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

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

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

`Will we leave Bellairs and his marines?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11

Luck of the Game

Bolitho studied the masthead pendant and then walked aft to the compass. North-west by west. It was mid-afternoon, and despite the sky's unclouded, relentless glare there was sufficient wind to make it easier to endure. Undine had been made to lie at anchor in Pendang Bay almost until dusk the previous day, the set of the coastal currents and the wind's determination to remain from the south-west making a night passage too dangerous even to attempt. But in the last moments the wind had backed considerably, and with her sleek hull tilting to its pressure, Undine had beaten out of the bay, losing the settlement and its grim memories in purple shadow.

But if the wind had remained fresh it was still necessary to hold the ship close-hauled, the yards braced round to keep each sail drawing and steer Undine clear of the land. Should the wind veer without warning, and she lay too close to that undulating pattern of green coast, Undine could easily find herself hard upon a lee shore, and in real danger.

Herrick asked, `How much longer will we continue, sir?'

Bolitho did not reply immediately. He was watching the tiny triangular sails of Undine's cutter as it tacked daintily around a small clump of rocky islets.

Then he shifted his gaze to the maintop where Midshipman Keen sat with one bare leg dangling over the barricade, a telescope trained on the distant boat. Davy had the cutter, and would signal the moment he sighted anything. There was no sense in taking the ship too close when good visibility remained.

He said, `We are off the south-western cape, or as near as I can calculate. There are marshes and swamps a'plenty, accord ing to Mr. Mudge and Fowlar. If Captain Vega's information is correct, the Muljadi's vessels may be close by.'

He turned his face into the wind, feeling the sweat drying on his forehead and neck.

`The Benua Islands are about a hundred miles to the west'rd of us. A goodly piece of open water, if we get the chance to run these pirates down.'

Herrick watched him doubtfully, but was comforted by Bolitho's apparent optimism.

`What do we know of Muljadi, sir?'

Bolitho walked up the slanting deck to the'e weather rail and tugged the sticky shirt clear of his ribs.

`Little or nothing. Originally he came from somewhere in North Africa, Morocco or the Barbary Coast, jtt is said. He was taken as a slave by the Dons and chained in one of their galleys.

He escaped and was recaptured.'

Herrick whistled quietly. `I imagine the Dons were hard with him.'

Bolitho thought suddenly of the elderly Colonel Pastor and his impossible mission.

`The Dons lopped off a hand and an ear and left him marooned on some desolate beach.'

Herrick shook his head. `Yet somehow he reached the Indies, and can now strike fear into his old masters.'

Bolitho regarded him impassively. `Or whoever stands between him and his final goal, whatever that may be.'

They both stared up as Keen yelled, `Deck there! Cutter's signalled, sir! Mr. Davy points to the north'rd 1'

Bolitho snatched a glass. `Of course! I should have realised!'

['III He trained it on the cutter, and then beyond to the gently sloping cape. Tiny islets, crumbling ridges and rocks, and everywhere the unbroken backcloth of green. Any small vessel could work her way through there, as Davy's cutter was now doing.

Herrick slammed his fists together. 'Got 'em, by God!'

id, l Bolitho said crisply, `We will remain on this tack for the present. Hoist the recall signal for Mr. Davy and then beat to quarters.' He smiled, if only to ease the mounting excitement. `In ten minutes maybe?'

Herrick waited until Keen had shinned down a backstay to rejoin his signal party and then yelled, `Beat to quarters ! Clear for action!'

A solitary drummer-boy did the best he could, his sticks blurring in double-time as the tattoo brought the hands tumbling from hatchways and gratings.

`That might frighten 'em off, sir.'

Mudge was by his helmsmen, his jowl working on some meat or a quid of tobacco. There was little to choose between them, Bolitho often thought.

`I believe otherwise.'

Bolitho watched the bare-backed seamen dashing to their guns, casting off the lashings and groping for the tools of their trade. A reduced detachment of marines, under the command of a solitary corporal, was parading across the quarterdeck, while a handful more clambered aloft to the foretop and its swivel gun.

The cutter had already turned bows-on, her sails lowered, and thrusting through the inshore swell under oars alone.

`They will not have met with many frigates, I'm thinking. Their leader will try to reach open sea and outreach us, rather than face a blockade or the risk of our landing marines at his back.' He touched Mudge's arm impetuously. `He'll not know how unused we are to such affairs, eh?'

Mudge pouted. `I only 'ope that bugger Muljadi is 'ere, too ! 'E needs to be taught a lesson, an' double quick, in my reckonin'!'

`Deck there!' The lookout at the masthead waited until the scamper on the gun deck stopped. `Sail on th' lee bowl'

`By heaven, so there is!' Midshipman Keen gripped a seaman's arm and added excitedly, `Schooner by the cut of her!'

The seaman, pigtailed, and with ten years in the Navy, glanced at him and grinned.

`By God, I envy you young gennlemen your learnin', sir!'

But his sarcasm was lost in the excitement of the moment.

Herrick held up his hand as the last gun captain faced aft towards him. From the break below the quarterdeck a bosun's mate shouted, `All cleared aft, sir!' Herrick swung round and saw Bolitho examining his new watch.

`Cleared for action, sir.'

`Twelve minutes, exactly.' Bolitho glanced up at the masthead. `But for the lookout's hail, I believe you may have done it in less.' He let the mock formality drop. `Well done, Mr. Herrick and pass the word to all hands.'

He walked back down the angled deck and trained his glass across the nettings. Two raked masts with big dark sails. Like wings. They appeared motionless, the hull still hidden beyond one more probing spit of land. It was an illusion. She was edging around the last dangerous point. After that she would be up and away. But it would take her a good while yet.

He swung round. `Where is that damned cutter?'

Mowll, the master-at-arms, and easily the most unpopular man aboard, called, 'Comin' up fast, sir!'

`Well, signal Mr. Davy to make haste. I'll have to leave him astern otherwise.'

`Deck there! 'Tis another sail on th' lee bow!'

Herrick watched in silence until he had discovered the second pair of sails in his glass.

`Another schooner. Probably Company ships taken by these pirates.,

'No doubt.'

Bolitho turned to watch the cutter swinging round to drive beneath the main chains with a shuddering thud. Curses and clattering oars, all were finally quenched by Davy's angry voice and the more patient tones of Shellabeer, the boatswain, who was studying the whole manoeuvre from the gangway with obvious disgust.

Allday had been standing behind Bolitho and whispered, `Should have had young Mr. Armitage in charge, Captain. He'd have driven right through into the spirit store, cutter an' all !'

Bolitho smiled and allowed Allday to buckle on his sword. He had not seen his coxswain since breakfast, just after dawn. Yet the moment of danger, a hint of action, and he was here. Without fuss, and hardly a word to betray his presence.

Maybe.'

He saw Midshipman Armitage with Soames below the foremast, checking a list of gun crews which Soames had reallotted on passage from India. He found a moment to wonder what Armitage's mother would think if she saw her adored boy now. Leaner, and well tanned, his hair too long, and his shirt in need of a good wash. She would probably burst into tears all over again. But in one way -he had not changed. He was still as clumsy and as lacking in confidence as his first day aboard.

Little Penn, on the other hand, who was strutting importantly beside the starboard battery of twelve-pounders and waiting to assist Lieutenant Davy, had no such handicap. If anything, he was prone to attempt tasks which were several spans of experience beyond his twelve years.

Davy came struggling aft, ducking beneath a swinging shadow as the cutter was hoisted inboard and on to its chocks above the gun deck. He was soaked in spray, but very pleased with himself.

Bolitho said, `That was well done. By making a quick sighting-report, you have given us an edge on those two vessels.'

Davy beamed. `Some prize-money perhaps, sir?'

Bolitho hid a smile. `We will see.'

Herrick waited for Davy to join his gun crews and then said, `Just the two schooners. Nothing else in sight.' He rubbed his hands noisily.

Bolitho lowered the telescope and nodded. `Very well, Mr. Herrick. You may load and run out now.' He glanced at the masthead pendant for the hundredth time. `We will make more sail directly, and show these pirates what they are against.'

`Both schooners are keeping well inshore, sir.' Herrick lowered his telescope and turned to watch Bolitho's reactions. `With that rig they can sail really close to the wind.'

Bolitho walked to the compass, the picture of the two other vessels sharp in his mind. For over half an hour they had worked slowly and methodically between a small crop of islets, and were now following the coastline towards a sloping spur of headland. Around that there was yet another bay, with more jutting spits of land, but the schooners would choose their moment most carefully. Go about and dash for the open sea, separate perhaps, and so lessen Undine's chances of conquest.

They were both well-handled vessels, and through his glass he had seen an assortment of small cannon and swivels, and an equally varied selection of men.

Mudge watched him gloomily. `Wind's backed a'piece, sir. Might 'old.'

Bolitho turned and stared along his ship, weighing the risks and the gains. The green headland was reaching down towards Undine's starboard bow, or so it appeared. In fact, it was still some three miles distant. The two schooners, black against the lively wave crests, seemed to overlap into one ungainly craft, their great sails etched across the land.

He said firmly, `Get the t'gallants on her, and alter course two points to starboard.'

Herrick stared at him. `It'll be close, sir. If the wind veers we'll be hard put to beat off the shore.'

When Bolitho did not reply he sighed and lifted his speaking trumpet.

`Man the braces !'

From further aft the helmsmen spun their spokes, the senior one squinting at the flapping canvas and at the tilting compass bowl until even Mudge was satisfied.

'Not'-west by north, sir!'

`Very well.'

Bolitho studied the headland again. A trap for the two schooners, or a last resting place for Undine, as Herrick seemed to think.

Herrick was watching the topmen, waiting until the topgallant sails were freed and then brought under control like bulging steel breastplates. Undine was moving swiftly now, for with the wind sweeping tightly across her larboard quarter, and with topsails and topgallants braced to best advantage, there was little doubt the range was falling away.

Mudge asked worriedly, 'D'you think they'll try to go about, sir?'

`Perhaps.' Bolitho shivered as a curtain of spray lifted and burst across the weather rail, soaking him to the skin, adding to his rising excitement. `They'll try and weather the headland as close as they dare and use the next bay to change tack. Or, if one or both loses his head, we'll rake 'em as he goes about on this side of the headland.'

He peered at the gun deck, at the figures beside each twelvepounder. One good broadside would be more than enough for any schooner. The second might strike without risking a similar fate. He shut it from his mind. The fight was not even begun yet.

He pictured Conway back there in his remote kingdom. He would know better than Puigserver or Raymond what was at stake. With any luck Undine might settle Conway's security long enough for him to demonstrate what he could do.

A faint crack echoed across the water and a white feather of spray showed itself for just a few seconds., well away from the starboard bow. It brought a chorus of jeers from the waiting gun crews.

`Run up the Colours, Mr. Keen.'

Bolitho saw the handful of marines in the foretop adjusting their swivel gun. Some more were already cradling their long muskets along the hammock nettings, their faces stiff with concentration.

`One of 'em's making a run for it, sir!'

Bolitho caught his breath as the sternmost schooner tilted at a steep angle, her great mainsail sweeping above her deck like a huge wing while she altered course hard to larboard.

Somebody yelled, `By Jesus, she's in irons! Look at th' bugger!'

The schooner's captain had mistimed it very badly, for as his command pounded round to cross the wind's eye and find sea-room elsewhere, the sails flapped and rippled in hopeless confusion.

Bolitho shouted, `We'll take him first! Stand by, the larboard battery!'

He saw Soames hurrying down his line of guns, the captains crouching like athletes behind each breech, trigger lines taut as they peered through the open ports for a first sight of the target.

Bolitho straddled his legs and tried to hold his telescope on the nearest vessel. She was falling awkwardly down-wind, her narrow deck clearly visible as her crew fought to bring her back under control. Undine was overhauling her so rapidly that she was already lying some two cables from the larboard bow, and seemed to swell in size even as he watched. He saw the strange flag at her peak, black, with a red emblem in its centre. A prancing beast of some sort. He closed the glass with a snap and saw Keen flinch at the sound.

Allday grinned. `Two minutes, Captain. Just right.' He nodded towards the opposite bow where the other schooner was holding steadily on course towards the headland. `He seems content to let his mates go under.'

Soames was peering aft, his curved hanger glittering in the bright sunlight as he raised it slowly above his head. The glare was making him grimace so badly that he appeared to be grinning like a madman.

Bolitho looked at Mudge. `Let her fall off another point.' He forced a smile. `Not a moment longer than necessary, I promise.'

He pulled out his sword and held it casually across his shoulder. Through his crumpled shirt it felt like ice.

The helmsman yelled hoarsely, `Nor', nor'-west it is, sir!'

There was no time to perfect the set of the yards, no time for anything now as with barely a stagger Undine turned even further towards the shore, the movement dragging the labouring schooner into the view of the eager gun captains.

Bolitho shouted, `As you bear, Mr. Soames!'

Soames bellowed, `Stand by!' He came loping aft, pausing at each gun to peer along its muzzle. Satisfied, he jumped aside and yelled, `Fire!'

Bolitho tensed as the uneven broadside belched and shuddered along his ship's side. Soames had done well. To an extra puff of wind which had pushed the frigate over to leeward, he had judged it perfectly, taking the enemy ship on the uproll, raking her savagely from end to end.

Bolitho grasped a stay, his eyes blinded with smoke as the wind funnelled it back through every port. Men were coughing and swearing in the thick brown fog, but urged on by shouts and threats they were still managing to sponge out and reload for another broadside when needed.

He stared with amazement at the schooner as the smoke cleared away from the quarterdeck. Dismasted, almost buried under a chaos of fallen spars and ripped canvas, she seemed a total wreck.

`Bring her back to nor'-west by north, Mr. Mudge.'

He did not see the master's face, his look of relief and admiration. His ears were still ringing to the thunder of cannon fire, the sharper, probing cracks of the quarterdeck six-pounders. He hoped the less experienced men had found time to tie their scarves over their ears. Caught at the wrong angle, it only took one shot to deafen a man. Often permanently.

`Run out!' Soames was peering at his crews as gun captain after captain raised a powder-blackened fist to show his weapon was loaded.

Herrick shouted, `Now for t'other one!'

He waved to Davy at the starboard battery, the gesture impulsive, unnoticed by himself. Davy waved back, his movement jerky, like a puppet. As they swept after the second schooner Midshipman Penn moved slightly to place his lieutenant between him and any possible damage.

Herrick laughed aloud. `By God, young Penn has the right idea, sir!' He peered up at the streaming pendant. `The wind is still kind, and this is putting new heart into our people.'

Bolitho watched him gravely. Later they would talk about it. But when it was happening, to you, to those around you, it was pointless to discuss anything. You never really knew the man in action. Pride, anger, insanity, it was there, and more. Even on Herrick's homely face. His own, too, no doubt.

He said, `We will run him as close as we can to the headland. After that it will be up to him. Strike or fight.'

He moved the sword-blade on his shoulder. The ice was gone. Now it was like a heated gun-barrel.

Mudge remarked, `That master is a fool. 'E should 'ave gone about sooner. I would 'ave done so. Crossed Undine's bows afore we could blast 'im.' He sighed. "E'll not get a second chance, I'm tninkin'.'

Bolitho looked at him. Mudge was right of course. Undine was playing a dangerous game to drive so bravely towards a lee shore, but the schooners had taken even more of a chance.

Herrick was saying, `Prize crew on one, and take the other in tow, eh, sir? We should get good recompense for two schooners, even if one of 'em is little more than a hulk.'

Bolitho watched the schooner without answering. Was Muljadi aboard her? Or in the other one, dying or already dead with some of his men? Better so, he thought, than fall into Puigserver's hands.

`Deck there!' The cry was almost lost above the chorus of spray and booming canvas. `Ship on the larboard quarter!'

Bolitho swung round, imagining for a moment that the lookout had been too long in the sun. For an instant he could see nothing, and then as his vision cleared he saw the forecourse and topsail of another ship standing around the last headland, the one they had rounded so carefully in pursuit of the schooners.

Herrick gasped, `What is she?' He stared at Bolitho. 'The Argus?'

Bolitho nodded grimly. `I fear so, Mr. Herrick.'

He tried to keep his tone level when his whole being was screaming at him to act, to do the impossible. And how easy he had made it for them. He had allowed the schooners to draw him, like a fox after two rabbits. Argus must have been following them along the coast, waiting for the trap to be sprung, reading Bolitho's mind without even being able to see him.

Herrick exclaimed, `Then, by God, we'll tell Mr. Frenchman to sheer off! This is none of his affair!'

Keen called, `She's overhauling us, sir.'

Bolitho looked past him. The Argus was already beating well out on their larboard quarter, taking the wind-gage, doing exactly what he had attempted to do to the schooners. Now Undine was in the trap. Run aground, or try and claw to windward? He saw the sunlight flashing down the big frigate's exposed side, the small moving shadows above the creaming water as she ran out her whole broadside.

He thought of the man behind those guns. How did he feel at this moment?

Herrick said quietly, 'Eighteen-pounders, I'm told, sir?' He watched his face, as if hoping for a denial of Argus's strength. `Yes.'

He drew in a long breath as a flag broke from the Frenchman's peak. Black and red, like the ones which had flown above the schooners. Letter of marque. Hired by a foreign power, the flag merely to keep up a pretence-of legality.

Keen lowered his telescope and said quickly, `She's almost up to the dismasted schooner, sir.' He was managing to sound calm, but his hands were shaking badly. `There are some men in the water. I think they were thrown outboard when the masts came down.'

Bolitho took the glass and watched, his mind cold as he saw the frigate ride through and over the men in the water. The captain had probably not even seen them. All he saw was Undine.

He raised his voice, hoping the others would not despair at its strangeness. `We will alter course directly.' He ignored the unspoken protest on Mudge's heavy face. `Get the t'gallants off her, Mr. Herrick. The Frenchman will expect us to do so if we are about to fight.' He looked at Mudge again. `Without so much canvas we may be able to gain a little room to give an account of ourselves.'

Mudge replied harshly, `It'll mean crossin' 'er bows, sir! Even if we gets round without 'avin' the sticks torn out of us, what then? The Argus will overreach us and put a full broadside through our stern as she passes!'

Bolitho regarded him bleakly. `I am relying on his desire to retain the wind-gage, for without it he might change places with us.' He saw no agreement in Mudge's tiny eyes. `Or would you have me haul down our colours, eh?'

Mudge flushed angrily. `That ain't fair, sir!'

Bolitho nodded. `Neither is a battle.'

Mudge looked away. `I'll do me best, sir. Lay 'er as close to th' wind as she's ever bin.' He tapped the compass bowl. `If th' wind 'olds, we should be able to steer almost due west.' He strode to the wheel. `God 'elp me.'

Bolitho turned and saw the topmen sliding down to the deck again, felt the more sluggish motion as Undine plunged ahead on topsails and forecourse. A glance at the other ship told him that her captain was doing likewise. He had no need to worry. Undine would have to stand and fight. There was no room left to run away. He walked slowly back and forth, stepping unseeingly over the six-pounder tackles, his knee brushing against a crouching seaman as he passed. Argus's captain would be watching his every move. The advantage, if there was one," would last only seconds, a few minutes at best. He looked at the headland. It seemed very close now, extending far out beyond the larboard bow, like a great arm waiting to snatch them whole.

Then he strode to the quarterdeck rail and called, 'Mr. Soames 11 will want a broadside as we put about. You have small chance of hitting him, but the sudden challenge may have an effect.' He let his gaze move slowly along the upturned faces. `You will have to reload and run out quicker than ever before. The Argus is a powerful ship and will endeavour to use her heavier iron to full advantage. We must get to close quarters.' He felt the grin frozen to his lips like a clamp. `Show him that our lads are better, no matter what damn flag he wears !'

A few raised a cheer, but it was not much of a rally.

Herrick said quietly, `Ready when you are, sir.'

It seemed very quiet. Bolitho looked aloft yet again. The pendant flicked out as before. If the wind backed further it would be some small help. If it veered it would be disaster. Then he looked at Soames as he clumped heavily aft and disappeared below the quarterdeck. To supervise the sternmost twelvepounders, which would bear first once they had altered course. Davy was by the foremast, sending some of his own gun crews across to assist the larboard battery. If Argus's eighteenpounders got to grips they would need plenty of replacements, he thought grimly.

He faced Herrick and smiled. `Well, Thomas?'

Herrick shrugged. 'I'11 tell you what I think when it's over and done with, sir.'

Bolitho nodded. It was an unnerving feeling. It always was, of course, and yet you imagined that each time was worse than the one before. In an hour, in minutes, he could be dead. Thomas Herrick, his friend, might be fighting a battle not of his choosing, or screaming out his life on the orlop deck.

And Mudge. Hand-picked because of his vast store of knowledge. But for this commission he would have been discharged now. Living with his children, and his grandchildren, too, in all probability.

He snapped, `So be it then! Put the helm down!' `Man the braces. Lively there!'

Shuddering and groaning in protest, Undine slewed round to the thunder of wind and wildly flapping canvas. Bolitho saw spray bursting through the open ports as she swayed further and further to the violent change of tack. From the corner of his eye he saw the Argus's topsails lifting above the hammock nettings, her shape shortening as Undine swung round across her bows. A gun banged out, and the ball whimpered some where overhead. Someone must have fired too soon, or perhaps the French captain had already guessed what they were trying to do.

Soames was ready and waiting, and the first crash of gunfire shook the deck violently, the smoke swirling up and over the nettings in a writhing pall. Gun by gun down the side, from stern to bow, the six-pounders joining in as the Argus crossed each black muzzle. Bolitho saw her foresail jerk and throb to the onslaught, holes appearing like magic as Soames's gun crews fired, reloaded and fired again.

When he peered forward Bolitho saw that the headland had eased back to starboard, the schooner already tiny as she scuttled around it and into the next bay.

Mudge yelled, `West by north, sir! Full an' bye!' He was mopping his eyes with his handkerchief, clinging to the mizzen mast pike rack to hold himself upright.

He gestured towards the gaff where the red ensign streamed almost abeam. `Close as we can get, sir!'

Bolitho winced as the six-pounders barked out again, and saw the nearest one bounding inboard until caught and held by its tackle. Its crew was already sponging out and groping for fresh charges and another ball from the shot garland, eyes white and staring through the grime, voices lost in the crash and roar of cannon fire, the squeal of trucks as like angry hogs the heavy guns were run out towards the enemy.

The Argus had at last followed Bolitho's lead. She was swinging round, her yards braced almost fore and aft, to hold the wind and keep Undine under her lee.

Even as he watched Bolitho saw the long orange tongues flashing from her ports, the bombardment unhurried and carefully aimed as gun by gun she fired through the swirling curtain of smoke and spray.

A ball screamed above the quarterdeck and slapped through the maintopsail before dropping far abeam. Others were hitting the hull, above or below the waterline, Bolitho had no idea. He heard someone screaming through the choking smoke, saw men dashing hither and thither like prisoners in hell as they rammed home the new charges and threw their shining, blackened bodies to the tackles again and again.

Above the din he heard Soames's deep voice rallying and cursing as he kept his men at their guns. A swivel banged out from the top, and he imagined the marines were firing more to ease their own fears than with much hope of hitting anything,

A quarterdeck gun port seemed to explode in a great burst of flame, and Bolitho saw men, and pieces of men hurled in all directions at once as a ball tore splinters from the bulwark and transformed them into hideous darts.

One marine ran sobbing from the nettings, his hands clawing at what remained of his face. Others stood or knelt by their fallen companions, firing, reloading, firing, reloading, until it seemed life itself had stopped.

A down-draught of wind swirled the smoke away, and Bolitho saw the other frigate's yards and punctured sails barely fifty yards abeam. He saw the filtered sunlight touching pikes and cutlasses as the enemy prepared to board, or to fight off their attempt to do likewise. He gasped as another line of bright tongues darted through the smoke, felt the planks buck under his feet, the crash and clatter of a gun being overturned or smashed to fragments.

When he peered upwards he saw that the maintopsail was little better than a rag, but every spar was still intact. A wounded seaman clung to the mainyard, his blood running down one leg unheeded to the deck far below. Another seaman managed to reach him and drag him to safety, and together they crouched below the maintop, caught in the severed ratlines like two broken birds.

Herrick was yelling, `He's trying to cripple us, sir! Take us as a prize!'

Bolitho nodded and stopped to drag an injured man clear of a six-pounder. He had already guessed Argus's intentions. Another ship for Muljadi's use, or perhaps to replace Argus so that she could return to France.

The thought seemed to drive into his heart like a knife.

`We'll put the helm hard down! Swing the bows right into him!' He did not recognise his own voice. `Tell Davy to get ready to grapple!' He seized Herrick's arm. `We must grapple! He'll pound us to splinters at this rate!'

He felt the blast of a ball past his head, heard it strike the opposite bulwark and send a mass of wood splinters scything across the deck like arrows.

Herrick was yelling to Mudge and the men at the braces, and through the smoke Bolitho saw Argus's shadowy outline loom above the forecastle, the sudden movement of figures in her bows as the two ships drove together.

Above the din of gunfire and shouting he heard the sails jerking and banging, the wind lost to them, the ship already falling sluggishly abeam.

Herrick staggered in some blood and gasped, `No use! Can't grapple!'

Bolitho stared past him. The enemy was already edging ahead and across Undine's larboard bow, a few guns firing as she went, holding the wind and changing course very slightly while Undine floundered helplessly, her remaining sails almost aback.

She was going to rake Undine with every available gun, but give Bolitho time to haul down his colours before she reached his stern and finished what she had begun.

He felt Herrick tugging his arm.

`What now?'

Herrick pointed up through the smoke, where the sunlight was making a small path through the drifting smoke.

`The lookout, sir! He's reported a sail to the west'rd!' His eyes were shining with hope. `The Frenchman's making off!'

Bolitho looked at him dully. It was true, and he had heard nothing. Deafened by gunfire, or fogged in his own despair, he did not know. But the Argus was already spreading her mainsail and was driving down-wind with gathering power towards the open strait.

Bolitho said, `Hands to the braces, Mr. Herrick. Lay her on the larboard tack again. If we can signal this newcomer we may still be able to give chase.'

He heard a small cry, and when he turned he saw two seamen kneeling beside Keen's body. The midshipman was trying to reach down to his stomach, but one of the seamen was gripping his wrists while the other slit open his bloodstained breeches with a dirk and threw them aside. A few inches above the groin there was something like a broken bone, but Bolitho knew it was far worse. A wood splinter blasted from the deck, and probably held tight by its own barbs.

He knelt down and touched it with his fingers, seeing the blood pulsing across the youth's thigh, hearing his sobs as he tried not to scream.

Bolitho thought of Whitmarsh, far away in Pendang Bay,

helping to heal the sick and wounded from the garrison.

One of the seamen said, ''E'll not last, sir. without 'elp.

I'll fetch a surgeon's mate.'

Allday was kneeling beside him and said, `No. I'll do it.' Bolitho looked at him, seeing the determination on his face.

Then he turned and said, `Easy, Mr. Keen. You'll be about again soon.'

He felt the rising anger and despair pricking his eyes. What had he brought them all to? He touched the midshipman's bare shoulder. It was smooth like a woman's. He had not even begun to live yet.

He snapped, `Are you sure, Allday?'

The coxswain eyed him calmly. `I'm as good as those other butchers.'

Davy came hurrying aft and touched his hat. `Masthead has reported the other ship to be the Bedford, sir. The Frenchman must have thought her to be a man-of-war.'

He looked at Keen's wound and said hoarsely, `My God.' Bolitho stood up slowly, watching the midshipman's fingers

opening and closing like trapped animals in the seaman's strong grip.

`Very well, Allday. Take him aft to the cabin. I'll be down myself as soon as I've attended to things here.'

Allday looked at him. `Don't you fret, Captain. It's the luck of the game. Our turn will come.' He nodded to the two seamen. `Pick him up.'

Keen gave a sharp cry as they moved him to the cabin hatch, and before he vanished below Bolitho saw that his eyes were fixed unwinkingly on the sky above the tattered sails. Trying to hold on to it? So that by keeping the picture in his mind he might retain his life itself.

Bolitho bent and picked up the midshipman's dirk from the stained deck. He handed it to Davy and said, `We will make contact with the Bedford. There is nothing more we can do for the present but return to the settlement.'

Herrick said, `The old Bedford.' He sounded bitter. `A bloody storeship from Madras full of seasick soldiers and their womenfolk.'

Bolitho watched the helmsman bringing Undine carefully back on course, the skilful way they were allowing for the punctured sails' loss of power.

`If Argus had known that, she'd have done for both of us.' He saw the surprise and sudden concern and added simply, `But not before we had rendered her equally useless.'

He glanced aloft at the masthead pendant. How many times had he done that? He took out his watch and flicked open the guard. Remembering. The whole sea-fight had taken less than two hours, and already Argus was almost lost in the offshore haze which marked the coming of evening. He shaded his eyes to look for the Bedford, and saw her topsails on the horizon like small yellow shells.

Then he looked around at the splintered planking, the small line of corpses which had been dragged below the weather gangway. There was much to do, and he must not give way for an instant if his men were to keep the will to fight again if the time came. He saw another corpse being carried up from the forehatch, and knew he would have to deal with the reports of damage, arrange for replacements and repairs. And burials.

He heard another sharp cry through the cabin skylight, and thought of Keen being spreadeagled there while Allday tried to extract the splinter.

He said, `I am going below, Mr. Herrick. Deal with reports on damage and casualties.' He saw him nod. `Thank you.'

As he hurried below I-Herrick said quietly, `No. Thank .you.'

Bolitho brushed past the sentry at his door and then stopped. It was very quiet in the cabin, and when he saw Keen's naked body lying on the deck he thought he was too late.

Allday said, `All done, Captain.' He held up the jagged red. lump in some pincers. `I think he did very well, for a lad.'

Bolitho looked down at Keen's ashen face. There was blood on his lips where one of the seamen had held a strap between his teeth to prevent him from biting through his tongue. Noddall and' he other seamen were finishing tying the dressing around the wound, and there was a thick smell of rum in the

air.

Bolitho said quietly, `Thank you, Allday. I never knew you understood such things.'

Allday shook his head. `Did it to a sheep once. Poor thing fell down a cliff on to a broken sapling. Very much the same really.'

Bolitho walked to the stern windows and sucked in a lungful of air. `You must tell Mr. Keen that when he is well again.' He turned and watched him gravely. `Do you think he will fully recover?'

Allday nodded. `Yes. Another inch or so and it might have been the end.' He forced a grin, seeing the strain on Bolitho's face. `For the ladies, anyway!'

The door opened and Herrick said, `We are within signalling distance of Bedford, sir.'

'I'11 come up.' He paused and looked down at Keen. Even a glance told him his breathing was easier. `Casualties?'

Herrick dropped his eyes. `Ten killed, sir. Twenty wounded. It's a miracle we didn't lose far more. The carpenter and his mates are below, but it seems most of the holes are above the waterline. She's a lucky ship, sir.'

Bolitho looked from him to Allday. `I'm the lucky one.' Then he walked from the cabin.

Allday shook his head and sighed, releasing more rum into the smoke air.

`My advice is to leave him be, Mr. Herrick, sir.'

Herrick nodded. `I know. But he has taken this setback badly, though I know of no captain who could have done better.'

Allday dropped his voice. `But one captain did do better today. And ours'll not rest until he's met with him again, I'm thinking.'

Keen gave a soft moan and Allday snapped, `Come on, you idlers! Basin to his head! I've poured so much grog into his guts he'll spew all over the cabin when he comes to the surface again !'

Herrick smiled and walked out towards the ladder, seeing the men replacing the lashings on the guns, glancing at him and grinning as he passed.

One of them called, `We showed the bastards, eh, sir?' Herrick paused, `That we did, lads. The captain was proud of you.'

The seaman grinned more broadly. `Aye, sir. I seed 'im in the thick of it, walkin' about like 'e was on Plymouth 'Oe. I knew then that we was goin' to be all right.'

Herrick climbed towards the sunlight and stared up at the torn sails. If only you knew, he thought sadly.

He found the other lieutenants and warrant officers already assembled on the quarterdeck giving their various reports while Bolitho leaned against the mainmast trunk.

When he saw Herrick he said, `There is still a good span of daylight left. We'll put the hands to replacing canvas and running-rigging while it lasts. I have ordered the galley fire to be lit, and we'll see that our people get a good meal.' He gestured towards the labouring storeship which was now less than a mile away. `We might even poach a few extra hands from her, eh?'

Herrick saw the others watching Bolitho dully, their bodies almost limp with exhaustion and delayed shock. He guessed that this other Bolitho, cool, confident, filled with ideas again, was the one the seaman on the gun crew had pictured throughout the battle.

The fact that he knew the real Bolitho behind the shield made him feel suddenly privileged and restored.

12

In for a Blow

Rear Admiral Beves Conway made a dark silhouette against the window's colourful rectangle, but Bolitho could recognise his impatience even though his back was turned. Beyond him, still and peaceful above their own varying shadows, the anchored ships shone in the late sunlight.

Undine lay apart from the heavy transport and the little brig Rosalind, and it was impossible to see the damage she had received from the French frigate's eighteen-pounders. Occasionally, when there was a lull in the voices, Bolitho heard the echoes of thudding hammers, the rasp of saws to show that only distance made Undine's trim appearance a lie.

The air in the big, timbered room was cool after the open bay, and although the various figures sitting around it looked as if they had barely moved since his last visit, Bolitho noticed that the place itself had changed considerably in so short a time. More furniture, some rugs, and a whole array of gleaming decanters and glasses made it look lived in, rather than a fortress under siege.

Don Luis Puigserver sat on a brass-bound chest, sipping wine, while James Raymond, tight-lipped and unsmiling, faced him across a littered table. The brig's master, Captain Vega of the original garrison and two red-coated soldiers from the Bedford made up the rest of the gathering. One of the latter, a heavy-faced man introduced briefly as Major Frederick Jardine, and who commanded the soldiers brought from Madras, Bolitho instantly recognised as the one he had seen there when he had been escorting Viola Raymond. He had a fat, belligerent face, and his small, piggy eyes had hardly left Bolitho since he had arrived. The other soldier, a Captain Strype, was his second-in-command, and a complete opposite. Tall and stickthin, with a black moustache, he spoke with a lisp, and had a short, barking laugh. He was probably rather stupid, Bolitho thought, but was obviously much in awe of his superior.

Conway said sharply, `Naturally I am very distressed to learn of Argus's attack, Captain Bolitho.'

Raymond said, `Unwarranted, too.'

Conway turned lightly on his heels, his hair yellow in the sunlight. `But not unexpected, Raymond. Not by me, that is. It was obvious from the beginning that the French were implicated. They have to be, for their own interest's sake. We are lucky that Bedford's arrival put paid to their intention to take Captain Bolitho's ship from him.' He shifted his gaze, his tone incisive. `And he would have done so, eh?'

Bolitho felt all their eyes on him. `I believe so, sir.'

Conway bobbed his head. `Good. Good, Bolitho. I wanted the truth and, believe me, I know what it cost you.'

Raymond tried again to put his point of view. `I think, sir, that we should despatch the brig to Madras without delay. Sir Montagu Strang may consider that further operations here might be imprudent.' He ignored Conway's stiffening shoulders. `Later, perhaps, some new plan may be conceived. Until then, we must take this affair as a warning.'

Conway rasped, `A warning? Do you imagine that for one instant I will let some damned pirate work off his wrath on me and so imperil the very task I have just undertaken?' He stepped closer. `Well, do you?'

Raymond paled but replied stubbornly, `I am here on behalf of the government, sir. As an adviser. The French must realise that you are out-manoeuvred before you have begun. If this Muljadi is allowed to plunder and ravage these waters, then there is no chance of using Pendang Bay as a new and flourishstation for trade. No shipping master would risk it.' He turned' towards the brig's captain. `Is that not so?'

The man nodded glumly. `We need more protection, sir.'

Raymond sounded triumphant. `Exactly! Which is what the French intend. If we ask for more men-of-war to patrol the area, they, too, will even the balance by sending additional consorts for Argus.'

Conway stared at him. `Then so be it!'

`No, sir. It would mean war. Argus is protected by her letter of marque. Muljadi is protected by his own power and backed up by his French friends. There are a thousand Muljadis in the Indies, some who are genuine rulers, and some who reign over fewer people than Captain Bolitho does at present. We all want to extend our trade and influence, to China -if need be, and beyond. There are riches we can only dream of, lands where people have never heard of King George, or Louis either, for that matter.'

Bolitho said quietly, `You are advising the governor to admit defeat, sir. Do I understand correctly?'

Raymond smiled calmly. `As you have done, eh?'

Bolitho walked to the window and stared down at his ship. It gave him time. Allowed the sudden blinding anger to depart. In the lower enclosure he saw Midshipman Keen sitting with one of the ship's boys rescued from the Nervion. He had been detailed to look after Keen, to assist him, if only by making him rest. It was still not possible to be sure he would recover from his wound. Was it really only the day before yesterday? The smoke and noise, the aftermath of hard, heavy work to put their ship to rights. The sea-burials, each corpse heavily weighted to ensure it went straight down to avoid the prowling sharks.

He said, `I take it, Mr. Raymond, you have never borne arms for your country?' He did not wait for an answer. `Had you ever worn the King's coat you would have known that one defeat, if admitted, is not the end of a battle.'

He heard Captain Strype say in his thin voice, `By Gad, that's not much of an argument, what?'

Bolitho turned swiftly, his tone hard. `I was addressing Mr. Raymond, sir, not some damned mercenary who because of his rank imagines himself to be a solider!'

Don Puigserver brought his glass down to the table with a loud bang. `Gentlemen! I know that Vega and I are no longer involved here. I also believe that both Senor Raymond and the governor,' he bowed slightly to Conway, `are both right. With Muljadi free to use his ruthless power and so influence other friendly rulers in the Indies, you can make no advances. With more military strength you would only excite a hostile reaction and further French involvement.' He paused and gave an eloquent shrug. `Which I doubt my own country could ignore.'

Bolitho nodded towards him, grateful for his interruption. Another second and he knew he would have said too much, and Conway, even had he wanted to, would have been unable to help him.

Major Jardine cleared his throat. `Despite what the gallant captain has said,' he did not look at Bolitho, `I believe my force will be sufficient. I have two hundred sepoys and a mule battery. All experienced.' He had a thick voice, and sweated badly, despite the room's comparative coolness.

Puigserver regarded him gravely. `If Nervion had been here, none of this could have happened. An additional ship, the men, and the showing of our flag to -the Argus would certainly have delayed, if not defeated, Muljadi's intentions.'

Conway said, `But she is not here. Only the Undine.'

Jardine said thickly, `And she does not seem to have acquitted herself too well.' He turned to Bolitho, his small eyes like steel. `Even as a mere soldier, a mercenary, I can see that neither of the schooners lies at anchor, and as far as we know, the Argus still flies Muljadi's colours. What sayyou, Captain?'

Bolitho faced him. `The first schooner turned turtle and sank. The other took advantage of Argus's presence to escape.' He could feel little emotion now. Words and taunts were inevitable. It was better to get it over with. Clear the air.

`Indeed, yes.' Jardine leaned back in his chair, his polished boots squeaking. `And then the Bedford arrived to give you help. The poor, much-maligned Company's own ship was the one to drive Argus away.'

`Had you been there, Major '

Jardine spread his plump hands. `But I was not, sir. I am a soldier. I am supposed to be able to leave such matters to our Navy, surely?'

Conway said coldly, `I have heard enough. I will brook no more hostility here. Not from you, Bolitho,' he looked at Jardine, `nor from anyone else!' He thrust his hands behind him, making his sloping shoulders droop even further. `Had Undine been beaten in open combat I would have removed Captain Bolitho from command. He knows that well enough, and so should the rest of you. The Navy is too often expected to fight greater forces than itself possesses, and has been so successful in the past that victory against ridiculous odds is now taken for granted. By the empty-minded men of politics, and those who care more for quick profit than lasting security! As it is, Captain Bolitho will be required to sail without further delay, other than completing necessary repairs, for Muljadi's own territory in the strait.' He looked at Bolitho calmly. `You will make contact with Argus's captain, under flag of truce, and convey a message which I will give you.'

Raymond said quickly, `May I suggest, plead with you, sir, that you allow Don Puigserver to go with Captain Bolitho? He has the right to demand the freedom of Spain's last governor here, Colonel Pastor. He could explain his displeasure at such-'

Conway shouted, his voice bounding back from the timbered walls. `I have been appointed governor, Raymond! I don't need your apron strings, nor do I need the help of the King of Spain, d'you understand?'

Raymond's defiance wilted under Conway's sudden anger. He said nothing.

Puigserver stood up and walked slowly towards the door, followed gratefully by Capitan Vega.

He paused and looked back at them, his eyes very dark. `I would have accompanied Capitan Bolitho with pleasure, of course.' He smiled briefly. `I have a great admiration for his courage, his . . .' he searched for the word, `... his integrity. But I have much to do. My task is to embark the remaining Spanish soldiers and their dependents on to the Bedford.' He glanced at Conway, his smile fading. `As you remarked this morning, the flag of Spain no longer has authority here.'

Bolitho watched him stride out. He had sensed the tension as soon as he had arrived. It could not have been easy for Conway. Fretting over lack of news, waiting for supplies and troops to arrive. But he was wrong to antagonise Puigserver. If things went badly here, Conway would need all the references he could get, even in Spain.

Jardine remarked vaguely, `I'd better be off then. Settle the sepoy s in their company lines, and replace the marines as sentries and pickets.'

No thanks, no admiration for what Captain Bellairs and his marines had achieved in so short a time. Bolitho glanced through the window again. The encroaching brush and creeper cleared away, and corpses buried. The place used as a hospital had been cleaned and painted, and even Whitmarsh had been full of praise for their efforts.

Conway nodded. `I will meet you here after sunset, Major.'

Bolitho waited until the two soldiers had left the room and then said, `I am sorry about my outburst, sir. But I have had my bellyful of his kind.'

Conway grunted. `Perhaps. But you will hold your tongue in future. If Jardine commanded only a handful of crippled beggars I would say the same. I need every man I can get.'

Raymond stood up and yawned. `This damned heat. I think I'll take a nap before dinner.'

He, too, walked out. He did not look at Bolitho.

Conway said softly, `He disliked your remark about bearing arms, you know.' He chuckled. `His wife has been singing the praises of sea-officers in general during your absence, and you in particular.' He frowned. `I seem to be plagued with those intent on disruption.'

`Is she well, sir?' He could not face him. `I have not seen her since my return.'

`She's been assisting that sot of a surgeon with the sick and wounded.' His eyebrows mounted. 'Surprised? By God, Bolitho, you've much to learn about women!' He nodded sharply. `But you'll see, all in good time.'

Bolitho recalled her refusal to help tend the injured aboard Undine after Puigserver had been carried aboard more dead than alive. And her reasons? He sighed. Perhaps Puigserver and Conway were both right. He had much to learn.

He replied, `I will return to the ship, sir. There will be a lot to arrange.'

`Yes.' Conway watched him thoughtfully. `And remember., When you meet Argus's captain, keep your personal feelings to yourself. He is doing his own work as best he can. You would do the same if so ordered. If Le Chaumareys is still in command, and not killed by one of your guns, he will be eager to meet you also. He is older than you, but I think you may have something in common.' His lines deepened as he added dryly, `A disrespect for your superiors, if nothing else!'

Bolitho picked up his hat. You could never be sure about Conway. Where the warmth ended and the steel began.

Conway said, `Please come ashore tonight and dine with the rest of . . .' he waved one hand around the room, `... the castaways.'

Bolitho recognised the dismissal and walked from the room.

Beyond the palisades the jungle was as thick and as overpowering as ever, and yet already the place felt familiar, lasting.

He found Allday lounging in the shade below the main entrance. He was watching some native women who were washing clothes in a large wooden trough. They were small and olive-skinned, and although well covered, displayed supple charm which Allday apparently admired greatly.

He straightened his back and said, `All done, Captain?' He saw Bolitho's glance and nodded. `Fair little wenches. We will have to watch our people, Captain.'

`Only the people?'

Allday grinned. 'Ah, well now ...'

At that moment Bolitho saw the surgeon emerge from the makeshift hospital, wiping his hands on a rag and squinting into the slanting sunlight.

He saw Bolitho and nodded. `Two of the men wounded in your battle can return to work, sir. Two more died, as you know, but the rest stand a good chance of survival.' He looked away. `Until the next time.'

Bolitho considered his words. A total of twelve had died because of Argus. Despite the luck at there being few in comparison to the fierceness of the battle, it was too many. He sighed. Perhaps Herrick had got some more `volunteers' from the other ships.

Whitmarsh said, `Your coxswain did a good job, by the way. The boy should have died by rights.' He looked at Allday. `Wasted. You should make something of your life.'

Bolitho said quietly, `I am glad you thanked him for his efforts on Mr. Keen's behalf. But I am sure he will decide his own future.'

Allday could have been stone-deaf for all the notice he paid to their comments.

Whitmarsh said, `Well, anyway, sir, I've cleaned up a bit here. Most of them will heal, although a few more will die before they reach Spain. Disease mostly, of course.'

`Of course?'

Whitmarsh looked him full in the eyes. `Rotten with it. Just as they have given it to these poor ignorant savages, too. If any one of your sailors comes to me with that damned pox, I'll make him wish he'd never touched a woman in his life!'

`They are your sailors, too, Mr. Whitmarsh.'

Bolitho regarded him searchingly. Despite his usual attitude where naval matters were concerned, he looked a great deal better. Or perhaps there was little to drink here? Either way, he was nothing like the drunken hulk who had tumbled aboard in England.

`So there you are, Captain!'

He turned and saw her watching him from the entrance. She was almost covered by a white smock, and wore the same straw hat she had brought from Santa Cruz. Her eyes were in shadow, but there was no doubting the warmth of her smile.

He replied, `I am grateful for what you have done, ma'am.'

Whitmarsh nodded. `She is the one who took charge here. Organised the whole hospital from top to bottom.' His admiration was genuine.

She smiled at Allday and then slipped her hand through Bolitho's arm.

`I'll walk with you to the beach, if I may. It is so refreshing to have you back again.'

Bolitho could feel Whitmarsh and Allday watching them.

He said, `You are looking, er, very well.'

Her hand tightened very slightly. `Say Viola.'

He smiled. `Viola.'

`Better.'

When she spoke again her voice was different. `I saw your ship dropping anchor and was half mad with anxiety. I wanted James to take me out to her by boat. He refused. He would, Then I saw you with a telescope. It was like being there with you. And today I have spent a little time with Valentine.'

`Valentine?' Bolitho looked at her profile. `Who is that?'

She laughed. `Of course, you would never remember a thing like a mere name. Why, I am speaking of your Mr. Keen.' The mood changed again. `The poor boy. He looks so ill, yet can speak of no one but you.' She gripped his arm hard. `I am almost jealous!'

Bolitho looked past her to where the gig lay beached on the sand, the small breakers hissing and receding around it. The boat's crew were engaged in noisy conversation with some seamen from the brig, and it was plain they were describing what they still saw as their victory over the Argus and the schooners.

He smiled, despite his earlier bitterness and disappointment. Perhaps they were right. To remain alive under such circumstances could well be seen as a victory.

She was looking at him, standing slightly apart as if searching for something.

`You smile, Captain? At me? At my boldness perhaps?' He reached out and took her hand. `Not that. Never.' She tossed her head. `That is better, Captain.'

He heard Allday's shoes on the sand, the sudden silence from

the gig.

`The name is Richard,' he said gravely.

Allday heard their combined laughter and felt suddenly

worried. This was a danger he could recognise well enough,

far better than his captain, he thought.

He removed his hat as Bolitho walked down the beach to

wards the gig, and heard him say, `I will be ashore later, ma'am.' She held the hat brim to shade her eyes. `Until then, Captain.' But Allday had seen the look on her face before it was hidden

in shadow. That, too, was something he could recognise. He

glanced quickly at the tower above the fort and took a deep

breath. Squalls ahead, he decided, and not too far away. Bolitho looked at him. `Well?'

Allday's face was rigid. `So it would appear, Captain.'

Three days after returning to Teluk Pendang His Majesty's frigate Undine weighed anchor again and put to sea. By late afternoon of that day she stood well out in the glittering expanse of the Java Sea with not even a cormorant for company.

To any casual observer who might have watched her departure there was little to betray her mauling from Argus's cannon, but as Bolitho came on deck he was well aware of it.

Shrouds and stays which had been cut by grape and catus shone brightly in their fresh tar. Deck planking, hastily placed, looked duller than the well-tried and holystoned W,,' )6f which had been in the ship since she had been built. The s;,,, maker and his mates had been busier than most, and even nccr, as he walked slowly along the weather side, Bolitho saw Jots Tait squatting with some helpers, his one eye gleaming watdr fully as with needles and palms they continued with th;' patching.

Fowlar, who was master's mate of the watch, touched forehead and reported, `South-west by south, sir.' He gestwcd abeam. `A bit of a swell, and Mr. Soames has gone forrard check the gun lashings.'

Bolitho glanced at the compass and then the set of each,,',' by turn. He had already noticed the steep, sickening motion but it was too early to gauge its importance. The barornett, was unsteady, but that was usual in these latitudes, and wl' he had consulted Mudge he had chosen his words carefully,

`Could be in for a storm, sir. You never know in these waters

He nodded to Fowlar and walked to the quarterdeck feeling the sun lingering on his shoulders and face. It was a wind, he thought, but sultry, and somehow depressing.

He saw Herrick speaking with Soames by the starboard twelve-pounders. The boatswain was there, too, pointing various repairs yet to be done, and through the main hatch he heard the lively sounds of a jig from the ship's fiddler. Normal, everyday sights and noises. He shifted wearily and began ,o pace up and down the weather side.

From one corner of his eye he saw Soames climb from th. gun deck, make as if to approach him, and then return to the opposite side of the deck. Bolitho was relieved. Soames had proved himself a tower of strength in a fight, but as a conversationalist he was heavy and limited.

And Bolitho needed to be left alone. To think. To examine the rights and the wrongs of what he had done. With the laj,d left far astern, and once more abandoned to his own resources! he could view everything much more clearly. Now, as his shadow bobbed and swayed above the black six-pounders, he decided there were far more wrongs than rights.

Inevitable? Something which either of them could have stopped in a second merely by a word, a hint even? He recalled the way she had watched him across the table while the others had talked and chattered the night away. Capitan Vega had entertained them with a song so sad it had brought tears to his eyes. Puigserver had spoken of his adventures in the South Americas and the West Indies before the war. Raymond had become steadily drunk after getting into a fruitless argument with Major Jardine on the possibilities of a lasting peace with France.

Conway had remained terribly sober, or if not, Bolitho

thought he must be a better actor than he had imagined. When then, had the actual moment of decision arrived? He had found himself on the upper rampart with her at his side, leaning over the rough timber to look at the anchored ships in the bay. They had made a fine picture. Tiny lights reflected on the uneasy water, the pale splash of oars as a guardboat patrolled monotonously around its heavier charges. Without looking at him she had said, `I want you to stay on shore tonight. Will you?'

Perhaps that had been the moment? He had felt reckless, dangerously so.

`I'll send a message to my first lieutenant.'

He turned to stare along the deck. Herrick was still talking to Shellabeer, and he wondered if he had guessed what had occurred.

He could remember the room exactly. More like a cell, with fewer luxuries than a lieutenant's cabin in a man-of-war. He had lain on the bed, his fingers locked behind his head, listening to the strange noises beyond the walls and the rapid beats of his own heart.

Cries from the jungle, the occasional call of a picket challenging one of the sergeants of the guard. Wind murmuring around the square tower without response from deck or rigging which was his normal life.

Then he had heard the sound of her footstep in the passageway, a quick whisper to her maid before she opened the door and shut it quickly behind her.

It was becoming harder to remember in perfect sequence. The continuity was confused. He could recall holding her tightly against his body, the warmth of her mouth on his, the sudden, overwhelming, desperate need which threw all last caution to the winds.

There had been no light in the tiny room, but that from the moon. He had seen her only briefly, her bare shoulder and thigh shining like silver before she had climbed on to the bed, pulling him down and down, until at last, spent and gasping with the extent of their desire they had lain together as one.

He could not remember sleeping at all. Just holding her, needing her, tortured by the realisation it could not last.

Once during the night and towards dawn she had whispered in his ear, `Do not reproach yourself. It is not a question of honour. It is a part of life.' She had put her lips to his shoulder and had added softly, `What a lovely smell you have. Of the ship. Salt and tar.' She had giggled quietly. `I must have it, too.'

Then the nervous tap on the door, the quick scramble to pull on her gown as her faithful maid warned of the coming of another day.

But for Bolitho it had been different from all other days. He felt totally unlike anything he had been before. Alive, yet restless. Replete, but needing more.

He heard steps on the deck and saw Herrick watching him.

`Yes, Mr. Herrick?'

`Wind's freshening again, sir. Shall I call the hands to reef tops'ls?' He ran his eyes across the ship. `Rigging's straining a'piece by the sound of it.'

`We'll give her her head a while longer. Until eight bells if possible, when we -change tack and run to the west'rd. No sense in tiring the hands when one operation will suffice.' He leaned back, hands on hips as he stared at the main topgallant masthead, the long pendant undulating in the wind. `She's a

lot of power to offer us yet.'

`Aye, sir.' Herrick sounded tired.

`Is anything wrong?'

Bolitho walked to the weather rail and out of earshot of Soames and two seamen who were splicing halliards.

Herrick said quietly, `You know already, sir. I've said my piece. What's done is done.'

Bolitho watched him gravely. `Then let us leave it well alone.'

Herrick sighed. `Very well, sir.' He looked at the helmsmen.

`I'm sorry I could only get four extra hands. Neither Bedford nor the Rosalind were eager to part with any more. And those I did obtain are troublemakers by the cut of them.' He gave a slow smile. `Although Mr. Shellabeer assures me they will change their ways before another dawn.'

Midshipman Armitage ran up the ladder and touched his hat.

To Herrick he stammered, `Mr. Tapril's respects, sir, and would you join him in the magazine.'

Herrick asked, `Is that all?'

The boy looked uncomfortable. `He said you'd promised, sir.' `And so I did, Mr. Armitage.'

As the midshipman hurried away Herrick said, `I was going to arrange to have the powder casks inspected and marked again. No sense in losing good powder.' He lowered his voice. `Look, sir, are you sure you cannot see the folly of what you are doing? There is no telling what damage it might do to your career.'

Bolitho swung towards him and then saw the anxious concern on Herrick's face.

He replied, `I am relying on your lady luck, Thomas!'

He walked towards the cabin hatch, adding for Soames's benefit, `Call me the moment there is a change.'

Soames watched him go and then walked aft to the compass.

Fowlar watched him warily. Once back in England, he, too, would get the chance to obtain a commission as lieutenant. The captain had said as much, and that was good enough. But if he did make that first all-important step up the ladder, he hoped he would be happier about it than Lieutenant Soames appeared to be.

Soames rasped, `Mr. Fowlar, your helmsmen are wandering off a point or so! Damn my eyes, I don't expect that from you!'

Fowlar watched him move away and smiled to himself. There was nothing wrong with the helm, and Soames knew it. It was part of the game.

He said, `Watch your helm, Mallard.'

Mallard transferred a plug of tobacco from one cheek to the other and nodded.

`Aye, Mr. Fowlar, sur.'

The watch continued.

Before the last dog watch had run its course it was obvious the rising wind made it necessary to reef topsails.

Bolitho gripped the hammock nettings and faced along his ship's length as he watched the petty officers checking their men in readiness for going aloft, while Shellabeer and his own hands were already busy scrambling about the boat-tier with further lashings.

Herrick shouted above the wind, `A second reef within the hour, sir, if I'm any judge!'

Bolitho turned aft and felt the spray as it hissed freely above the weather quarter. The wind- had backed rapidly and now blew lustily from the south-east, making the motion both violent and uncomfortable.

He replied, `We will steer due west once we have reefed. On the larboard tack she will be steadier.'

He watched the great, steeply banked swell, like serried lines of angry glass hills. When the wind got up further, those rounded rollers would break into heavy waves.

Bolitho heard Mudge shout, `We're in for a blow right enough, sir!' He was'clinging to his misshapen hat, his small eyes watering in the wind. `The barometer is poppin' about like a pea on a drum!'

Davy shouted, `All mustered, sir!'

`Very well. Hands aloft.' Herrick held up his hand. `Keep them from racing each other, and stop the bosun's mates from using their rope's-ends.' He glanced at Bolitho. `One slip, and a man would go overboard without a chance of recovery.'

Bolitho agreed. Herrick always remembered things like that.

He said, `I hope this doesn't last too long. If we have to ride it out it will upset Admiral Conway's other arrangements, I have no doubt.'

He looked up as faint shouts and curses told him of the struggle the topmen were having with the violent, unruly canvas. Fisting and kicking, pitching this way and that, with the deck far below, the very sight of their efforts made him feel queasy.

It took the best part of an hour to master the sails to Herrick's satisfaction, and by then it was time to take in yet another reef.

Spray and spindrift whipped across the weather side, and every timber and stay seemed to be groaning in a protesting chorus.

Bolitho shouted, `Lay her round another point, Mr. Herrick! We will steer west-by-south!'

Herrick nodded, his face running with spray. 'Afterguard to the mizzen braces!' He shook his speaking trumpet angrily. `Keep together, damn you!'

A marine had slipped and fallen in a scarlet heap, knocking several of his comrades into confusion.

Bolitho pointed abeam, to the first glitter of white crests as the wind did its work.

`She's steadier, Mr. Herrick 1' He relaxed as the experienced seamen rushed aft to help the marines and less skilled hands on the mizzen braces. `And not a man hurt, by the looks of it!'

Undine had paid off stiffly to the wind, her shrouds and ratlines shining jet-black against the rising swell. But with her yards comfortably braced, and canvas reduced to topsails and jibs, she was making the best of it.

Davy panted on to the quarterdeck, his shirt wringing and sodden.

`All secure, sir!' He lurched backwards, tottered and then reeled against the nettings, adding savagely, `By the Lord, I'd forgotten what a real gale felt like 1'

Bolitho smiled. `Dismiss the watch below. But tell the boatswain to make regular inspections. We can't afford to lose precious gear for want of a good lashing.' He turned to Herrick. `Come below with me.'

Despite the din of sea and strained timbers it seemed warm and inviting in the cabin. Bolitho watched the spray making diagonal patterns across the stern windows, heard the rudder grinding and squeaking while the helmsmen held the frigate on her new course.

Noddall pattered into the cabin, his small body steeply angled as he fetched goblets for the two officers.

Herrick wedged himself in a corner of the bench seat and regarded Bolitho questioningly.

`If we have to run before the wind, would it make so much difference, sir?'

Bolitho thought of his written orders, Conway's brief but lucid instructions.

`It might.' He waited until they both had goblets and said, `To what we can achieve, Thomas !'

errick chuckled. `I'll share that toast.'

Bolitho sat at the desk, feeling the deck tilting and then sliding into yet another trough.

He was glad he had insisted that Keen and some of the other wounded had been left at Pendang Bay. Too much of this sort of motion would burst open even the finest stitches.

He said, `Admiral Conway intends to let Bedford put to sea as soon as we are on our way to the Benua Islands. I think he wishes to get rid of the Spanish troops and dependents as soon as possible.'

Herrick watched him. `Bit risky, isn't it, sir? With the damned Argus still at large?'

Bolitho shook his head. `I think not. I am certain the French or Muljadi will have agents watching Conway's settlement. They will have seen us weigh anchor. Argus will know we are coming well enough.'

Herrick looked glum. `They are as clever as that, eh?'

`We must assume so. I think Conway is right. Better to get Bedford away with her passengers and despatches for Madras before things get any worse.'

`If there's a real storm, it'll put paid to everything.' Herrick cheered up somewhat. `The Frogs don't like bad weather.'

Bolitho smiled at Herrick's confidence. `This one may not care. He has been in these waters a long time, I believe. He is not one of the hit-and-run kind who used to dash out of Brest or Lorient and flee for home again at the sight of an English ship.' He rubbed his chin. `This Le Chaumareys interests me, I would like to know more of him than his record in battle.'

Herrick nodded. `He appears to know a lot about you, sir,,

'Too much.'

A steep roller cruised beneath the quarter, holding the ship up and tilting her forward at a steeper angle before freeing her again to sidle into the next rough. Beyond the closed door them heard the marine sentry slip and fall, his musket clattering away while he cursed and fought to regain his composure.

Bolitho said slowly, `When we meet with Argus's captain ve must keep our eyes well opened. If he agrees to parley, we may learn something. If not, we must be ready to fight.'

Herrick frowned. `I'd rather fight, sir. It's the only way l know how to be at ease with a Frenchman.'

Bolitho thought suddenly of that room at the Admiralty, the calm features of Admiral Winslade as he had given a brief outline of Undine's mission. Four months back. A time of peace, yet ships had foundered, and men had been killed or crippled for life.

But even the lordly power of admiralty, the guile and experience of politics were useless out here. A solitary, wind-swept frigate, minimum resources, and no guiding hand when one might be needed.

Herrick took Bolitho's quiet mood as a signal. He placed his goblet inside the table fiddles and rose carefully to his feet.

`Time to do my rounds, sir.' He cocked his head to listen as water gurgled and sluiced along the quarterdeck scuppers. `I have the middle watch, and may snatch a cat-nap before I face the breeze.'

Bolitho pulled out his watch and felt Herrick looking at it. `I will turn in now. I have a notion we may all be needed before long.'

In fact, it felt only minutes after his head had touched the pillow that someone was clinging to the cot and tapping his shoulder. It was Allday, his shadow rising and falling like a black spectre as the cabin lantern swung violently from the deckhead.

`Sorry to wake you, Captain, but it's getting far worse up top.' He paused to allow Bolitho's brain to clear. `Mr. Herrick told me to pass the word.'

Bolitho stumbled out of the cot, instantly conscious of a new, more uneven motion. As he pulled on his breeches and shoes and held out his arms for a heavy tarpaulin coat he asked, `What time is it?'

Allday had to shout as the sea thundered against the hull and surged angrily along the upper deck.

'Morning watch is about to be called, sir!'

`Tell Mr. Herrick! Call them now!' He gripped his arm and together they lurched half across the cabin like two tipsy sailors. `I want all hands directly! I'm going to the chart space.'

He found Mudge already there, his lumpy figure sprawled across the table while he peered at the chart, blaspheming quietly as the lantern went mad above his head.

Bolitho snapped, `How is it?'

He glanced up at him, his eyes red in the feeble glow.

`Bad, sir. We'll 'ave the canvas in shreds unless we lie to for a bit.'

Bolitho peered at the chart. Plenty of sea-room. That was the only consolation.

He hurried towards the quarterdeck ladder and almost fell as the ship swayed and corkscrewed in two separate motions. He fought his way to the wheel, where four helmsmen, their bodies lashed firmly to prevent their being caught unawares by an incoming wave, were fighting the spokes, their eyes glowing in the flickering compass light.

Herrick shouted, `I've called all hands, sir! And I've put extra ones on the pumps!'

Bolitho peered at the jerking compass card. `Very well. We will lie to under shortened maintops'l. Get Davy to put the best men aloft at once!'

He turned as a sound like gunshot echoed above the shriek of wind and sea, and saw the mizzen topsail rip itself apart, the fragments tearing yet again into ragged streamers, pale against the low, scudding clouds.

He could hear the dismal clank of pumps, hoarse cries as men blundered to their stations, dodging below the gangways as more frothing water flooded amongst them.

Fowlar shouted, `The sailmaker has only just repaired that cro'jack, sir!' He was grinning, in spite of the confusion. `He'll not be pleased!'

Bolitho was watching the black shapes of the topmen as they climbed cautiously up the vibrating ratlines. The wind flattened them occasionally against the shrouds, so that they hung motionless before starting up again for the topsail yards.

Mudge yelled, 'Th' quarter boat 'as carried away, sir!'

No one paid any heed, and Herrick spluttered in spray before saying, `There goes the foretops'l, sir! Those lads are doing fine.'

Something dropped amongst the taut rigging before falling to the gun deck with a sickening thud.

Herrick shouted, `Man from aloft! Take him to the surgeon!'

Bolitho bit his lip. It was unlikely he could live after such a fall.

Fighting every yard of the way, Undine came round into the wind, her hull awash from quarterdeck to beakhead, and with men clinging to tethered guns or stanchions as each wave surged and broke across her reeling deck.

Mudge bellowed hoarsely, `She'll ride it out now, sir!'

Bolitho nodded, his mind cringing from the onslaught, the very vehemence of the storm.

`We'll set the spanker if the tops'! carries away. Tell the boatswain to have his hands ready, there'll not be time for regrets if that one goes!'

He felt a bowline being bent around his waist, and saw Allday's teeth bared in a grin.

`You look after us, Captain. This'll take care of you.'

Bolitho nodded, the breath knocked out of him. Then he clung to the dripping nettings, peering through the painful needles of spray as he watched over his command. A lucky ship? Perhaps he had spoken too soon. Tempted fate.

Herrick gasped, `Could be over by first light, sir.'

But when dawn did come, and Bolitho saw the angry, copper-coloured clouds reflected upon the endless, jagged wavecrests, he knew it was not going to give up so willingly.

High above the deck, torn and broken cordage floated to the wind like dead creeper, and the solitary braced topsail looked so full-bellied that it could follow the fate of the other at any second.

He looked at Herrick, seeing the angry sores on his neck and hands where the blown salt had done its work. The other crouching, battered figures nearby were no better. He thought of the other frigate, probably snug in a protected anchorage, and felt the anger welling up inside him.

`Get some hands aloft, Mr. Herrick! There's work to be done!'

Herrick was already clawing his way along the nettings towards the rail.

Bolitho wiped his face and mouth with his arm. If they could weather this one, he thought, they would be ready for anything.

13

No Quarter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bolitho looked away. `Thank you.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

`Anything there?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bolitho shrugged. `More of a feeling.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He walked into the passageway and made for the ladder.

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

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

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

`Where is the wind?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mudge pouted. `Two hours, sir.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

`Prepare to anchor, Mr. Herrick.' '

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

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

`Helm a'lee!'

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

`Let go anchor!’

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

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

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

`Aye, sir.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Herrick grinned. `That was thoughtful, sir.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Herrick said quietly, `Good luck, sir.'

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

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

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

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

`Take the lead, Allday.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

`Clear the boat!'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

`Tell them to halt at those rocks.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

make a frontal assault virtually fatal for all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

`Easy! Enough, damn you!'

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

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

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

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

Nobody looked at him.

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

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

He said quietly, `They saw nothing.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14

The Bristol Sailmaker

`Time to move, is it, sir? Davy watched Bolitho as he craned over the rocks, his shirt pale against the darkening sky.

`I believe so. Tell Carwithen to muster the hands.'

He shivered as the sea-breeze explored his body. Once the sun had dipped over the hills at his back it grew cool, even cold, in minutes. They had been too long in the heat, plagued by sun and thirst, and a multitude of flies which had appeared as if by magic. He watched the anchored schooner's outline, the soft glow of lights from poop and forepeak. The fire on the beach had died to a blotch of red embers, and he could see nobody near it, but guessed the lookout was still in his refuge beyond the pools.

Allday whispered, `All ready, Captain.' He held his cutlass clear of the rocks. `Mr. Davy's making sure they all know what to do.'

Bolitho nodded without answering, trying to gauge the distance they must cover. Surprisingly, it seemed greater in the growing darkness, but he was reassured by the occasional snatches of voices from the vessel to show they had given no heed to their missing comrade.

Davy slithered down beside him. `I've sent Carwithen's party away, sir.' He looked at the sky, the isolated puffs of light cloud. `Wind's steady enough.'

`Yes.' Bolitho checked his pistol and tightened his belt. `Follow me. Single file.'

Like ghosts they topped the last rock barrier, the sounds of loose stones and rubble seemingly very loud in the gloom. But as Davy had observed, the wind held steady, and was making a lively chop along the beach and narrow spur of headland. Noisy enough to drown any small sound they might be making.

Once, as they followed the curve of the hillside they all froze in their tracks as two dozing sea-birds rose flapping and screaming almost from under their feet.

Bolitho waited, listening to his heart, to the sharp breathing of the men at his back. Nothing. He lifted his arm and they began to move forward and downwards again.

When he looked across his shoulder he saw the rough edge of the rock barrier, where they had waited fretting for sunset, far above his slow-moving party. They were almost down to beach level now, and he heard a man curse quietly as he slipped in the first of the small pools. Davy's party were having to wade in the shallows to his right, and he hoped none of them would fall headlong into one of the rock pools there, now hidden by the rising tide.

He thought momentarily of the ship, anchored on the other side of the islet. The familiar sounds and smells. Herrick waiting anxiously for news of success or disaster. If it was to be the latter, he could do nothing to help this time. His would be the task of contacting the `enemy' and making what he could of it. It was easier to think of them as the enemy. It never helped to picture them as men. Flesh and bone like himself.

Allday touched his arm urgently. `Boat coming inshore, Captain!'

Bolitho held up his hand and brought both parties to a shuffling silence. The boat must have come around the schooner's hidden side. He could see the splash of oars, the lively froth of the stem as it bounced across the first leaping surf.

He thought of Carwithen and his handful of men who were creeping up and around the solitary lookout. They should have been there by now. He recalled Carwithen's brutal madness with the boarding axe, and wondered if he had been the one to strike the luckless lookout down.

A voice echoed suddenly in the darkness, and for an instant Bolitho imagined Carwithen had been delayed, or that the lookout was calling an alarm. But the voice came from the boat, louder this time, and despite the strange tongue, Bolitho knew the man was calling a question. Or a name perhaps.

Allday said, `They've come a'looking for their mate, Captain.' He dropped to one knee to keep the grounding boat framed against the surf. `Six of 'em.'

Bolitho said quietly, `Stand fast, lads. Let them come to us.' He heard a man clicking his jaws together. Tense, nervous.

Probably terrified in these unfamiliar surroundings.

Allday said, `One of 'em's going up the cliff to the lookout.' Bolitho drew his sword very carefully. Of course. It would be the first place a searcher would go. Ask if the missing man had been seen.

He watched the other five strolling up the beach, swinging their weapons casually, chatting as they approached.

Bolitho glanced behind him. His men were barely visible as they crouched or knelt amongst fallen rocks, or squatted in the sea itself. He turned to study the oncoming shadows. Twenty yards, fifteen. Surely one would see them soon.

A terrible cry tore the stillness apart, hanging above the ridge long after the man had died.

Bolitho saw the five shadows turn in confusion, knew the dying scream must have been the man sent to the lookout. lie yelled, 'At 'em, lads!'

Without a shout or a cheer they were all up and rushing after the five figures who had turned back towards the surf.

One of them slipped and fell headlong, tried to rise, but was slashed into a sobbing heap by a seaman's cutlass as he dashed past.

The others had reached the boat, but deprived of two of their strength, were unable to shift it. Steel gleamed in the shadows, and as the seamen charged amongst them the fight became confused and deadly. A seaman caught his foot in the boat-rope and before he could recover his balance was pinned bodily to the shingle by a long sword. His killer died almost simultaneously. The remaining two threw down their weapons and were instantly clubbed into unmoving heaps by the maddened sailors.

Davy snapped tersely, `One of ours is dead, sir.' He rolled the man over on to his back and dragged the cutlass from his fingers.

Bolitho eased the sword back into its scabbard. His legs felt shaky from running, from nervous tension. He looked at the anchored schooner. No shouts, no calls to arms. He thought -he heard the same sing-song voice chanting above the seething surf, remote and vaguely sad.

Davy said hoarsely, `Damned poor lookout, sir.'

Bolitho watched his men gathering around the two boats. The one which had been there all day was furthest up the shingle and would need the more men to move it.

He replied, `Wouldyou have expected trouble, in their place?'

Davy shrugged. `I suppose not.'

Carwithen came hurrying down from the ridge, his helpers hard put to keep up with him.

He said savagely, `That bloody fool Lincoln was too slow with his dirk!' He glared at the watching men around him. `I'll see to him later!'

Bolitho said, `Boats in the water.' He sought out the six marines. `You take the second one. You know what to do.'

One, the man who had first sighted the schooner, grunted. `We knows, sir. We holds the boat where we can see the poop, an' pin down anyone who tries to pass the lanterns there.'

Bolitho smiled. `Captain Bellairs was right about you.'

Allday whispered, `This way, Captain.'

He felt the surf engulfing his legs and waist, the boat's scarred planking as Allday reached down to drag him over the gunwale.

`Shove off!'

Bolitho restrained the urge to watch the frantic oars, the efforts to steer the boat clear of the surf. Just one blast of canister would be enough to nip his flimsy plan in the bud.

The boat lifted and then surged heavily forward, the blades taking control as the hull freed itself from the strong undertow. Bolitho saw the schooner's tall masts rising to greet him, the tracery of rigging and shrouds almost lost against the sky.

Allday stood straddle-legged and wary, the tiller bar held lightly in his fingertips.

`Easy all!' He craned forward as if to impress them more. 'Bow-man, ready!'

Astern Bolitho heard the regular splash of oars as the other boat pulled hastily towards the schooner's bows.

Allday said quickly, `It's now or never, Captain!' His teeth were bared with concentration, so that some men in the forward part of the boat thought he was smiling.

Bolitho stood up beside him and reached out to fend off the overhanging quarter, as like a moving object it loomed right above the boat.

'Now!'

There was a yell and a quick clatter as the bow-man hurled his grapnelup and over the bulwark. With a jerking, grinding crash the boat came alongside, some men falling in confusion, while others climbed eagerly over their sprawled bodies and entangled oars as if using a living bridge to reach the vessel's main deck.

Figures were already dashing from the forecastle, but as a man ran wildly from aft there was a muffled bang, the wellaimed musket ball hurling him round like an insane dancer, his agony clearly silhouetted against the poop lanterns.

Bolitho felt rather than saw a figure coming at him from the scuppers. Something hissed above his head even as he ducked round and struck for his attacker with his sword. The swaying figure backed and came on again, and Bolitho realised he was holding a huge axe, swinging it from side to side as he advanced.

Carwithen exclaimed, `A plague on that bastard!' and fired his pistol full in the man's face. To Bolitho he snarled, `That'll teach him!'

Another of the crew had climbed frantically into the foremast shrouds and was being pursued by a yelling seaman. Once again a musket stabbed the darkness from the other boat, and with a faint cry the man fell headlong to the deck where he was promptly despatched by a waiting cutlass.

Allday yelled, `Most of 'em have gone below,. Captain!' He ran to a hatchway and fired his pistol into it. `The fight's gone out of 'em now, I'm thinking!'

Bolitho peered aft at the poop lanterns. `Call the other boat to give assistance!'

It was suddenly very quiet on the schooner's deck, and as Bolitho walked slowly towards the small cabin hatch just forward of the wheel he was conscious of his own footsteps and the feeling the fight was not yet over.

He moved warily around the outstretched corpse which had been the first to fall to a marine sharpshooter, its face shining in the lantern light, the lower jaw broken away as if by an axe stroke.

Allday said, `Stand aside, Captain!'

But a seaman was already clambering over the hatch coaming, his face suddenly screwing up in terrible agony as a pistol exploded beneath him.

A shadow darted through the pluming smoke, and Bolitho saw it was the scarfaced seaman called Lincoln, his eyes like stones as he allowed his lean body to drop straight through the hatch, using his dead companion to cushion the fall. His feet thudded into the corpse, and as he turned he whipped a knife from between his teeth, hitting out twice in the darkness, the second blow bringing a scream of pain.

More men were swarming down after him, and Bolitho -yelled, `Bring a lantern! Drag those men clear!'

Feet pounded over the planking, and he heard Armitage calling anxiously from the boat alongside.

Carwithen was already down on the cabin deck, knocking a seaman aside even as he made to finish the wounded pirate with his dirk.

Bolitho paused on the ladder, searching for Davy, his mind still able to grapple with the realisation that Allday had saved his life. But for his warning, he and not that poor seaman would be lying there dead.

`Mr. Davy! Hoist both boats inboard once you have secured our prisoners!'

`Aye, aye, sir!' He sounded jubilant.

`And mount a guard on them. I want no fanatic opening the bilges to the sea before we can even make sail!'

He followed Allday down the ladder, the sea-noises suddenly muffled and lost.

A seaman kicked open the cabin door and darted inside with a levelled pistol.

'Nothin', zur!' He swung round as a shadow moved beyond an upended chair. `Belay that, zur! There's another rascal 'ere! I'll get 'im for 'ee!'

Then he fell back in horror. `By Jesus, zur! 'E's one of us!'

Bolitho stepped into the cabin, ducking low between the deckhead beams. He could appreciate the seaman's shocked surprise. It was a small, cringing wreck of a man. He was on his knees, fingers interlocked as in prayer while he swayed back and forth in time to the ship's motion.

Bolitho sheathed his sword, stepping between the quivering creature and his fierce-eyed-seaman.

`Who are you?'

He made to move closer and the man threw himself bodily at his feet.

`Have mercy, Captain! I done nothin', sir! I'm just an honest sailorman, sir!'

He gripped Bolitho's shoes, and when he reached down to pull him to his feet Bolitho saw with horror that every nail had been torn from his fingers.

Allday said harshly, `On your feet! You are speaking to a King's officer!V

'Easy.' Bolitho held up his hand. `Look at him. He has suffered enough.'

A seaman dropped his cutlass and lifted the man into a chair. 'Oi'll get 'im a drink, Cap'n.'

He dragged open a cupboard and gaped as the little man screamed wildly, `Don't touch! 'E'll flay you alive if you dare lay yet 'ooks on it!'

Bolitho asked, `Who will?'

Then he seemed to realise what was happening. That it was not part of another in a whole procession of living nightmares. He stated at Bolitho's grave features, tears running unheeded down his sunken cheeks.

`Mu jadi !'

Carwithen muttered, `What, here?'

The creature peered around Bolitho, his terrified eyes search

ing the crowded passageway, the dead seaman below the hatch. `There! 'Is son!'

Bolitho turned swiftly and stooped above the man brought down by Lincoln's knife. Of course, he should have seen it. Instead of congratulating himself on being spared a horrible death.

The man was still alive, although the seaman's blade had laid open his neck and shoulder in a great, gaping wound. Must have missed the artery by a whisker and no more.

He was naked to the waist, but his loose trousers, now blotchy with his own and the seaman's blood, were of the finest silk. His eyes were tightly shut, his chest moving in quick, uneven thrusts.

Carwithen said, `Let me finish the bastard, sir!' He was almost pleading.

Bolitho ignored him. The man was not aged much more than twenty, and around his throat he wore a gold pendant in the form of a prancing beast. Like the one on Muljadi's flag. It was just possible.

He snapped, `Bind his wound. I want him to live.'

He turned to the ragged figure in the cabin. `My men will take care of you, but first I want....’

The figure edged nearer the door. `Is it really over, sir?' He was shaking violently and close to collapse. `It's not a cruel trick?' Allday said quietly, `This is Captain Bolitho, matey. Of His Majesty's Ship Undine.'

`Now tell us who you are?'

The little man sank down to the deck again. Like a cowed dog. `I was sailmaker, sir. In the Portuguese barque Alvares. Took on in Lisbon when I lost me own ship. We was carryin' a mixed cargo from Java when we was attacked by pirates.'

`When was this?' Bolitho spoke carefully, very aware of the other man's confusion.

`A year back, sir. I think.' He dosed his eyes with the effort.

`We was taken to Muljadi's anchorage, wot there was left of us. Muljadi's men killed most of 'em. Only kept me 'cause I was a sailmaker.'

`I tried to escape once. Didn't know I was bein' 'eld on an island, y'see. They caught me before I'd been free an hour. Put me to torture.' He was shaking more violently now. `All of 'em sat there watchin'. Enjoyin' it. Laughin'.' He lurched to his feet and threw himself towards the door, snatching up a cutlass as he screamed, `Pulled out all my nails with pincers, an' worse, the bloody bastards!'

Lincoln caught his wrist and turned the cutlass away from the unconscious figure in the passageway.

`Easy, mate! You could cause a mischief with that, eh?' The man's cheerful voice seemed to steady him in some way. He turned and looked at Bolitho very steadily. `Me name's Jonathan Potter, once of Bristol.'

Bolitho nodded gravely. `Well, Jonathan Potter, you can be of great service to me. It will not bring back your friends, but it may prevent others suffering in the same manner.' He

glanced at Allday. `Look after him.'

He walked from the cabin, grateful for the clean air which greeted him on deck, the sense of purpose as Davy's men prepared to get under way. Potter had probably been the only Englishman aboard the Portuguese barque. For that, and no other reason, had his life been spared. Kept like a slave, a downtrodden creature less than a man. From what he had heard of Muljadi it seemed a far more truthful reason.

Davy crossed to his side. `I am about ready to weigh, sir.' He paused, sensing Bolitho's mood. `That poor devil must have suffered terribly, sir. He is scars and scabs from head to toe. Little more than bones.'

Bolitho studied his pale outline thoughtfully. `Something kept him alive, Mr. Davy. Fear of death, a need for revenge, I know not which.' He grasped a stay as the deck swayed restlessly in the swell. `But whatever it was, I intend to use it to good purpose.'

`And the schooner's master, sir?’

'If he is really Muljadi's son we have a catch indeed. But either way I want him kept alive, so pass the word to that effect.' He thought of Carwithen's eyes. `To all hands.'

He peered abeam at the small islet where so much had happened. The craggy distortions were lost in deep shadow. It was a whale once again.

`We will run to the sou'-east directly and gain sea-room. I am not yet acquainted with these waters. By dawn we should be able to come about and make contact with Undine.' He looked at the men hurrying about the schooner's deck. `She's a fine little prize.'

Davy stared at him and then at the vessel, the realisation coming to him apparently for the first time.

`I see, sir. A prize.' He nodded happily. `Worth a good price, I'll be bound.'

Bolitho walked to the opposite side. `I thought that might interest you, Mr. Davy.' He added, `Now, have the capstan manned and break out the anchor while the wind holds.' He thought of Herrick. `We are no longer beggars.'

Davy shook his head, not understanding. Then he looked at the helmsman and at the others gathering at the capstan bars and grinned broadly.

A prize at last. Perhaps the first of many.

Noddall hovered by the cabin table and bobbed his head with satisfaction as Bolitho pushed his empty plate aside.

`More like it, sir! A man works the fairer on a full belly!'

Bolitho leaned back in his chair and let his eyes move slowly around the cabin. It felt good to be back aboard Undine, and with something to show for their efforts.

The lantern above the table seemed much dimmer, and when he glanced through the stern windows he saw that dawn had already given way to an empty sky, the horizon slanting across the thick, salt-stained glass like a thread of gold.

In the captured schooner he had rejoined Undine at almost the same hour as this, the previous day, the strain and tension of their short, bitter fight lost momentarily in the cheers from the watching seamen and marines.

Herrick had been almost beside himself with pleasure, and had insisted that Bolitho should go to his cabin without delay and rest.

The schooner had once been under the flag of the Dutch East India Company, although it was impossible to tell how long she had been in the pirates' hands. But from her filthy condition and disorder between decks it seemed likely it had been a considerable while since Dutch sailors had manned her.

He let his mind drift as he listened to bare feet padding overhead, the sluice of water and the clank of a pump as the decks were washed down for another day.

Noddall was right, he had eaten a good breakfast. Thinly sliced fat pork, fried pale brown with biscuit crumbs. Always his favourite. Helped down with strong coffee and some treacle.

Herrick tapped on the door and entered the cabin.

`Wind's holding steady from the sou'-west, sir.' He looked alert and clear-eyed.

Bolitho smiled. `Good, Thomas. Have some coffee.'

It was always strange how Herrick relaxed once there was a, set plan to perform. If he really guessed how hazy it was in his captain's mind he gave no sign.

`Mr. Mudge informs me that we are logging some ten knots, sir.' Herrick took a mug from the servant and grinned. `He's up there beaming away as if he's just won a fortune at the tables.'

Bolitho frowned. `That means we should make a landfall at any time now. If yesterday's wind had been more than a snail's pace we could have been there now.' He spread his arms, feeling the touch of a clean shirt against his chest and back. `But there was plenty to do.'

Herrick smiled. `Mr. Davy's well on his way to Pendang Bay by now.'

Bolitho replied, `Aye. He'll be feeling like a post-captain, if I'm not mistaken.'

When he had put Davy in charge of the schooner, and had sent him back to Conway, he had seen his face come alight, as if from within. He must have looked like that himself once, he thought. He had been put in charge of a prize when he had been a lieutenant, far younger than Davy. The first step to real command was said to be the greatest, so perhaps it would work for Davy, too.

He looked up at the open skylight as a voice pealed, `Deck there! Land on the lee bow!'

Bolitho smiled, feeling the chill on his spine. `If the Argus is elsewhere, I will have to think again.'

The door opened slightly and Midshipman Armitage reported, `Mr. Soames's respects, sir. Masthead has sighted land on the lee bow.'

Bolitho said, `Thank you, Mr. Armitage.'

He saw the deep hollows around his eyes, the nervous way his fingers twitched against his patched breeches. Unlike any of the others who had returned, he was unable to hide his real feelings. His fear. His knowledge that he could no longer contain it.

`My compliments to Mr. Soames. Tell him we will exercise both watches at gun drill in half an hour.' He hesitated and added, `If there is anything troubling you, it would be as well to confide in the first lieutenant here, or myself, if you feel it might help.'

Armitage shook his head. `N-no, sir. I am better now.' He hurried away.

Bolitho looked at his friend and asked quietly, `What are we to do about that one?'

Herrick shrugged. `You cannot carry them all, sir. He may get over it. We've all had to go through it at one time or another.'

`Now then, Thomas, that does not sound like you at all!' He smiled broadly. `Admit you are concerned for the lad!'

Herrick looked embarrassed. `Well, I was thinking of having a word with him.'

`I thought as much, Thomas. You haven't the right face for deceit!'

Another knock at the door announced the surgeon had arrived.

`Well, Mr. Whitmarsh?' Bolitho watched him framed in the doorway, the early sunlight from the cabinn hatch making a halo around his huge head. `Is our prisoner worse?'

Whitmarsh moved through the cabin like a man in a prison, ducking under each beam as if seeking a way of escape.

`He is well enough, sir. But I still believe, as I told you when you returned to the ship, that he should have been sent back to the settlement in the schooner.'

Bolitho saw Herrick's jaw tighten and knew he was about to silence the surgeon's aggressive outburst. Like the other officers, Herrick found it hard to cover his dislike for him. Whitmarsh was little help in the matter either.

Bolitho said calmly, `I cannot answer for a prisoner if he is there and we are here, surely?'

He watched the beads of sweat trickling down the man's forehead and wondered if he had taken a drink this early. It was a wonder it had not killed him already.

Above his head he heard the regular stamp of boots, the click of metal, as the marines mustered for morning inspection.

He made himself say, `You must trust my judgement, Mr. Whitmarsh, as I do yours in your own profession.'

The surgeon turned and glared at him. `You are admitting that if you'd sent him back to Pendang Bay he would have been seized and hanged!'

Herrick retorted angrily, `Damn your eyes, man, the fellow is a bloody pirate!'

Whitmarsh eyes him fiercely. `In your opinion, no doubt!'

Bolitho stood up sharply and walked to the windows.

`You must live in reality, Mr. Whitmarsh. As a common pirate he would be tried and hanged, as well you know. But if he is the son of Muljadi he is something more than a cat's-paw, he could be used to bargain. There is more at stake here, more lives in peril than I feared. I'll not falter because of your personal feelings.'

Whitmarsh seized the edge of the table, his body hanging over it like a figurehead.

`If you'd suffered as I have-'

Bolitho turned on him, his voice harsh. `I know about your brother, and I am deeply sorry for him! But how many felons and murderers have you seen hanging, rotting in chains, without even a thought?' He heard someone pause beside the open skylight and lowered his voice. `Humanity, I admire. Hypocrisy, I totally reject!' He saw the fury giving way to pain on the surgeon's flushed features. `So take care of the prisoner. If he is to be hanged, then so be it. But if I can use his life to advantage, and in doing so save it, then amen to that!'

Whitmarsh moved vaguely towards the door and then said thickly, `And that man Potter you brought from the schooner, sir. You have put him to work already!'

Bolitho smiled. `Really, Mr. Whitmarsh, you do not give up easily. Potter is with the sailmaker as his assistant. He will not be worked to death, and I think that keeping busy will be a quicker cure than brooding over his recent sufferings.'

Whitmarsh stalked from the cabin, muttering under his breath.

Herrick exclaimed, `What impertinence! In your shoes I'd have laid about him with a belaying-pin!'

`I doubt that.' Bolitho shook the coffee pot, but it was empty. `But I feel that I'll never win his confidence, let alone his trust.'

Bolitho waited for Noddall to bring his dress coat and best cocked-hat, feeling rather ridiculous as the servant fussed and tugged at cuffs and lapels.

Herrick said bluntly, `I think it's a bad risk, sir.'

`One I'll have to take, Thomas.' He saw Noddall pull a long strand of hair from one of the buttons. Her hair. He wondered if Herrick had noticed. He continued, `We have to trust the French captain. All the rest is so much supposition.'

Noddall had taken the old sword from its rack on the bulkhead, but held it across his arm, knowing by now it was more than his life was worth to usurp Allday's ritual.

Bolitho thought of Whitmarsh's anger, and knew that much of it had good foundation. Had the prisoner been sent back in the schooner he would doubtlessly have been taken by Puigserver, if he was still at the settlement, or held in irons until he could be sent to the nearest Spanish authority. Then, if he was lucky, he would certainly be hanged. If not, his fate hardly bore thinking about. Like father, like son.

As it was, the schooner's surviving crewmen, a savagelooking collection of half-castes, Javanese and Indians, would meet a swift fate before much longer.

How many lives had they taken, he wondered? How many ships plundered, crews murdered, or broken into husks like Potter, the Bristol sailmaker? The bargain was probably onesided.

He walked from the cabin, still pondering the rights and wrongs of instant justice.

On deck it was remaining fresh, the day's heat yet to come, and he took a few paces along the weather side while there was still time. In the heavy dress coat he would be dripping unless he held to the sails' curved shadows.

Fowlar touched his forehead and said awkwardly, `May I thank you, sir?'

Bolitho smiled. `You have earned it, Mr. Fowlar, have no fear.'

He had made the master's mate an acting-lieutenant to fill the gap left by Davy. Had young Keen been aboard, it would have been his chance. Another would be put in Fowlar's place. And so it went on, as in all ships.

Herrick took Fowlar aside and waited until Bolitho was pacing again.

'A word of warning. Never interrupt the captain when he is taking his walks.' He smiled at Fowlar's uncertainty. `Unless in real emergency, of course, which does not include your promotion!' He touched his shirt. `But congratulations, all the same.'

Bolitho had already forgotten them. He had seen the dark smudge of land which just topped the glittering horizon, and was wondering what he might find there. It looked at this distance like one great spread of land, but he knew it consisted of a crowded collection of islets, some even smaller than the one where they had captured Davy's schooner. The Dutch had originally occupied them because of their shape and position. Ships anchored amidst the surrounding islets would have the advantage of using any wind to put to sea, the use of several channels to avoid delay. The fortress had been built to protect the place from marauders, such as the one who now commanded it and challenged all authority and every flag. The Dutch still listed the Benuas as one of their possessions. But it was in name only, and they were no doubt glad to be rid of it and its unhappy history.

He saw the sailmaker speaking with Potter below the forecastle, and wondered if he would ever really recover from his suffering. It could not be easy for him to be drawing so near to Muljadi's stronghold again. But of all the people aboard, he was the only man, apart from the prisoner, who had seen what lay beyond the protective reefs and sandbars where he had endured so much.

He shivered slightly in spite of his heavy coat. Suppose he had misjudged his opponents? He, too, might become another Potter, a pitiful, broken thing which even his friends and his sisters in England might wish to think of as dead.

And Viola Raymond? How long would she take to forget him?

He shook himself out of his mood and said, `Mr. Soames!

You may beat to quarters and clear for action now!' He saw the ripple of excitement run through the men on the gun deck.

`Exercise the larboard battery first.'

Allday walked up the slanting deck and turned the sword over in his hands before buckling it to Bolitho's belt. `You'll be taking me, of course, Captain.'

He spoke calmly, but Bolitho saw the anxiety in his eyes. `Not this time.'

Calls shrilled along the berth deck, and the marine drummer boys ran breathlessly to the quarterdeck rail, pulling their sticks from their white crossbelts to begin their urgent tattoo.

Allday said stubbornly, `But you'll be needing me, Captain!'

`Yes.' Bolitho looked at him gravely. `I will always do that. . . .'

The rest of his words were lost in the rattle of drums, the stampede of feet as the Undine's people ran to quarters once again.

15

Face to Face

Bolitho levelled his telescope across the hammock nettings and studied the overlapping islets in silence. All morning and into the forenoon watch, while Undine had cruised steadily towards them, he had noted each unusual feature, and had compared his findings with what he already knew. The main channel through the islets opened to the south, and almost in the centre of the approach was one stark hump of rock upon which stood the old stone fortress. Even now, with the nearest spurs of land less than two miles distant, it was impossible to see where the fortress began or the craggy hilltop ended.

`We will alter course again, Mr. Herrick.' He lowered the glass and dabbed his eye with his wrist. `Steer east nor'-east.'

He saw the men by the larboard twelve-pounders peering through their open ports, the guns already shimmering in the sunlight as if they had just been fired.

Herrick shouted, `Hands to the braces! Alter course two points to larboard, Mr. Mudge!'

Bolitho sought out the frail figure of Potter amongst the unemployed hands below the forecastle, and when he glanced up beckoned him aft.

He slipped out of his heavy coat and handed it with his hat to Allday, saying as calmly as he could, `I will go aloft myself.'

Allday said nothing. He knew Bolitho well enough to understand what it was costing him.

Potter hurried on to the quarterdeck and knuckled his forehead.

`Sir?'

'D'you think you could climb to the maintop with me?'

Potter stared at him dully. `If you says so, sir.' Herrick called, `East not'-east, sir!'

He looked from Bolitho to the mainyard stretching athwartships and vibrating to the great press of canvas below it.

Bolitho unbuckled his sword and gave it to Allday. `I may need your eyes today, Potter.'

Feeling every man watching him, he swung out on to the weather shrouds and began to climb, his fingers locking so tightly around each ratline that the pain helped to steady him. Up and up, with his gaze fixed on the futtock shrouds which leaned out and around the sturdy maintop where two marines were studying his progress with unblinking curiosity.

Bolitho gritted his teeth and fought the urge to look down. It was infuriating. Unfair. He had first gone to sea at the age of twelve. Year by year he had studied and matured, had replaced his child's infatuation for the Navy with a genuine understanding which had amounted almost to love. He had overcome seasickness, and had learned to hide his loneliness and grief from his companions when his mother had died while he had been at sea. So, too, his father was buried while Bolitho had been fighting Frenchman and American in and around the Caribbean. He had watched men suffer horribly in battle, and his body bore enough scars to show the narrow margin between his own survival and death. Why then, should he be cursed with this hatred of heights?

He felt his shoes scrabbling on the ratlines as he hauled himself out and around the futtock shrouds, his body hanging in space and supported only by fingers and toes.