand to the shelter of the ridge.

Lieutenant Colpoys sloshed through the sand and ex- claimed sharply, 'In God's name, Richard, surely there must be a better way of fighting a battle?' He paused to watch his marines as they loped past, their long muskets held high to escape the spray and sand. 'Ten good marks- men,' he remarked absently. 'Damn well wasted, if you ask me.

Bolitho peered up at the ridge. It was just possible to see where it made an edge with the sky. They had to get over it and into their hiding-place without delay. And they had about four hours to do it.

'Come on.' He turned and waved to the two boats. 'Shove off. Good luck.'

He deliberately kept his voice low, but nevertheless the men nearest him stopped to watch the boats. Now it would be really clear to all of them. In an hour or two those same boats. would be hoisted to" the safety of their tier aboard Destiny and their crews would be free to rest, to put the tension and danger behind them.

How quickly they seemed to move, Bolitho thought. Without their extra passengers and weapons they were already fading into the shadows, outlined only occasionally by the spray as it broke over their oars.

Colpoys said quietly, 'Gone.' He looked down at his mixed garb of sea officer's shirt and pair of moleskin breeches. 'I'll never live this down.' Them, surprisingly, he grinned. 'But still, it will make the colonel sit up and take notice when I next see him, what?'

Midshipman Cowdroy came slithering back down the slope. 'Shall I send scouts on ahead, sir?'

Colpoys regarded him coldly. 'I shall send two of my men.

He snapped out a curt order and two marines melted into the gloom like ghosts.

Bolitho said, This is your kind of work, John.' He wiped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve. 'Tell me if I do anything wrong.

Colpoys shrugged. 'I'd rather have my job than yours.' He clapped him on the arm. 'But we stand or fall together.'

He glared round for his. orderly. 'Load my pistols and keep by me, Thomas.'

Bolitho looked for Jury but he was already there.

'Ready?'

Jury nodded firmly. 'Aye, ready, sir.'

Bolitho hesitated and peered down at the small sliver of sand where they had come ashore. The surf was still boiling amongst the reefs, but even the marks of the boats' keels had been washed away. They were quite alone.

It was hard to accept that this was the same small island. Four miles. long and less than two miles from north to south. It felt like another country, somewhere which when daylight came would be seen stretching away to the horizon.

Colpoys knew his trade well. Bulkley had mentioned that the debonair marine had once been attached to a line regiment, and it seemed very likely. He threw out his pickets, sent his best scouts well ahead of the rest and retained the heavier-footed seamen for carrying the food, powder and shot. Thirty men in all, and Palliser had about the same number. Dumaresq would be thankful to get his boat crews back aboard, Bolitho thought.

And yet in spite of alL the preparations, the confident manner in which Colpoys arranged the men into manageable files, Bolitho had to face the fact that he was in charge. The men were fanning out on either side of him, stumbling along on the loose stones and sand and content to leave their safety to Colpoys' keen-eyed scouts.

Bolitho controlled the sudden alarm as it coursed through him. It was like being on watch that first time. The ship running through the night with only y'0u* who could change things with a word, or a cry for help.

He heard a heavy tread beside him and saw Stockdale striding along, his cutlass across one shoulder.

Without effort Bolitho could picture him carrying his body down to the boat, to rally the remaining seamen and to call for assistance. But for this strange, hoarse-voiced man he would be dead. It was a comfort to have him at his side again.

Colpoys said, 'Not far now.' He spat grit from his teeth. 'If that fool Gulliver is mistaken, I'll split him like a pig!' He laughed lightly. 'But then, if he is wrong, I shall be denied that privilege, eh?'

In the darkness a man slipped and fell; dropping his cutlass and a grapnel with a clatter.

For an instant everyone froze, and then a marine called, 'All quiet, sir.'

Bolitho heard a sharp blow and knew that Midshipman Cowdroy had struck the awkward seaman with the Hat of his . hanger. If Cowdroy turned his back during any fighting, it was unlikely he would ever live to be a lieutenant.

Bolitho sent Jury on ahead, and when he returned breathless and gasping he said, 'We're there, sir.' He waved vaguely towards the ridge. 'I could hear the sea.'

Colpoys sent his orderly to halt the pickets. 'So far so good. We must be in the centre of the island. When it's light enough I'll fix our position.'

The seamen and marines, unused to the uneven ground and the hard march from the beach, crowded together beneath an overhanging spur of rock. It was cool and smelled damp, as if there were caves nearby.

In a matter of hours it would be a furnace.

'Post your lookouts. Them we'll issue food and water. It may be a long while before we get another chance.'

Bolitho unclipped his hanger and sat down with his back against the bare rock. He thought of his climb to the main cross-trees with the captain, his first sight of this bleak, menacing island. Now he was here.

Jury stooped over him. 'I'm not sure where to post the lookouts on the lower slope, sir.'

Bolitho pushed the weariness aside and somehow lurched to his feet.

'Come with me, I'll show you. Next time, you'll know.'

Colpoys was holding a flask of warm wine to his lips and paused to watch them vanish into the darkness.

The third lieutenant had come a long, long way since Plymouth, he thought. He might be young, but he acted with the authority of a veteran.

Bolitho wiped the dust from his telescope and tried to wriggle his prone body into a comfortable position. It was early morning, and yet the rock and sand were already hot, and his skin prickled so that he wanted to tear off his shirt and scratch himself all over.

Colpoys slid across the ground and joined him. He held out a fistful Of dried grass, almost the only thing which survived here in little rock crannies where the rare rainfalls sustained it.

He said, 'Cover the glass with it. Any reflected light on the lens and the alarm will be raised.'

Bolitho nodded, sparing his voice and breath. Very carefully he levelled the glass and began to move it slowly from side to side. There were several small ridges, like the one which they' were. using to conceal themselves from enemy and sun alike, but all were dwarfed by the flat-topped hill. It shut off the sea directly ahead of his telescope, but to his right he could see the end of the lagoon and some six anchored vessels there. Schooners, as far as he could tell, pinned down by the glare, and with only one small boat cutting a pattern on the glittering water. Beyond and around them the curved arm of rock and coral ran to the left, but the opening and the channel to the sea were hidden by the hill.

Bolitho moved the glass again and concentrated on the' land at the far end of the lagoon. Nothing moved, and yet somewhere there Palliser and his men were lying in hiding, marooned, with the sea at their backs. He guessed that the San Augustin, if she was still afloat, was on the opposite side of the hill, beneath the hill-top battery which had beaten her into submission.

Colpoys had his own telescope trained towards the western end of the island. 'There, Richard. Huts. A whole line of them.'

Bolitho moved his glass, pausing only to rub the sweat from his eyes. The huts were small and crude and without any sort of window. Probably for storing weapons and other booty, he thought. The glass misted over and then sharpened again as he saw a tiny figure appear on the top of a low ridge. A man in a white shirt, spreading his arms wide and probably yawning. He walked unhurriedly towards the side of the ridge, and what Bolitho had taken to be a slung musket proved to be a long telescope. This he opened in the same unhurried fashion and began to examine the sea, from side to side and from the shore to the hard blue line of the horizon. Several times he returned his scrutiny to a point concealed by the hill, and Bolitho guessed he had sighted Destiny, outwardly cruising on her station as before. The thought brought a pang to his heart, a mixture of loss and longing.

Colpoys said softly, That is where the gun is. Our gun,' he added meaningly.

Bolitho tried again, the ridges merging and separating in a growing heat-haze. But the marine was right. Just beyond the solitary lookout was a canvas hump. It was almost certainly the solitary gun which had made such a pretence at bad mark man ship to lure the Spaniard past the point.

Colpoys was murmuring, 'Put there to offer covering fire for any anchored prizes, I shouldn't wonder.'

They looked at each other, seeing the sudden importance of their part in the attack. The gun had to be taken if Palliser was to be allowed to move from his hiding-place. Once discovered, he would be pinned down by the carefully sited cannon and then slaughtered at leisure. As=if to add weight to the idea, a column of men moved from the hill-side and made for the line of huts.

Colpoys said, 'God, look at 'em. Must be a couple of hundred at least!'

And they were certainly not prisoners. They strolled along in twos and threes, the dust rising from their feet like an army on the march. Some boats appeared in the lagoon and more men could be seen at the water's edge with long spars and coils of rope. It seemed likely they were about to rig sheer-legs in readiness for hauling cargo down to the boats.

Dumaresq had been right. Again. Garrick's men were preparing to leave.

Bolitho looked at Colpoys. 'Suppose we're wrong about the San Augustin? Just because we cannot see her doesn't mean she's disabled.'

Colpoys was still looking at the men by the huts. 'I agree. Only one way to find out.' He twisted his head as Jury came breathlessly up the slope. 'Keep down!'

Jury flushed and threw himself beside Bolitho. 'Mr Cowdroy wants to know if he can issue some more water, sir.' His eyes moved past Bolitho to the activity on the beach.

'Not yet. Tell him to keep his people hidden. One sight or sound and we'll be dope for.' He nodded towards the lagoon. Then come back. Do you feel like a stroll?' He saw the youth's eyes widen arid then calm again.

'Yes, sir.'

As Jury dropped out of sight, Colpoys asked, 'Why him?

He's just a boy.'

Bolitho levelled his glass once again. 'At first light tomorrow Destiny will make a feint attack on the entrance. It will be hazardous enough, but if the San Augustin's artillery is ranged on her as well as the hill-top battery, she could be crippled, even wrecked. So we have to know what we are up against.' He nodded towards the opposite end of the lagoon. "The first lieutenant has his orders. He will attack the moment the island's defences are distracted by Destiny.' He met the marine's troubled gaze, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. 'And we must be ready to support him. But if I had to choose, I would say that yours is the greater value to this escapade. So I shall go myself and take Mr Jury as messenger.' He looked away. 'If I fall today ...'

Colpoys punched his arm. 'Fall? Then we shall follow so swiftly, Saint Peter will need to muster all hands!' Together they measured the distance to the other low ridge. Someone had rolled up part of the canvas and one wheel of a military cannon was clearly visible.

Colpoys said bitterly, 'French, I'll lay any odds on it!' Jury returned and waited for Bolitho to speak. Bolitho unbuckled his belt and handed it to the marine.

To Jury he said, 'Leave everything but your dirk.' He tried to smile. 'We're travelling like gentlemen of the road today!'

Colpoys shook his head. 'You'll stand out, like milestones!' He removed his flask and held it out to them. 'Douse yourselves and then roll in the dust. It will help, but not much.'

Eventually, dirty and crumpled, they were ready to go. Colpoys said, 'Don't forget. No quarter. It's better to die than to be taken by those savages.'

Down a steep slope and then into a narrow gully. Bolitho imagined that every fall of loose stones sounded like a landslide. And yet, out of sight from the lagoon and the ridge where he bad left Colpoys with his misgivings, it seemed strangely peaceful. As Colpoys had remarked earlier, there were no bird droppings, which implied that few birds came to this desolate place. There was nothing more likely to reveal their stealthy approach than some squawking alarm from a dozen different nests.

The sun rose higher, and the rocks glowed with heat which enfolded their bodies like a kiln. They stripped off their shirts and tied them around their heads like turbans, and each gripping his bared blade, ready for instant use, they looked as much like pirates as the men they were hunting.

Jury's hand gripped his arm. 'There! Up there! A sentry!'

Bolitho pulled Jury down beside him, feeling the midshipman's tension giving way to sick horror. The 'sentry' had been one of Don Carlos' officers. His body was nailed to a pest' facing the sun, arid his once-proud uniform was covered in dried blood. .

Jury said in a husky whisper, 'His eyes! They put out his eyes!'

Bolitho swallowed hard. 'Come on. We've a way to go yet.

They finally reached a: pile of fallen boulders, some of which were scarred and blackened, and Bolitho guessed they had been hurled down by San Augustin's opening broadside.

He eased his body between two of the ,boulders, feeling their hear on -his skin, the painful throbbing of the scar above his eye as he pushed and dragged himself into a cleft where he would not be seen. He felt Jury pressing behind him, his sweat mingling with his own as he slowly lifted his head and stared at the lagoon.

He had been expecting to see the captured Spaniard. aground, or being sacked and looted by the victorious pirates. But there was discipline here, a purpose of movement which made him realize what he was watching. The San Augustin was at anchor, and her upper-deck and rigging were alive with men. Splicing, hammering, sawing and hoisting fresh cordage up to the yards. She could have been any man-of-war anywhere.

Her fore-topgallant mast, which had been shot away in the short battle, was already being replaced by a professional looking jury-rig, and from the way the men were working, Bolitho knew they must be some of her original company. Here and there about the ship's deck stood figures Who did not take part in the frantic activity. They stood by swivel-guns or with muskets at the ready. Bolitho thought of the tortured, eyeless thing on the hill-side and tasted the bile in this throat. No wonder the Spaniards worked for their captors. They had been given a horrific lesson, and doubtless others besides, to break any resistance before it began.

Boats glided alongside the anchored ship, and tackles were lowered immediately, with big nets to hoist cases and great chests over her bulwarks.

One boat, separate from all the rest, was being pulled slowly around the San Augustin's stern. A small, stiff- backed man with a neatly clipped beard was standing in the stern-sheets, pointing with a black stick, jabbing at the air to emphasize a point for the benefit of his companions.

Even in distance there was something autocratic and arrogant about the man. Someone who had gained power and respect from treachery and murder. It had to be Sir Piers Garrick.

Now he was leaning on the boat's gunwale, pointing with his stick again, and Bolitho saw that the San Augustin's bilge was showing slightly, and Garrick was probably ordering a change of trim, some cargo or shot to be shifted to give his new prize the best sailing quality he could manage.

Jury whispered, 'What are' they doing, sir?'

'The San Augustin is preparing to leave.' He rolled on his back, oblivious to the jagged stones as he tried to think clearly. 'Destiny cannot fight them all. We must act now.' He saw the frown on Jury's face. He had never thought otherwise. Was I like him once? So trusting that I believed we can never be beaten?

He said, 'See? .More boats are coming down to her.

Garrick's treasure. It has all been for this. His own flotilla, and now a forty-four-gun ship to do with as he will. Captain Dumaresq was right. There is nothing to stop him.' He smiled gravely. 'But Destiny.'

Bolitho could see it as if it had already happened. Destiny standing close inshore to provide a diversion for Palliser, while all the time the captured San Augustin lay here, like a tiger ready to pounce. In confined waters, Destiny would stand no chance at all.

'We must' get back.'

Bolitho lowered himself through the boulders, his mind still refusing to accept what had to be done.

Colpoys could barely hide his relief as they scrambled up to join him on the ridge.

He said, 'They've been working all the time. Clearing those huts. They've slaves with them too, poor devils.) saw more than one laid flat by a piece of chain.'

Colpoys fell silent until Bolitho had finished describing what he had seen.

Then he said, 'Look here. I know what you're thinking. Because this is a damnable, rotten useless island which nobody cares about and precious few have even heard of, you feel .cheated: Unwilling to risk lives, your own included. But it's like that. Big battles and waving flags are rare. This will be described as a skirmish, an "incident", if you must know. But it matters if we think it does.' He lay back and studied Bolitho calmly. 'I say to hell with caution. We'll go for that cannon without waiting for the dawn tomorrow. They've nothing else which will bear on the lagoon. All the other guns are dug-in on the hill-top. It will take hours to shift 'em.' He grinned. 'A whole battle can be won or lost in that time!'

Bolitho took the telescope again, his hands shaking as he trained it on the ridge and the partly covered cannon. It was even the same lookout as before.

Jury said huskily, 'They've stopped work.'

'No wonder.' Colpoys shaded his eyes. 'See yonder, young fellow. Isn't that a cause enough for dying?'

Destiny moved slowly into view, her topsails and topgallants very pale against the hard blue sky. .

Bolitho stared at her, imagining her sounds now lost in distance her smells, her familiarity.

He felt like a man dying of thirst as he sees a wine jar in a desert's image. Or someone on his way to the gallows who pauses to listen to an early sparrow. Each knows that tomorrow there will be no wine, and no birds will sing.

He said flatly, 'Let's be about it then. I'll tell the others ..

If only there was some way of informing Mr Palliser.' Colpoys backed down the slope. Then he looked at Bolitho, his eyes yellow in the sunlight.

'He'll know, Richard. The whole damned island will!'

C olpoys wiped 'his face and neck with his handkerchief. It was afternoon, and the blazing heat thrown back at them from the rocks was sheer torment.

But waiting had paid off. Most of the activity around the huts had ceased, and smoke from several fires drifted towards the hidden seamen and marines, bringing smells of roasting meat as an additional torture.

Colpoys said, 'They'll rest after they've eaten.' He glanced at his corporal. 'Issue the rations and water, Dyer.' To Bolitho he added quietly, 'I estimate that gun to be a cable's distance from us.' He squinted his eyes as he examined the slope and the steep climb to the other ridge. 'If we start, there'll be no stopping. I think there are several men with the cannon. Probably in some sort of magazine 'underground.' He took a cup of water from his orderly and sipped it slowly. 'Well?'

Bolitho lowered the telescope and rested 'his forehead on his arm. 'We'll risk it.'

He tried not to measure it in his mind. Two hundred yards across open ground, and then what?

He said tightly, 'Little and his crew can take care of the gun. We'll attack the ridge from both sides at once. Mr Cowdroy can take charge of the second party.' He saw Colpoys grimace and added, 'He's the senior one of the pair, and he's experienced.'

Colpoys nodded. 'I'll place my marksmen where they'll do the most good. Once you've taken the ridge, I'll support you.' He held out his hand. 'If you fail, I'll lead the shortest bayonet-charge in the Corps' history!' .

And then, all of a sudden they were ready. The earlier uncertainty and tension was gone, wiped away, and the men gathered in their tight little groups with grim but determined faces. Josh Little with his gun-crew, festooned with the tools of their trade, and extra charges of powder and some shot.

Midshipman Cowdroy, his petulant face set in a scowl, had already drawn his hanger and was checking his pistol. Ellis Pearse, boatswain's mate, carried his own weapon, a fearsome, double-edged boarding-cutlass which had been made specially for him by a blacksmith. The marines had dispersed amongst the 'rocks, their long muskets probing the open ground and further towards the flat-topped hill-side.

Bolitho stood up and looked at his own men. Dutchy Vorbink, Olsson ," the mad Swede, Bill Bunce, an expoacher, Kennedy, a man who had escaped jail by volunteering for the Navy, and many others he had come to Know so well.

Stockdale wheezed, 'I'll be with you, sir.' Their eyes met.

'Not this time. You stay with Little. That gun hasgot to be taken, Stockdale. Without it we might as well die here and now.' He .touched his thick arm. 'Believe me. -We are all depending on you today.'

He turned away, unable to watch the big man's pain.

To Jury he said, 'You can keep with Lieutenant Colpoys.'

'Is that an order, sir?'

Bolitho saw the boy's chin lift stubbornly. What 'were they trying to do to him?

He replied, 'No.'

A man whispered, 'The sentry's climbed down out of sight!'

Little chuckled. 'Gone for a wet."

Bolitho found that his feet were already over the edge and his hanger glinting in the sunlight as he pointed towards the opposite ridge.

'Come on then! At "em, lads!'

Heedless now of noise and deception, they charged down the slope, their feet kicking up dust and stones, their breath rasping fiercely, as they kept their eyes fixed on the ridge. They reached the bottom of the slope and pounded across open ground, oblivious to everything but the hidden gun.

Somewhere, a million miles away, someone yelled, and a shot whined across the hill-side. More voices swelled and faded as the men by the lagoon stampeded for their weapons, probably imagining that they were under attack from the sea.

Three heads suddenly appeared on the top of the ridge even as the first- of Bolitho's men reached the foot. Colpoys' muskets banged seemingly ineffectually and from far away, but two of the heads vanished, and the third man bounded in the air before rolling down the slope amongst the British sailors.

'Come on!' Bolitho waved his hanger. 'Faster!'

From one side a musket fired past him, and a seaman fell clutching his thigh, and then sprawled sobbing as his companions charged on towards the top.

Bolitho's breath felt like hot sand in his .lungs as he leapt over a crude parapet of stones. More shots hammered past him, and he knew some of his men had fallen.

He saw the glint of metal, a wheel of the cannon beneath its canvas cover, and yelled, 'Watch out!'

But from beneath the canvas one of the hidden men fired a fully charged musketoon into the advancing seamen. One was hurled on his back, his face and most of his skull blasted away, and three others fell kicking in their own blood.

With a roar like an enraged beast, Pearse threw himself from the opposite of the gun-pit and slashed the canvas apart with his double-edged blade.

A figure ran from the pit, covering his head with his hands and screaming, 'Quarter! Quarter!'

Pearse threw back his arm and yelled, 'Quarter, you bugger! Take that!' The great blade hi t the man across the nape of the neck, so that his head dropped forward on to his chest.

Midshipman Cowdrey's party swarmed over the other side of the ridge, and as Pearse led his men into the pit to complete his gory victory, Little and Stockdale were already down with the cannon, while their crew ran to discover if there was any life in the nearby furnace. .

The seamen were like mad things. Yelling and cheering, pausing only to haul their wounded companions to safety, they roared all the louder as Pearse emerged from the pit with a great jar of wine.

Bolitho shouted, 'Take up your muskets! Here come the marines!'

Once again the seamen threw themselves down and aimed their weapons towards the lagoon. Colpoys and his ten marksmen, trotting smartly in spite of their borrowed and ill-matched clothing, hurried up to the ridge, but it seemed as if the attack had been so swift and savage that the whole island was held in a kind of daze.

Colpoys arrived at the top and waited for his men to take cover. Then he said, 'WEU seem to have lost five men. Very satisfactory.' He frowned disdainfully as some bloodied corpses were passed up from the gun-pit and pitched down the slope. 'Animals.'

Little climbed from the pit, wiping his hands on his belly. 'Plenty 0' shot, sir. Not much powder though. Lucky we brought our own.'

Bolitho shared their madness but knew he must keep his grip. At any moment a real attack might come at them. But they had done well. Better than they should have been asked to do.

He said, 'Issue some wine, Little.'

Colpoys added sharply, 'But keep a clear eye and a good head. Your gun will be in action soon.' He glanced at Bolitho. 'Am I right?'

Bolitho twitched his nostrils and knew his. men had the furnace primed-up again.

It was a moment's courage, a few minutes of reckless wildness, He took a mug of red wine from Jury and held it to his lips. It was also a moment he would .remember until he died.

Even the wine, dusty and warm though it was, tasted like claret.

"Ere they come; sir! 'Ere-come rh' buggers!'

Bolitho tossed the mug aside and picked up his hanger from the ground.

'Stand to!'

He turned briefly to see how Little and his crew were managing. The cannon had not moved, and to create panic it had to be firing very soon.

He heard a chorus of yells, and when he walked to the crude parapet he saw a mass of running figures converging on the ridge, the sun playing on swords and cutlasses, the air broken by the stabbing crack of muskets, and pistols.

Bolitho looked at Colpoys.' 'Ready marines?'

'Fire!'

16 Only a Dream

'Cease firing!'

Bolitho handed his pistol to a wounded seaman to reload.

He felt as if every fibre in his body was shaking uncontrollably, and he could scarcely believe that the first attack had been repelled. Some of those who had nearly reached the top of the ridge were lying sprawled where they had dropped, others were still dragging themselves painfully towards safety below.

Colpoys joined him, his shirt clinging to his body like a wet skin. 'God!' He blinked the sweat from his eyes. 'Too close for comfort.'

Three more seamen had fallen, but were still alive. Pearse was already supplying each of them with spare muskets and powder-horns so that they could keep up a rapid fire for another attack. After that ... ? Bolitho glanced at his gasping, cowering sailors. The air was acrid with powder-smoke and the sweet smell of blood.

Little bawled, "Nother few minutes, sir!'

So fierce had been the attack that Bolitho had been forced to take men from the gun-crew to help repel the charging, yelling figures. Now, Little and Stockdale, with a few more picked hands, were throwing their weight on wooden staves and handspikes to work the cannon round towards the head of the anchorage.

Bolitho picked up the telescope and levelled it on the six motionless vessels. One, a topsail schooner, looked very like the craft which had put paid to the Heloise. None showed any sign of weighing, and he guessed that their masters were expecting the hill-top guns to smash this impudent invasion before more harm could be done.

He took a mug of wine from Pearse without seeing what he was doing. Where the hell was Palliser? Surely he must have realized what they were attempting? Bolitho felt a stab of despair. Suppose the first lieutenant believed the gunfire and pandemonium implied that Bolitho's party had been discovered and was being systematically wiped out. He recalled Dumaresq's own words before they had left the ship. I cannot save you. It was likely Palliser would take the same View.

Bolitho swung round, trying to hide his sudden desperation as he called, 'How much longer, Little?' He realized that the gunner's mate had only just told him, just as he knew that Colpoys and Cowdrey were watching him worriedly.

Little straightened his back and nodded. 'Ready.' He stooped down again, his eye squinting along the gun's black barrel. 'Load with powder, lads! Ram the charge 'ome.' He was moving round the breech like a great spider, all arms and legs. 'This 'as got to be done nice an' tidy like.'

Bolitho licked his lips. He saw two seamen taking a shot-carrier towards the small furnace, where another man waited with a ladle in his fists, ready to spoon the heated ball into the carrier. Then it was always a matter of luck and timing. The ball had to be tipped into the muzzle and tamped down on to a double-thick wad. If the gun exploded before the ram mer could leap clear he would be blown apart by the ball. Equally, it might split the barrel wide open. No wonder captains were terrified of using heated shot aboard ship.

Little .said, 'I'll lay for the middle vessel, sir. A mite either way an' we might 'it one or t'other.'

Stockdale nodded in agreement.

Colpoys said abruptly, 'I can see some men on the hill-top. My guess is they'll be raking us presently.' A man shouted, 'They're musterin' for another attack!' Bolitho ran to the parapet and dropped on one knee. He could see the small figures darting amongst the rocks and others taking up positions on the hill-side. This was no rabble. Garrick had his people trained like a private army.

'Stand to!'

The muskets rose and wavered in the glare, each man seeking out a target amongst the fallen rocks.*

A fusilade of shots ripped over the parapet, and Bolitho knew that more attackers were taking advantage of covering fire to work around the other end of the ridge.

He darted a quick glance at Little. He was holding out his hands like a man at prayer.

'Now! Load!'

Bolitho tore his eyes away and fired his pistol into a group of three men who were almost at the top of the ridge. Others were fanning out and making difficult targets, and the air was filled with the unnerving din of yells and curses, many in their own language.

Two figures bounded over the rocks and threw themselves on a seaman who was frantically trying to reload a musket. Bolitho saw his mouth open in a silent scream as one attacker pinioned him with his cutlass and his companion silenced him forever with a terrible slash.

Bolitho lunged forward, striking a blade aside and hacking down the man's sword-arm before he could recover. He felt the shock jar up his wrist as the hanger cut through bone and muscle, but forgot the screaming man as he went for his companion with a ferocity he had never known before.

Their blades clashed together, but Bolitho was standing amongst loose stones and could barely keep his balance.

The deafening roar of Little's cannon made the other man falter, his eyes suddenly terrified as he realized what he had done.

Bolitho lunged and jumped back behind the parapet even before his adversary's corpse hit the ground.

Little was yelling, 'Look at that 'un!'

Bolitho saw a falling column of water mingled with steam where the ball had slammed down between two of the vessels. A miss maybe, but the effect would rouse panic quickly enough.

'Sponge out, lads!' Little capered on the edge of his pit while the men with the cradle dashed back towards the furnace for another ball. 'More powder!'

Colpoys crossed the blood-spattered rock and said, 'We've lost three more. One of my fellows is down, too.' He wiped his forehead with his arm, his gold-hilted sabre hanging from his wrist.

Bolitho saw that the curved blade was almost black with dried blood. They could not withstand another attack like the last. Although corpses dotted the slope and along the broken rim of the parapet, Bolitho knew there were many more men already grouping below. They would be far more fearful of Garrick than a ragged handful of seamen.

'Now!' Little plunged his slow-match down and the gun recoiled again with a savage explosion.

Bolitho caught a brief blur of the ball as it lifted and then curved down towards the unmoving vessels. He saw a puff of smoke, and something solid detach itself from the nearest schooner and fly into the air before splashing in the water alongside.

'A hit! A hit!' The gun-crew, black-faced and running with sweat, capered around the gun like madmen.

Stockdale was already using his strength on a handspike to edge the muzzle round just that small piece more. 'She's afire!' Pearse had his hands above his eyes. 'God damn 'em, they're tryin' to douse it!'

But Bolitho was watching the schooner at the far end of the lagoon. She of all the vessels was in the safest anchorage, and yet even as he watched he saw her jib flapping free and men running forward to sever the cable.

He reached out, not daring to take his eyes from the schooner. 'Glass! Quickly!'

Jury hurried to him and put the telescope in his fingers. Then he stood back, his eyes on Bolitho's face as if to discover what was about to happen.

Bolitho felt a musket-ball fan, past his head but did not flinch. He must not lose chat small, precious picture, even though he was in danger of being shot down while he watched.

Almost lost in distance, and yet so clear because he knew them. Palliser's tall frame, sword in hand. Slade and some seamen by the tiller, and Rhodes urging others to the halliards and braces as the schooner broke free and fell awkwardly downwind. There were splashes alongside, and for a moment Bolitho thought, she was under fire. Then he. realized that Palliser's boarders were flinging the vessel's crew overboard, rather than lose vital time putting them under guard.

Colpoys shouted excitedly, 'They must have swum out to the vessel! He's a cunning one is Palliser! Used our attack as the perfect decoy!'

Bolitho nodded, his ears ringing with the crack of musket-fire, the occasional bang of a swivel. Instead of steering for the centre of the lagoon, Palliser was heading directly for the schooner which had been hit by Little's heated shot.

As they tore down on her, Bolitho saw a ripple of flashes and knew that Palliser was raking the men on her deck, smashing any hope they might have had of controlling the flames. Smoke was rising rapidly from her hatch and drifting down towards the beach and its deserted huts.

Bolitho called, 'Little! Shift the target to the next one!' Minutes -later the heated ball smashed through a schooner's frail hull and caused several internal explosions which brought down a mast and set most of-the standing rigging ablaze.

With two vessels burning firecely in their midst, the remainder needed no urging to cut their cables and try to escape the drifting fireships. The last schooner, the one seized by Palliser's boarding party, was now under command, her big sails filling and rising above the smoke like avenging wings. Bolitho said suddenly, 'Time to go.' He did not know why he knew. He just did.

Colpoys waved his sabre. 'Take up the wounded! Corporal, put a fuse to the magazine!'

Little's slow-match plunged down again, and another heated ball ripped across the water and hit the vessel already ablaze. Men were leaping overboard, floundering like dying fish as the great pall of smoke crept out to hide them from view.

Pearse lifted a wounded marine across his shoulder, but held his boarding-cutlass in his other hand.

He said, 'Wind's steady, sir. That smoke will blind the bloody battery!'

Panting like wild animals, the seamen and marines scrambled down the slope, keeping the ridge between them and the hill-top battery.

Colpoys pointed to the water. 'That'll be the closest point!' He fell on his knees, his hands to his chest. 'Oh God, they've done for me!'

Bolitho called two marines to carry him between them, his mind cringing to the din of musket-fire, the sound of flames devouring a vessel beyond the dense smoke.

There was shouting, too, and he knew that many of the schooner's people had been ashore when the attack had begun and were now running towards the hill-side in the hope of reaching the protection of the battery.

Bolitho came to a halt, his feet almost in the water. He could barely suck breath and his eyes streamed so badly he could see little beyond the beach.

They had done the impossible, and while Palliser and his men took advantage of their work, they were nowable to go no further.

He knelt down to reload his pistol, his fingers shaking as he cocked it for one last shot.

Jury was with him, and Stockdale, too. But there seemed less than half of the party which had so courageously stormed the ridge and taken the cannon.

Bolitho saw Stockdale's eyes light up as the magazine exploded and hurled the gun bodily down the slope amidst a landslide of corpses and broken rocks.

Midshipman Cowdroy stabbed at the smoke with his hanger. 'Boat! Look, there!'

Pearse lowered the marine to the ground and waded into the water, his terrible cutlass held above his head.

'We'll take it off 'em, 'lads!'

Bolitho could feel their desperation like a living force.

Sailors were all the same in one thing. Get them a boat, no matter how small, and they felt they could manage.

Little dragged out his cutlass and bared his teeth. 'Cut 'em down afore they slips us!'

Jury fell against Bolitho, and for an instant he thought he had been taken by a musket-ball. But he was pointing incredulously at the smoke and the shadowy boat which was poking through it.

Bolitho nodded, his heart too full to understand.

It was Rhodes standing in the bows of the long-boat, and he saw the checkered shirts of Destiny's seamen at the oars behind him.

'Lively there!' Rhodes reached down and seized Bolitho's wrist. 'All in one piece?' He saw Colpoys and shouted, 'Lend a hand there!'

The boat was so full of men, some of them wounded, that there was barely five inches of freeboard, as like a drunken sea-creature it backed-water and headed once more into the smoke.

Between coughs and curses Rhodes explained, 'Knew you'd try to reach us. Only chance. My God, you raised a riot back there, you rascal!'

A burning schooner drifted abeam, and Bolitho could feel the heat on his face like an inferno. Explosions tolled through the smoke, and he guessed it was either another magazine or the hill-top battery shooting blindly across the lagoon.

'What- now?'

Rhodes stood up and gestured wildly to the" coxswain. 'Hard a-starboard!'*

Bolitho saw the twin masts of a schooner right above him, and with his men reached out to catch the heaving lines which came through the smoke like serpents.

Groaning and crying out in pain, the wounded were pushed and hauled up the vessel's side, and even as the long-boar was East adrift with a man who had died in sight of safety as her only* passenger, Bolitho heard Palliser shouting orders.'

Bolitho felt his way through the smoke and met Palliser and Slade by the tiller.'

Palliser exclaimed, 'You look like an escaped convict, man!' He-gave a brief smile, but Bolitho saw only the strain, and the relief.

Rhodes was kneeling beside the marine lieutenant. 'He'll live if we can get him to old Bulkley.'

Palliser raised one hand and the helm went over very slightly. Another schooner was just abeam, her. sails drawing well as she stood away from the blazing hulks and headed for the entrance.

Then he said, 'By the time they've discovered we've taken one of their own, we'll be clear.'

He turned sharply as the San Augustin's towering masts broke above the smoke. She was still at anchor,' and probably' had every able man from the island on board waiting to fend off the drifting fire-ships and douse .the results of any contact with them.

Palliser added, 'After that, it will be someone else's problem, thank God!' .

A ball splashed down near the larboard bow, and Bolitho" guessed that* Garrick's gunners had at last realized what washappening.

As the smoke ,thinned; arid parts of the island' merged clean and pale in the sunlight, Bolitho saw they were already past the point.

He heard Pearse whisper, 'Look, Bob, there she be!' He lifted the head of a wounded seaman so that he could see Destiny's braced topsails as Dumaresq drove her as close as he dared to the reefs.

Pearse, a boatswain's mate who had fought like a devil, who by command of his captain had laid raw the back of many a defaulter with his cat-o'<nine-tails , said very quietly, 'Poor Bob's dead, sir.' He closed the young seaman's eyes with his tarry fingers, adding, "Nother minute and 'e'd 'ave bin fine.'

Bolitho watched the frigate shortening sail, the rush of men along her gangway as the two vessels tacked closer together. Destiny's' figurehead was as before, pure and pale, her victor's laurels held up as if in defiance to the smoke-shrouded island.

And all Bolitho could think of was the dead seaman named Bob, of a solitary corpse left drifting in the long-boat, of Stockdale's anxiety at being ordered away from his side when he was needed. Of Colpoys, and the corporal nicknamed Dipper, Jury and Cowdroy, and others who had been left behind.

'Take in the fores'l!' Palliser watched the Destiny's wary approach with grim satisfaction. 'There were times when I never thought to see that lady again.'

Josh Little crossed to Pearse's side and said roughly, 'We'll 'ave a wet when we gets aboard, eh?'

Pearse was still looking at the dead seaman. 'Aye, Josh. An' one for 'irn, too.'

Rhodes said, 'The lord and master will have his way now.

A fight to the finish.' He ducked as a heaving-line soared aboard. 'But for myself, I wish the odds were fairer.' He . looked across at the great pall of smoke which surrounded the flat-topped hill as if to carry it away. 'You're a marvel, Dick. You really are.'

'They examined each other like strangers. Then Bolitho said, 'I was afraid you'd hold back. That you'd think we were all taken.'

Rhodes waved his arm to some of the seamen along Destiny's gangway. 'Oh , didn't I tell you? We knew what you were doing, where you were, everything.'

Bolitho stared at him in disbelief. 'How?'

'Remember that main-topman of yours, Murray? He was their sentry. Saw you and young Jury as you left cover.' He gripped his friend's arm. 'It's true! He's below now with a splinter in his leg. Had quite a story to tell. Lucky for you and young Jury, eh?'

Bolitho shook his head and leaned against the schooner's bulwark to watch the two hulls come together in the swell.

Death had been that close, and he had known nothing about it. Murray must have taken the first available vessel out of Rio and had ended up with Garrick's pirates. He could have raised the alarm, or could have shot them both down and become a hero. Instead, something which they had once shared, another precious moment, had held them together.

Dumaresq's voice boomed through a speaking-trumpet. 'Roundly' there! I shall be aground if you cannot shift yourselves!'

Rhodes grinned. 'Home.'

Captain Dumaresq stood by the stern windows of his cabin, his hands behind him, as he listened to Palliser's account of the pitched-battle and their escape from the lagoon.

As he signalled for Macmillan to pass round more wine to his stained and weary officers, he said gravely, 'I put a landing-party ashore to prick Garrick's balloon. I did not expect you to make an invasion all on your own!' Then he smiled broadly, and it made him look sad and suddenly tired. 'I shall think of you and your lads at dawn tomorrow. But for you, Destiny would have been met with such a resistance that I doubt I could have worked her clear. Things are still bad, gentlemen, but at least we know.' Palliser asked, 'Do you still intend to despatch the schooner to Antigua, sir?'

Dumaresq regarded him thoughtfully 'Your schooner, you mean?' He moved to the windows and stared at the dying sun reflected from the water. Like red gold. 'Yes, I am afraid it is another prize I must take from you.'

Bolitho watched, his mind strangely alert in spite of the strain, the bitter memories of the day. He recognized the bond between captain and first lieutenant as if it were' something solid and visible.

Dumaresq added, 'If San Augustin is little damaged we must fight her as soon as we can. When Garrick's lookouts see the schooner standing away he will know that time is running out, that I have sent for aid.' He nodded grimly. 'He will come out tomorrow. That is my belief."

Palliser persisted, 'He will be supported by the other schooners, maybe two survived the fires.'

'I know. Better that than wait for Garrick to sail against us with a completely overhauled ship. I'd ask for better terms, but few captains get the chance to choose.'

Bolitho thought of the men who had been sent over to the schooner. All but a few were wounded, and yet there had been something defiant about them, something which had raised a cheer from Destiny's gangways and rigging,

For reasons of his own, Dumaresq had sent Yeames, master's mate, in command of the prize. It must have been a hard blow for Slade.

Bolitho had been moved when Yeames had approached him before the last boatload had been ferried across. He had always liked the master's mate, but had thought little beyond that.

Yeames had held out his hand. 'You'll win tomorrow, sir, I've no doubt 0' that. But mebbee we'll not meet again. In case we do, I'll want you to remember me, as I'd be proud to serve you when you gets your command,'

He had gone away, leaving Bolitho confused and proud.

Dumaresq's resonant voice broke through. his thoughts. 'We shall clear for action at dawn tomorrow. I shall speak with the people before we dose the enemy, but to you especially I give my thanks.'

Macmillan hovered by the screen door until he caught the captain's eye.

'Me Timbrell's respects, sir, an' will you want to darken ship?'

Dumaresq shook his big head slowly. 'Not this time, I want Garrick to see us. To know we are here. His one weakness, apart from greed: is anger. I intend that he shall grow angrier before morning!' Macmillan opened the door, and gratefully the lieutenants and midshipmen made to withdraw.

Only Palliser remained, and Bolitho guessed he would share the more technical details with the captain without 'their interruption. With the door shut once more, Dumaresq turned to his first lieutenant and gestured to a chair.

'There's something else, isn't there?'

Palliser sat and thrust out his long legs. For a moment More, he kneaded his eyes with his knuckles and then said, 'You were right about Egmont, sir. liven after you put him aboard a vessel outward-bound from Basseterre he tried to warn Garrick, or to reason with him. We'll probably never know. He obviously transferred to a smaller, faster vessel and took the northerly route through the islands to reach here before *us. Whatever happened, his words were lost on Garrick.

He delved into his pocket and withdrew the gold necklace with its double-headed bird and gleaming ruby tails. 'Garrick had them butchered. I rook this from one of our prisoners. The seamen I told you about explained the rest, to me.'

-Dumaresq picked up the heavy necklace and, examined it Sadly.

'Murray, he saw it?'

Palliser nodded. 'He was wounded. I sent him in the schooner before he could speak with Mr Bolitho.' Dumaresq walked to the windows again and watched the little schooner turning stern on, her sails as gold as the necklace in his hand.

'That was thoughtful. For what he has said and done, Murray will be discharged when he reaches England. I doubt if his path will ever cross with Mr Bolitho's again.' He shrugged. 'If it does, the pain will be easier to bear by then.'

'You'll not tell him, sir? Not let him know that she is dead?'

Dumaresq watched the shadows reaching across the heaving water to cover the schooner's hull.

'He'll not hear it from me. Tomorrow we must fight, and I need every officer and man to give all he has. Richard Bolitho has proved himself to be a good lieutenant. If he survives tomorrow, he'll be an even better one.' Dumaresq raised one of the windows and without further hesitation tossed the necklace into Destiny's wake. 'I'll leave him with his dream. It's the very least I can do for him.'

In the wardroom Bolitho sat in a chair, his arms hanging at his sides as the resistance ran out of him like fine sand from a glass. Rhodes sat opposite him, staring at an empty goblet without recognition.

There was still tomorrow. Like the horizon, they never reached it.

Bulkley entered and sat down heavily between them. 'I have just been dealing with our stubborn marine.'

Bolitho nodded dully. Colpoys had insisted on staying aboard with his men. Bandaged and strapped up so that he could use only one arm, he had barely the strength to stay on his feet.

Palliser came through the door and tossed his hat on to a gun. For a moment he looked at it, probably seeing it tomorrow with this place stripped bare, the screens 'gone; the little personal touches shut away from the smoke and fire of battle.

Then he said crisply, 'Your watch, I believe, Mr Rhodes?

The master cannot be expected to do everything, you know!'

Rhodes. lurched to his feet and grinned. 'Aye, aye, sir.

Like a man walking in his sleep he left the wardroom.

Bolitho barely heard them. He was thinking of her, using her memory to shield his mind from the sights and deeds of that day.

Then he stood up abruptly and excused himself from the others as he went to the privacy of his cabin. He did not want them to see his dismay. When he had tried to see her face there had been only a blurred image, nothing more.

Bulkley pushed a bottle across the table. 'Was it bad?' Palliser . considered it. 'It'll be worse yet.' But he was thinking of the jewelled necklace. On the sea-bed astern now. A private burial.

The surgeon added, 'I'm glad about Murray. It's a small thing in all this misery, but it's good to know he's dear of blame.'

Palliser looked away. 'I'm going to do my rounds and turn in for a few hours.'

Bulkley sighed. 'Likewise. I'd better request to borrow Spillane from clerk's duties. I shall be short-handed, too.'

Palliser paused in the doorway ami regarded him emptily. 'You'd best hurry then. He'll maybe hang tomor- row. Just to stoke -Garrick's anger further. He was his spy. Murray saw him searching old Lockyer's body at Funchal when it was brought aboard.' Weariness was slurring Palliser's words. 'Spillane guessed, and tried to incriminate him over Jury's watch. To drive a wedge between fo'c'sle and quarterdeck. It's been done before.' With sudden bitterness he added, 'He's as much a murderer as Garrick.'

He strode from the wardroom without another word, and when Bulkley turned his head he saw the first lieutenant's hat was still lying on the gun.

Whatever happened tomorrow, nothing would ever be the same again, he thought, and the realization saddened him greatly.

When darkness finally shut out the horizon and the flattened hill above FougeauxIsland had disappeared, Destiny's lights still shone on the water like watchful eyes.

17 Into Battle

OvernightFougeauxIsland seemed to have shrunk in size, so that when the first faint light filtered down from the horizon it looked little more than a sand-bar across Destiny's starboard bow.

Bolitho lowered his telescope and allowed the island to fall back into the shadows. Within an hour it would be bright sunlight. He turned his back and paced slowly up and down the quarterdeck. The business of preparing the ship for battle had been unreal, an almost leisurely affair carried out watch by watch during the night.

The seamen knew their way around the masts and hull so well that they had little left to do which required daylight. Dumaresq had thought that out with the same meticulous care he planned everything he did. He wanted his men to accept the inevitability of a fight, the fact that some if not all of them would never make another voyage in Destiny. There was only one alternative passage, and it was marked on the master's chart. Two thousand fathoms, straight down.

Also, Dumaresq intended his people to be as rested as possible, without the usual nerve-wrenching stampede of clearing for action when an enemy showed himself.

Palliser appeared on the quarterdeck, and after a cursory glance at the compass and each sail in turn he said, 'I trust the watch below is completing breakfast?'

Bolitho replied, 'Aye, sir. I have ordered the cooks to douse the galley fire as soon as they are done:'

Palliser took a glass from Midshipman Henderson, who had been assisting with the morning-watch.

Midshipman Cowdroy had been similarly employed during the night. As next in line for promotion, they might find themselves as acting-lieutenants before Destiny's cooks relit their fires.

Palliser scrutinized the island carefully. 'Terrible place.' He returned the glass to Henderson and said, 'Aloft with you. I want to be told the moment Garrick tries to leave the lagoon.'

Bolitho watched the midshipman swarming up the ratlines. It was getting lighter rapidly. He could even see the boatswain's top-chains which he had slung on each yard, the additional tackles and lines hauled up to the fighting- tops for urgent repairs when needed.

He asked, 'You believe it is today, sir?'

Palliser smiled grimly. The captain is certain. That's enough for me. And Garrick will know it is his only chance. To fight and win, to get away before the squadron sends support.'

Vague figures moved about the upper deck and between the guns. Those black muzzles, now damp with spray and a night mist, would soon be too hot to touch.

Petty officers were already discussing last-moment changes to crews, to replace those who had died or were on their way to safety aboard the captured schooner.

Lieutenant Colpoys was right aft by the taffrail with his sergeant as seamen trooped along the gangways to pack the hammocks tightly in the nettings as protection for those who shared the quarterdeck in times like these. An exposed, dangerous place, vital to any ship, an aiming-point for marksmen and the deadly swivel-guns.

Midshipman Jury took a message at the quarterdeck ladder and reported, 'Galley fires doused, sir.'

He looked very young and clean, Bolitho thought, as if he had taken great care over his dress and bearing.

He smiled. 'A fine day for it.'

Jury looked up at the masthead, searching for Henderson. 'We have the agility if nothing else, sir.'

Bolitho glanced at him, but saw himself just a year or so back': That's very true.' It was pointless to add that the wind was only a breeze. To tack and wear with speed you required the sails drawing well. Wind. and canvas were the stuff of a frigate,

Rhodes climbed up to the quarterdeck and glanced Curiously at die smudge of land beyond the bowsprit. He was wearing his best sword, one which had belonged to his father. Bolitho thought of the old sword which his father wore. It appeared in most of the portraits of the Bolitho family at Falmouth. It was destined to be Hugh's one day, very soon now if his father was coming home for good. He turned away from Jury and Rhodes. Somehow, he did not have the feeling he would live to see it again. He was alarmed to discover he could accept it.

Palliser came back and said sharply, 'Tell Mr Timbrell, to rig a halter from the main-yard, Mr Bolitho.' He met their combined stares. 'Well?'

Rhodes shrugged awkwardly. 'Sorry, sir. I just thought that at a time like this .. .'

Palliser snapped, 'At time like this, as you put-it,one more corpse will hardly make much difference!'

Bolitho sent Jury for the boatswain and thought about Spillane and what he had done. He had had plenty of opportunity to steal information and pass it ashore in Rio or Basseterre. Like the. captain's coxswain, the clerk was more free than most to move as he pleased.

Garrick must have hard agents and spies everywhere, maybe even at the Admiralty where one of them had followed every move towards putting Destiny to sea, When the ship had made ready to sail from 'Plymouth, Spillane had been there. It would have been easy for him to discover the whereabouts of Dumaresq's recruiting parties. He had only to read the posters.

N0W, like lines on a chart, they had all been drawn here to this place. A cross on Gulliver's calculations and bearings. Something destined rather than planned.

Most of the mea on deck looked up as the boatswain's party lowered a hangman's noose from the main-yard to the gangway. Like Rhodes, they would have little stomach for a summary execution. It was outside their Lode of battle, their understanding of justice.

Bolitho heard one of the helmsmen mutter, 'Cap'n's comin' up, sir.'

Bolitho turned to face the companionway as Dumaresq, wearing a freshly laundered shirt, with his gold-laced hat set firmly on his head, strode on to the quarterdeck.

He nodded to each of his officers and the men on watch, while to Colpoys, who was attempting to draw himself to attention, he said curtly, 'Save your strength, you obstinate redcoat!'

Gulliver touched his hat. 'Nor' by east, sir. Wind's still light though.'

Dumaresq eyed him impassively. 'I can see that.'

He turned to Bolitho. 'Have the hands lay aft at six bells to witness punishment. Inform the master-at-arms and the surgeon, if you please.' He waited, watching Bolitho's emotions and his efforts to conceal them. 'You've still not learned deceit, it seems?' One of his feet tapped on the deck. 'What is it, the execution?'

'Yes, sir. It's like an omen. A superstition. I - I'm not sure what I mean.'

'Evidently.' Dumaresq walked to the rail and looked along the upper deck. That man tried to betray us, just as he attempted to destroy Murray and all he believed in. Murray was a good man, whereas --' He broke off to watch some marines beginning a slow climb to the fore and main-tops.

'I'd like to have seen Murray before he left, sir.' Dumaresq asked sharply, 'Why?'

Bolitho was surprised at Dumaresq's reaction. 'I wanted to thank him.'

'Oh. That.'

Midshipman Henderson made all of them look up. 'Deck there! Ship standing out from the island, sir!'

Dumaresq dug his chin into his neckcloth. 'At last.' He saw Midshipman Merrett by the mizzen. 'Go and fetch the Articles of War from my servant. We'll get this matter over with and then clear for action.'

He patted his scarlet waistcoat and gave a soft belch. 'That was a nice piece of pork. And the wine will help to start the day.' He saw Bolitho's uncertainty. 'Bring up the prisoner. I'd like him to see his master's ship before he swings, God rot him.

Sergeant Barrnouth placed a line of marines across the poop, and as the pipe for all hands to lay aft and witness punishment echoed between decks, Spillane, escorted by the master-at-arms and Corporal Dyer, appeared from the forecastle.

The seamen, already stripped to their, trousers and ready for the drums to beat to quarters, parted to allow the little group through.

Beneath the quarterdeck rail they halted, and Poynter reported harshly, 'The prisoner, sir!'

Bolitho made himself look at Spillane's upturned face. If anything, it was completely empty, as if the neat and usually composed man was unable to accept what had happened.

Bolitho recalled how Spillane had come to his cabin with the message from Aurora, and wondered how much he had passed on to Garrick.

Dumaresq waited for his officers to remove their hats and then said in his resonant voice, 'You know why you are here, Spillane. Had you been a pressed man, or one forced into the King's service against your will it might have. been different. You, however, volunteered, knowing you were intending to betray your oath and where possible bring disaster to your ship and your companions. Yours was a conspiracy to commit murder on a grand scale. Look yonder, man.'

When Spillane remained stricken and staring at him, Dumaresq snapped, 'Master-at-arms!'

Poynter gripped the prisoner's chin and swung him round towards the bows.

'That ship is commanded by your master, Piers Garrick. Take a long look, and ask yourself now if the price of treachery was worthwhile!'

But Spillane's eyes were fixed on the swaying halter. It was doubtful if he saw anything else.

'Deck there!' Henderson's normally powerful voice sounded unsteady, as if he was afraid of breaking into the drama below him.

Dumaresq glared up at him. 'Speak, man!'

'The San Augustin has corpses hanging from her yards, sir!'

Dumaresq swarmed into the shrouds, snatching a tele- scope from Jury as he passed:

Then he climbed down to the deck very slowly and said, 'They are the ship's Spanish officers.' He darted a quick glance at Bolitho. 'Hung there as a warning, no doubt.' But Bolitho had seen something else in Dumaresq's eyes.

Just briefly, it had been relief, but why? What had he expected to see?

Dumaresq returned to the quarterdeck rail and replaced his hat. Then he said, 'Remove that halter from the main-yard, Mr Tirnbrell. Master-at-arms, put the prisoner down. He will await judgment with the others.'

Spillane's legs seemed to collapse under him. He clasped his hands together and said brokenly, 'Thank you, sir! The Lord bless you for your kindness!'

'Stand up, you bloody hound!' Dumaresq looked at him with disgust. 'To think that men like Garrick can corrupt others so easily. By hanging you, I would have been no better than he. But hear me. You will be able to listen to our progress today, and I suspect that will be an even greater punishment!'

As Spillane was hustled away, Palliser said bitterly, 'If we sink, that bugger will reach the bottom first!'

Dumaresq clapped him on the shoulder. 'Very true!

Now, beat to quarters, if you will, and try to knock two minutes off your time!'

'Ship cleared for action, sir!' Palliser touched his hat, his eyes gleaming. 'Eight minutes exactly.'

Dumaresq lowered his telescope and glanced at him. 'Short-handed we may be, but each man-jack is working the harder for it.'

Bolitho stood below the quarterdeck watching his gun- crews by their tackles, seemingly relaxed, although the waiting was far from over.

The distant ship had spread more sail to stand well clear of the island, but as Destiny lifted and fell gently in the swell, the San Augustin appeared to be motionless. Would she turn and run for it? There was always a chance her stern-chasers might cripple the pursuing frigate with a lucky shot.

Midshipman Henderson, isolated from the preparations far below his perch, had reported that two other sail had cleared the lagoon. One was the topsail schooner, and Bolitho wondered how Dumaresq could be so sure Garrick was in the big man-of-war and not in the schooner. Perhaps he and Dumaresq were too much alike after all. Neither wishing to be a spectator, each eager to inflict a quick and undeniable victory.

Little walked slowly behind the starboard battery of twelve-pounders, stooping occasionally to check a tackle or ,to ensure that the ship's boys had sanded the decks sufficiently to prevent the crews from slipping when the pace grew warm.

Stockdale was at his own gun, his men dwarfed by his great bulk as he cradled a twelve-pound ball in his hands before replacing it in the shot-garland and selecting another. In a manner born, Bolitho thought. He had often seen old gun-captains do it. To make certain the first shots would be perfect. After the opening broadsides it was usually each crew to itself and devil take the hindmost.

He heard Gulliver say, 'We have the wind-gage, sir. We can always shorten sail if the enemy comes about.'

He was probably speaking merely to release his own anxieties or to await a suggestion from the captain. But' Dumaresq remained silent, watching his adversary, glancing occasionally at the masthead pendant or the sluggish wave curling back from Destiny's bows.

Bolitho looked forward and saw Rhodes speaking with Cowdroy and some of his gun-captains. The waiting was endless. It was what he expected, but he never grew used to it.

'The schooners have luffed, sir!'

Dumaresq grunted. 'Hanging back like jackals.' Bolitho climbed up to peer over the gangway which ran above the starboard battery to link quarterdeck to fore- castle. Even with the packed hammock nettings and the nets spread above the deck there was little enough protection for the seamen, he thought.

Almost the worst part was the empty boat-tier. Apart from the gig and the quarter-boat towing astern, the rest had been left drifting in an untidy line. In action, flying splinters were one of the greatest hazards, and the boats made a tempting target. But to see them cast adrift put the seal on what they had to face.

Henderson called, 'The corpses have been cut -down , sir!' He sounded hoarse from strain.

Dumaresq said to Palliser, 'Like so much meat. God damn his eyes!'

Palliser answered evenly, 'Maybe he wishes to see you angry, sir?'

'Provoke me?' Dumaresq's anger faded before it could spread. 'You could be right. Hell's teeth, Mr Palliser, it should be Parliament for you, not the Navy!'

Midshipman Jury stood with his hands behind his back watching the far-off ship, his hat tilted over his eyes as he had seen Bolitho do.

He said suddenly, 'Will they try to close with us, sir?'

'Probably. They have the numbers. From what we saw on the island, I would guess they outmatch us by ten to one.' He saw the dismay on Jury's face and added lightly, 'The captain will hold them off. Hit and run. Wear them down:

He glanced up at Dumarssq by the rail and wondered. No emotion, 'and yet 'he must be scheming anti planning for every possible set-back. Even his voice was as usual.

Jury said, 'The other two craft could be dangerous.' 'The topsail schooner maybe. The other one is too light to risk a close encounter.'

He thought of what would have happened but for their desperate action on the island. Was it only yesterday? There would have been six. schooners instead of two, and the forty-four-gun San Augustin might have had time to mount more guns, maybe those from the hill-top battery. Now, whatever the outcome, their captured schooner would 'carry Dumaresq's despatches to the admiral at Antigua. Too late for them perhaps, but 'they would ensure that Garrick remained a hunted man for the rest of his life.

How cear the 'sky looked. Not yet too hot to be oppressive. The. sea too was creamy and inviting. He tried not to think 'of that other time, when He had' pictured himself running and swimming with her, finding happiness together , making it last ..

Dumaresq said loudly,'They will attempt 1:0 dismast us and lay 'us open to boarding. It is likely that the larger of the schooners has been armed with some heavier pieces. So make each shot tell. Remember that many of their gun- crews and seamen are Spaniards. Terrified of Garrick they may be, but they'll not wish to be pounded to gruel by you!'

His words brought a murmur of approval from' the bare-backed gun-crews.

There was a ragged crash 'of cannon-fire, and Bolitho turned to see the San Augustin's starboard guns shoot out long, orange tongues, while the smoke rolled over the ship and partially hid the island 'beyond .

. The sea foamed and shot skywards; as if the power was coming from beneath the surface instead of from the proud ship with the scarlet crosses on her courses.

Stockdale said, 'Rough.'

Several of the seamen around him shook their fists towards the enemy, although at three miles range it was unlikely anyone would see them.

Rhodes strolled aft, his beautiful sword at odds with his faded sea-going coat.

He said, 'Just to keep them busy, eh, Dick?'

Bolitho nodded. Rhodes was probably right, but there was something very menacing about the Spanish vessel for all that. Perhaps because of her extravagant beauty, the richness of her gilded carvings which even distance could not conceal.

He said, 'If only the wind would come.'

Rhodes shrugged. 'If only we were in Plymouth.' Another broadside spouted from the Spaniard's hull, and some balls ricocheted across the sea's face and seemed to go on forever.

There was an even louder shout of derision, but Bolitho saw some of the senior gun-captains looking worried. The enemy's iron was dropping short and was not that well directed, but as both vessels were moving so slowly on what would likely remain a converging tack, it made each barrage more dangerous.

He pictured Bulkley and his loblolly boys on the shadowy orlop deck, the glittering instruments, the brandy to take away the agony, the leather strap to prevent a man biting through his tongue as the surgeon's saw did its work.

And Spillane, in irons below the waterline, what was he thinking as the thunder rolled against the timbers around him? 'Stand by on deck!' Palliser was staring down at the double. line of guns. 'Run in and load!'

This was the moment. With fixed concentration each gun-captain watched as his men put their weight on the tackles and hauled them away from the sides.

Bulky cartridges were passed rapidly to each muzzle and rammed home by the loader.

Bolitho watched the one nearest to him as he gave the cartridge in his gun two extra sharp taps to bed it in. His face was so set, so absorbed, that it was as if he was about to take on an enemy single-handed. Then die wad, followed by a gleaming black ball for each gun. One more wad rammed down, just in case the ship should give all unexpected roll and tip. the ball harmlessly into the sea, and they were done.

When Bolitho looked up again, the other ship seemed to have drawn much closer.

'Ready on deck!'

Each gun-captain held up his hand.

Palliser shouted, 'Open the ports!' He waited, counting seconds, as the port-lids rose along either side like reawakened eyes. 'Run out!'

The San Augustin fired again, but her master had let her fall off to the wind and the whole broadside fell a good half mile from Destiny's larboard bow.

Rhodes was striding behind his guns, giving' instructions or merely joking with his men, Bolitho could not tell.

With San Augustin now lying off their larboard bow on an invisible .arrowhead, it was hard to keep his crews busy and prevent them from standing to look to the opposite side to see what was happening.

Palliser called, 'Mr Bolitho! Be ready to send some of your hands across to assist. Two broadsides and we will alter c-ourse to larboard and allow your guns a similar chance.' Bolitho waved his hands. 'Aye, sir!'

Dumaresq said, 'Alter course three points to starboard.' 'Man the brace's there! Helm a-weather!'

With her canvas flapping and cracking, Destiny responded, the San Augustin seeming to go astern as she showed herself to the crouching gun-captains.

"Full elevation! Fire!'

The twelve-pounders hurled themselves inboard on their tackles, the smoke rolling downwind towards the enemy in a frothing screen.

'Stop your vents!' Rhodes was striding more quickly now. 'Sponge out and load!'

The gun-captains had to work doubly hard, using a fist or two if necessary to contain their men's excitement. To put a charge into an unsponged barrel where some smoldering remains from the first shot were still inside was inviting sudden and horrible death.

Stockdale pounded the breeching-ring of his gun. 'Come on, boys! Come on!' 'Run out!' Palliser was resting his telescope on the hammock nettings to study the other ship. 'As you bear! Fire!'

This time the broadside was uneven, with each captain taking his time, choosing his own moment. But before they could watch the fall of shot men were already dashing to braces and halliards, while aft Gulliver urged his helmsmen to greater efforts as Destiny changed tack, standing as close to the wind as possible without losing her maneuverability.

Bolitho's mouth had gone dry. Without noticing he had drawn his hanger and was holding it to his hip as the deck tilted, and then slowly but steadily his gun-captains saw San Augustin's gilded beak-head edge across their open ports.

'On the uproll!'

San Augustin's side erupted in darting tongues, and Bolitho heard the wild shriek of langridge or chain-shot passing high overhead, He found time to pity Midshipman Henderson clinging to the cross-trees with his telescope trained on the enemy while toe murderous tangle of chain and iron bars swept past him.

'Fire!'

Bolitho saw the sea bursting with spray around the other ship, and thought he saw her main-course quiver as at least one ball ploughed through it.

As his men threw themselves on handspikes and rammers, yelling for powder and shot, oblivious to everything but the hungry muzzles and Palliser's voice from the quarterdeck, Bolitho glanced at the captain.

He was with Gulliver and Slade beside the compass, pointing at the enemy, the sails, at the drifting smoke, as if he held every an and each consequence in his palm.

'Fire."

Down Destiny's starboard side, gun by gun, the twelve-pounders crashed inboard, their trucks squealing like enraged hogs.

'Stand by to alter course! Be ready, Mr Rhodes! larboard battery load with double-shot!'

Bolitho ducked away from running seamen and bellowing petty officers. Their constant, aching drills on the long passage from Plymouth had taught them well. No matter what the guns were doing, the ship had to be worked and kept afloat.

Once again the guns roared out their challenge, a different sound this time, jarring and painful, as the double-shotted barrels responded to their charges.

Bolitho wiped his face with his wrist He felt as if he had been in the sun for hours. In fact, it was barely eight bells. One hour since Spillane had been sent below.

Dumaresq was taking a risk to double-shot his guns. But Bolitho had seen the two schooners working their way to windward, as if to close with Destiny from astern. They had to hit San Augustin, and hit her hard, if only to slow her down.

Dumaresq shouted, 'Fetch the gunner! lively there!' Bolitho winced as water cascaded over the opposite gangway, and he felt the hull jump to a massive pounding. Two hits at least, perhaps on the waterline.

But the boatswain was already yelling orders, and his men were running past the marine sentries who guarded each hatchway, to examine the hull and to shore up any damage.

He saw the gunner, blinking like an owl in the sunlight, his face creased with anger at being called from his magazine and powder rooms even by the captain"

'Mr Vallance!' Dumaresq's face was split in a fierce grin. 'You were once the best gun-captain in the Channel Fleet, is that not so?'

Vallance shuffled his felt slippers, very necessary footwear to avoid kicking up sparks in so lethal a place as the magazine. 'That be true, sir. No doubt on it.' Despite the noise, he was obviously pleased to be so remembered.

'Well, I want you to personally take charge of the bow-chasers and put paid to that topsail schooner. I'll bring the ship about.' He kept his voice level. 'You'll have EO look alive.'

Vallance shuffled away, jerking his thumb to beckon two of the gun-captains from Bolitho's battery without even asking permission. Vallance was the best of his kind, even if he was usually a taciturn man. He did not need Dumaresq to elaborate. For when Destiny tacked round to engage the schooners she would present her full length to the enemy's broadside.

Destiny's bow-chasers were nine-pounders. Although not as powerfulas several other naval guns, the nine-pounder was always considered to be the most accurate.

'Fire!'

Rhodes' crews were sponging out again, and the seamen shone with sweat which cut runnels through the powder-dirt on their bodies like marks of a lash.

The range was less than two miles, and when Bolitho looked up he saw several holes in the main-topsail and a few seamen working to replace some broken rigging while the battle raged across the narrowing strip of water.

Vallance was up in the bows now, and Bolitho could picture his grizzled head bobbing over the larboard nine-pounder, remembering perhaps when he had been a gun-captain himself.

Dumaresq's voice cut through a brief lull in the firing. 'When you are ready, Mr Palliser. It will mean five points ro larboard.' He pounded his fists together. 'If only the wind would come!' He thrust his hands behind him again as if to control their agitation. 'Loose the t'gan'sls!'

Moments later, answering as best she could to the flapping canvas, Destiny tacked round to larboard, and in seconds, or so it seemed, the schooners lay across her bows.

Bolitho heard the crash of a nine-pounder, and then' the other on the opposite bow as Vallance fired.

The topsail schooner seemed to stagger, as if she had run headlong on to a reef. Foremast, sails and yard all crumpled together to swamp her forecastle and slew her round out of command.

Dumaresq yelled, 'Break off the action! Bring her about, Mr Palliser!'

Bolitho knew that the second schooner was hardly likely to risk sharing her consort's fate. It was a masterful piece of gun laying. He saw his men sliding down the stays to the deck after setting the extra sails, and wondered how Destiny would appear to the enemy's gun-crews as they peered through the smoke and saw one of their number crippled so easily.

It would hardly affect the difference of armament between the two ships, but.. it would put heart into the British seamen when they most needed it.

'Steady as she goes! Nor' by east, sir!'

Bolitho shouted, 'It'll be our turn next!' He saw several of the seamen turn to grin at him, their faces like masks,' their eyes glazed by the constant crash of gunfire.

The deck seemed to leap beneath Bolitho's feet, and with astonishment he saw a twelve-pounder from the opposite battery toppled on to its side, two men crushed and screaming under it, while others ducked or fell sprawling to flying splinters.

He heard 'Rhodes yelling to restore order and the responding bang of several guns, but the damage had been bad, and as Timbrell's men ran to haul away the broken timber and upended gun, the enemy fired again,

Bolitho had no way of knowing how many of San Augustin's shots found their mark, but the deck shook so violently he knew it was a massive weight of iron. Woodworkand pieces of broken metal clattered around him, and he covered his face with his arms as a great shadow swooped over the deck.

Stockdale pulled him down and croaked, 'Mizzen!

They've shot it away!'

Then came the thundering crash as the complete mizzen- mast and spars scythed across the quarterdeck and down over the starboard gangway, snapping rigging and entangling men as it went.

Bolitho staggered to his feet and looked for the enemy. But she seemed to have changed position, her upper yards misting over as she continued to shoot. Destiny was listing, the mizzen dragging her round as men ran and stumbled amongst the tangled rigging, their ears too deafened by the noise to react to their orders.

Dumaresq came to the quarterdeck rail and retrieved his hat from his coxswain. He glanced quickly around the upper deck and then said, 'More hands aft! Cut that wreckage clear!'

Palliser seemed to rise out of the chaos like a spectre. He was gripping his arm which appeared to be broken, and he looked as if he might collapse.

Dumaresq roared, 'Move yourselves! And another ensign to the mainmast, Mr Lovelace!'

But it was a boatswain's mate who swarmed up the shrouds through the smoke to replace the ensign which had been shot down with the mizzen. Midshipman Lovelace, who would have been fourteen years old in two weeks' time, lay by the nettings, torn almost in half by a trailing backstay.

Bolitho realized that he had been standing quite motionless while the ship swayed and shuddered about him to the jar of gun-fire.

He grasped jury's shoulder and said, 'Take ten men and assist the boatswain!' He shook him gently. 'All right?' Jury smiled. 'Yes, sir.' He ran off into the smoke, calling names as he went.

Stockdale muttered, 'We've less than six guns which'll bear on this side!'

Bolitho knew that Destiny would be out of control until the mizzen was hacked free. Over the side he could see a marine still clinging to the mizzen-top, another drowning as he watched, dragged under by the great web of rigging. He turned and looked at Dumaresq as he stood like a rock, directing the helmsmen, watching his enemy and making sure, his own company could see him there.

Bolitho tore his eyes away. He felt shocked and guilty, as if he had accidentally stolen Dumaresq's secret.

So that was why he wore a scarlet waistcoat. So that none of his men should see.

But Bolitho had seen the fresh, wet stains on it which had run down on to his strong hands as his coxswain, Johns, supported him by the rail.

Midshipman Cowdroy clambered over the debris and yelled, 'I need more help forrard, sir!' He looked near to panic.

Bolitho said, 'Deal with it!' What Dumaresq had said to him about the stolen watch. Deal with it.

Axes rang through the smoke, and he felt the deck lurch upright as the broken mast and attendant' rigging drifted clear of the .side.

How bare it seemed without it and its spread of canvas. With a start he realized that San Augustin lay directly across the bows. She was still firing, but Destiny's change of direction which had been caused by the mizzen dragging her round, made her a difficult target. Balls slammed down close to the side or splashed in the sea on either beam. Destiny's guns were also blind, except for the bow-chasers, and Bolitho heard their sharper explosions as they reopened fire' in deadly earnest.

But another heavy ball smashed under the larboard gangway, toppling two guns and painting the decks red as it cut down a group of men already wounded.

Bolitho saw Rhodes fall, try to recover his stand by the guns and then drop on his side.

He ran to help him, shielding him from the billowing gun-smoke as the world went mad around them .. -

Rhodes looked directly at him, his eyes free of pain, -as he whispered, "The lord and master had his way, you see, Dick?' He looked up at the sky beyond the rigging. The wind. Here at last but too late.' He reached up to touch Bolitho's shoulder. 'Take care. I always knew ... ' His eyes became fixed and without understanding.

Blindly Bolitho stood up and stared around at the destruction and the pain. Stephen Rhodes was dead. The one who had first made him feel welcome, who had taken life at face value, day at a time.

Then, beyond the broken nettings and punctured hammocks he saw the sea, The sluggish swell was gone. He peered up at the sails. Holed they might be, but they were thrusting out like breast-plates as they pushed the frigate forward into the fight. They had not been beaten. Rhodes had seen it, the wind, he had said. The last thing he had understood on this earth.

He Ian to the side and saw San Augustin startlingly close, right there on the starboard bow. Men were shooting at him, there was smoke and noise all around, but he felt nothing. Close to, the enemy ship was no longer so proud and invulnerable, and he could see where Destiny's claws had left their mark.

He heard Dumaresq's voice following him along the deck, commanding, all powerful even in its pain. 'Ready to starboard, Mr Bolitho!'

Bolitho snatched up Rhodes' beautiful sword and waved it wildly.

'Stand to! Double-shotted, lads!'

Musket-balls hammered across the decks like pebbles, and here and there a man fell. But the rest, dragging themselves from the wreckage and leaving Rhodes' guns on. the larboard side, shambled to obey. To load the remaining twelve-pounders, to crouch like dazed animals as foot by foot the San Augustin's towering stern loomed over them like a gilded cliff.

'As you bear!'

Who was shouting the orders? Dumaresq, Palliser, or was he himself so stunned by the ferocity of the battle that he had called them himself?

'Fire!'

He saw the guns sliding inboard, the way their crews just stood and watched the destruction as every murderous ball ploughed through the Spanish man-of-war from stern to bow.

None of the gun-captains, not even Stockdale, made any attempt to reload. It was as if each man knew.

The San Augustin was drifting downwind, perhaps her steering shot away, or her officers killed by the last deadly embrace.

Bolitho walked slowly aft and on to the quarterdeck. Wood splinters were everywhere, and there were few men-left at the six-pounders to cheer as some of the enemy's rigging collapsed in a welter of sparks and smoke.

Dumaresq turned stiffly and looked at him. 'I think she's afire .'

Bolitho saw Gulliver, dead by his helmsmen, and Slade in his place, as if he had been meant for master from the beginning. Colpoys, his red coat over his bandaged wounds like a cape, watching his men standing back from their weapons. Palliser, sitting on a cask, while one of Bulkley's men examined his arm.

He heard himself say, 'We'll lose the treasure, sir.'

An explosion shook the stricken San Augustin, and figures could be seen jumping over the side and trampling down anyone who tried to stop them.

Dumaresq "looked down at his red waistcoat. 'So will they.'

Bolitho watched the other ship and saw the smoke thickening, the first glint of fire beneath her mainmast. If Garrick was still alive, he would not get far now.

Bulkley arrived on the quarterdeck and said, 'you must come below, Captain. I have to examine you.'

'Must!' Dumaresq gave his fierce grin. 'It is not a word I choose --' Then he fainted in his coxswain's arms.

After all that had happened it. seemed unbearable. Bolitho watched as Dumaresq's body was picked up and carried carefully to the companionway.

Palliser joined him by the quarterdeck rail. He looked ashen but said, 'We'll stand off until that ship either sinks or blows up.' -

'What shall I do, sir?' It was Midshipman Henderson, who had somehow survived the whole battle at the masthead.

Palliser looked at him. 'You will assume Mr Bolitho's duties.' He hesitated, his eyes on Rhodes' body by the foremast. 'Mr Bolitho will be second lieutenant."

A greater explosion than all the previous ones shook San Augustin so violently that her fore and main-topmasts toppled into the smoke and the hull itself began to turn turtle.

Jury climbed up and joined Bolitho to watch the last moments of the ornate ship.

'Was it worth it, sir?'

Bolitho looked at him and at the ship around them. Already there were men working to put the damage to rights, to make the ship live again. There were a thousand things to do, wounded to care for, the remaining schooner chased and caught, prisoners to be rescued and separated from the Spanish sailors. A great deal of work for one small ship and her company, he thought.

He considered Jury's question, what it had all cost, and what they had discovered in each other. He thought too of what Dumaresq would have to say when he returned to duty. That was a strange thing about Dumaresq. Dying was like defeat, you could never associate it with him.

Bolitho said quietly, 'You must never ask that. I've learned, and I'm still learning. The ship comes first. Now, let's be about it, otherwise the lord and master will have harsh words for all of us.'

Startled, he looked at the sword he still grasped in his hand.

Perhaps Rhodes had answered Jury's question for him?

Epilogue

Bolitho tugged his hat down over his eyes and looked up at the great grey house. There was a squall blowing up the Channel, and the rain which stung his cheeks felt like ice. All the months, all the waiting, and now he was home again. It had been a long, hard journey from Plymouth after Destiny had dropped anchor. The roads were deeply rutted, and there had been so much mud thrown up on the coach windows Bolitho had found it difficult to recognize places which he had known since boyhood.

And now that he was back again he felt a sense of unreality, and, for some reason he could not determine, one of loss.

The house was unchanged, just as it had looked when he had last seen it, almost a year ago.

Stockdale, who had driven with him from Plymouth, shifted his feet uncertainly.

'Are you sure it's all right fer me to be 'ere, sir?' Bolitho looked at him. It had been Dumaresq's last gesture before he had left the ship, before Destiny had been put into the hands of the dockyard for repair and a well deserved overhaul.

'Take Stockdale. You'll be getting another ship soon.

Keep him with you. A useful fellow.'

Bolitho said quietly, 'You're welcome here. You'll see.' He climbed up the worn stone steps and saw the double-doors swing inwards to greet him. Bolitho was not surprised, he had felt in the last few moments that the whole house hac! been silently watching him.

But it was not old Mrs Tremayne the housekeeper but a young maidservant he did not recognize.

She curtsied and blushed. 'Welcome, zur.' Almost in the same breath she added, 'Cap'n James is waitin' for you, zur.' Bolitho stamped the mud from his shoes and gave the girl his hat and boat-cloak.

He strode through the panelled hall and stepped into the big room he knew so well. There was the fire, blazing brightly as if to hold the winter at bay, gleaming pewter, the filtered smells from the kitchen, security.

Captain James Bolitho moved from the fire and put his hand on his son's shoulder.

'My God, Richard, I saw you last as a scrawny midshipman. You've come home a man!'

Bolitho was shocked by his father's appearance. He had steeled himself against the loss of an arm, but his father had changed beyond belief. His hair was grey and his eyes were sunken. Because of his sewn-up sleeve he was holding himself awkwardly, something Bolitho had seen other crippled sailors do, fearful of having someone brush against the place where a limb had been.

'Sit down, my boy.' He watched Bolitho fixedly, as if afraid of missing something. 'That's a terrible scar you have there. I must hear all about it.' But there was no enthusiasm in his voice. 'Who was that giant I saw you arrive with?'

Bolitho gripped the arms of his chair. 'A man called Stockdale. '

He was suddenly aware of the quiet, the deadly, clinging silence.

He asked, 'Tell me, Father. Is something wrong?'

His father walked to a window and stared unseeingly through the sleet-washed glass.

'There have been letters, of course. They'll catch up with you one day.' He turned heavily. 'Your mother died a month ago, Richard.'

Bolitho stared at him, unable to move, unwilling to accept it.

'Died?'

'She had a short illness. A fever of sorts. We did all we could. '

Bolitho said quietly, 'I think I knew. Just now. Outside the house. She always gave the place light.'

Dead. He had been planning what he was going to tell her, how he would have quietened her concern over his scar.

His father said distantly, 'Your ship was reported some days back.'

'Yes. Then fog came down. We had to anchor.'

He thought suddenly of the faces he had left, how much he needed them at this moment. Dumaresq, who had gone to the Admiralty to explain the loss of the treasure, or to be congratulated for depriving a potential enemy 'of it. Palliser, who had got his command of a brig at Spithead. Young Jury, with a break in his voice when they had shaken hands for the last time.

'I heard of some of *your exploits. It sounds as if Dumaresq made quire a name for himself. I hope the Admiralty see it that way. Your brother is away with the fleet.'

Bolitho tried to contain his emotion. Words, just words. He had known his father would be like this. Pride. It was always a question of pride with him, first and foremost. 'Is Nancy at home?'

His father looked at him distantly. 'You won't know that either. Your sister married the squire's son, young Lewis Roxby. Your mother said it was on the rebound after that other wretched business.' He sighed. 'So there it is.'

Bolitho leaned back against the chair, pressing his shoulders against the carved oak to control his sorrow.

His father had lost the sea. Now he was alone, too. This great house which looked across the slopes of PendennisCastle or out across the busy comings and goings of Carrick Roads. Each a constant reminder of what he had lost, of what had been taken from him.

He said gently, 'Destiny has paid off, Father. I can stay.'

It was as if he had shouted some terrible oath. Captain James strode from the window and stood looking down at him.

'I never want to hear that! You are my son and a King's officer. For generations we've left this house, and some have never come back. There's war in the air, and we'll need all our sons.' He paused and added softly, 'A messenger came here just two days back. An appointment already.'

Bolitho stood up and moved about the room, touching familiar things without feeling them.

His father added, 'She's the Trojan, eighty guns. There's going to be a war right enough if they're recommissioning her.'

'I see.'

Not a lithe frigate, but another great ship of the line. A new world to explore and master. Perhaps it was just as well. Something to fill his mind, to keep him busy until he could accept all which had happened.

'Now I think we should take a glass together, Richard.

Ring for the girl. You must-tell me all about it. The ship, her people, everything. Leave nothing out. It's all I have now. Memories.'

Bolitho said, 'Well, Father, it was a year ago when I joined Destiny at Plymouth under Captain Dumaresq ... .'

When the young maidservant entered with the glasses and wine from the cellar, she saw the grey-headed Captain James sitting opposite his youngest son. They were talking about ships and foreign parts. There was no sign of grief or despair in their reunion.

But she did not understand. It was all a question of pride.