He heard another shot, muffled this time by the rocks, but it was followed by a different sound, a soft thud.
Carwithen was on his feet in a second. ' 'Nother bird, sir!'
Bolitho followed him to where they had left the marine. He was staring with amazement at the big booby which had dropped almost at his feet, wings outspread, its breast clotted with bright blood.
Davy said harshly, `Now, how in the name of hell did-'
But Bolitho held up his hand, freezing them all to silence.
Faintly at first, and then more insistently, he heard the scrape and clatter of loose stones as someone hurried up the hillside to collect the dead sea-bird.
He looked round swiftly. You could not hide thirty men amongst these few rocks. He saw Allday signalling everyone to remain quite still, saw the anxiety in Armitage's eyes as he stared transfixed at the last barrier where the sea's edge shone against the sky and rocks like the top of a great dam.
The sounds were much louder, and Bolitho could hear the man's heavy gasps as he struggled up the last part of the hill.
Nobody moved, and he saw the marine staring at his musket which was two feet away from his fingers. The slightest sound and they were done for.
It was then Carwithen acted. He was closest to the rock barrier, and with barely a sound he reached out and gathered up the dead bird, holding it just a few inches below the top of the nearest rock. His free hand he held under his short blue coat, and Bolitho could see his fingers moving beneath the cloth, trying to free something, while all the time his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the bird.
It seemed to take an eternity before anything else happened. When it did, it was all too fast to follow.
The man's dark face gaping down at them, his eyes flicking from the bird to Carwithen even as he groped forward to retrieve his prize. The master's mate dropped the booby, the movement so swift that the man was thrown off balance, his hand groping at his belt and the gleaming butt of a pistol.
Carwithen murmured, `Not so, my pretty one!' It was said quietly, almost gently.
Then the other hand came out of his coat, a boarding axe twisting in his fingers as he brought the rearmost end, with its short, savage barb, hard down in the man's neck. With a great heave he gaffed him bodily over the rocks, withdrawing the axe, turning it again just as swiftly before hacking him full across the throat with its blade.
Armitage fell against the marine, whimpering and retching, blood spurting over his legs as the axe jerked free, hesitated and cut down again.
Bolitho seized Carwithen's arm, seeing the axe quivering above the bulging eyes and that great gaping wound. He could feel the pent-up hatred and madness in his biceps, the effort to shake him away and drive the axe again and again into the choking, bubbling thing at his feet.
`Easy! Enough, damn you!'
There was another terrible silence while they stared at each other or. at the corpse which was sprawled across the dead booby.
Carwithen whispered hoarsely, `That bugger'll never raise hell again !'
Bolitho forced himself to examine the victim. Probably Javanese. Dressed in little better than rags, but the pistol was inscribed with the crest of the East India Company.
He heard Carwithen say, `Took it off some poor sailor, the bastard!'
Nobody looked at him.
Bolitho knelt by the rocks and studied the beach with the glass. Carwithen had acted quickly and efficiently. But he had enjoyed it. Relished it.
He watched the distant lookout in his rocky ledge, the small figures still searching aimlessly amongst the pools.
He said quietly, `They saw nothing.'
Davy looked at the sobbing midshipman and asked quietly, ,Will this change things for us, sir?'
Bolitho shook his head. `Only when this man is missed by his companions.' He looked at the slanting shadows from the rocks. `So we must bide our time and hope for darkness to come.'
He saw Carwithen wiping his boarding-axe on some cloth he had just cut from the dead man's smock. His face was devoid of anything but satisfaction.
Davy gestured to the others. `Take this thing away and cover it with stones.' He swallowed hard. `I'll not forget this day in a hurry.'
Bolitho gripped the midshipman's shoulder and pulled him away from the rocks. `Listen, Mr. Armitage.' He shook him roughly, seeing the youth's eyes as he stared at the red smudge left by the corpse. `Get a grip on yourself! I know it was a foul thing to witness, but you are not here today as a mere onlooker, d'you understand?' He shook him again, hating to see the pain and the revulsion in his eyes. `You are one of my officers, and our people will have to look to you!'
Armitage nodded dazedly. `Y-yes, sir. I'll try to-' He retched again.
Bolitho added gently, `I'm sure you will.' He saw Allday watching him over the midshipman's quivering shoulders, the almost imperceptible shake of his head. `Now be off with you, and check that my message has been sent.'
Allday said quietly, `Poor lad. He'll never get used to this sort of thing.'
Bolitho looked at him gravely. `Did you? Did I?'
Allday shrugged. `We learned to hide what we thought, Captain. It's all a man can do.'
`Perhaps.' He saw Davy kicking dust across the drying blood. Then he looked at Carwithen's dark features as he examined the dead man's pistol. `Although there are some who have no feelings at all, and I have always found them to be less than men.'
Allday followed him back into the shade. Bolitho's mood would soon change at a hint of action, and for the present it was best to leave him to his thoughts.
14
The Bristol Sailmaker
`Time to move, is it, sir? Davy watched Bolitho as he craned over the rocks, his shirt pale against the darkening sky.
`I believe so. Tell Carwithen to muster the hands.'
He shivered as the sea-breeze explored his body. Once the sun had dipped over the hills at his back it grew cool, even cold, in minutes. They had been too long in the heat, plagued by sun and thirst, and a multitude of flies which had appeared as if by magic. He watched the anchored schooner's outline, the soft glow of lights from poop and forepeak. The fire on the beach had died to a blotch of red embers, and he could see nobody near it, but guessed the lookout was still in his refuge beyond the pools.
Allday whispered, `All ready, Captain.' He held his cutlass clear of the rocks. `Mr. Davy's making sure they all know what to do.'
Bolitho nodded without answering, trying to gauge the distance they must cover. Surprisingly, it seemed greater in the growing darkness, but he was reassured by the occasional snatches of voices from the vessel to show they had given no heed to their missing comrade.
Davy slithered down beside him. `I've sent Carwithen's party away, sir.' He looked at the sky, the isolated puffs of light cloud. `Wind's steady enough.'
`Yes.' Bolitho checked his pistol and tightened his belt. `Follow me. Single file.'
Like ghosts they topped the last rock barrier, the sounds of loose stones and rubble seemingly very loud in the gloom. But as Davy had observed, the wind held steady, and was making a lively chop along the beach and narrow spur of headland. Noisy enough to drown any small sound they might be making.
Once, as they followed the curve of the hillside they all froze in their tracks as two dozing sea-birds rose flapping and screaming almost from under their feet.
Bolitho waited, listening to his heart, to the sharp breathing of the men at his back. Nothing. He lifted his arm and they began to move forward and downwards again.
When he looked across his shoulder he saw the rough edge of the rock barrier, where they had waited fretting for sunset, far above his slow-moving party. They were almost down to beach level now, and he heard a man curse quietly as he slipped in the first of the small pools. Davy's party were having to wade in the shallows to his right, and he hoped none of them would fall headlong into one of the rock pools there, now hidden by the rising tide.
He thought momentarily of the ship, an
chored on the other side of the islet. The familiar sounds and smells. Herrick waiting anxiously for news of success or disaster. If it was to be the latter, he could do nothing to help this time. His would be the task of contacting the `enemy' and making what he could of it. It was easier to think of them as the enemy. It never helped to picture them as men. Flesh and bone like himself.
Allday touched his arm urgently. `Boat coming inshore, Captain!'
Bolitho held up his hand and brought both parties to a shuffling silence. The boat must have come around the schooner's hidden side. He could see the splash of oars, the lively froth of the stem as it bounced across the first leaping surf.
He thought of Carwithen and his handful of men who were creeping up and around the solitary lookout. They should have been there by now. He recalled Carwithen's brutal madness with the boarding axe, and wondered if he had been the one to strike the luckless lookout down.
A voice echoed suddenly in the darkness, and for an instant Bolitho imagined Carwithen had been delayed, or that the lookout was calling an alarm. But the voice came from the boat, louder this time, and despite the strange tongue, Bolitho knew the man was calling a question. Or a name perhaps.
Allday said, `They've come a'looking for their mate, Captain.' He dropped to one knee to keep the grounding boat framed against the surf. `Six of 'em.'
Bolitho said quietly, `Stand fast, lads. Let them come to us.' He heard a man clicking his jaws together. Tense, nervous.
Probably terrified in these unfamiliar surroundings.
Allday said, `One of 'em's going up the cliff to the lookout.' Bolitho drew his sword very carefully. Of course. It would be the first place a searcher would go. Ask if the missing man had been seen.
He watched the other five strolling up the beach, swinging their weapons casually, chatting as they approached.
Bolitho glanced behind him. His men were barely visible as they crouched or knelt amongst fallen rocks, or squatted in the sea itself. He turned to study the oncoming shadows. Twenty yards, fifteen. Surely one would see them soon.
A terrible cry tore the stillness apart, hanging above the ridge long after the man had died.
Bolitho saw the five shadows turn in confusion, knew the dying scream must have been the man sent to the lookout. lie yelled, 'At 'em, lads!'
Without a shout or a cheer they were all up and rushing after the five figures who had turned back towards the surf.
One of them slipped and fell headlong, tried to rise, but was slashed into a sobbing heap by a seaman's cutlass as he dashed past.
The others had reached the boat, but deprived of two of their strength, were unable to shift it. Steel gleamed in the shadows, and as the seamen charged amongst them the fight became confused and deadly. A seaman caught his foot in the boat-rope and before he could recover his balance was pinned bodily to the shingle by a long sword. His killer died almost simultaneously. The remaining two threw down their weapons and were instantly clubbed into unmoving heaps by the maddened sailors.
Davy snapped tersely, `One of ours is dead, sir.' He rolled the man over on to his back and dragged the cutlass from his fingers.
Bolitho eased the sword back into its scabbard. His legs felt shaky from running, from nervous tension. He looked at the anchored schooner. No shouts, no calls to arms. He thought -he heard the same sing-song voice chanting above the seething surf, remote and vaguely sad.
Davy said hoarsely, `Damned poor lookout, sir.'
Bolitho watched his men gathering around the two boats. The one which had been there all day was furthest up the shingle and would need the more men to move it.
He replied, `Wouldyou have expected trouble, in their place?'
Davy shrugged. `I suppose not.'
Carwithen came hurrying down from the ridge, his helpers hard put to keep up with him.
He said savagely, `That bloody fool Lincoln was too slow with his dirk!' He glared at the watching men around him. `I'll see to him later!'
Bolitho said, `Boats in the water.' He sought out the six marines. `You take the second one. You know what to do.'
One, the man who had first sighted the schooner, grunted. `We knows, sir. We holds the boat where we can see the poop, an' pin down anyone who tries to pass the lanterns there.'
Bolitho smiled. `Captain Bellairs was right about you.'
Allday whispered, `This way, Captain.'
He felt the surf engulfing his legs and waist, the boat's scarred planking as Allday reached down to drag him over the gunwale.
`Shove off!'
Bolitho restrained the urge to watch the frantic oars, the efforts to steer the boat clear of the surf. Just one blast of canister would be enough to nip his flimsy plan in the bud.
The boat lifted and then surged heavily forward, the blades taking control as the hull freed itself from the strong undertow. Bolitho saw the schooner's tall masts rising to greet him, the tracery of rigging and shrouds almost lost against the sky.
Allday stood straddle-legged and wary, the tiller bar held lightly in his fingertips.
`Easy all!' He craned forward as if to impress them more. 'Bow-man, ready!'
Astern Bolitho heard the regular splash of oars as the other boat pulled hastily towards the schooner's bows.
Allday said quickly, `It's now or never, Captain!' His teeth were bared with concentration, so that some men in the forward part of the boat thought he was smiling.
Bolitho stood up beside him and reached out to fend off the overhanging quarter, as like a moving object it loomed right above the boat.
'Now!'
There was a yell and a quick clatter as the bow-man hurled his grapnelup and over the bulwark. With a jerking, grinding crash the boat came alongside, some men falling in confusion, while others climbed eagerly over their sprawled bodies and entangled oars as if using a living bridge to reach the vessel's main deck.
Figures were already dashing from the forecastle, but as a man ran wildly from aft there was a muffled bang, the wellaimed musket ball hurling him round like an insane dancer, his agony clearly silhouetted against the poop lanterns.
Bolitho felt rather than saw a figure coming at him from the scuppers. Something hissed above his head even as he ducked round and struck for his attacker with his sword. The swaying figure backed and came on again, and Bolitho realised he was holding a huge axe, swinging it from side to side as he advanced.
Carwithen exclaimed, `A plague on that bastard!' and fired his pistol full in the man's face. To Bolitho he snarled, `That'll teach him!'
Another of the crew had climbed frantically into the foremast shrouds and was being pursued by a yelling seaman. Once again a musket stabbed the darkness from the other boat, and with a faint cry the man fell headlong to the deck where he was promptly despatched by a waiting cutlass.
Allday yelled, `Most of 'em have gone below,. Captain!' He ran to a hatchway and fired his pistol into it. `The fight's gone out of 'em now, I'm thinking!'
Bolitho peered aft at the poop lanterns. `Call the other boat to give assistance!'
It was suddenly very quiet on the schooner's deck, and as Bolitho walked slowly towards the small cabin hatch just forward of the wheel he was conscious of his own footsteps and the feeling the fight was not yet over.
He moved warily around the outstretched corpse which had been the first to fall to a marine sharpshooter, its face shining in the lantern light, the lower jaw broken away as if by an axe stroke.
Allday said, `Stand aside, Captain!'
But a seaman was already clambering over the hatch coaming, his face suddenly screwing up in terrible agony as a pistol exploded beneath him.
A shadow darted through the pluming smoke, and Bolitho saw it was the scarfaced seaman called Lincoln, his eyes like stones as he allowed his lean body to drop straight through the hatch, using his dead companion to cushion the fall. His feet thudded into the corpse, and as he turned he whipped a knife from between his teeth, hitting out twice in the darkness, the second
blow bringing a scream of pain.
More men were swarming down after him, and Bolitho -yelled, `Bring a lantern! Drag those men clear!'
Feet pounded over the planking, and he heard Armitage calling anxiously from the boat alongside.
Carwithen was already down on the cabin deck, knocking a seaman aside even as he made to finish the wounded pirate with his dirk.
Bolitho paused on the ladder, searching for Davy, his mind still able to grapple with the realisation that Allday had saved his life. But for his warning, he and not that poor seaman would be lying there dead.
`Mr. Davy! Hoist both boats inboard once you have secured our prisoners!'
`Aye, aye, sir!' He sounded jubilant.
`And mount a guard on them. I want no fanatic opening the bilges to the sea before we can even make sail!'
He followed Allday down the ladder, the sea-noises suddenly muffled and lost.
A seaman kicked open the cabin door and darted inside with a levelled pistol.
'Nothin', zur!' He swung round as a shadow moved beyond an upended chair. `Belay that, zur! There's another rascal 'ere! I'll get 'im for 'ee!'
Then he fell back in horror. `By Jesus, zur! 'E's one of us!'
Bolitho stepped into the cabin, ducking low between the deckhead beams. He could appreciate the seaman's shocked surprise. It was a small, cringing wreck of a man. He was on his knees, fingers interlocked as in prayer while he swayed back and forth in time to the ship's motion.
Bolitho sheathed his sword, stepping between the quivering creature and his fierce-eyed-seaman.
`Who are you?'
He made to move closer and the man threw himself bodily at his feet.
`Have mercy, Captain! I done nothin', sir! I'm just an honest sailorman, sir!'
He gripped Bolitho's shoes, and when he reached down to pull him to his feet Bolitho saw with horror that every nail had been torn from his fingers.
Allday said harshly, `On your feet! You are speaking to a King's officer!V
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