A marine said admiringly, `By God, sir, that was a fair climb !'

Bolitho arrived beside him, his chest heaving painfully. He watched the marine to see if he was disguising his sarcasm, but saw it was the same sharpshooter who had discovered the anchored schooner just two days back.

He nodded and allowed himself a glance at the ship far below.

Foreshortened bodies moved about the quarterdeck, and when he looked forward he saw the leadsman in the chains, the blur of his arm as he hurled the heavy weight deftly beyond the bows.

He relaxed, and waited for Potter to scramble up beside him.

For a moment longer he toyed with the idea of forcing himself up the next length of quivering shrouds to the maintopsail yard, but rejected it. Apart from proving something to himself, or showing his capability to those who might be watching from below, it would serve for little. Potter was exhausted by the climb, and if Herrick needed him urgently on deck he would look even more foolish if he fell headlong from his perch.

He unslung the telescope from his shoulder and trained it on the channel between the islets. In the time it had taken him to climb from the deck and regain his wind Undine had cruised over a cable, and it was possible to see the next overlapping islet behind the central hill with its forbidding fortress and steep, sunbaked cliff.

Potter said, `I never bin to the east'rd side, sir. There's a good channel there, too, I'm told.' He shuddered. `They used to bury the corpses in the sandbars at low water. What there was left of 'em.'

Bolitho stiffened and momentarily forgot the deck far beneath him. He saw the blacker silhouette of a ship's masts and yards almost hidden around the curve of the inner channel. A frigate.

Potter saw his interest and added dolefully, `Best place to anchor, sir. The battery on the fortress can protect two channels at once, an' any craft wot chooses to lay there.'

Something pale flapped and broadened against the furthest islet. A small boat hoisting its sail.

Bolitho glanced quickly at the foretopmast where Herrick had run up a big white flag. One way or another they would soon know.

There was a hollow boom, and after what seemed like an age, a tall waterspout shot skywards about a cable off the larboard beam. He trained the glass quickly towards the fortress, but the smoke had already fanned away so it was impossible to gauge the angle of the shot.

He shifted the glass again and saw the boat moving more quickly around a litter of broken rocks, the sail braced back like the fin of a great shark.

He let out a long breath as he saw a white flag flapping from her masthead. His request to parley was accepted. The single shot from the battery was a warning.

Bolitho slung the telescope across his shoulder. `You stay here, Potter. Keep an eye on everything, and try to remember any item which might be of use. It could well save lives one day.' He nodded casually to the two-marine marksmen. `I hope you'll not be needed.' He slung a leg over the low barricade and tried not to lower his eyes. 'Argus intends us to do all the sweating!'

The men grinned and nudged each other, as if he had just given them access to some priceless and vital information.

Bolitho swallowed hard and began to make the journey to the deck. When he reached the point where he could see the nettings on the opposite side again he allowed himself to look at the group which awaited him by the bulwark. Herrick was smiling, although whether from relief or amusement it was hard to tell. Bolitho jumped down to the deck and glanced ruefully at his fresh shirt. It was dripping with sweat, and bore a black streak of tar across one shoulder.

He said, `Never mind. The coat will hide that.' In a brisker tone he added, `A boat is coming out, Mr. Herrick. Heave-to, if you please, and prepare to anchor.'

He glanced up at the great yards again. It had not been quite so bad as he had imagined that time. Then he thought of the ideal conditions as compared with a screaming gale, or making the same climb in pitch darkness, and changed his mind.

Bolitho allowed Herrick to shout his orders before asking Mudge, `What did you make of that shot?'

The master regarded him dubiously. `Old gun, I'd say, sir. From where I was standin' it sounded like a bronze piece.'

Bolitho nodded. `As I thought, too. It would be likely that they'd still have the original cannon.' He rubbed his chin, thinking aloud. `So they'd be loath to use heated shot for fear of splitting them.' He grinned at Mudge's mournful expression. `Not that it matters much, I daresay. If they fired solid rock, they could scarcely fail to hit a ship trying to force the channel!'

Fowlar shouted, `The boat has an officer aboard, sir.' He grinned. `Most o' the hands are the colour of coffee, but he's a Frog if ever I saw one.'

Bolitho took a glass and watched the oncoming boat. Locally built, with the familiar high prow and lateen sail, it was moving fast and well on a converging tack. He saw the officer in question, standing easily below the mast, his cocked hat pulled down over his forehead to shade his eyes from the fierce glare. Fowlar was right. There was no mistaking this one.

He made himself walk a few paces away from the side, as with her courses brailed up and her topsails in booming confusion Undine turned noisily into the wind to await her visitors.

Bolitho gripped the rail and watched in silence as the boat surged round and under the main chains, where some of Undine's seamen and Mr. Shellabeer waited to secure her lines and, if necessary, fend off any risk of collision.

He said, `And now, Mr. Herrick, we shall see.'

He walked along the swaying gangway to the entry port and waited for the officer to scramble aboard. He stood quite alone framed against the cruising ranks of small whitecaps, his eyes exploring Undine's gun deck, the watching seamen and marines above and below him. Seeing Bolitho, he removed his hat with a flourish and gave a small bow.

`Lieutenant Maurin, m'sieu. At your service.'

He bore no marks of rank, and his blue coat showed plenty of evidence of patching and repairs. He was tanned to the shade of old leather, and his eyes were those of a man who had been at sea for most of his life. Tough, self-assured, competent, it was all there on his face, Bolitho decided.

Bolitho nodded. `And I am Captain Bolitho, of His Majesty's ship Undine.'

The lieutenant gave a wry smile. `My capitaine 'as been expecting you.'

Bolitho glanced briefly at the cockade on Maurin's hat. It bore the small red beast instead of a French insignia.

He asked, `And what is your nationality, Lieutenant?'

The man shrugged. `I am employed in the service of Prince Muljadi.' He shrugged again. `Naturally.'

Bolitho gave a wry smile. `Naturally.'

He added sharply, `I wish to meet your captain, and without delay. I have certain matters to discuss.'

`But of course, m'sieu.' The lieutenant was looking at the men on deck. His eyes were always moving. Calculating. He continued, 'Capitaine Le Chaumareys is prepared for-me to remain aboard as 'ostage to ensure your, er, good 'ealth!'

Bolitho hid his relief. Had Le Chaumareys been killed or replaced he might have had to alter his tactics.

He said calmly, `It will not be necessary. I have every faith in your captain's honour.'

Herrick exclaimed, `But, sir, you cannot mean it! Keep him, I say! Your life is too valuable to risk on a Frenchman's word!'

Bolitho looked at him and smiled. `If Le Chaumareys is the callous brute you describe, do you imagine he would care about losing a lieutenant if it were to gain him a better bargaining point?' He touched his arm. `I have made some notes in my cabin. They may help you to pass the time in my absence.' He touched his hat to the quarterdeck and said to Maurin, `I am ready.'

For a moment longer he stood in the port, looking down into the boat alongside. There were about a dozen men aboard, naked but for a few scraps of rags, but armed to the teeth, and with the looks of men prepared to kill without question.

Maurin said quietly, `You will be safe with me, m'sieu.' He lowered himself swiftly on to the boat's gunwale, adding, `For the moment.'

Bolitho jumped the last few feet and steadied himself against a crude backstay, very conscious of the acrid stench of sweat and filth which floated unheeded in the bilges.

`You choose strange allies, Lieutenant.'

Maurin signalled for the boat to be cast off, one hand resting casually on his pistol.

`Lie with a dog and you arise with fleas, m'sieu. It is quite common.'

Bolitho glanced at his profile. Another Herrick perhaps?

Then as the sail billowed and cracked to the wind, and the slim hull began to gather way, he forgot Maurin, even the anxious faces on Undine's quarterdeck, as he considered what he was about to do.

Bolitho clung to the backstay as the boat scudded dangerously close to a line of black-toothed rocks and then went about to enter the main channel. He noticed that the current was strong and at odds with the incoming sea, and felt the hull leap and stagger as it straightened up for the final leg of the ourney. When he looked astern he could see nothing of his own ship. She was already hidden by a wedge of land, the side of which lay, deep in shadow.

Maurin asked suddenly, `Why d'you take such risks, m'sieu?'

Bolitho looked at him impassively. `Why do you?'

Maurin shrugged. `I obey orders. But soon I will be going 'ome again. To Toulon. I 'ave not seen my family for. ..' He smiled sadly. `Too long.'

Bolitho glanced across the lieutenant's shoulder and studied the grim fortress which was slipping past the port beam. It was still difficult to see the extent of its buildings. A high wall, undulating with the edge of the clifftop. The spaced windows were little more than black slits, like mournful eyes, while above, on the weatherworn battlements, he could see the muzzles of several large guns, just visible through their individual embrasures.

Maurin said, `A foul place, is it not? But they are not like us. They live like crabs in the rocks.' He sounded contemptuous.

Bolitho saw several small boats bobbing at anchor, and a schooner similar to the one they had captured moored to a stone pier.

Maurin did not try to stop him looking at everything, to prevent his interest in the many figures which moved about the pier and up the sloping track to the fortress gates. Bolitho decided he was being brought by the main channel by careful design. So that he should see the growing strength of Muljadi's private army. And it was impressive. To think that a pirate, an alien to the Indies, could muster this force, and instil such discipline, was enough to impress anyone. Even a pompous fool like Major Jardine.

He turned as the boat's crew began to shorten sail, and saw the anchored frigate lying directly across the bows. Close to in a confined space she seemed even larger. Far bigger than Undine. Even his last command would have been reckless to match her deadly broadside of eighteen-pounders.

He remarked, `A fine ship.'

Maurin nodded. `The best. We 'ave been together for so long, we even think alike!',

Bolitho saw the activity around the entry port, the gleam of sunlight on fixed bayonets where a guard awaited his arrival.

A very carefully staged performance, he thought. He noticed that boarding nets were furled along the gangways where they could be spread without delay. Fear of a cutting-out attack? More likely he was taking no chances with his new `ally'. It was the only promising thing Bolitho had seen so far.

A small fishing dory drifted abeam, and he saw some natives standing in it shaking their fists at him and baring their teeth like wild beasts.

Maurin said simply, `They probably think you are a prisoner, eh?' It seemed to depress him.

Bolitho pushed him from his thoughts as the boat swung heavily towards the frigate's main chains. Capitaine Paul Le Chaumareys, a man about whom many tales had been told. Battles won, convoys harried and settlements destroyed. His record in the war had been formidable, just as Conway had described. But as an individual he was a mystery, mostly because he had spent much of his service far away from his own beloved France.

He ran his eyes the full length of the ship's side. Argus, the hundred-eyed messenger of Hera. Very appropriate for a man as elusive as Le Chaumareys, he thought. Sturdily built, and showing the scars and blemishes of hard service, she was a ship he would have been proud to command. She lacked Undine's grace, but had a heavier toughness which could not be ignored.

The boat had made fast to the chains, and the crew stood grouped by the mast as Bolitho climbed up to the gunwale. Nobody attempted to assist him. Then, a young seaman jumped down from the chains and held out his hand.

`M'sieu!' He grinned broadly. `A votre service!'

Bolitho seized his wrist and levered himself towards the entry port. The French seaman could have been one of his own.

He removed his hat to the broad quarterdeck, and waited while the calls shrilled a salute and a guard presented muskets. Not crisply like Bellairs' marines would have done, but with a familiar jauntiness. Of long practice. Like the upper deck itself, he thought. Not dirty, but not gleaming and in perfect order either. Well used. Ready for anything.

'Ah, Capitaine !' Le Chaumareys stepped forward to greet him, his eyes fixed on Bolitho's face.

He was quite unlike anyone he had expected. Older. A good deal so. Perhaps in his middle forties. And one of the largest men he had ever met. Taller than six feet, with shoulders so broad that his bared head seemed tiny by comparison, especially as he wore his hair very short, like a convict.

`I welcome you to my ship.' He waved his hand around the deck. `To my world, as it has been for so long.' He smiled, the effect lighting up his face in an instant. `So come below to the cabin.'He nodded to Maurin. `I will call for you when it is time.'

Bolitho followed him to the cabin hatch, seeing the eyes watching from both deck and gangways, the way they studied his every move, as if to discover something.

Le Chaumareys said casually, `I hope Maurin took good care of you?'

`Very, thank you. His English is excellent.'

`Yes. One of the reasons I chose him for my ship. He is married to an Englishwoman.' He chuckled. `You, of course, are not married. So why not a French bride for you, eh?'

He threw open the door and watched Bolitho's reactions. The cabin was large and well furnished, and like the rest of the ship, vaguely untidy. Lived in.

But Bolitho's attention was immediately drawn to a table which was laden with food.

Le Chaumareys remarked, `Much of it is locally obtained.' He jabbed a large joint with his finger. `Like this. It is very much the same as smoked ham. You must eat your fill, while you can, eh?' He chuckled, the sound rising from what Bolitho now saw to be a large belly.

He replied, `I am here to present

The other captain wagged a finger. `You are aboard a French ship, m'sieu. First we drink.'

He shouted a brief command and a servant hurried from the adjoining cabin with a tall crystal jug of wine. It was extremely good, as cool as spring water. Bolitho glanced from the jug to the table. Genuine? Or was it one more trick to show they were superior, even in their supplies and comforts?

A chair was brought for him, and when he was seated Le Chaumareys seemed to relax.

He said, `I have heard of you, Bolitho. You had a fine record in the war for one so junior.' His eyes did not flicker as he added, `It was difficult for you. The unfortunate affair of your brother.'

Bolitho watched him calmly. Le Chaumareys was a man he could understand. Like a duellist. Relaxed one moment, making a thrust the next.

He said, `Thank you for your concern.'

The small head bobbed back and forth. `You should have been in these waters during the war. Independence, an ability to work beyond the reach of some admiral, eh? I think it would have fitted you well.'

Bolitho felt the servant refilling his glass. `I have come to speak with Muljadi.'

He tightened his grip on the glass. It had come out just like that, as if the words had been lying in his mind for months instead of seconds.

Le Chaumareys stared at him with amazement. `Are you insane? He would have you screaming for death in a moment, and I could not help you. No, m'sieu, it would be a lunatic thing even to think of.'

Bolitho said, `Then I will return to my ship.'

`But what of your Admiral Conway? His despatches? Is there nothing from him for me?'

`It would be pointless now.' Bolitho watched him warily. `Besides which, you are not here as a French captain, but as a subordinate to Muljadi's authority.'

Le Chaumareys took a deep swallow from his glass, his eyes slitted against the reflected sunlight from the windows.

He said abruptly, `Listen to me. Curb your impatience. As I have had to do, when I was your age, eh?' He looked around the cabin. `I have my instructions. I obey them, as you must yours. But I have served France well, and I am near finished in the Indies. Perhaps I made my services too valuable to be allowed home earlier, but that is as may be. I know these seas like my own face. During the war I had to live off the islands for food and shelter, for repairs, and to glean intelligence about your patrols and convoys. When I was told to continue in these same waters I resented it, but I suppose I was flattered also. I am still needed, eh? Not like many who fought so bravely and are now without bread.' He looked at Bolitho sharply and added, `As in your country, too, no doubt?'

Bolitho replied, `Yes. It is much the same.'

Le Chaumareys smiled. `Well then, my impetuous friend, we must not fight again! We are too much the same. Needed one minute, expendable the next!'

Bolitho said coldly, `Many have died because of your actions. But for our arrival at Pendang Bay all the garrison would have

I been killed, and you must know it. A Spanish frigate was des= troyed to delay our arrival, to allow this Prince Muljadi to give his piracy some sort of repute, to make him an ally of France, and a constant threat to peace.'

Le Chaumareys' eyes widened. `Well said. But I had no part in Nervion's destruction.' He held up one large fist. `Of course, I heard about it. I hear many things I do not like. That is why I brought the Spanish commandant here to parley for his garrison's safety. He was still the representative of his own King. He could agree to terms which but for your intervention would have given Muljadi certain rights in Pendang Bay.' He became very grave. `I did not know an attack would be launched the very moment I had left the bay! You have my word, as a French officer!’

'And I accept it.'

Bolitho tried to remain calm, but could feel the blood tingling in his veins like ice water. It was exactly as he had imagined. A set, calculated plan which had begun perhaps in Europe, in Paris and London, even Madrid, and which had almost worked. But for his decision to take Undine and the Nervion's few survivors to their destination, and Puigserver's arrival in Pendang Bay, the matter would be settled, and Le Chaumareys probably on his way home at last, his work done, and done well.

He heard himself say, `I have come to take the commandant back to his own kind. Don Luis Puigserver, the King of Spain's representative, will be expecting his return.' He hardened his tone. `Is Colonel Pastor still alive? Or is his death another thing you know of but did not approve?'

Le Chaumareys stood up and moved heavily to the quarter window.

`He is here. A prisoner of Muljadi's. In that ruin on the hill. He will never allow you to take him, dead or alive. His presence can still give legality to his demands. Can show that

England is unable to honour her word and protect the rights and citizens of Spain. A hard story to believe? But time and distance can make truth a mockery.'

`Then why would Muljadi fear to see me?' Bolitho watched him as he moved away from the window, his face lined and grim. `I'd have thought he would have been eager to throw his power in my face.'

Le Chaumareys walked across the cabin, the deck creaking under his corpulent frame. He halted by Bolitho's chair and looked directly into his eyes.

`It is I who fear foryou, Bolitho. Out here, in my Argus, I am Muljadi's arm, his reach. To him I am not merely a sea captain, but a symbol, a man who can spring his plans into reality. But beyond these timbers I cannot answer for your security, and that is the truth.' He hesitated, his eyes still on Bolitho's face. `But I see I am wasting time. You are determined, no?'

Bolitho smiled gravely. `Yes.'

Le Chaumareys added, `I have met many Englishmen in war and peace. Some I liked, many I hated. Few did I respect.' He held out his hand. `You I admire.' He smiled sadly. `A fool, but a brave one. That I can admire.'

He rang a bell and then gestured to the table. `And you eat nothing.'

Bolitho reached for his hat. `If what you say is true, then it would be wasted, eh?' He smiled, despite his tumbling thoughts. `And if not, I will have to content myself with salt pork in the future.'

A tall, lank-haired officer entered the cabin, and Le Chaumareys spoke to him swiftly in French. Then he picked up his own hat and said, `My senior lieutenant, Bolitho. I have changed my mind. I am coming with you.' He shrugged. `Curiosity, or to prove my original beliefs, I know not which. But without me you are a dead man.'

When they reached the quarterdeck Bolitho saw there was a boat already alongside, and that the gangways were filled with silent spectators. Having a good look, he thought grimly. A one-way journey, if he had miscalculated.

Le Chaumareys held his arm. `Listen to me. I am older, and, I expect, wiser than you. I can have you taken back to your ship. You will suffer no disgrace. In a year all this will be forgotten. Leave politics to those who daily dirty their hands without remorse.'

Bolitho shook his head. `In my position, would you?' He forced a smile. `Your face tells me what I need to know.'

Le Chaumareys nodded to his watching officers and then led the way to the entry port.

Bolitho glanced quickly along the gun deck, noting the fresh repairs to timbers and cordage. Where Undine had made her own challenge, and when he had felt the battle was nearly lost. It was an uncanny feeling to be walking with Argus's captain. More like compatriots than men who had so recently tried to destroy each other. If they met again after this, there could be no more truces.

The boat pulled steadily across swirling water towards the pier below the fortress, the French seamen watching Bolitho the whole time. Curious? Or merely seeing the face of an enemy?

Le Chaumareys spoke only once on the short crossing.

`Do not lose your temper with Muljadi. One sign and he will have you seized. He is without pity.'

`And what about your position here?'

The Frenchman gave a bitter smile. `He needs me, m'sieu.'

Once alongside the pier Bolitho gained a new understanding of the hatred he had seen earlier. With the French seamen surrounding him as an escort he was made to hurry up the steep slope towards the fortress, while on all sides voices rose in shouts and curses, and it was obvious that without Le Chaumareys' massive presence even the sailors would have been set upon.

The lower part of the fortress was little more than an empty shell, its courtyard littered with rushes and rags which the defenders and Muljadi's growing army of followers used for bedding. He looked up at the blue sky above the ramparts and saw the guns. Old but powerful, each with balls nearby, and long ropes which trailed carelessly to the courtyard, and some crude baskets which presumably were used to haul fresh powder and shot when required.

More rough steps, the sun probing across his shoulders, then sudden shadows making his body feel chilled and damp.

Le Chaumareys grunted, `You will wait here.'

He led Bolitho into a roughly hewn room no bigger than a cable tier and strode towards an iron-studded door at one end. It was guarded by some heavily armed natives, who faced the French seamen as if hoping for a fight.

Le Chaumareys seemed to sail_ right through them, like a three-decker breaking the line of battle. Supreme confidence, or a well-practised bluff. Bolitho did not know.

He did not have to wait long. The door was dragged open and he saw a large room, a chamber, which seemed to span the whole breadth of the upper fortress. Against the dull stone and smoky walls the dais at the far end made a fine splash of colour.

Muijadi was arranged on a pile of silk cushions, eyes fixed on the door, his body completely at ease.

He was naked to the waist, and wore only white baggy trousers and red leather boots underneath. He had no hair, so that in the sunlight from the slitted windows his head seemed pointed, and his single ear very prominent and grotesque.

Le Chaumareys was standing to one side of the dais, his face stern and alert. Around the walls were some of the dirtiest and cruellest-looking men Bolitho had ever seen in his life, although the quality of their weapons marked them as leaders or lieutenants in Muljadi's command.

He walked towards the dais, half expecting one of the onlookers to rush forward and cut him down, but nobody moved or spoke.

When he was within a few feet of the cushions Muijadi said flatly, `That is close enough!'

He spoke good English, but with a strong accent which was probably Spanish.

He continued, 'Before I have you killed, Captain, is there anything you wish to say?'

Bolitho wanted to lick his parched lips. He heard the rustle of expectancy behind him, saw Le Chaumareys watching him with despair on his tanned face.

Bolitho said, `On behalf of His Britannic Majesty, King George, I have come to demand the release of Colonel Don Jose Pastor, subject of Spain, and under my country's protection.'

Muijadi sat bolt upright, the stump of his severed wrist pointing like a gun.

`Demand? You insolent dog!'

Le Chaumareys stepped forward hastily. `Let me explain, m'sieu.'

Muljadi screamed, `You will address me Highness!' To Bolitho he added savagely, `Call on your God for help! I will make you plead for death!'

Bolitho could feel his heart pumping against his ribs, the sweat pouring down his spine and gathering around his waist like ice-rime. Deliberately he reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. As he flicked open the guard he heard Muljadi leap to his feet, the gasp of disbelief as he threw himself from the dais to seize Bolitho's wrist in a grip like a manacle.

He screamed into Bolitho's face, `Where did you get that?'

He jerked up his wrist and the watch, upon which the prancing gold beast dangled like a fob.

Bolitho forced himself to keep his voice level. To stop his gaze from falling on the similar pendant which hung on Muljadi's chest.

`From a prisoner.' He added sharply, `A pirate!'

Muljadi twisted his wrist slowly, his eyes like fires as he snarled, `You lie! And you will suffer for it now!!'

Le Chaumareys called, `In God's name, do not make him kill you !'

Bolitho kept his eyes on Muljadi's, feeling his power, his hatred, but something more. Anxiety?

He said, `If you take a telescope, you will be able to see my ship. You will also see there is a halter at the mainyard. If I do not return before dusk, your son will hang there, you have my word on it! I took this from his neck when I captured him and his schooner some forty miles to the south'rd of where we are standing.'

Muljadi's eyes seemed to be bulging right out of his head.

`You lie!'

Bolitho eased his wrist from Muljadi's grasp. The fingers had left marks like rope burns.

He said quietly, `I will exchange him for your prisoner.' He looked at-Le Chaumareys' astonished face. `The capitaine can arrange it, I am certain.'

Muijadi ran to a window and snatched a telescope from one of his men.

Over his shoulder he said hoarsely, `You will stay as a hostage!'

Bolitho replied, 'No hostages. A fair bargain. You have my word, as a King's officer.'

Muljadi threw the telescope to the ground, shattering the lens in all directions. His chest was heaving violently; and his shaven head was glittering with tiny jewels of sweat.

`King's officer? Do you think I care for you?' He spat on the stones by Bolitho's shoes. `You will suffer, that I promise you !'

Le Chaumareys called, `Let it be done!' He hesitated. `Highness !'

But Muljadi was almost beside himself. Like a madman. He suddenly grasped Bolitho's arm and propelled him to the opposite end of the chamber and thrust him against the window.

`Look down there, Captain!' He was spitting out each word like a pistol ball. `I will give you your colonel, but it is too late to save you now!'

Bolitho stared down at the glittering water which snaked around and amongst the next cluster of islets. Anchored in a bend of the channel, her decks alive with hurrying figures, was a frigate.

He felt Muljadi's hatred turning to aa wild jubilation as he shouted, `Mine! All mine! Well, my King's officer, are you still so confident?'

Le Chaumareys said harshly, `Why did you have to do Muljadi whirled round on him, his eyes wild. `Do you think I have to be told what to do? That I am a child? I have waited long enough. The waiting is over now.'

A door grated open and Bolitho saw the Spanish command ant, supported on either side by an armed pirate, his eyes blinking in the light as if he was almost blind.

Bolitho strode past Muljadi and his men. `I have come to take you home, Senor.' He saw the filth on his torn clothing, the shackle marks on his thin wrists. `It was a brave thing you did.'

The old man peered blearily at him, his beard quivering as he said jerkily, `I do not understand?'

Le Chaumareys said, `Come. Now.' Under his breath he added, `Or I will not answer for your safety!'

It was like a dream. Down the sloping track to the pier and into the boat, and for most of the way pursued by Muljadi's voice, which had lapsed into another language, although the threat was no less evident.

Bolitho said coldly, `The frigate. She was English.'

Le Chaumareys nodded wearily. `Yes. Damaged in battle in '82, she was beached near here and her company removed by another vessel. We have been working on her for two years almost. Putting her to rights. I was ordered to hand her to Muljadi ready for use, before I am allowed to return home.'

Bolitho did not look at him. He was supporting the Spanish commandant against his knees, feeling his sobs and his misery.

`Then I hope you are proud of your work, m'sieu. And what it may mean when Muljadi puts her to work.'

The French frigate's yards loomed above the boat, and Bolitho followed the other captain up to the entry port.

Le Chaumareys said abruptly, 'Maurin will attend to the transfer.'

He looked searchingly at Bolitho for several seconds.

`You are still young. One day you might have understood. Now that is past.' He thrust out his hand. `When we meet again, as I fear we must, it will be for the last time.'

He turned on his heel and strode to the cabin hatch.

Bolitho pulled out his watch and examined the gold pendant. If he had been mistaken, or Potter had given him wrong information ... He stopped his train of thought there and then. It did not bear even conjecture.

Then he thought of the captured frigate. But for Muljadi's flare of anger he would never have known of it. The knowledge was little help, but it was better than nothing, he decided.

Maurin said cheerfully, `I will take a boat away to your ship, m'sieu. They will be surprised to learn of your safety, as I am.'

Bolitho smiled. `I was well protected, thank you.' He glanced at the cabin hatch, but was uncertain what he meant.

16

No Better, No Worse than Most

Bolitho walked slowly along the upper rampart at the inland side of the settlement, watching the steamy haze rising from the jungle, the afternoon sunlight playing on the dripping leaves and fronds nearest the palisade. Undine had anchored shortly before noon below an empty blue sky, and yet during their slow approach towards Pendang Bay he had seen the land dark under the weather,, and had almost envied the isolated downpour. He sighed, smelling the thick, heady scents from the jungle, the drowsy aromas of rotting leaves and roots hidden in deep shadow below the trees.

For the last two days Undine had been plagued with opposing wind, and when at last it had changed in their favour there had been little more than a breath to bring life to the sails.

He watched some red-coated sepoys working beyond the palisade, and two native women approaching the gateway with heavy bundles on their heads. At a glance it seemed nothing had changed, but now as he waited to confront Conway for the second time within the hour he knew everything was different.

He continued his walk to the next corner of the crude timber rampart and saw Undine riding easily to her cable, the captured schooner close abeam. As he looked towards the shallows where he had last seen the brig Rosalind when Undine had set sail for Muljadi's stronghold, it was all he could do to stop himself from cursing aloud. Like the transport Bedford, she had gone. Back to Madras, to carry despatches and Raymond's own appreciation of the situation to Sir Montagu Strang.

Bolitho had been shocked by Conway's appearance when he

No Better, No Worse than Most 263

had reported ashore within thirty minutes of dropping anchor. Wild-eyed, more shrunken than ever, he had been almost beside himself with anger and despair.

He had shouted, `You dare to stand here and tell me that you actually chose to ignore my orders? That despite the importance of my instructions you made no attempt to parley with Le Chaumareys?'

Bolitho had stood very still, his eyes on Conway's distorted features. An empty decanter lay on the table, and it was obvious he had been drinking heavily for some time.

`I could not parley, sir. To do so would have been to recognise Muljadi. Which is exactly what the French want.'

`Are you telling me something I do not already know?' Conway had gripped the table violently. `I ordered you to tell Le Chaumareys to return Colonel Pastor unharmed! The Spanish government would have raised a savage argument against England if we had allowed him to remain a prisoner, and right under my nose !'

Bolitho recalled his own voice. Taut and flat. Not daring to arouse Conway's fury any more than it was.

`When I found I had captured Muljadi's son I knew I could bargain, sir. There was a good chance I would succeed As it turned out, we arrived in time. I fear that Pastor would have died in a few more days.'

Conway had screamed, `Pastor be damned! You took Muljadi's son, and you dared to release him! We could have had that bloody pirate crawling at our feet, pleading for his

son's life!'

Bolitho had said abruptly, `There was a frigate lost in these waters during the last months of the war.'

Conway had been taken off guard. `Yes, yes. The Imogene, Captain Balfour.' He had squinted against the sun's glare from a window. `Twenty-eight guns. Had been in battle with the French and then got caught by a gale. Drove aground, and her people were taken off by one of my sloops. What the hell does she have to do with it?'

`Everything, sir. But for my meeting with Muljadi I would never have known until we were totally unprepared. The frigate, the Imogene, is there, sir, in the Benuas, and from what I saw, about ready to weigh anchor.'

Conway had lurched against the table, as if Bolitho had actually struck him.

`If this is some trick, some ruse to deter my-'

`She is there, sir. Refitted and repaired, and I have no doubt well trained by Le Chaumareys' officers.' He could not conceal his bitterness. `I had hoped the brig would still be here. You could have sent word. Demanded help. There is no choice in the matter now.'

The next part had been the worst. Conway walking unsteadily to the sideboard and fumbling with another decanter, and muttering, `Betrayed, right from the start. Raymond insisted on sending the brig to Madras. She's a Company vessel, and I could hold her no longer. He had all the arguments. All the answers, too.' Claret had slopped over his shirt like blood as he had shouted, `And me? Nothing but a cat's-paw! A tool for Strang and his friends to use as they please!'

He had smashed a goblet with the decanter and groped hurriedly for another, adding, `And now you, the one man I trusted, tells me that Muljadi is ready to attack my settlement! Not merely content with showing me to be incompetent, Raymond will now tell his damned superiors that I cannot even hold this territory under the British flag!'

The door had opened noiselessly and Puigserver had moved into the room. He had glanced briefly at Conway and had said to Bolitho, `I stayed until your return. My men have sailed in the Bedford, but I could not leave also without offering my gratitude for securing Don Pastor's release. You seem to make a habit of risking your life for others. I trust that this time it will not go unrewarded.' His black eyes had moved to Conway again. `Eh, Admiral?'

Conway had stared at him vaguely. `I must think.'

`We all must.' The Spaniard had settled in a chair, his eyes still on Conway. `I heard some of it through the door.' He had shrugged. `Not spying, you understand, but your voice was somewhat forceful.'

Conway had made a new effort to control himself. 'Conference. Immediately.' He had fixed Bolitho with a bleary stare. `You wait outside. I must think.'

Now, as he looked emptily at the small figures below the palisade, Bolitho could feel his returning anger, a sense of urgency.

'Richard!'

He swung round and saw her at the corner of the square tower. She was well covered against the sun, and wore the same wide-brimmed hat as before. He hurried to her and seized her hands.

`Viola! I was wondering

She shook her head. `Later. But listen.' She reached up and touched his cheek very gently, her eyes suddenly sad. `It has been so long. Eleven days, but they were years. When the storm came I worried about you.' -

He tried to speak, to break the pain in her voice, but she hurried on, `I think James suspects. He has been very strange lately. Probably my maid let slip something. A good girl, but easily flattered into words.' She studied him searchingly. `But no matter. He will do nothing. It is you I am concerned for.' She dropped her head. `And it is all my fault. I wanted him to be something in this world, mostly, I suspect, for my own gain. I drove him too hard, too fast, wanting him to be the man he could never be.' She squeezed his hand. `But you know all this.'

Voices echoed below the parapet and Bolitho thought he heard footsteps.

She said huskily, `James will have sent his own report to Sir Montagu. He knows now that Conway is not the man for this appointment, and will use this knowledge to his own advantage. But you, my darling Richard, will be included in his report. I know him so well, you see. To get at you, to use his petty revenge, he will also blame.you for the inability to destroy an ignorant pirate, French aid or no!'

He replied quietly, `It is worse than that. Muljadi has many men at his back. When once he has overthrown this settlement the whole area will rise to support him. They have little choice. The pirates will become saviours, the protectors the invaders. It is not uncommon.'

She turned her head quickly and he saw a pulse jumping in her throat.

`Listen to me, Richard. Do not become further involved. You are valuable to your country and to all who look up to you. Do not, I implore you, continue to look up to those who are unfit even to lick your boots!' She cupped his face in her hands. 'Save. your ship and yourself, and damn their eyes, I say!'

He held her wrists very gently. `It is no longer so simple.' He thought of Le Chaumareys, encouraging him to quit, to get away and still retain his honour. `And I wish to God you had sailed in the brig. Muljadi has more strength now, and when he comes ...'

He let his gaze move outward and down towards the anchored

frigate. How small she appeared in the harsh glare.

`There is only Undine between him and these walls.'

She stared at him, her eyes wide and suddenly understanding. `And you intend to fight all of them?' Bolitho prised her hands away as a sepoy corporal rounded

the tower and said, `Captain Bolitho, sahib, the governor will

meet you, please.'

Bolitho looked at her and said, `Now we will see, Viola.' He tried to. smile. `The battle's not done yet.'

He found Conway seated behind the table, his stained shirt covered by his heavy dress coat. Puigserver had not moved, and Raymond was standing with his back to a window, his face hidden in black shadow. Major Jardine and his second-incommand made up the conference.

Conway said sharply, `I have told them, Bolitho. Word for word as you described it to me.'

`Thank you, sir.'

Bolitho looked at Raymond, knowing it would come from him. `You took a great deal upon yourself, Captain. More, I suspect, than the governor intended?'

`Yes, Sir. But I was taught to use initiative, especially when beyond the fleet's apron strings.' He saw Puigserver examining one shoe with sudden interest. `The fact is, Muljadi intends to attack this settlement. It is all he can do now that he has lost his hostage, and understands that we are informed of his additional frigate. It has changed everything.'

Jardine said harshly, `If he comes, my men can hold him off until help arrives. When the brig reaches Madras they'll soon send a force to finish this ruffian! Even when the Navy is apparently incapable of so doing, what?'

Bolitho waited, watching. Raymond's hands on the window sill.

Well, Mr. Raymond? Is the gallant major right?' He saw the hands take a firmer grip and added, `Or did you suggest is your report to Sir Montagu Strang that Pendang Bay is, i' your opinion, no longer an asset?'

Jardine bared his teeth. `Rubbish!' He hesitated and askectt `Well, Sir?'

Raymond sounded very calm. `I told the truth. No ship' will be sent, other than transports to remove the Company'' soldiers and their dependents.'

Jardine exploded, `But I can manage, sir! You should have told me first!'

Bolitho said, `You cannot manage, Major. Muljadi will have more than a thousand men when he comes. His stronghold is crammed to capacity, that I did see. You may have been able t' hold the walls until help was forthcoming from Madras Without it, your only chance is a forced march through dens' jungle to the east'rd to contact the Dutch East India Company' base and find safety.' His tone hardened. `But through dense jungle, and at this time of the year, I doubt if many would survive, even without attack from those who will want to impress Muljadi with their loyalty.'

Raymond said thickly, `No blame can fall on my shoulders! I reported what I knew! I had no knowledge of this othei frigate!' He tried to recover his original calm. `Any more that, you did!'

Conway stood up very deliberately, each movement aii effort of will.

`But you could not wait, Mr. Raymond. You used your authority to seek your own ends and despatched the brig even after I requested she be held here until Undine's return.'

He walked to the opposite side of the room and stared un· seeingly at the close-knit jungle.

`So what can we do? How best can we prepare ourselves for slaughter?'

He turned with the speed of light and yelled, `Well, Ms Raymond? Will you explain, for indeed it is beyond me!'

Major Jardine stammered, 'Surelyit cannot be that hopeless?

Puigserver was watching Bolitho. `Well, Capiaan? You have been inside the lion's den, not us.'

Bolitho looked at Conway. `May I suggest something, sir? ‘

The admiral nodded, his wispy hair in disorder. `If there is anything left to say.'

Bolitho walked to the table and moved the heavy silver inkwells into a pattern.

`The Benuas are much as they appear on our charts, sir, although I suspect some of the smaller channels between the islets are silted and shallow. The fortress stands high on a central islet, a rock-pile, if you like.' His fingers made a sweeping gesture down the front of one inkwell. `The seaward face of the islet is sheer, and what I first took to be reefs at its foot I now believe are fragments of cliff which have fallen away over many years of wear.'

He heard Captain Strype say gloomily, `That rules out any hope of a scaling attempt. It is hopeless.'

Conway glared at him and then snapped, `Continue. What about this cliff?'

Bolitho looked at him calmly. `If we attack at once, sir.' He ignored the gasps. `Before Muljadi is ready. We might nip his whole plan in the bud.'

Conway exclaimed, `Attack? When you have just finished destroying our hopes even of staying alive!'

`The main gun battery is on the seaward rampart, sir. Bring it down and the ships at anchor will be without immediate protection.'

Conway was rubbing his chin in quick, nervous movements. `Yes, I can see that. But how?'

Jardine sneered, `An act of God maybe?'

`The schooner, sir.' Bolitho kept his gaze fixed on Conway's lined forehead, seeing all the doubts and apprehension gathering like a storm. `We could use the prevailing wind, sail her straight on to the fallen rocks at the foot of the cliff, filled to the deck beams with powder and a goodly fuse. The explosion would, I believe, bring down more of the cliff.' He hesitated, feeling the sudden tension around him. `And the battery.'

Captain Strype was staring at the inkwell as if seeing the actual explosion. `It might well work, sir! A damn fine idea!'

Jardine growled, `Hold your tongue ! What sort of fool would do such a thing anyway?'

He fell back as Conway snapped, `Be still!' To Bolitho he added, `And you think this is a reasonable risk?'

`I do. The schooner would be lightly manned, and her crew could get clear in their boat once the final course was laid. A long fuse would allow them time enough.' He kept his eyes steady. `The moment the charge explodes I will force the channel in Undine and take the anchored frigates before they can recover. After an explosion like that, they will not be expecting a further intrusion.'

Puigserver nodded grimly. `Fair justice, too.'

Conway glared at him. `It is the wildest plan I have ever discussed.'

Bolitho said quietly, `I must argue that point, sir.'

`What?' Conway swung on him. `Are you questioning me again?'

`I recall a certain captain, sir. Years back, when I was a stupid midshipman. He took a fair chance or so when he considered it necessary.'

Conway reached out and gripped his wrist. `Thank you for that.' He looked away, patting his pockets as if searching for something. `I'd forgotten.'

Bolitho said, `The troops will have to remain here, of course.'

He thought he saw relief on Jardine's heavy face, resentment on his aide's. Strange, he thought, that the one who appeared the weaker was _the stronger after all. -

He added, `If this plan fails, and we must face that possibility, it will be up to the sepoys to evacuate the settlement as best they can. But please take my word for this. No parley with Muljadi, for to him victory means only one thing. Extinction for all those who have represented his enemies throughout his entire life.' He pointed towards the window. `And once through those palisades, there will be no time left for regrets,'

Conway returned to the table, his face very composed.

`I agree.' He glanced at Jardine. `Set your men to work transferring powder to the schooner, every barrel and cask from our magazine, if that is what is needed.'

He looked at Bolitho. `And who will command the schooner, have you thought of that?'

`I am not decided, sir.' He smiled gravely. `Yet.'

He turned as Raymond walked around the table, show ng his face at last in the sunlight.

Raymond said, `I acted as I thought fit.'

Conway nodded, his eyes contemptuous. `If we survive this affair, you may yet share the advantages, if there are any.' His tone was like ice. `If we fail, you will probably receive the knighthood you covet so dearly.' He paused as Raymond hurried to the door. `Posthumously, of course!'

When he faced the table again Conway seemed about ten years younger.

`Now that I am decided, Bolitho, I cannot wait!'

Bolitho nodded. He could feel his muscles and bones aching as if from physical effort, and could barely realise what he had done, what he had committed himself and his ship to.

He said, `I will return aboard now, sir. I need fresh water and fruit if there is any.'

Faces flashed across his thoughts. Carwithen with his axe embedded in the pirate's neck. Davy's pride at being given command of the schooner. Fowlar's genuine pleasure with his temporary promotion. And Herrick most of all. What would he say to this pathetic, desperate plan? Smile? Shake his head? Accept that at last his captain had made the one fatal mistake? For all of them.

Conway was saying, `You are a sly-boots, Bolitho, more than I ever suspected.' He made as if to reach for the new decanter but changed his mind. `If I am to lose my head, then it had better be a clear one, eh?'

Puigserver was touching one of the silver inkwells with a spatulate finger.

`When will it be, Capitan?'

`Early.' Bolitho watched him thoughtfully. Puigserver, too. Hehadbeeninthe story from thevery beginning. `Dawn attack.'

Conway nodded. `And if ever you have prayed for the wind to set fair, then do it from now on.'

Bolitho smiled. `Aye, sir. I will bear that in mind.'

He made to leave, but halted as the admiral added gruffly,

`Whatever the outcome, we will have tried. Done our best.' When he turned towards the sunlight Bolitho was shocked to see the moisture in his eyes.

`Raymond was right, of course. I'm not the man for the appointment, nor do I suppose it was ever intended I should retain it once the settlement had been founded ...' he hesitated, `... or lost. But we will show them.'

He strode to his private door and slammed it behind him

Puigserver_whistled. `The old lion awakes, eh?'

Bolitho smiled sadly. `If you have known him as I once did, senor. If you had seen the people cheering themselves hoarse, with the smoke of battle still thick between decks, then you would have understood.'

`Perhaps.' Puigserver grinned broadly. `Now away with you, I think you have learned a great deal since we first met. About many things, eh?'

Bolitho walked out past a nodding servant, and then start-'d as someone touched his sleeve. It was Viola Raymond's nud, her face screwed up with fright as she whispered, `This way sir! Just down here!'

Bolitho followed her quickly, and then saw the pale figure by a door at the far end of the passageway.

He asked, `What is it? We should not meet like this.'

She stared at him, her eyes blazing. `You are going to ,.et killed! He just told me!' She threw her big hat on the floor and added angrily, `And I don't care! I don't care what happens to you!' Then she threw herself against him, her voice breakingsn sobs as she cried, `It's a lie! I do care, my darling Richard! I'll die if anything happens to you! I didn't mean to say those things.'

He held her chin in his hand. `Easy, Viola.' He pushed the hair from her forehead. It was hot and feverish. `I had no choice.'

Her body shook uncontrollably and she gripped his axt0s even tighter, oblivious to her maid, and the real possibility that someone might walk into the passage at any second.

`And no chance ! No chance at all!'

Bolitho held her away and waited until she was calmer.

`I must go now. And I will take care.' He saw her returning anguish and said quickly, `I must not damage my new watch, now must I?'

She tried to return his smile, the tears flowing freely down her face as she said, `I would never forgive you.'

He turned and walked towards the stairway, and then stripped again as she called his name. But she did not follow him. Instead she held up one hand, as if he was already a long -,eay off. Beyond reach.

He found Allday waiting by the beached gig and said sharply, `Back to the ship.'

Allday watched him curiously. `They're taking powder casks to the schooner, Captain.'

`Is that a question?' He glared at him but Allday's face was unmoved.

`I was just thinking. Mr. Davy's not going to be happy about this.'

Bolitho clapped his arm. `I know. And I have no excuse for taking out my temper on you.'

Allday squinted up at the timbered fort above the palisades, the white figure in one of the windows.

Under his breath he said, `I know just how it feels, Captain.'

Bolitho twisted in the sternsheets to watch the boats busying themselves alongside the schooner. It had sounded so simple, so neat. To take two anchored frigates in a confined space was better than matching gun for gun in open waters. But many would curse his name as they died, nonetheless.

He sighed as the gig gathered speed towards the frigate. Puigserver had been right. He had learned a great deal since their meeting at Santa Cruz. Mostly about himself.

`All present, sir.' Herrick seated himself beside the cabin door and waited for Bolitho to speak.

Beyond the stern windows it was very dark, but it was possible to see the yellow lanterns moving back and forth between the settlement and the surf as the business of loading the schooner continued without pause.

Bolitho looked at the faces around the cabin. Everyone was here. He let his gaze rest briefly on Midshipman Keen. Even him, although the surgeon had told him he. would not be responsible for his condition. Keen looked strained, and whenever he moved it was easy to see the pain on his mouth and eyes. But he had insisted on rejoining the ship.

Mudge and Soames, Fowlar, looking slightly self-conscious at his first important conference. Davy, whose handsome features were still showing some of the dismay remaining from Bolitho's news about the schooner. Captain Bellairs, debonair and bland-faced in the gently spiralling lantern light. The purser, as mournful as ever. Armitage and Penn, like illmatched brothers, and lastly, below the skylight, Whitmarsh, the surgeon, his face glowing like a great beetroot.

Bolitho clasped his hands behind him. An average wardroom, he thought. No better, no worse than most, yet he was about to ask more of them than would be expected from a veteran company.

`You know me well enough by now to understand that I dislike speeches. Making or listening to them.'

He saw Herrick grin, and Mudge's tiny eyes vanish on either side of the great nose.

`At the beginning of this commission there were many aboard, wardroom included, who thought my methods too hard, my ideals too high for a ship on a peacetime mission. Now all of us know that things have changed, and our experience, our training is the only thing of value we have to protect us, and more to the point, those who are depending on our ability.'

He nodded to Herrick. `Open the chart.'

As Mudge leaned forward to weigh down Herrick's chart with books and brass dividers he took another glance at their faces. Anviety, trust? It was too early to know.

He continued, `The schooner will sail directly into the main channel, using the easterly headland for cover until the last available moment. Once on course for the rocks at the foot of the cliff,' he paused to lay the dividers on the small cross, `the helm will be lashed, and the crew will take to the boat. They will be recovered later.' He made himself smile, although his heart felt strangely heavy. `After we have excised the two frigates while their people are still collecting their wits!'

Penn said, `We'll show 'em, sir!' He quailed under Mudge's withering stare.

`And sve,' Bolitho smiled at the scarlet-faced midshipman, `driven on by Mr. Penn's enthusiasm, will move into the channel, rake both anchored ships, come about and rake 'em again.' He looked at Davy. `So tell all gun crews to look alive. The first broadsides will be the telling ones.'

Bellairs drawled, `Bit of a chance for the schooner, I'd say, sir. All that gunpowder aboard. One heated ball from the battery, and up she goes.' He blinked under Bolitho's level stare and added, `No disrespect to the bold fellows aboard her, of course, but where would it leave us?'

Bolitho shook his head. `The battery is old. I am almost certain that heated shot will not be available, for fear of splitting the guns. Normally they would not need it. With such an arc of fire, the battery can hit any vessel once itis within the two main channels.'

He smiled to hide the sudden doubt which Bellairs had laid in his mind. Suppose there was heated shot already simmering in furnaces? But he would have seen them, surely? No baskets could hoist glowing balls to that high rampart.

He said, `And we will know that most of that battery is lying in the sea, where it should have been years ago.'

`We will weigh at first light tomorrow. The wind seems to be in our favour, and with luck it will serve our purposes. There remains just one matter. ..' He paused and saw Herrick watching him 'from across the cabin.

But he must not think of his friend. The best and firmest one he had ever had. He was his first lieutenant, the most competent officer in the ship. Nothing more counted. It must not.

He continued, `Mr. Herrick will command the schooner.'

Herrick nodded, his face expressionless. `Aye, sir. I'll take six good hands. Should be enough.'

Bolitho held his gaze, the rest of the officers fading around him as he said, `I will leave it to you. If Potter wishes to join with you, then take him.' He saw Whitmarsh rising to protest and added harshly, `He knows the channel. We need all we can get.'

The door opened slightly and Carwithen thrust his head into the lantern light.

`Beg pardon, sir, but the water casks 'ave been stowed, an' a message 'as been sent to say that the schooner is fully loaded.'

His gaze shifted to Fowlar, but there was no recognition. Fowlar's first step to promotion had already marked them apart, although it was possible they had never had much in common, Bolitho thought.

`Very well.' Bolitho waited for the door to close. `Carry on, gentlemen. You '-all have your duties to attend.' He faltered, wondering why there were never the right-words when you needed them most. `We will have little time for discussion until this matter is settled.' Or we are all dead. `Remember this, and remember it well. Our people will be looking to you, more than they, or you ever expected. Most of them have never been in a real sea fight, and when we last met with Argus many still believed we had won a battle rather than secured a retreat. This time there can be no retreat, for us, or the enemy. Le Chaumareys is a fine captain, probably the best ever produced by France. But he has one weakness.' He smiled gravely. `One which we have not yet enjoyed. That of supreme confidence in his ship and himself. His belief, and your skill and determination will win the day for us if anything can.'

They stood up, silent and grim-faced, as if only just aware _ of their responsibilities. The finality of their position.

Then as they moved towards the door Bolitho said, `A moment, Mr. Herrick.'

Alone together in the gently pitching cabin, Bolitho said, `I had no choice.'

`I would have been dismayed, had you selected a junior, sir.' Herrick smiled. `So there's an end to it.'

Bolitho held out his hand. `May God protect you, Thomas. If I have misjudged this affair, or the enemy outwits us, then pull back at once. If I signal a recall, then abandon your attempt. If die we must, then I want you with me.'

Herrick gripped his hand tightly, his blue eyes suddenly concerned.

`Enough of this talk, sir! It is not like you. Win we must, and here's my hand on it!'

Bolitho followed him towards the door. Hating the moment. Conscious of the weight which he had caused to fall on his own shoulders. She had seen his danger, as had Le Chaumareys. Perhaps Herrick also.

On deck, in the noise and bustle of preparing for sea, the contact was at last broken.

Herrick said, `I'll go and pick my hands, sir.'

Bolitho nodded, his heart aching. `Carry on, Mr. Herrick. The second lieutenant will relieve you forthwith.'

As Herrick melted into the shadows Davy crossed the quarterdeck and touched his hat.

Bolitho said, `I am sorry about your schooner. I seem to have little choice in anything at the moment.'

Davy shrugged. `It does not seem to matter any more, sir. For once, I cannot see further than the next few days, nor care either.'

Bolitho seized his arm savagely and swung him round. `Has nothing I said to you made any sense?'

Davy struggled in his fierce grip and blurted out, `I-I am sorry, sir!'

`You will be if I hear you talking like that again! Your responsibility is to me, the ship and the people you command. Not to your own personal considerations. When a man starts to believe there are no more tomorrows, he is as good as sewn up in a hammock between two round-shot. Think of the tomorrows, believe in them, and the men who depend on your skill, or lack of it, will see their own survival on your face!' He relaxed his hold and added in a steadier tone, `Now be off with you.'

He began to pace along the larboard side, his feet stepping automatically over ringbolts and gun tackles, although his eyes saw none of them. He had not been reprimanding Davy, but himself. It was no time for doubt or recrimination, but only for living the role he had adopted, had earned in a dozen battles or more.

`Boat ahoyl' The challenge rang out from the gangway where lanterns glinted_on-levelled-muskets-and bayonets.

From the bay itself came the reply, `Don Luis Puigserver wishes to come aboard!'

Davy came hurrying aft. `Is that in order, sir?'

Bolitho smiled, calm again. `I was expecting him, I believe.' The stocky figure rose through the port and hurried across

the deck to greet him.

Puigserver said, `I had to come, Capitan. Nervion's loss made me a part of this. I cannot withdraw until the matter is settled.' He patted the ornate pistols beneath his coat. `And I am an excellent shot, no?'

`I could order you to leave, senor.'

`But?' Puigserver tilted his head to one side. `But you will not. In any case, I have left written word to explain my deeds and my reasons. If we survive the battle, I will tear it to pieces. If not. ..' He left the rest unsaid.

`Then I accept your offer, senor. With gratitude.'

Puigserver walked to the nettings and stared across at a glittering riding-light. `When will the schooner set sail?'

`Before dawn. She will need all the time available to work into her position to best advantage.'

Again the ache. The thought of Herrick sailing his floating magazine into the muzzles of Muljadi's battery.

`I see.' Puigserver yawned. `Then I think I will join your offwatch officers for a glass in the wardroom. You will need your solitude tonight, I am thinking.'

Some hours later Bolitho was awakened by Allday's hand on his shoulder. He had fallen asleep in the cabin, his head on his forearm across the chart where he had been working.

Allday watched him anxiously. `Schooner's weighed, Captain.'

Bolitho rubbed his eyes. Was it almost dawn? He felt suddenly chilled. Desperate for sleep.

Aliday added quietly, `Mister Pigsliver's gone, too.'

Bolitho stared at him, wondering if he had expected this. Had known it was what Puigserver had wanted from the moment he had outlined his plan.

`Is she well clear?'

`Aye, Captain.' Allday stretched and yawned. `Stood round the headland half an hour back.' He added slowly, `He'll be good company for Mr. Herrick, and that's no error.'

Bolitho looked at him. `You knew, didn't you?'

`Aye, Captain.' Allday watched him sadly. `I thought it for the best.'

Bolitho nodded. `I expect it is.' He walked to the windows as if to see the riding-light still twinkling above the water. `It is a bad thing to be alone.'

Aliday glanced at the tarnished sword which hung from the bulkhead. For a moment he thought about Bolitho's other coxswain, who had died protecting his back from French marksmen at the Saintes. They had come a long way together since those times, he thought. Soon now, it might all end. He looked at Bolitho's shoulders as he peered through the stern windows.

But you will never be alone, Captain. Not while I've a breath left.

17

Close Action

Bolitho rested his hands on the quarterdeck rail and peered searchingly along his command. In the darkness the decks and gangways made a pale outline against the sea beyond the bows, and only the irregular drift of spray, the swirling white arrowhead from the stem gave any true hint of their progress.

He restrained himself from going aft again to examine his watch by the shaded compass light. Nothing had changed since his last inspection, and he was well aware of the danger of adding to the tension around him.

Three days since they had left the anchorage in Pendang Bay, making good speed with favourable winds for most of the time. They had stood well clear of the land, even the approaches to the little whale-shaped islet, in case Muljadi or Le Chaumareys had thought fit to place another craft there to warn of any unwelcome sail.

The previous evening, just before sunset, they had sighted Herrick's schooner, a tiny dark sliver on the copper-edged horizon, seemingly motionless as she idled to await Undine's arrival at the arranged point of rendezvous. A brief dipping signal from a lantern before both vessels had lost each other again in darkness.

Bolitho shivered, feeling the cool, clammy air exploring his face and throat. The middle watch had only just run its course, and there was still an hour or so before any lightening of the sky could be expected. But overnight, while all hands had worked to prepare the ship for action, the clouds had gathered and thickened, brushing out the stars so that Undine seemed to be sailing remorselessly into a void.

He heard Mudge moving restlessly below the hammock nettings, rubbing his palms together to keep warm. The sailing master seemed unusually preoccupied. Perhaps his rheumatism was troubling him, or like Bolitho, he was thinking of Herrick, somewhere out there on Undine's larboard bow.

Bolitho straightened his back and looked up at the blacker outlines of yards and rigging. The ship was sailing under topsails and jibs, and with only the great forecourse hiding the sea ahead of the bowsprit. It was strange to feel so chilled, when within hours the sun would be back to torment them, to add to whatever else, lay in store.

He asked, `How is the wind, Mr. Mudge?'

Mudge was glad to break the silence. `Still sou'-west, sir. By an' large.' He coughed noisily. `Under most occasions I'd be grateful for that.'

`What are you thinking?'

`Not sure, sir.' Mudge moved away from the seamen waiting by the quarterdeck six-pounders. `It's too uneven for. my tastes.'

Bolitho turned to peer forward again. The big forecourse seemed to echo Mudge's doubts. Undine was steering almost due north, and with the wind coming across her quarter she should have been making easy-going of it. But she was not. The forecourse would billow and harden, making the stars and shrouds hum and vibrate, holding the ship firm for several minutes. Then it would flap and bang in disorder before falling almost limp against the foremast for another frustrating period.

Mudge added doubtfully, `You never knows in these waters. Not for sure.'

Bolitho looked at his untidy outline. If Mudge was worried, with all his experience, how much worse it would be for many of the others.

He called, `Mr. Davy! I am going forrard directly.' He saw the lieutenant's shape detach itself from the rail. `Tell Mr. Keen to keep me company.'

He slipped out of his tarpaulin coat and handed it to Allday. He had been so occupied with his own thoughts and doubts he had not fully realised how heavily these dragging hours must be affecting his company. He had ordered the ship to be prepared for action as soon as he was satisfied with the final leg of their course towards the Benua islands. Working in almost total darkness, the hands had completed the task almost as quickly as in broad daylight, so familiar had they become with their surroundings. Their home. It was a simple precaution. Sound travelled too easily at sea, and the clatter of screens being torn down, the scrape and squeak of nets being spread above the gun deck and chain slings being rigged to every yard seemed loud enough to wake the dead. But from then on they had nothing to do but wait. To fret on what daylight might bring, or take away.

Keen came out of the darkness, his shirt pale against a black six-pounder.

Bolitho asked, `How is the wound?' `Much better, thank you, sir.'

Bolitho smiled. He could almost feel the pain which was probably showing on Keen's face.

`Then take a stroll with me.'

Together they walked along the lee gangway, ducking below the taut nets which Shellabeer's men had rigged to catch falling cordage or worse, seeing the upturned faces of each gun crew, the restless shapes of the marine sentries at hatchways, or powder-monkeys huddled together while they waited to serve the silent cannon.

On to the forecastle, where the squat carronades pointed from either bow like tethered beasts, their crews shivering in the occasional dashes of spray.

Bolitho paused, one hand. gripping the nettings as Undine sidled unsteadily into a deep trough. Most of the seamen were stripped to the waist, their bodies shining faintly above the d rk water alongside.

`All ready, lads?'

He felt them crowd around him, their sudden interest at his arrival. Of necessity, the galley fire had been doused when the ship had gone to quarters. A hot drink now would be worth more than a dozen extra guns, he thought bitterly.

To Keen he said, `Pass the word to Mr. Davy with my compliments. A double tot of rum for all hands.' He heard the instant response around him, the murmur of appreciation as it flowed aft along the gun deck. `If the purser complains, tell him he'll have me to reckon with!’

'Thankee, sir! That was right thoughtful, sir!'

He strode to the ladder, turning away in case they could see his face through the darkness, or sense his mood. It was too easy to raise their spirits. So simple that it made him feel cheap, hypocritical. A double tot of rum. A few pence. Whereas within hours they might have given their lives, or their limbs.

Bolitho paced aft beside the main hatch, seeing Soames's great figure towering above that of Tapril, the gunner. He nodded to Fowlar nearby, and to the larboard crews of the twelve-pounders. All were his men, his responsibility.

He thought suddenly of Rear Admiral Sir John Winslade, all those weeks and months ago in his office at the Admiralty. He had needed a, frigate captain he could know and trust. One whose mind he could follow even though it was on the other side of the globe.

He thought, too, of the ragged soldiers below the Admiralty window, one blind, the other begging for the both of them.

All the brave schemes and plans, the lofty preparations for a new world. Yet when it was boiled down, nothing was changed. Undine and Argus were but two ships, and yet their presence and their needs made them no less important than opposing fleets.

And if Undine failed, what would they say in those fine residences in Whitehall and St. James's Square, and in the busy coffee houses where mere rumour grew into fact in minutes? Would they care that men had fought and died for them in the King's name?

Someone gave a hoarse cheer in the gloom, and he guessed the rum had arrived on deck.

He continued aft, hardly aware that he had stopped short in his tracks as his bitterness had given way to anger. How spacious the deck seemed without the boats lying one upon the other across their tier. All were now towing astern, awaiting the moment to be cast adrift, mute spectators of the battle which might come. Which had to come.

It was always a bad moment, he thought. Boats were frail things, but in battle they made an additional menace with their splinters flying like savage darts. Despite the danger, most men would wish them kept aboard. A link, a hope for survival if things went badly.

Keen came back panting hard. `All done, sir. Mr. Triphook was a trifle perturbed at the extra issue!' His teeth shone in the darkness. 'Wouldyou care for a glass, sir?'

Bolitho disliked rum. But he saw the seamen and marines watching him and exclaimed, `Indeed I would, Mr. Keen.'

He raised the glass to his mouth, the powerful stench of rum going straight to his empty stomach.

`To us, lads!'

He pictured Herrick and Puigserver aboard their floating

bomb. And to you, Thomas.

Then he was glad he had accepted the rum and added, `I can noww understand what makes our jacks so fearsome!' It brought more laughs, as he knew it would.

He glanced at the sky. Still without light, or sign of a star.

He said, `I'll go below.' He touched the midshipman's arm. `You remain here by the hatch. Call, if I am needed.'

Bolitho climbed down into the darkness, his feet less certain here. Anyone could call him when required, but he must spare Keen an unnecessary visit to the surgeon's domain. It might come soon enough. He recalled the great pulsating wound, Allday's gentleness as he had searched out that bloody splinter.

Another ladder. He paused, feeling the ship groaning around him. Different smellsabounded on this deck. Tar and oakum, and that of tightly compressed humanity, even though the tiny messes were now deserted. And from forward the reek of the great anchor cables, of bilge water and damp clothing. Of a living, working ship.

A feeble lantern showed him the rest of the way to Whitmarsh's crude surgery. The sea-chests lashed together where terrified wounded would be saved or driven to despair. Leather straps to jam between teeth, dressings to contain the pain.

The surgeon's great shadow swayed across the tilting deck. Bolitho watched him narrowly. There was a stronger smell of brandy in the damp air. To quench pain, or to prepare Whitmarsh for his own private hell, he was not certain.

`All well, Mr. Whitmarsh?'

`Aye, sir.'

The surgeon lurched against the chests and braced his knee to the nearest one. He waved one hand around his silent assistants, the loblolly boys, the men who would hold their

victims until the work was done. Brutalised by their trade. Without ears for the screams. Beyond pity.

`We are all awaiting whatyou send us, sir.'

Bolitho stared at him coldly. `Will you never learn?'

The surgeon nodded heavily. `I have learned well. Oh yes indeed, sir. As I have sawed away at a man's leg, or plugged carpenter's oakum into his empty eye-socket, with nothing to ease his torment but neat spirits, I have come closer to God than most!’

'If that be true, then I pray you get no closer.'

Bolitho nodded to the others and strode towards the ladder.

Whitmarsh called after him, `Perhaps I shall be greeting you, sir!'

Bolitho did not reply. The surgeon was obviously going completely mad. His obsession with his brother's horrible death, his drinking, and the very way he earned his living were taking their toll. But he had to hang on to what remained of that other man. The one who had spoken of suffering with compassion, of serving others less fortunate.

He thought again of Herrick, and prayed he would get his boat away when the schooner was set upon her final course to destruction. Strange companions he had, too. Puigserver, and the frightened sailmaker from Bristol, finding courage from somewhere to sail back to that place which had broken his mind and body.

`Captain, sir!'

He quickened his pace as Keen's voice came down the next ladder.

`What is it?'

But as he gripped the ladder and turned his face towards the sky's faint rectangle he knew the answer. Slow, heavy drops of rain were falling across the hatchway, like small pebbles dropped from the yards as they tapped on planking or bounced across the gangways.

He dragged himself up the last few steps and hurried aft to the quarterdeck. He was within a few feet of it when the clouds opened and the rain came down in a great roaring, deafening torrent.

He yelled above the deluge, `How is the wind now?'

Mudge was cringing by the binnacle, his hat awry in the fury of the downpour.

'Veerin', sir! Far as I can tell!'

Water hissed and gurgled down decks and scuppers, and the chilled gun crews pressed beneath the gangways and cowered behind the sealed ports to escape the torrential rain.

Bolitho felt Allday trying to throw the tarpaulin coat over his shoulders, but pushed him away. He was already soaked to the marrow, hair plastered over his forehead, his mind ringing to the din of rain and spray. Yet through it all he managed to keep contact with the ship and her affairs. The deck felt steady enough, despite the angry downpour, and above his head he managed to make out the maintopsail's shape flapping and shining wetly as the wind eased round still further.

He snapped, `Hands to the braces, Mr. Davy! We will be full and bye directly!' He heard the men groping and cursing as they lurched to obey the orders, the protesting squeak of swollen cordage being hauled through blocks while yards were trimmed to hold the ship on her larboard tack. He called, `Bring her up a point!'

Men slithered around the big double wheel, and he saw Carwithen punch one of the helmsmen as he bowed under the sheeting rain.

`Nor' by west, sir. Full an' bye she is!’

'Hold her so !’

Bolitho mopped his face with his sleeve:/The probing downpour helped to clear his aching mind, to make him accept what was happening. If the wind continued to veer, even if it stayed where it was, Herrick would be unable to place his schooner in position where he could destroy Muljadi's battery. The disastrous change of wind made the rain feel like tears. Tears for all their hopes, their pathetic determination, which minutes ago had made even the impossible seem undaunting.

He lurched to Mudge's side and shouted, `How far now, d'you reckon?'

`Four or five mile, no more, sir.' Mudge was staring at the rain with dismay. `This lot'll pass over quick enough. But then ...' He shrugged.

Bolitho looked away. He knew well enough. A rising wind was most likely once the sun appeared. A wind which would do no service to Herrick, and keep Le Chaumareys in the safety of his anchorage. Undine would be helpless. She would be made to stay offshore until the enemy's double strength was prepared and ready to fight on their terms. Or they could turn and run for Pendang Bay with nothing to offer but a final warning.

Davy shouted, `By God, life is hard!'

Mudge glared at him. `Life's a bloody rear-guard action, Mr. Davy, from the day you're born!'

Bolitho swung round to silence both of them and then saw that the master's mate's face was clearer than before. He could even see Carwithen scowling at the same luckless helmsman. The dawn was forcing itself to be taken notice of.

He felt the blood racing in his head as he snapped, `We will attack as before! Pass the word to all hands!'

Davy gaped at him. `Without destroying the battery, sir?'

`It might not have worked anyway.' He tried to sound calm. `The enemy will be listening to the rain and thanking God for being at anchor.' He added harshly, `Are you deaf, man? Tell Mr. Soames to prepare for loading, once the rain is passed!'

Davy nodded jerkily and hurried to the rail.

Captain Bellairs strode to Bolitho's side and remarked coolly, `Damn risky thing, sir, if you'll pardon my sayin' so.'

Bolitho felt his shoulders beginning to sag under the rain, the sudden spark deserting him.

`What wouldyou have me do?'

Bellairs turned up his collar and pouted, _`Oh,.I'_d fight, sir, - no choice in the matter, what? Pity though, all the same. Waste. Damn bloody waste.'

Bolitho nodded heavily. `No argument there.'

`Deck there! Land ho!'

Bolitho walked stiffly to the lee side, his shoes squeaking on the puddled deck. A darker blur, reaching out on either bow,

deceptively gentle in the feeble light.

A voice said, `Rain's goin'.' He sounded surprised.

As if to mark its passing, the dripping forecourse lifted and boomed dully to receive a fresher gust of wind. It made Bolitho shiver and grit his teeth.

`Tell Mr. Soames. Load, and prepare to run out when I pass the word.'

He looked around for Keen. `Run up the Colours, if you please.'

Another voice muttered, `No chance, mates. They'll do for the lot of us.'

Bolitho heard the halliards squeaking as the ensign dashed up to the peak and broke out to the wind, unseen as yet in the clinging darkness.

`As soon as it is light enough, Mr. Keen, have your party make a signal to the schooner. Discontinue the action. Mr. Herrick can stand off and retrieve our boats.'

Keen said, `Aye, aye, sir, I'll see to it when--'

He turned angrily as a voice murmured from the shadows, `Pick up our bloody corpses, more's the like!'

Keen shouted, `Keep silence there! Master-at-arms, take that man's name !'

Bolitho said quietly, `Easy. If it helps them to curse, then let it be so.'

Keen faced him, his fists doubled at his sides. `But it's not fair, sir. It's not your doing.'

Bolitho smiled gravely. `Thank you, Mr. Keen.'

He recalled with sudden clarity his lieutenant in his first command, the little sloop Sparrow. An American colonist, he had endured the worst of the war, serving his King, but fighting his own kind at the same time. What would he have replied? I ain't so sure. Bolitho could almost hear him, as if he was present at this very moment.

He turned quickly to starboard, seeing the glowing rim of sunlight as it probed above the bare horizon. Very soon now.

He discovered he was dreading the daylight, that which would lay them naked under the guns as they drove into the narrow channel where he had met Le Chaumareys.

Bolitho heard a step behind him and Aliday's voice. Firm, unruffled. `Better go below and get out of those wet things, Captain.'

He swung towards him, his voice cracking with strain. `Do you think I have nothing else to do?'

The coxswain regarded him stubbornly. `Not just yet, you haven't.' He added in the same flat tone, `You remember the Saintes, Captain?' He did not wait for an answer. `It was a bad time. All those Frogs, the sea abounding with their damned ships until it was nigh on bursting. I recalls it well. I was right forrard on one of the carronades. The lads were all quaking with fright at what was to come. Then I looked aft and saw you pacing the quarterdeck, like you were going to church instead of to hell.'

Bolitho stared at him, his mind suddenly steady. `I remember.'

Allday nodded slowly. `Aye. You wore your best uniform.' Bolitho looked past him, recalling another voice. His cox

swain who had died that day. They'll want to seeyou.

He replied quietly, `Very well. But if I'm called. ..' Allday gave a slow smile. `Immediately, Captain.'

Mudge said hoarsely, `That was fool advice, man! The

cap'n'll make a fine target for sharpshooters in 'is gold lace!' Allday eyed him angrily. `I know. He does, too. He also

knows we are depending on himtoday, andthatmeans seeinghim.' Mudge shook his head. `Mad. You're all mad!’

'Deck there! Schooner fine on th' weather bow!' Keen called, `Hoist the signal to recall her!'

Allday was standing with his arms folded, his eyes on the

spreading carpet of early light as it reached towards the islands. `Mr. Herrick won't see it.'

Davy glared at him. `It will be light enough very soon now.' `I know, sir.' Allday looked at him sadly. `But he'll not see it.

Not Mr. Herrick.'

Without furniture or fittings the cabin felt strangely hostile, like an empty house which mourns a lost master and awaits another. Bolitho stoodbythe shuttered stern windows, his arms limp at his sides, while Noddall clucked around him and patted the heavy dress coat into position. Like the boat cloak, it had been made by a good London tailor with some of his prize-money.

Through the wide gap left by the screens, which had now been bolted to the deckhead, he could see straight out along the gun deck, the shapes and restless figures still only shadows in the frail light. Even here, in the cabin where he had found peace in solitude, or had sat with Viola Raymond, or shared a pipe with Herrick, there was no escape. The chintz covers had gone from the twelve-pounders and had followed the furniture to a safer stowage below the waterline, and by the guns on either beam the crews stood awkwardly, like unfinished statuary, conscious of his presence, wanting to watch him as he completed dressing, yet still held apart by the rigidity of their calling.

Bolitho cocked his head to listen to the rudder as it growled and pounded in response to the helm. The wind was fresher, heeling the ship over and holding it so. He saw the nearest gun captain checking his firing lanyard and noted how his body was angled to the deck.

Noddall was muttering, `More like it, sir. Much more like it.' He said it fervently, as if repeating a prayer. 'Cap'n Stewart was always most particular, afore a fight.'

Bolitho wrenched his mind back from his doubts and misgivings. Stewart? Then he remembered. Undine's last captain. Had he felt the same, too, he wondered?

Feet stamped over the deck above, and he heard someone shouting.

He snapped, `That will have to suffice.'

He snatched up his hat and sword and then paused to pat Noddall's bony shoulder. He looked so small, with his hands held in front of him like paws, that he felt sudden compassion for him.

`Take care, Noddall. Stay down when the iron begins to fly. You're no fighting man, eh?'

He was shocked to see Noddall bobbing his head and tears running down his face.

In a small, broken voice he said, `Thankee, Cap'n!' He did not hide his gratitude. `I couldn't face another battle. An' I'd not want to let you down, sir.'

Bolitho pushed past and hurried to the ladder. He had always taken him for granted. The little man who fussed over his table and darned his shirts. Content in his own small world. It had never occurred to him that he was terrified each time the ship cleared for action.

He ran up the last steps and saw Davy and Keen with telescopes trained towards the bows.

`What is the matter?'

Davy turned, and then stared at him. He swallowed hard, his eyes still on Bolitho's gold-laced coat.

`Schooner has not acknowledged, sir!'

Bolitho looked from him to the streaming flags, now bright

against the dull topsails.

`Are you sure?'

Mudge growled, 'Yer cox'n seems to think she won't neither,

sir.'

Bolitho ignored him, his eyes exploring the spread of land across the bows. Still lost in deep shadow, with only an occasional lip of light to betray the dawn. But the schooner was clear enough. Indirect line with Undine's plunging jib-boom, her canvas looked almost white against the cliffs and ragged hills.

Herrick must have seen the recall. He would have been anticipating it as soon as the wind veered. He peered up at the masthead pendant. God, how the wind had gone round. It must be west-south-west.

He shouted, `Hands aloft, Mr. Davy! Get the t'gallants on her !'

He swung round, seeing them all. in those brief seconds. Mudge's doubts. Carwithen behind him, his lips compressed into a thin line. The helmsmen, the bare-backed gun crews, Keen with his signal party.

The calls shrilled, and shadows darted up the ratlines on either beam as the topmen hurried to set more canvas.

Davy shouted, `Maybe Mr. Herrick intends to go ahead with the plan, sir!'

Bolitho looked at Allday, saw the way he was watching the schooner.

He said quietly, `It would seem so, Mr. Davy.'

Under a heavier press of sail Undine thrust her shoulder into the creaming water with added urgency, the spray hurling itself above the forecastle and nettings in long spectres of foam. The hull shook and groaned to the pressure, and when he peered aloft Bolitho saw the upper yards bending forward to the wind. From the peak the ensign was clearly visible, like the marines' tunics as they stood in swaying lines by the hammock nettings, or knelt in the tops by their muskets and swivels. Like blood.

He heard himself say, `Repeat the signal, Mr. Keen!' He barely recognised his own voice.

Soames stood on the breech of a twelve-pounder, gripping the gangway with both hands as he stared towards the land.

Then he looked aft at Bolitho and gave a brief shrug. In his mind, Herrick was already dead.

Keen said huskily, `It will not work! The wind'll carry the schooner clear! At best she'll explode in the centre of the channel !'

Penn shrilled from the gun deck. `I heard a trumpet!'

Bolitho wiped his eyes, feeling the salt, raw and smarting. A trumpet. Some sentry on the fortress had left the protection of the wall to look seaward. He would see the schooner immediately, and Undine within the next few minutes.

The sea noises seemed louder than ever, with every piece of rigging and canvas banging and vibrating in chorus as the ship drove headlong towards the land, and the pale arrowhead which marked the entrance to the channel.

A dull bang echoed across the water, and a man yelled, `They've opened fire, sirl'

Bolitho reached out for a telescope, seeing the grim faces of the seamen by the nearest guns. Waiting, behind closed ports. Hoping. Dreading.

He trained the glass with difficulty, his legs well braced on the swaying, slippery planking. He saw the schooner's masts swim past the lens, the patch of scarlet which had not been there before. He felt himself smiling, although he wanted to weep, to plead unheard words across those two miles of tossing white-horses. Herrick had hoisted his own ensign. To him, the schooner was not merely a floating bomb, she was a ship, his ship. Or perhaps he was trying, with that one simple gesture, to explain to Bolitho, too. To show he understood.

Another bang, and this time he saw the smoke from the battery before it was whisked away. A feather of spray lifted well out beyond the schooner to mark where the massive ball had fallen.

He kept his glass on the schooner. He saw the way the deck was leaning over, showing the bilges above the leaping spray, and knew Herrick could not lash the tiller for the final, and most dangerous, part of the journey.

Davy yelled, `That ball was over, sir!'

Bolitho lowered the glass, Davy's words reaching through his anxiety. The fortress lookout must have sighted Undine and not Herrick's little schooner. And by the time Muljadi's men had realised what was happening, Herrick had tacked too close inshore for the gunners to depress their muzzles sufficiently to hit him.

He looked again as a double explosion shuddered across the water. He saw the flashes only briefly, but watched the twin waterspouts burst skyward directly in line with the schooner, but on the seaward side of her.

Captain Bellairs forgot his usual calm and gripped the sergeant's arm and shouted, `By God, Sar'nt Coaker, he's goin' to sail her aground himself!'

It took a few more seconds before the truth filtered the length and breadth of the frigate's decks.

Then, as the word moved gun by gun towards the bows, men stood and yelled like maniacs, waving their neckerchiefs, or capering on the sanded decks like children. From the tops and the forecastle others joined, and even Midshipman Armitage, who moments earlier had been gripping a belaying pin rack as if to stop himself from falling, waved his hat in the air and yelled, `Go on! You'll show them!'

Bolitho cleared his throat. `Ask the masthead. Can he see the frigates?'

He tried not to think of the schooner's crammed holds. The fuse, perhaps already hissing quietly in the peace of the lower hull.

`Aye, sir! He can see the yards of the first one around the point!' Even Davy was wild-eyed, indifferent to the fight still to come, overwhelmed by Herrick's sacrifice.

There was more cannon fire now, and he could see splashes all around the schooner's hull. Probably from the nearest anchored frigate, or some smaller pieces on the spit of land which guarded the entrance. Bolitho found he was gritting his jaw so hard it was hurting badly.

The French were at last aware that something was happening, but they would not have guessed the full extent of the danger.

There was a combined groan from the watching hands. Bolitho raised the glass and saw the schooner's maintopmast buckle and then plunge down in a flailing mass of canvas and rigging.

Half to himself he whispered, `Fall back, Thomas! In God's name, come about!'

Allday said, `She's hit again, Captain. Badly this time.'

Bolitho dragged his mind away, knowing he must not think of Herrick. Later. But in minutes those guns would be ranging on Undine as she made that last desperate dash into the channel.

He drew his sword and held it above his head.

`See yonder, lads!' He only vaguely saw their faces turn towards him. It was like looking through a mist. 'Mr. Herrick has shown us the way!'

`She's struck!' Davy was almost beside himself. `Hard and fast!'

The schooner had hit, lifted and then plunged firmly across the litter of broken rocks and stones. Exactly as they had pictured it. Had planned it with Conway's silver inkwells.

Even without a glass it was possible to see some small boats moving from the fortress's pier towards the stranded hull which now lay totally dismasted, the spray leaping over it like some old hulk. Occasional stabs of fire showed where marksmen were firing into the wreckage, and Bolitho prayed that the fuse was still alight, that Herrick would not be captured alive.

The explosion when it came was so sudden, so violent in colour and magnitude that it was hard to face, harder still to gauge. A solid wall of orange flame exploded from the rocks and spread out on either hand like huge fiery wings, engulfing the circling boats, searing away men and weapons and reducing them into ashes.

And then the sound came. When it reached the frigate it was with a steadily mounting roar which went on and on, until men stood clutching their ears, or staring stupefied at the miniature tidal wave which rolled past the frigate's hull, lifting it easily before dissipating itself astern in the last departing shadows.

Then it died away, as did the fires, leaving only tiny, glowing pinpricks of red and orange, like slow-matches, to show where gorse and brush still smouldered on the hillside.

Once again, the sea and wind, the sounds of tackle and canvas returned, and Bolitho heard men talking, almost whispering, as if they had just witnessed an act of God.

He said harshly, 'Brail up the forecourse, Mr. Davy!' He walked to the rail, each step like physical pain. `Mr. Shellabeer! Cast all but the quarter boat adrift!' He must keep talking. Get them moving again. Clear that dreadful pyre from his own brain.

He saw Soames watching him and shouted, `Load and run out, if you please!'

His words were almost lost in the flap and thunder of rebellious canvas as the big forecourse was brailed up to its yard. Like a curtain, he thought dully. Pulled away for the final scene. So that nothing should be missed.

He heard the port lids squeaking in unison, and then, as Soames barked his command, the gun crews threw themselves on their tackles, and with increasing haste the black muzzles rumbled towards the daylight, thrusting out above the creaming water on either beam.

Davy touched his hat. `All guns run out, sir!' He looked strained.

`Thank you.'

Bolitho kept his eyes on the dark hump astride the channel. No flashes from those great muzzles. It had worked. Even if the garrison managed to manhandle some of the guns from the far side of the fortress-it would be too late to fire on Undine as she surged into the drifting curtain of smoke.

He shaded his eyes and stared towards the spit of land, the dark lines which marked the masts and yards of the first anchored ship. Soon. Soon. He gripped the sword until his knuckles showed white. He could feel the hurt and the anger. The rising madness, which only revenge for Herrick would control.

And there was the sunlight, growing stronger every dragging minute. He climbed into the weather shrouds, heedless of the wind and leaping spray which dappled his coat like bright gems. Abeam he could see Undine's shadow reaching away across the broken water, his own blurred outline like part of the fabric itself.

He looked down at Mudge. `Get ready to alter course once we are past that spit!'

He waited while those at the braces took the strain, each man an individual now as the sunlight found his naked back, or a tattoo, or some extra long pigtail to mark a seasoned sailor. He jumped down to the deck, tugging at his neckcloth, as if it were strangling him.

`Marines, stand to !' Bellairs had drawn his elegant hanger and was watching while his men nestled their long muskets on the closely packed hammock nettings.

At every open port a gun captain crouched with his lanyard almost taut as he watched for the first sign of a target.

The spit of land reached out as if to touch the bilges as the ship swept inshore, her bow wave causing a ripple amongst some jagged rocks which Bolitho remembered from his other visit.

`Braces there!'

Mudge shouted, `Put the wheel to larboard! Lively now!'

Like a thoroughbred, Undine heeled round under pressure of canvas and rudder, the yards swinging together as she turned into the sunlight.

`Steer nor'-east by east!' Mudge heaved his ungainly bulk to assist the helmsmen. "Old 'er, you buggers!'

There were several muffled bangs, and a ball cracked through the foretopsail with the sound of a whiplash.

But Bolitho barely noticed it. He was staring at the anchored frigate, the scrambling activity along her yards and deck where her company prepared for sea.

Davy echoed his dismay. `She's not the Argus, sir!'

Bolitho nodded. It was the other frigate. The one which had been abandoned by her crew. He screwed up his eyes, trying to watch every movement, still attempting to accept what had happened.

Le Chaumareys had gone. By chance? Or had he once again proved his superiority, a cunning which had never been outmatched?

Almost savagely he lifted the old blade over his head and yelled, `Starboard battery! As you bear!' The sword caught the glare as it cut down. `Fire!'

The broadside roared and flashed along Undine's starboard side, gun by gun, each captain taking his aim while Soames strode past every recoiling breech, yelling and peering towards the enemy. Bolitho watched the smoke spouting from the ports and rolling towards the other ship which seemed suspended in the fog, her hull lying almost diagonally across the starboard bow.

Here and there a gun flashed out in reply, and he felt the deck planking jerk under his feet as at least one ball smashed into the side.

The quarterdeck gun crews were all shouting and cursing as

they, too, joined in the battle. The stocky six-pounders hurled themselves inboard on the tackles, the wild-eyed seamen sponging out and ramming home fresh charges within seconds.

Overhead, and splashing violently into the channel on either beam, came a fusilade of smaller shot, from fortress or frigate Bolitho neither knew nor cared. As he paced briskly athwart the deck by the quarterdeck rail he saw nothing but the other ship's raked masts, the patch of colour from the prancing beast of her flag, the rising pall of smoke as again and again Undine's broadside thundered into her.

Once he chilled as he saw some charred flotsam bobbing past the quarter, a headless corpse pirouetting in Undine's crisp bow wave, tendrils of scarlet moving around it like obscene weed.

Herrick had known the Argus had gone. He must have seen the anchorage long before anyone in Undine. He would never have faltered. Bolitho felt his eyes stinging again, the hatred boiling inside him as the quarterdeck guns cracked out, their sharp detonations making his mind cringe even as their crews scrambled with handspikes to edge their weapons round for another salvo.

Herrick would have accepted it. As he had in the past. It was what he had lived for.

Bolitho shouted aloud, heedless of Mudge and Davy nearby. `God damn them for their plans and their stupidity!'

Keen called, `They've cut their cable, sir!'

Bolitho ran to the nettings, feeling a musket ball punch into the deck by his feet. It was true, Muljadi's frigate was yawing sluggishly in wind and current, her stern swinging like a gate across Undine's path. Someone must have lost his nerve, or perhaps in the confusion of the exploding schooner and Undine's savage attack an order had been misunderstood.

He yelled, `We'll go alongside her! Stand by the tops'l halliards! Put the helm a'lee!'

As men dashed to the braces again, and topsails flapped and thundered wildly to their sudden freedom, Undine turned deliberately to larboard, her jib-boom sweeping round until it pointed to the distant pier and the litter of smouldering craft left by the explosion.

Soames bellowed, `Point! Ready!' He was peering, red-eyed, along his panting gun crews, his sword held out like a staff. `Drag that man away!' He ran forward to help pull a wounded seaman from a twelve-pounder. `Now!' His sword flashed down. 'Broadside!'

This time, the whole battery exploded in a single wall of flames, the long tongues darting into the smoke, making it rise and twist, as if it, too, was dying in agony.

Someone gave a hoarse cheer. `There goes th' bastard's fore!'

Bolitho ran to the gangway, marines and seamen pounding behind him.

High above the smoke the nimble topmen were already hurling their steel grapnels, jeering at one another as they raced even here to beat their opposite numbers on the other masts. Another cheer, as with a shuddering lurch Undine drove alongside the drifting frigate, her bowsprit rising above the poop. While the impetus carried them closer and closer together, the guns still bellowed, louder now as their fury matched across a bare thirty feet of tormented water.

`Boarders away!'

Bolitho waited, gripping the main shrouds, gauging the moment as Soames roared, `Cease firing! At 'em, lads! Cut the bastards down!'

Then he was across, clinging to the enemy's boarding nets, which had been rent in great holes by the broadsides. Muljadi's own plans must have been ready, for there seemed to be hundreds of men surging to meet the cheering, cursing rush of boarders.

Muskets and pistols, while from somewhere overhead a swivel banged out, the packed canister tearing across the enemy's quarterdeck, hurling wood splinters and bodies in all directions.

A bearded face loomed out of the smoke, and Bolitho slashed at it, holding to the nets to keep from falling outboard and being crushed between the hulls. The man shrieked and dropped from view. A marine thrust Bolitho aside, screaming like a madman as he pinned a man with his bayonet before wrenching out the blade and ramming the musket's butt into a wounded pirate who was trying to crawl out of the fight.

Allday ducked under a cutlass and caught his attacker off balance. He even pushed the man away with his left fist, giving himself room for a proper stroke with his own blade. It sounded like an axe on wood.

Bellairs was striding in the centre of a squad of marines, snapping unheard commands, his elegant hanger darting in and out like a silver tongue as he forced his way aft towards the enemy's quarterdeck.

Another wave of insane cheering, and Bolitho saw Soames leading his own boarding party up and over the frigate's main shrouds, muskets barking point-blank into the press below him, his sword crossing with that of a tall, lank-haired officer whom Bolitho remembered as Le Chaumareys' first lieutenant.

Soames slipped and sprawled across an upended cannon, and the Frenchman drew back his arm for the fatal thrust. But a marine was nearby, the musket ball taking away most of the lieutenant's skull and hurling him from the deck like a rag doll.

Bolitho realised that Allday was shaking him by the arm, trying to make him understand something.

He yelled, `The hold, Captain!' He jabbed at the wide hatchways with his cutlass. `The bastards have set her afire!'

Bolitho stared at it, his brain and mind reeling from the screams and cheers, the grate of steel, the madness of close action. The smoke was already thicker. Perhaps Allday was right, or maybe a burning wad from one of Undine's guns had found its way into the hull when Soames had sent his last broadside crashing home. Either way, both ships would be destroyed unless he acted, and at once.

He yelled, `Captain Bellairs ! Fall back!'

He saw Bellairs gaping at him, blood dripping unheeded from a gash on his forehead.

Then he, too, seemed to get a grip on his own lust of battle and shouted, `Sound the retreat!' He sought out his sergeant whose massive frame had somehow avoided both steel and musket ball. 'Coaker! Take that fool's name if he don't do as I ask!'

Coaker gripped a small marine drummer boy, but he was dead, his eyes glazed and unseeing as Coaker wrenched the trumpet from his hands and blew it with all his might.

It was almost harder to discontinue the battle thanto board the other frigate. Back and back, here and there a man' falling, or being hauled bodily across the gap between the hulls to avoid capture. The pirates had at last seen their own danger, and without the French lieutenant in command they seemed intent only on abandoning their ship as quickly as they could.

The first tongue of flame licked through a hatch, bringing a chorus of shrieks from the abandoned wounded, and within seconds the gratings and surrounding boat tier were well ablaze.

Bolitho gripped the ratlines and took a last look as his men threw themselves on to Undine's gangway. Forward, Shellabeer's men were already cutting the lashing which held the hulls together, and with the topsails once more braced round, and the helm over, Undine began to sidle clear, the wind holding the smoke and sparks away from her own canvas and vulnerable rigging.

Mudge panted, `What now, sir?'

Bolitho watched the frigate slipping past, a few crazed men still firing across the widening gap.

He shouted, `A final broadside, Mr. Soames!'

But it was already too late. A great sheet of flame burst upwards through the vessel's gun deck, setting the broken foremast and sails alight and leaping to the mainyards like part of a forest fire.

Bolitho heard himself reply, `Get the forecourse on her, and smartly with it. We'll not be able to beat back the way we came. That ship's magazine will go at any moment, so we will try the eastern channel.'

Mudge said, `May be too shallow, sir.' `Would you burn, Mr. Mudge?'

He strode to the taffrail to watch the frigate as the blaze engulfed the poop. An English ship. It were better this way, he thought vaguely.

He turned and added harshly, `Mr. Davy, I want a full report of damage.' He waited, seeing the wildness draining from his eyes. `And the bill for all this.'

Bolitho saw the yards edging round, the sails, pockmarked and blackened by the fight, hardening to the wind. The channel seemed wide enough. About a cable to starboard, more on the other side. He had managed worse.

`Boat in the water, sir!' Keen was standing in the shrouds with his telescope. `Just two men in it.'

Mudge called, `I'll 'old 'er steady, sir. We're steerin' almost nor'-east again, but I dunno-'

The rest of his words were lost as Keen yelled, `Sir! Sir!' He stared down at Bolitho, his face shining with disbelief.

Davy snapped, `Keep your head, Mr. Keen!'

But Keen did not seem to hear. `It's Mr. Herrick!'

Bolitho stared at him and then clambered up beside him. The boat was a wreck, and the scrawny figure who was now standing to wave a scrap of rag above his head, looked like a scarecrow. Lying in the bottom of the boat, half-covered with water, was Herrick.

As he held the telescope Bolitho could feel his hands shaking violently, and saw Herrick's face, ashen beneath a rough bandage. Then he saw his eyes open, imagined the other man shouting the news to him, his words as plain as if he could hear them himself.

He said, `Pass the word to the bosun. I want that boat grappled alongside.' He gripped the midshipman's wrist. `And tell him to be careful. There'll be no second chance.'

Allday had gone below for something. Now he was back, his eyes everywhere, until Bolitho said quietly, `The first lieutenant is coming aboard. Go forrard and bid him welcome for me, eh?'

As the frigate slipped past another shelving hump of land the sun came down to greet them, to warm their aching limbs, to hold the shock of battle at arm's length a while longer. A deep explosion came from the main channel, and more smoke spouted high above the nearest land to show the wind which awaited them in open water, and to sound the other vessel's final destruction.

Muljadi may or may not have been aboard, and the real fight was still ahead.

Bolitho heard shouts from forward, and then a cheer as some seamen clambered into the sinking boat to pluck Herrick and his companion back on board.

But whatever was waiting beyond the green humps of land, no matter how hopeless their gesture might be, they would be together.

18

In the King's Name

`Alter course two points.'

Bolitho tried to pace along the littered deck, but was unable to overcome his anxiety. It was an hour since they had edged into the eastern channel, under minimum canvas and with two leadsmen in the chains they had felt their way towards the sea.

An hour of answering demands and listening to reports. Ten killed, fifteen wounded, half of them seriously. Considering what they had done, it was a small enough bill, but as he watched the familiar bundles awaiting burial, or heard occasional cries from the main hatch, he found little comfort in it.

If only Allday would come on deck and tell him about Herrick. He had already questioned the surviving seaman. It had been the little man called Lincoln, the one with the permanent grin made by a grotesque scar.

Bolitho had watched him reliving it as he had stammered out his description, oblivious to his captain and officers crowding around him, and seemingly only half aware he was actually alive.

It had been much as Bolitho had imagined. Herrick had decided to destroy the battery, drive his schooner aground regardless of risk and the inevitability of death. At the last moment, with the fuse lit and the vessel being fired on from a hillside, Herrick had been struck by a falling block from the mainmast. The little seaman had said in a whisper, `Then up comes Mister Pigsliver, as cool as you please. Take to th' boat, he shouts. I've an old score to settle, though 'e didn't say wot 'e meant like. By then there was only three 'ands left. So me an' Jethro lowers Mr. 'Errick into the dory, but t'other bloke, the little sailmaker named Potter, 'e decides to stay with the Don.' He had given a great shudder. `So off we goes. Then the schooner blows up like the gates of 'ell, an' poor Jethro was lost overboard. I just kept paddlin', and prayin' that Mr. 'Errick would stir to 'is senses an' tell me wot to do.' He had paused, sobbing soundlessly. `Then I looks up, an' there she is, large as life, th' old Undine. I shakes Mr. 'Errick and calls to 'im, look alive, sir, the ship's a' comin' for us, an' 'e-well'e just looks at me an' says, an' wot did you expect?'

Bolitho had said quietly, `Thank you, Lincoln, I shall see you do not go unrewarded.'

The little man had added, `An' you'll not forget to mention a piece about Mister Pigsliver, sir? I-I mean, 'e may be a Don, sir, but, but. ..' Then he had broken down completely.

Now, as he moved restlessly past the six-pounders where the gun captains-knelt in the sunlight, checking their equipment, testing the tackles, their bodies stained with smoke and dried blood, Bolitho said to himself, `No, I will not forget.'

`Deck there!'

He looked up, his eyes smarting in the glare.

`Open water ahead, sir!'

Shoes scrapedby the cabin hatch and he swung round.

`Allday, where the devil have you been?'

But it was not Allday.

Bolitho strode across the deck and held out both hands. `Thomas 1' He gripped Herrick's hands in his, oblivious to the watching faces on every side. `IT don't know what to sayl'

Herrick smiled sadly. `I am the same, sir.'

`You should remain below until '

`Deck there! Ship to the east'rdt'

Herrick withdrew his hands and replied quietly, `I am the first lieutenant, sir.' He looked slowly around the quarterdeck, at the protruding splinters and the flapping edges of torn hammocks where musket balls had ripped home. `My place is here.'

Davy crossed the deck,and touched his hat. `Beat to quarters again, sir?'

`Yes.'

Davy looked at Herrick and smiled. `It seems you had no better luck in holding on to the schooner than I.' He added, `I am relieved you are here, and that's the truth.'

Herrick touched the fresh bandage on his head and winced. `If it had not been sworn otherwise, I would have said that Don Puigserver struck me down himself. He was that eager to finish what we had begun.'

He fell silent as the drums rattled out their tattoo and the lolling figures by guns and braces stirred themselves into life.

Bolitho was watching the last shoulder of land sliding away, the expanse of blue water and lively wavecrests growing and spreading to reveal an endless, dazzling horizon.

To larboard, her hull and spars black against the glare, lay the Argus. She appeared to be moving very slowly, her yards well braced to hold her on a converging tack.

Herrick muttered, `Four miles, I'd say.'

`About that.'

Bolitho studied the. other ship, unable to look away. She reminded him of a wild cat, the way she edged across the busy, white-capped waves. Stealthy, purposeful. Lethal.

He imagined he could hear the squeak of trucks as her smooth sides became barbed by gun muzzles. Le Chaumareys was taking his time. Waiting for Bolitho to make the first move.

He looked away at last, feeling the tension returning, but heavier than before. Perhaps Le Chaumareys had planned it this way, distrusting his ally Muljadi, guessing that Bolitho might bring off a stalemate, if not a victory, if he chose his own method of attack.

The Undine's company had fought hard. He looked searchingly at the shot holes and punctured sails, heard the hammers as Pryke, the portly carpenter, and his mates got busy on repairs in the lower hull, and knew it was asking much of them to fight yet again, and to win against this great, black-hulled veteran of the French navy.

Then he glanced at those nearest him. He needed every bit of skill and experience they possessed, not least their courage.

`Well, Mr. Mudge, what of the wind now?'

`It'll get up, sir.' Mudge took out his handkerchief and blew his great nose violently. `Might back a bit.' He gestured up at the masthead pendant. It was stiff, like a spear. `I'd suggest, beggin' yer pardon, sir, that you fights under topsails only.'

Bolitho turned to Herrick. `What do you say?'

Herrick was watching the other ship, his eyes like slits. `Get to grips, sir. He'll pound us to pieces with those long guns otherwise.'

The deck lifted across the first true roller, and spray drifted high above the nettings.

`Let's be about it then.' Bolitho licked his parched lips. `Get the forecourse off her.' He dropped his voice. `And have those corpses buried directly. It does no good to see where some of us will end this morning.'

Herrick watched him calmly. `I can think of better reasons for dying.' He glanced at the motionless seamen by the guns. `But no better place for it.'

Bolitho walked to the rail and watched the Argus for several minutes. Le Chaumareys had a good position. He had probably considered it very carefully. He was over there now, watching him, expecting him to act. To try and take the wind-gage, or to alter course and attempt to cross his stern and cripple him with one good broadside as he passed.

The French frigate dipped to the swell, showing her copper for several seconds. The wind was tight across her exposed side, but Le Chaumareys was holding back, keeping on Undine's larboard bow, barely making headway.

Bolitho bit his lip, his eyes running in the sun's fierce stare. His men would find it hard to shoot well into the blinding sunlight.

When he looked at the gun deck again he saw that corpses were gone.

Herrick came aft and said, `All done.'

He saw Bolitho's intent features and asked quietly, `Is something wrong, sir?'

`I think I am starting to understand Le Chaumareys." He could feel his heart beginning to pound again, the familiar chill at his neck and spine. `I think he wants us to have the windgage.'

`But, sir ...' Herrick's blue eyes darted to the Argus and back again. `Is the sun in our eyes of greater value to him?' Understanding spread across his round face. `It might well be. He can stand off and use his heavy artillery to better result.'

Bolitho turned, his eyes flashing. `Well, it's not to be, Mr. Herrick! Get the t'gallants on her directly!' He added, `I am sorry, Mr. Mudge, but if we lose the sticks out of her to your damned wind it may be better than losing them the other way!'

Herrick was already raising his speaking trumpet. `Hands aloft! Loose t'ga'n's'ls!'When he looked at Bolitho again there was little to show what he had so recently endured. `By God, sir, what we miss in weight we can show that bastard in agility today!'

Bolitho grinned at him, his lips painful. `Alter course two

points to starboard. We'll run for his bows.'

Allday folded his arms and watched Bolitho's shoulders, and then glanced up at the flag as it rippled in the freshening wind.

`And that is all the running you'll be doing, I'm thinking.'

`East nor'-east, sir!' Carwithen had one hand resting on the polished spokes as the helmsmen concentrated on the compass and the set of the sails overhead. `Steady as she goes!'

Mudge rubbed his hands on his coat. `She's movin' well, sir.'

Bolitho lowered his telescope and nodded thoughtfully. The extra power of the topgallants was laying Undine firmly in line across the other ship's path. Argus had not set any additional sail. Yet. He winced as the sunlight lanced down from the lens. Le Chaumareys still held the best position. He could alter course to lee'rd and present his broadside as Undine tried to pass him. Equally, he could allow her to cross his bows, and while she lost time in changing tack, he could take the windgage, sun's glare or not, and attack him from the other side.

Herrick said hoarsely, `He's holding the same course. He may have let her fall off a point, but there's nothing in it.' He breathed out slowly. `She makes a fair sight, God rot her!'

Bolitho smiled tightly. Argus had barely changed her bearing, but that was because Undine had altered course to starboard. She was much closer now, a bare two miles, so that he could see her red and yellow figurehead, the purposeful movement of figures about her sloping quarterdeck.

There was a sudden bang, and seconds later a thin waterspout rose lazily amongst the tossing wavecrests, slightly ahead of Undine's path, and half a cable short. Ranging shot, or merely to unnerve Undine's own gun crew. Another of Le Chaumareys' little ruses.

Herrick muttered fervently, `If I know the Frogs, he'll try and dismast us with chain-shot and langridge. Another prize for his bloody ally!P

'You don't know this Frenchman, Mr. Herrick.' Bolitho recalled Le Chaumareys' face when he had spoken of home, his France which he had been denied for so long. `My guess is he'll want a complete victory.'

The word made him feel uneasy. He could even picture Undine dismasted and wallowing amongst her own dead and dying before her final plunge. Like the one he himself had just destroyed. Like Nervion, and so many he had watched crumble and perish.

The stage was set. Two ships, with not even a seabird to watch their manoeuvres, their dedicated efforts to outwit each other.

`There, sir! He's setting his t'gallants!' Carwithen's voice jarred him from his thoughts.

Herrick exclaimed, `He intends to outreach us after all.'

Bolitho watched intently as the Argus's upper yards filled with freshly-set, bulging canvas. He could see the instant effect it had around her raked stem as she bit into the waves and thrust forward with sudden haste.

From his position behind the rail it looked to Bolitho as if the other ship's jib-boom was actually touching his own, although she was still over a mile away. Smoke wreathed above her hull, and he held his breath as the bright tongues of fire licked from her exposed ports.

The sea boiled and shot skywards as the heavy balls ploughed into the wind-ruffled water, or ricocheted away far abeam. One ball smashed hard down alongside, the shock transmitting itself to the very mastheads.

`Trying to rattle our wits!'

Herrick was grinning, but Bolitho saw the anxiety behind his eyes.

Le Chaumareys had not seemed the kind of man who wasted gestures on the wind. He was preparing his gun crews, showing them the range, probably telling them right now in his resonant voice exactly what he expected of them.

`By God, the devil's shortening sail again!'

Bolitho saw the topgallants vanishing along the Argus's yards, and leaned across the rail.

`Stand by, the larboard battery!'

Perhaps he had found Le Chaumareys' one real weakness. That he needed to win and to survive. Bolitho knew that the two did not always walk hand in hand.

`Alter course three points to larboard!'

He heard the rush of feet, the confused shouts as his orders were relayed to the waiting seamen.

Mudge asked, `Is that wise, sir?

Bolitho waited as the helm went down, and then turned to watch the bowsprit swinging slowly and then more quickly to larboard, the other frigate suddenly enmeshed in the criss-cross of rigging and shrouds.

`Hold her so!'

He waited impatiently while Herrick bellowed -through his-trumpet, and the hands on the braces hauled feverishly to retrim the yards.

'Nor'-east by north, sir!' The helmsman sounded breathless.

With the wind sweeping tightly across the larboard quarter, Undine swept straight down towards the other ship, as if to cut her in halves. More flashes darted from the Frenchman's side, and Bolitho clenched his fists as metal shrieked overhead, parting rigging, slapping through sails and hurling spray in profusion on either beam.

`Now we shall see!'

Bolitho craned forward, gripping the rail, his eyes stinging painfully in the hazy glare. Another rippling line of flashes, the sounds of the broadside rolling across the water like the thunder of mighty drums. He felt the hull stagger violently, and saw some of the seamen below the quarterdeck exchanging quick, desperate glances.

Argus was still holding her course and speed, lying across

Undine's path and growing in size with every agonising minute. More shots, and a savage jerk below his feet told Bolitho

Undine was being hit again. But Argus's broadsides were more

ragged now, and fewer balls were falling near their target. Herrick said fiercely, `He'll have to do something!'

Bolitho did not reply, but stared fixedly through his telescope at the cluster of figures on Argus's quarterdeck. He could see Le Chaumareys' powerful bulk, his small cropped head bobbing as he shouted commands to his subordinates. He would be missing his first lieutenant, Bolitho thought quickly. As he would have missed Herrick, but for their unlikely reunion.

He called, `The wind, Mr. Mudge?' He dared not look at him.

`Backed a point, sir! From the pendant, I'd say it was near sou'-westerly!'

Herrick shouted, 'Argus is standing away, sir!'

Somebody gave an isolated cheer, but Bolitho snapped, - 'Keep the people quiet!' He added quickly, `Stand by to alter course hard to larboard! I'll want her as close to the wind as you can lay her, Mr. Mudge!'

He watched, barely able to move, as Argus's yards edged round, her outline shortening as she stood off, making a triangle between the two converging ships. She loosed another slow broadside, and Bolitho heard a scream from aloft, then saw a marine fall headlong on to the nets, blood gushing from his mouth and splashing on the gun crew immediately below him.

Le Chaumareys had mistaken Bolitho's headlong charge as an act of empty bravery. He had waited for the right moment before swinging clear to present his full broadside, to cripple

Undine completely as she attempted to cross the bows.

Bolitho held up his hand, praying that those flashing guns would give him time to act.

`Larboard battery! Fire as you bear!'

Relieved, eager to hit back, the gun crews pounced on their weapons.

`Stand by!'

Davy watched as Soames hurried to the leading gun.

'Fire!'

Bolitho felt the hull quiver, and drew breath again as the smoke billowed away from the hull towards the enemy.

`Stand by to alter course!' He held Herrick's gaze. `No, we are not going to embrace him just yet!' He felt the insane grin on his lips. `We'll cross his stern. He has left the door open!'

A heavy ball smashed through the larboard bulwark, upending a twelve-pounder and painting the planking and gratings in bright, spreading scarlet.

Screams and curses were drowned as Soames bellowed, `Stop your vents! Sponge out!' He glared wildly through the smoke. `You, Manners ! Take that handspike and move yourself, damn you!'

The man in question was gaping at his legs which had been spattered with blood and fragments from the neighbouring crew.

Bolitho dropped his hand. `Now! Helm a'lee!'

To the mounting wind, and the sudden change of direction, Undine swayed over and down, the gun 'crews firing off another uneven salvo before Argus was plucked from their open ports.

Bolitho yelled, `Mr. Davy! Starboard battery!'

Men dashed from the still-smoking guns and threw themselves to assist the opposite side. Overhead, spars and blocks strained and bucked in protest, and more than one seaman fell headlong as the ship came thundering up close to the wind, her yards almost foreand aft.

The fore topgallant sail split suddenly and violently, the fragments like streamers in the wind, but Bolitho ignored it. He was watching Argus's black shape sliding out and away from the starboard bow while his own ship turned steeply towards her poop. Shots crashed into hull and rigging alike, and Bolitho watched sickened as two seamen were pulped into offal and broken weapons. against the opposite side.

Davy's voice was almost a scream. `Starboard battery! As you bear!'

The order to fire was lost in the first crash from the forward guns, followed instantly along the deck as the Argus loomed up and over the nettings like a black cliff.

`Sponge out! Reload! Run out!'

The crews had no trouble in running out, for the ship was heeling so steeply to the wind that each gun squealed down the . deck like an enraged hog on the rampage.

Bolitho cupped his hands. `Hold your fire!' He gestured to the men by the carronades on the forecastle. Several corpses lay near them, and he guessed Le Chaumareys' marksmen had realised his intention.

A musket ball clanged against a six-pounder, and one of the helmsmen fell kicking and spluttering, his chin shot away by the ricochet.

Bolitho shouted above the din, `Let her fall off a point, Mr. Mudge, you know what I expect today!'

Shadows danced across the decks as pieces of broken rigging, blocks, a musket and other fragments bounced on the nets above.

And here was the Argus, plunging heavily to starboard, trying to follow Undine round, but losing the chance as the English frigate swept across her stern.

'Fire !’

A carronade banged loudly, biting fragments from Argus's stern- and smashing her small quarter-gallery to fragments. Gun by gun the twelve-pounders followed its example, the balls slamming into the stern, or scything through the gaping windows to create death and confusion within.

Men were cheering, despite threats and blows from their petty officers, and above the great writhing wall of smoke Bolitho saw the French frigate's masts moving slowly away and beyond the starboard quarter. But it was no time to falter now.

`We will wear ship, Mr. Herrick! Lay her on the starboard tack!'

`Aye, sir!' Herrick wiped his streaming face. Above the stains on his cheeks and mouth his bandage shone in the filtered sunlight like a turban. `It's lively work today, sir!'

`Man the braces! Stand by to wear ship!'

A man screamed as he was dragged from a gun, bleeding badly. As Whitmarsh's mates lifted him he struggled and kicked to free himself, more terrified of what waited below than of dying on deck.

Sails thundering, and spilling wind from countless shotholes, Undine changed tack yet again, turning her bowsprit away from the islands and towards the sun.

The sea looked much wilder now, with short wavecrests crumbling to the wind, or throwing sheets of spray above the gangways with hardly a break.

Bolitho wiped his eyes and tried to restrain from coughing.

Like his eyes, his lungs were raw with powder smoke, the stench of battle. He watched the other ship as she swam above the leaping spindrift. Willingly or not, Le Chaumareys had the wind-gage, and his ship now stood off Undine's starboard bow, a bare cable's length away. If Undine continued to overhaul her, both ships would run parallel, a musket shot apart. Argus would get her revenge at such a murderous range.

He glanced quickly at Mudge. He, too, was watching the sea and the masthead pendant, but was it for the same reason?

But to ask him now, to show that he was in need of a miracle and had nothing to replace one, would take the fight out of his men no less than an instant defeat. He saw them at their guns, panting and gasping, tarred hands gripping tackles and rammers, sponges and handspikes. Their naked bodies were streaked with sweat which cut through the powder grime like the marks of a fine lash. Their eyes shone through their blackened faces as if trapped.

The marines were reloading their muskets, and Bellairs was strolling with his sergeant by the taffrail. At the helm another had taken the dead man's place, and Carwithen's coarse face was working on a plug of tobacco, his eyes cold, without expression. There were fewer men on the gun deck, although Bolitho had not seen many fall. Yet they had gone, had died or been maimed without a word from him to give reason for their sacrifice.

He reached out to steady himself as the deck tilted more steeply. When he peered over the riddled hammocks he saw the sea's face forming into short, steep ranks, ranging towards the two ships as if to push them away.

He yelled, `Mr. Davy! Are yon ready?'

Davy nodded dully. `Every gun loaded with chain-shot, sir!'

`Good.' Bolitho looked at Herrick. `I hope to God that the master knows his weather!' In a sharper tone he added, `Get the forecourse on her!'

With the great foresail set and drawing, Undine began to overhaul the other ship at a remarkable pace.

Bolitho flinched as more balls crashed alongside from Argus's stern-chasers, one of them hurling the quarter-boat into spinning pieces.

A last challenge. That was what it had to look like. Gun to gun. No quarter until Undine was a sinking wreck.

He said, `We will alter course when I give the word.'

He waited, aching in ever muscle, his mind jumping to each gunshot from the Frenchman's poop. Undine's jib-boom seemed to be prodding her larboard quarter like a lance. A few stabs of fire above her shattered stern showed where marksmen had taken fresh positions, and Bolitho saw two of his marines drop like red fruit from the foretop, their cries lost to the mounting wind.

Mudge said worriedly, `We may lose our sticks when we comes round, sir!'

Bolitho ignored him.

`Ready lads!'

He watched the sea rising and breaking against Argus's opposite quarter, the mounting pressure against her yards.

`Now!'

He gripped the rail as the helm went over and the bows started to pull towards the-enemy. He saw Argus trimming her yards, the hull tilting steeply as she followed Undine's turn.

Sunlight flashed on her quarterdeck, and then her side exploded in a line, of great flashes, the air rent apart with the savagery of her broadside.

Bolitho almost fell as the massive weight of iron crashed into the hull or screamed and tore through the rigging overhead. He was choked by swirling smoke, his mind reeling from the combined noises of screams and yells, of musket fire from all angles.

Somehow he dragged himself up the angled deck and peered towards the Argus. Smoke was drifting from her last broadside so fast that Undine seemed to be moving abeam to meet her. The illusion told him Mudge had been right, and as he watched Argus's sails bellying out towards him, he also saw her gunports awash as the wind thrust her over. Thank God for the

wind.

`Fire!' He had to repeat the order to make himself heard.

`Fire!'

Undine's disengaged gunports were also awash, and her runout battery was pointing almost towards the sky as each captain jerked his lanyard.

Even above the roar of cannon fire and the wail of the wind Bolitho heard the chain-shot whimpering through the air and ripping into Argus's fully exposed topsails and braced yards. He heard, too, the immediate clatter of severed rigging, the louder explosions of bursting stays and shrouds as foremast and maintopmast swayed together like great trees before booming and splintering into the smoke.

Bolitho waved his sword above his head. `Hold her steady, Mr. Mudge! She'll be alongside directly!'

He ran to the gangway, and then stopped dead as the wind sucked the smoke downwind and away from the two drifting hulls. Dead and wounded lay everywhere, and as the marines ran to their places for boarding Bolitho saw Shellabeer mangled beneath a gun, and Pryke, the carpenter, pinned across a hatch coaming by a broken length of gangway, his blood linking with all the rest around him. And Fowlar, could that thing really be him?

But there was no more time to regret or to think. Argus was here, alongside, and as Soames led his men across the bows Bolitho shook his sword and yelled hoarsely, `Over you go, lads!'

The French seamen were struggling to free themselves from the great tangle of spars and rigging, the broken cordage lying in heaps like giant serpents.

But the steel was ready enough. Bolitho crossed swords with a petty officer and then slipped in some blood, the breath driven from his body as the Frenchman pitched headlong across him. He felt the man jerk and kick, saw the awful agony in his eyes as Carwithen pulled him away, a boarding axe locked into his collar bone.

On every hand men were fighting and yelling, the pikes and bayonets waving above the more desperate work of sword and cutlass.

Davy was heading for the quarterdeck ladder, shouting to the men at his back, when a rally of French seamen left him momentarily isolated and alone. Bolitho watched his contorted face above the thrusting shoulders, saw his mouth shaping unheard screams as they cut him down, their weapons not still even after he had dropped from sight.

Midshipman Armitage stood shaking on the gangway, his skin like chalk as he shouted, `Follow me!' Then he, too, was dead, pushed aside and trodden underfoot as the two opposing groups surged together again.

Bolitho saw it all as he fought his way aft towards the main quarterdeck ladder. Saw it, and recorded it in his mind. But without sequence, like a nightmare. As if he were a mere onlooker.

He reached the ladder and saw the French lieutenant facing him, the one named Maurin, who had an English wife. The rest seemed to fade into a swirling, embattled fog as the two swords reached out and circled each other.

Bolitho said harshly, `Strike, Maurin! You have done enough l'

The Frenchman shook his head. `It is not possible, m'sieu!'

Then he lunged forward, taking Bolitho's sword on the hilt, and deftly turning it towards the sea. Bolitho let himself fall back to the next step, seeing the desperation on Maurin's face, knowing, without understanding why, that this man alone stood between victory and senseless slaughter.

'Le Chaumareys is deadl' Bolitho tested the next step with his left foot. `Am I not right?' He had to shout at the top of his voice as more of Undine's men burst yelling on to the gun deck and attacked the French crew from behind. They must have climbed through the shattered stern, Bolitho realised dully. Again it was more of a reaction than anything. He added coldly, `So for God's sake strike!'

Maurin hesitated, the uncertainty plain on his face, and then made up his mind. He sidestepped and raised his hilt almost level with his eyes before lunging towards Bolitho's chest.

Bolitho watched him with something like despair. Maurin had been too long in the one ship, had forgotten the need for change. It was easy. Too sickeningly easy.

Bolitho took his weight on his foot, parried the blade as it darted towards him, and struck. The lieutenant's weight was more than enough, and Bolitho almost had the sword wrenched from his grip as Maurin fell gasping to the deck below.

A pigtailed seaman raised his boarding pike, but Bolitho shouted, `Touch him, and I'll kill you myself!'

He saw Herrick walking between the French seamen who were throwing their weapons on to the bloodied deck, the fight over. Their strength going at the sight of Maurin's last gesture.

He thrust the sword into its scabbard and walked heavily up the last few steps. He knew Allday was behind him, and Herrick took his place at his side as together they stood in silence looking at Le Chaumareys' body where it lay beside the abandoned wheel. He looked strangely peaceful, and amidst so much carnage and horror, almost unmarked. There was a dark stain below his shoulder, and a small trickle of blood from a corner of his mouth. Probably one of Bellairs' sharpshooters, Bolitho thought vaguely.

Bolitho said quietly, `Well, we did meet, Captain. Just as you said we would.'

Lieutenant Soames knelt to unfasten Le Chaumareys' sword, but Bolitho said, `Leave it. His was a bad cause, but he fought with honour.' He turned away, suddenly sick of the watching dead, their pathetic stillness. `And cover him with his flag. His proper flag. He was no pirate!'

He saw Davy's body being carried to the gangway, and added, `A moment longer and he would have seen Argus taken. Enough prize-money even for his debts perhaps.'

As they climbed across the trapped water between the drifting hulls Bolitho turned, startled, as some of the seamen gathered to cheer him. He looked at Herrick, but he shrugged and gave a sad smile.

`I know how you feel, sir, but they are glad to be alive. It is their way of thanking you.'

Bolitho touched his arm. `Survival? I suppose it is a fair cause for battle.' He forced a smile. `And for winning.'

Herrick picked up his hat and handed it to him. `I'll set the people to work, sir. The pumps sound too busy for my liking.'

Bolitho nodded and walked slowly towards the stern, his shoes catching at splinters and broken cordage. By the taffrail he paused and looked wearily along his command, at the broken planking and stained decks, the figures which were picking their way amidst the debris, more like survivors than victors.

Then he leaned back and loosened his neckcloth, and shook open his best dress coat which was torn and slashed in a dozen places.

Above his head the flag was flapping more easily, the sudden squall having passed on as quickly as it had arrived to save them from Argus's great guns. But for it ...

He looked round, suddenly anxious, but saw Mudge in his place near the helm, cutting at a piece of cheese with a small knife which he had fished from one of his pockets. He looked very old in the dusty sunlight. Little Penn was squatting on a gun truck, having his wrist bandaged, and dabbing at his nose which had started to bleed when a charge had exploded prematurely nearby.

Bolitho watched them with something like love. Mudge and Penn. Age and innocence.

There was Keen, speaking with Soames, and looking very strained. But a man now.

Feet crunched on the debris, and he saw Noddall approaching him cautiously, a jug of wine clasped against his chest.

`I am afraid I can't yet find the glasses, sir.' He kept his eyes fixed on Bolitho's face, and had probably had them shut as he had groped past some of the horror below.

Bolitho held the jug to his lips and said, `But this is some of my best wine.'

Noddall dabbed his eyes and smiled nervously. `Aye, sir. All of it. The rest was destroyed by the battle.'

Bolitho let the wine fill his mouth, savouring it. Needing it. They had come a long way since that shop in St. James's Street, he thought.

And in a few weeks they would be ready again. The missing faces would still be remembered, but without the pain which even now was getting stronger. Terror would emerge as bravado, and courage be recalled as duty. He smiled bitterly, remembering the words from so long ago. In the King's name.

He heard Penn say in his squeaky voice, `I was a bit frightened, Mr. Mudge.' An awkward pause. `Just a bit.'

Old Mudge looked across the deck and held Bolitho's gaze. `Frightened, boy? Gawd, 'e'll never make a cap'n, will 'e, sir?'

Bolitho smiled, sharing the moment with Mudge alone. For he knew, better than most, that the truth of battle was not for children.

Then he looked along his command again, at the gleaming shoulder of the proud figurehead below the bowsprit.

Undine was the real victor, he thought, and he was suddenly grateful to have her to himself.

Epilogue

Lieutenant Thomas Herrick stepped into the stern cabin and tucked his hat beneath his arm.

`You sent for me, sir?

Bolitho was standing by the open windows, his hands on a sill, watching the weed on the sea-bed and tiny, bright fish darting around the motionless rudder.

It was afternoon, and along the shoreline of Pendang Bay the trees and green fronds waved and shone in a dozen hues to a steady breeze. Good sailing weather, he thought absently, but not for Undiae. Not just yet.

He turned and gestured to a chair. `Sit down, Thomas.' He saw Herrick's gaze resting on the opened despatches

which had been brought aboard that day. A brig from Madras.

Orders and news.

`Another Indiaman will be arriving shortly, Thomas. This despatch is from the Admiral Commanding the Inshore Squadron. He is sending fresh hands to replace some of those we lost in battle.'

How easily said. Lost in battle. He glanced slowly around the cabin, knowing that Herrick was watching him, sharing his memories.

There was little to show of the mauling the ship had suffered under Le Chaumareys' guns. Fresh paint covered the repaired timbers, and the smell of tar and wood-shavings lingered throughout the hull. A month and two days since they had gone alongside Argus, but despite the back-breaking work, and the rewards of seeing the ship looking her old self again, the pictures of the fight hung in Bolitho's mind as if it were yesterday.

And how they had worked. Perhaps, like himself, the rest of the company had needed it, if only to hold the memories at bay a little longer.

Small moments stood out when you least expected them.

Midshipman Penn crouching down as a gun recoiled inboard, wreathed in smoke, while its crew dashed forward again with sponge and rammer. A man had been hurled to the deck in a wave of flying splinters. Had lain there staring unwinkingly at jthe sky. Penn had reached out to touch him and had tried to ump away as the man had reached out to seize his wrist. He must have died at that very instant. Bolitho did not remember seeing the incident at the time, but it had lurked in wait within his mind. And Armitage leading his squad of boarders after Davy had fallen under those plunging blades. The clumsy, awkward midshipman, blind with terror, yet gathering his few reserves of strength only to find they were not enough.

And after the battle, the smells and the sounds, not least the surgeon fighting-drunk and being dragged bodily to his sickbay by three of his men.

When the wild cheering had given way to the realisation of victory, they had faced up to their own immediate situation. Wounded to be tended, the dead to be buried, and the work begun without delay.

Looking back, it was surprising they had reached Pendang Bay at all, Bolitho thought. Fore and main lower yards badly sprung, the mainmast itself so splintered and pitted that it was only quick work on stays and rigging which kept it upright, the tasks had seemed unending. More than a dozen holes below the waterline had kept the hands working at the pumps through every watch, as with the battered Argus in tow they had crawled painfully towards the land and safety. The captured frigate had already sailed under jury-rig for a yard in India where she would be quickly refitted and included in the Company's own private fleet.

Herrick asked, `Any further instructions, sir?'

Bolitho reached for a bottle of wine. `It is confirmed that Pendang Bay will be exchanged for another station now held by the Dutch East India Company.' He looked up, seeing the astonishment in Herrick's eyes. `Now that we have established the settlement, the Dutch are more than willing to make the exchange, apparently.'

He recalled with sudden clarity Rear Admiral Conway's face when the first despatch had been opened. Brought from Madras by Raymond himself.

He had said hoarsely, `So it was all for nothing?'

Raymond had looked away. `No, sir. The other settlement in the north is far more suitable to our requirements. Sir Montagu Strang has explained. You will see that your part in all this is highly thought of.'

Later, when Raymond had left the room, Conway had said,

`Highly thought of. But a new governor will be appointed.' Bolitho, had replied, `I am sorry, sir. It is a bitter victory.' `Bitter?' Surprisingly, he had laughed. `This sort of work is

more for shopkeepers than sailors, Bolitho. Remember that well.' He pushed a goblet across the table and realised that Herrick

was still awaiting an answer.

`Once our replacements have been signed on, we will maintain a local patrol until ordered otherwise.' He smiled gravely. `I am temporarily the senior officer in these waters. Not too surprising, since Undine is the only King's ship!'

Herrick grinned. `And well earned, sir. When I realised how you had put yourself inside the French captain's mind, I '

Bolitho looked away. `If the wind had dropped, Thomas, you might think differently.'

`Lady Luck, sir?' The grin was broader.

There was a tap at the door and Penn stepped into the cabin. `Mr. Davy's respects, sir. The Indiaman has just weighed. He said you wished to be told, sir.'

`Thank you.'

Bolitho waited for the door to close, his heart suddenly heavy. Even Penn had not helped. Keen now stood above as acting lieutenant, and Soames had replaced Davy. The same story. One dies, another profits.

Herrick said quietly, `The Indiaman's sailing for Madras, sir. Our wounded will get better treatment there.'

Bolitho picked up his hat. `We'll see her off.'

The sun across the quarterdeck was harsh enough, but in the steady offshore wind felt less severe as with Herrick he stood by the nettings to watch the deep-hulled Indiaman spreading her topsails, her paintwork and company flag very bright against the land.

Bolitho looked along Undine's deck and saw the hands pausing in their work to watch the big ship as she tilted to the pressure, her hull shining while she continued to tack clear of the anchorage. Thinking of home perhaps, where the Indiaman would eventually make her landfall. Or of old friends lying bandaged within her fat hull, and of the others who were not here to see anything at all.

Bolitho beckoned to Penn. `Your glass, if you please.'

Only once had he been able to see Viola Raymond alone since Undine's return. Because of Raymond, or because she understood better than he that it was pointless to add to the pain of parting, Bolitho was still not certain.

`A fine ship, sir.' Herrick, too, had a glass. `To think my old father wished me to go to sea in an Indiaman. Things would have been very different, I suppose.'

Bolitho tensed,-seeing the pale green gown -on the ornate poop, that same wide hat she had brought from Santa Cruz. He could hear her words to him, as -if she had just spoken across the broad expanse of lively white-horses in the bay.

`If you come to London, please visit me. My husband has gained his promotion. What he wanted. What I thought -I wanted, too.' She had squeezed his hand. `I hope you got what you wanted from me?'

A gun boomed dully from the settlement, and another from the Indiaman's forecastle. Flags dipped in mutual respect.

Bolitho felt the ache returning. She was right. There must be no pain, only understanding. Peace, as after a great gale of wind. Something which they had seized, if only for a moment.

He thought of Raymond, going to a better appointment, while Conway returned to obscurity. It was impossible to fathom.

While he was much as before, except for that one moment. Or was he? By trying to mould him as she would have wished her husband, perhaps she had indeed changed him.

Penn called, `Signal, sir! From Wessex to Undine.' He was straining his eye to a telescope to watch the flags breaking from the Indiaman's yards as she laboriously spelled out her

message. `Good luck go with you.'

`Acknowledge.'

Bolitho kept his eye on the pale green figure. She was waving her hat slowly back and forth, her autumn hair blowing unrestricted to the wind.

Half to himself he said, `And with you, my love.'

Some of the seamen were cheering and waving as the other vessel spread more canvas and heeled ponderously on a new tack.

Bolitho handed the telescope to a ship's boy and said, `Well, Mr. Herrick?'

Herrick watched him and then nodded. `Aye, sir. A glass of wine. I think we deserve it.'

Bolitho held on to the mood, keeping his eyes away from the Indiaman as she stood purposefully towards the headland. `At least we have earned it.'

Allday watched them pass, seeing Bolitho's hand touch his side-pocket where he carried his watch. Just a brief gesture, but it told Aliday a great deal. He walked to the nettings and stared after the departing Indiaman.

Sail away, my lady. You have left your mark, and for the better. But a closer embrace? He sighed. Neither of them would have weathered it.

Keen joined him by the bulwark.

`She makes a goodly sight, eh, Allday?

Allday looked at him. `Aye, sir.' You don't know the half of it. `But a bit too good for a poor sailorman, sir.'

Keen walked away and began to pace the quarterdeck as he had watched Bolitho do a hundred times or more. He knew Allday was laughing at him, but did not care. He had been tested, and he had won through. That was more than he had dared to hope, and it was more than enough.

He paused by the skylight, hearing Bolitho's laugh and Herrick's quiet rejoinder.

And he had shared all of it with them.

When he looked again for the Indiaman she had slipped past the headland and gone from view.

He started to pace the deck once more. Acting-Lieutenant Valentine Keen, of His- Majesty's frigate Undine, was content.

End