He peered over the gunwale, watching the swirl of the current, testing the wind against his face.
He seemed satisfied. `Easy all!'
The oars rose dripping from the water and stayed motionless, the cutter moving, steadily ahead in complete silence.
Bolitho saw the anchored brig for the first time. Swinging stern-on, her gilded cabin windows showing more brightly than the lower hull as she pivoted very slowly away from the land.
He could just make out her two masts and furled sails, the blacker angles of her shrouds, before they too merged with the night.
Bolitho tried to put himself in the place of those aboard. They had fought and captured the barquentine, robbed her holds and killed her crew. At the sight of a large man-of-war they had sheered off and come back here to count their gains. Gorgon's appearance offshore would have caused a lot of speculation, but under the guns of the old fortress they would have felt secure enough. The fortress had been here for a few hundred years, the captain had said. It had changed hands several times by treaty, or because of a trading agreement, but had never
been taken by force. Just a few men at those carefully sited guns, some heated shot, and the rest was easy. Even if Captain Conway had commanded several small, agile ships, and ten times as many men, the fortress would still have held the key to victory. And in time of peace it was doubtful if either the Admiralty or the men of Parliament would be prepared to condone a full-scale siege on this tiny pinprick of Africa, with all the losses entailed. Equally, they would expect Captain Conway to do something. To recapture the brig for a beginning.
A shaft of silver ran up the brig's foremast shrouds, and Hope snapped, `The anchor watch in the bows! Checking the cable!'
The lantern's beam died away just as quickly.
The drift of the current was taking the cutter crabwise towards the brig's counter. Hope must have realized there was no more time left. He said quietly, `Boat your oars! Stand by, bowman!'
The oars rumbled across the thwarts, but Bolitho knew from experience that the noise which seemed deafening on the cool breeze would be nothing to a man up on the brig's forecastle.
Eden whispered, `What's Mr T-Tregorren going to do?'
Bolitho could feel his spine chilling under the tension. He heard Hope drawing his sword very carefully from its scabbard, crouching to peer up at the brig's poop as it rose steadily above the boat.
He replied, `Once we have boarded her, he will attack from the bows, cut the cable and -'
Hope snapped, `Ready, lads!'
There was a sudden explosion which seemed to come from far out to sea. A dull red glow spread and glittered on the water, making each part of the swell shine like silk. Another explosion, and still another.
Hope exclaimed, 'Dewar's marines have started already !'
He staggered and all but fell as the cutter ground into the brig's quarter and the bowman hurled his grapnel up and over the rail.
`At 'em, lads!' Hope's voice, after the stealth and the suspense, was like a thunderclap. `Come on!'
Scrambling and yelling like madmen they swarmed up the side and open gunports in a solid mass of bodies. Someone encountered a loosely rigged boarding net, but even as voices shouted with alarm from below the net was severed, and with Hope and his coxswain in the lead they swept on to the unfamiliar deck.
It was like a scene from an inferno. The British seamen charging across the deck, their faces and wild eyes revealed in the reflected red flashes and the exploding charges at the end of the island.
Two figures ran from the forecastle and a pistol cracked out from a companion-way. A seaman fell sobbing, another jabbed down one of the running figures with his cutlass and hacked him across the neck as he fell for good measure.
More shots now, the balls slamming into the planking or hissing away over the sea. The brig's crew were crowding through the two main hatches, and a ragged volley of pistol and musket fire cut down several of Hope's men.
The lieutenant yelled, `Bring the swivel from the cutter!'
He caught a man who was hurled aside by a musket ball and lowered him roughly to the deck, adding between gasps, `Where is that bloody Tregorren?'
The forepart of the brig now seemed full of men, pale and crouching. Darting between familiar objects to take cover and fire on the retreating boarding party.
Hope said desperately, `If we can't get to grips, we're done for!'
With a pistol in his left hand, his curved hanger in the other, he shouted, `Close quarters, lads!' Then he charged along the deck and threw himself amongst the nearest marksmen. Shouts of surprise gave way to screams and yells as Hope fired his pistol into a man's chest and slashed another with his hanger. Cursing and cheering the remaining boarders followed him, striking out at anything which moved.
Bolitho fired both of Marrack's pistols into the crowd and thrust them into his belt. He drew his own hanger and parried away a pike which plunged towards him like a spear.
Despite all the danger and terror he found he was able to remember his first boarding attack. A lieutenant had taken away his midshipman's dirk and had said scornfully, `That's only fit for playing games. You need a man's weapon for this kind of work!' He thought of Grenfell's dirk hanging in the Gorgon. He had left his behind, too.
A face loomed above him, the man screaming like
a fiend, although in what language Bolitho could not tell. He felt a violent blow on the side of his head and saw the man's arm going up, his sword pale against the black sky.
Bolitho twisted his body round and struck upwards with the hanger. He felt the pain of the blow lance up his arm, saw the man and sword fall into the gasping, struggling figures as if swallowed up.
He heard a shrill cry and saw Eden groping on the deck, while above him a figure swung a musket like a club.
A pistol exploded, revealing the man's glaring eyes, his fierce concentration giving way to a distorted mask of agony as a pistol ball flung him down.
Bolitho dragged Eden to his feet, hacking out at a running figure, but feeling the blade slice through the air.
Hope shouted, `Swivel gun!' He gestured to the little rail across the poop. `Lively there! Fall back!'
They needed no bidding. Parrying and slashing, dragging the wounded as best they could, the survivors fought their way aft to the poop.
Hope bellowed, `Down, lads!' He thrust at a charging man with his hanger even as the coxswain put a match to the swivel gun which he had mounted on the rail.
The man cut down by Hope's sword must have been carrying a loaded pistol, for as the swivel let out a savage bang and sent a packed charge of canister shot into the advancing shadows the pistol hit the deck and fired even though its owner was dead. The ball struck the lieutenant in the shoulder and he fell beside the smoking swivel without a sound.
As their ears recovered from the swivel's vicious detonation Bolitho heard the cries and screams of men caught in the deadly canister. No wonder old seamen called a swivel `the daisy-cutter'.
Then from right forward in the beakhead he heard the familiar harsh tones of Lieutenant Tregorren, the sudden rush of feet and the cheers of the other boat's crew.
It was more than enough for the brig's company. Sharks or not, they were leaping overboard, ignoring the yells and curses of their comrades who were too badly hurt to follow.
Tregorren strode aft, pausing merely to bring a belaying pin down on the skull of someone trying to climb on to the main chains.
He peered at the men by the rail. `Take care of Mr Hope!' The belaying pin pointed and gestured like an obscene fist. `Two men on the wheel! Mr Dancer, pass the word to cut the cable!' He rocked back on his heels, his eyes searching amongst the rigging. `Hands aloft and loose tops'ls ! Come along, jump about, my children, if you don't want to run ashore V
Bolitho knelt beside the wounded lieutenant, feeling his pain, his strength ebbing away.
He said, `That was a brave thing you did, sir.'
Hope said between
his teeth, `Nothing else I could do.' He tried to pat Bolitho's arm. `You'll know what I mean one day.'
Tregorren towered above them. `Mr Eden ! Take
charge of this officer!' He faced Bolitho. `So you're still with us, eh?' He shrugged. `Well, get aloft and chase those laggards!'
The brig was already heeling in the offshore breeze, her hastily released topsails flapping and cracking like musket fire as she tilted free of her severed cable.
`Put up your helm!'
Several shots whimpered overhead, fired by whom, nobody knew.
`Loose the heads'ls !' Tregorren seemed everywhere. `Lay her on the starboard tack!'
Bolitho clung to the shrouds and stared abeam where a fire was still burning fiercely to show where the marines had created a diversion.
Tiny lanterns moved this way and that, and he realized they were on the other vessel, which had already changed her bearing considerably.
After the long pull around the headland, the apprehension and fear, the actual cutting-out had taken less than twenty minutes. It seemed incredible, and as he paused to think of the nearness of death he felt the sweat like ice-rime on his spine.
He slid down a backstay and found Tregorren bellowing orders down the after companion.
Dancer ran across the deck and said, `God, I was worried for you ! I thought we were never going to engage!'
He turned as a man yelled, `Sir! There's a whole lot of British seamen battened down 'ere!'
Tregorren snapped, `See to them! No doubt they are some of the brig's own company.' He caught the man's arm. `But prisoners, sick or bloody well dying, I want 'em up here on deck!'
He lowered his face to the compass box. `Hold her steady, quartermaster. As close to the wind as you can. I want no mauling from that battery!'
`Aye, aye, sir.' The men at the wheel eased the spokes deftly. `Full an' bye, sir! West by south!'
Bolitho watched the figures emerging from the main hatch. Even in the darkness he could sense their disbelief as they were helped and pushed on to the open deck.
One man lurched aft and touched his forehead. 'Starkie, sir. Master's mate of the Sandpiper.' He
swayed, and would have fallen but for Bolitho. Tregorren was watching the released seamen, his
chin sunk on his neckcloth.
`You the senior?'
`Aye, sir. Cap'n Wade and the other officers were killed.' He dropped his eyes. `We have been in hell, sir.'
`Possibly.'
Tregorren strode to the foot of the mainmast and squinted up at the flapping topsail.
`Get some of those hands to work and set the spanker and then the fores'l. I want to get some sea-room.'
He turned and added shortly, `Well, Mr Starkie, you can take charge aft as you are the best qualified.' He looked him slowly up and down, as if his eyes could pierce the darkness. `Although it would seem you are less so for defending one of His Majesty's ships, eh?'
He hurried away, shouting for Dancer and thrusting through the dazed seamen like a plough.
The master's mate consulted the compass and the set of the topsail and said harshly. `He had no cause to speak like that. We had no chance.' He looked at Bolitho and added, `You fought well back there. Some of these devils were laughing at what they would do if your ship tried to force home an attack.'
`But who are they?'
Starkie let out a great sigh. `Pirates, corsairs, call 'em what you will, but I swear I have seen none worse, and I have been at sea all my years.'
Bolitho saw two men carrying Lieutenant Hope to the companion and prayed he would be strong enough to survive. Several seamen had died, and it was a miracle there were not more to be buried.
Starkie said, `They kept us aboard to crew the poor Sandpiper. Like galley slaves we were. Beaten and treated like scum. They had only enough hands for the guns. But enough to keep us cowed, I can tell you.'
Eden had joined, them. `Any midshipmen, w-were there?'
Starkie looked at him for several seconds. `Two. Only two. Mr Murray died in the attack. Mr Flowers, he was about your age, well, they killed him later.' He turned away. `Now leave me be, I don't want to think about it.'
Tregorren came aft again. He sounded almost jovial as he called, `She answers well, Mr Starkie. A fine little vessel. Fourteen guns too, I see.'
Eden said, `Mr S-Starkie says that the pirates are the worst he's s-seen, sir l'
Tregorren was still studying the brig, his head cocked as the sails shuddered and banged before the rudder brought the ship back on course again.
`Indeed, indeed. Well, the other pirate vessel has weighed.' He faced Starkie. `And where would she be going, d'you reckon?'
Starkie shrugged. `They have another rendezvous to the north of here. Cap'n Wade was searching for it when we were attacked.'
`I see.' Tregorren walked aft to the taffrail. `Be first light in an hour or so. We will be able to signal Gorgon. Put a good man aloft as lookout. We may be able to catch that one and give him a nice dance at the end of a halter.'
He swung angrily on Eden. `Well, what are you gaping at? I hear you were useless during the attack! Weeping for your mother, were you? Nobody to protect you?'
Bolitho said, `Easy, sir, some of the people are listening.'
`And damn you for your impertinence!' Tregorren's mood had changed like a savage squall. `I'll have no more of it!'
Bolitho stood his ground. `Mr Eden was knocked down during the boarding, sir.' He could feel his caution dropping away, his future already in ruins. But he was sick of Tregorren's sarcasm and brutality towards those unable to fight back. `We were, you recall, outnumbered, sir. We had been expecting some support.'
Tregorren stared at him as if suffering a seizure. `Are you suggesting -' He tugged at his neckcloth. `Are you daring to suggest that I was late in boarding?' He leaned forward, his face inches from Bolitho's. `Well, are you?'
`I was saying that Mr Eden did well, sir. He had lost his weapon, and he is twelve years old, sir.'
They faced each other, oblivious to everything about them.
Then Tregorren nodded very slowly. `So be it, Mr Bolitho. You will join the masthead lookout until I say differently. When we return to the ship I intend to have you put under arrest for gross insubordination.' He nodded again. `See how the family likes that, eh?'
Bolitho felt his heart pumping against his ribs like a hammer. He had to repeat over and over in his mind: He wants me to strike him. He wants me to strike him. It would make Tregorren's actions complete, and for Bolitho final.
`Is that all, sir?' He barely recognized his own voice.
`Aye.' The lieutenant swung away, his sudden move making the mesmerized spectators scatter like rabbits. `For the present.'
Dancer walked to the main shrouds with him and said hotly, `That was a foul thing to say ! I felt like knocking him to the deck, Dick!'
`So did I.' Bolitho swung himself on to the ratlines and stared up at the mainyard. `And he knew it.'
Dancer said awkwardly, `Never mind. We took the brig. That must count for something with Captain Conway.'
`It is all we have.' He started to climb. `Be off, Martyn, or he'll have you all aback, too.'
`When you have finished, Mr Dancer!' The voice searched him out from the shadows. `Be so good as to find a cook and have the galley fire lit. These people look like scarecrows, and I can't abide filth!'
Dancer called, `At once, sir!'
He looked up at the black shrouds, but Bolitho had already vanished.
7
Mr Starkie's Story
RICHARD BOLITHO clung to a stay and watched the sky brightening reluctantly across the horizon. Little more than a grey blur, but in hours it would be almost too hot to think.
He felt the mast shiver and vibrate as the Sandpiper responded eagerly to her bulging sails. He wondered how the wounded were getting on, if Lieutenant Hope was better, or giving way to his injury.
A few figures were just visible on the brig's narrow poop an
d below the mainmast. He thought he could smell food from the galley and felt his stomach contract painfully. He could not remember when he had last eaten, and found himself hating Tregorren for keeping him aloft without relief.
The lieutenant had been right about one thing. When the news reached the Bolitho home in Falmouth it would have lost the unfairness and hostility of the moment. It would be seen only as Tregorren intended. That Bolitho had acted badly and with insubordination against a superior officer.
He heard heavy breathing and saw Dancer hauling himself up to the crosstrees beside him.
He said, `You'd better watch out, Martyn!'
Dancer shook his head. `It's all right, Dick. Mr Starkie sent me. He's worried about our lieutenant.'
Bolitho looked at him. `Mr Hope? Is he worse?'
`He is as before.' Dancer clutched at a stay as the brig heeled violently in a sudden gust. `It is Tregorren who is causing the concern.' He grinned. `Although I must say I can't muster much grief!'
Bolitho reached out and stretched his cramped limbs. He was aching from exposure and felt clammy with salt spray.
Dancer added, `Mr Starkie thinks that he has a fever.'
They slid down to the deck together and found the master's mate by the wheel with the helmsmen.
Starkie said abruptly, `It'll be dawn soon. I can't understand it. He's like a man possessed down there. I dunno what we'll do if we run into more trouble.' He looked away, his voice brittle. `I can't take being a prisoner again. Not after what we've suffered, and that's God's truth P
Bolitho replied, `We'll go to him.' He touched Dancer's arm. `But I'm no surgeon.'
In the tiny cabin where Sandpiper's last captain had enjoyed his privacy and suffered his anxieties, they found Tregorren slumped across a table, his face buried in his arms. The cabin stank of spirits or coarse wine, and as the brig lifted and plunged across the broken water Bolitho heard glass rolling about beneath the cot, and in the glare of a solitary lantern saw that there were many such bottles in a rack against the bulkhead.
Dancer murmured grimly, `Mr Tregorren has surely found his heaven!'
Bolitho leaned over the table. `I'll try and rouse him. You keep clear.' He seized the lieutenant's shoulders and heaved him backwards over the chair.
Richard Bolitho Midshipman Page 7