Alexander Kent - Bolitho 26

by Man of War [lit]

  He called, ”Watch your step, Mr. Napier. It will be warm work today!”

  Napier paused, his dirk slapping against his thigh.

  Two more shots crashed across the dark water, the flashes like orange tongues. The Villa de Bilbao was playing her part, firing back at her attacker.

  He heard himself murmur, ”And you do the same, Captain.”

  Some one was shouting his name and he turned to go.

  Like hearing a voice, or feeling a hand on his shoulder. It made no sense. But he was not afraid.

  But ... He shook himself and hurried to the call, the new flag dragging at his shoulder.

  In the first light, its red cross looked like blood.

  Adam Bolitho climbed on to the tightly packed hammock nettings and waited for Midshipman Vincent to hand the big signals telescope up to him. Only two hours or so since they had gathered in the chart room and tried to seek out any possible flaws in today’s attack. Now it was as if a vast curtain had been rolled aside, with only a dark purple line to divide sea from sky.

  He half listened to the faint shouts of command, the clatter of blocks as men threw their weight on the braces to swing the yards still further and contain the wind.

  With great care he held the telescope steady, his forearm resting on hammocks stowed with particular attention, creating a barrier to withstand a musket ball or deadly splinter. If you were lucky.

  He waited for the ship to lean over on the new tack and saw the land spreading away on either bow, some still lost in haze or shadow, other areas keen and bright in the first sunlight. The sea, too, was shark-blue again, the depths varying in shade like fresh paint on a canvas.

  He held his breath as he saw the two other ships, the barque with every sail set, changing colour even as he watched as the morning light found her and opened up her side. Almost in line and close astern, small and graceful by comparison, the frigate appeared to be touching her.

  There were more flashes, the report almost lost in shipboard sounds and the hiss of spray along the weather side.

  The glass moved again and he saw the low, craggy headland, and some tiny islets directly ahead, caught in Athena’s mesh of rigging. There were soundings on the chart, although any experienced sailor would give that part of the bay a wide berth. But somebody had discovered this place, had taken all the risks. He blinked to clear his eye. And some had paid dearly for it, he thought.

  He tried to contain his impatience while the hull plunged heavily in an offshore swell. Then he found it again: the old fortifications, and a lower stretch of land where a slipway and some storehouses were said to be located. People, too, some of whom would be waiting and watching from the headland, and the other end of the bay where the deep moorings lay.

  He saw Audacity’s low hull lengthening as she changed tack yet again, her gun ports a checkered line beneath her flapping canvas. He could almost hear the yards turning to refill the sails, see men scampering up the shrouds in response to more commands. All in his mind; he had heard those sounds so often that they were part of himself, his very life.

  Something made him twist round to look behind him. He saw Bethune with Troubridge at his side, pointing at the land, stabbing the air with one finger to emphasize something. Perhaps his purpose was faltering, considering the aftermath if the slave ships were already gone, and the whole operation wasted. There would be enemies who would use it against him quickly enough.

  He gripped the glass again. Bethune had changed since the discussion in the chart room, and was wearing a long, dark coat with a caped collar, as if he might have worn for riding in poor weather. He remembered that Tolan had been carrying it over his arm while they were examining the chart and comparing notes with the sailing master.

  Beneath his own coat his body felt hot and clammy. He glanced down at his gold lace. A ready target for any marksman, they said. Was that what Bethune thought?

  Somebody said, ”Wind’s easin’ off, sir.”

  He heard Stirling’s blunt response. ”It’s the land. Look at the pendant, man!”

  Adam trained the glass once more. The others were turning now across Athena’s jib boom, sails rippling in confusion as they headed toward the final approach.

  There was more gunfire, a different bearing this time. The masthead lookouts would be reporting any change of play as soon as they saw anything.

  He turned his head slightly and heard more shots, heavier this time. If any fell near the Villa de Bilbao they would know that the ruse had failed. He felt his jaw tighten as what seemed tiny feathers of spray floated past Audacity’s stern. Close to, they would be bursting columns as tall as the frigate’s counter.

  He touched his coat again and saw the shop in his mind, and the boy’s surprise, his pleasure.

  He shifted the glass very slightly on the hammocks, and could almost feel Vincent’s irritation.

  He forced himself to remain quite still, moving the glass only slightly when the hull dipped over toward the brightening water.

  He remembered it suddenly, as if some one had spoken of it to remind him. When he had been a child, so young he could not put a date or time to it.

  He had been lying in some long grass, and his mother had been with him. There had been a line of tall trees along the edge of a nearby farm where he had sometimes done little jobs to earn some money, or be allowed to ride in one of the wagons with their huge horses.

  He had seen some small clouds rising and twisting above those same trees. Up and down, never getting any closer. Somebody had laughed at his anxious questions, and then his mother had said, ”It’s the time of year, Adam they are only insects. Thousands of them. You mustn’t worry so much!”

  He spoke over his shoulder. ”Fetch the first lieutenant, Mr. Vincent.” He wanted to control the rasp in his voice. ”Jump to it!”

  Not insects this time. He lowered the telescope and dabbed his eye with his wrist. They were tiny balls of smoke. He could imagine the urgency, the crude bellows, the fuel in the ovens changing from red to white around the shot for those hidden guns.

  ”Take care, David.” He had spoken aloud. ”For God’s sake, be careful!”

  ”You called for me, sir?”

  Adam clambered down to the deck and saw Stirling’s eyes move briefly to the stains on his breeches.

  ”They’re heating shot. They must have sighted us earlier than we thought.”

  Stirling almost shrugged. ”Or been warned, sir.”

  Adam swung round as a seaman shouted, ”Audacity’s been hit!” He was shaking his fist in the air, as if he could see every detail.

  Adam raised the heavy telescope again and watched as Audacity’s fore topmast tilted toward her bows, and then, as the rigging snapped, gathered speed down and over the side like a broken wing.

  At best it would slow her down. At worst ... In his mind he could still see the clouds of insects above the line of trees.

  He said, ”We must signal Audacity to withdraw, Sir Graham. They’re heating shot at this moment.” He saw Bethune’s face and knew it was pointless.

  Bethune brushed something from his heavy riding coat.

  ”They would know at once what we are doing. The Villa de Bilbao would have no time to come about. No chance at all!”

  Troubridge said something but Adam did not hear what it was, only Bethune’s sharp reply. ”When I say so and not before!”

  Adam shaded his eyes and watched the Audacity, shortening once more as she tacked past an out thrust shoulder of rocks. There were more shots, but no sign of another hit or near miss. But once in the wider part of the channel she would be within range of the main battery. He did not trust himself to look at Bethune. It was his decision; his word would be upheld. It was his responsibility. He looked again at the frigate, smaller now as she sailed into the span of the channel. And it was my suggestion.

  Bethune said, ”You may load and run out, Captain Bolitho. Make a signal to Hostile. Prepare for battle.”

  The halliards squeaked
again and the signal broke from the yard. As planned.

  Adam walked to the quarterdeck rail, his hands clenched beneath his coat.

  He heard the sullen bang of a heavier weapon and saw the land slowly falling back to reveal the bay and the anchorage, still partly covered in mist. Or smoke.

  He watched Audacity’s shape lengthening again, her graceful line marred by the missing topmast. Men would be up forward, hacking the mast and cordage away, and the sodden canvas, too, before it acted like a sea anchor and dragged the hull round and across those guns.

  Captain Munro would know and maybe blame himself.

  The guns fired together. It was already too late.

  17

  The Reckoning

  Vice-Admiral Sir Graham Bethune walked to the companion ladder and shaded his eyes to stare at the land. The rugged hills were touched with a bright copper glow, like the sea. He groped for one of the guns to steady himself as the deck tilted and the helm went over. The metal was no longer cold. It might have just been fired.

  The lookout’s voice pealed out again.

  ”One ship under way, sir!”

  Bethune snapped, ”Find out what the fool has seen, will you?”

  Adam called, ”Go aloft, Mr. Evelyn, and take a glass.”

  It was hard to keep his tone level and unhurried.

  Evelyn was the sixth lieutenant, Athena’s most junior officer. But there was nothing wrong with his sharp intelligence or his eyesight.

  A vessel big enough for the lookout to see at this distance could mean one thing only. The alarm had gone out. Any experienced slaver would rather risk a clash with the ships converging on the bay than meekly surrender. Once in open water there was always a chance of escape.

  He forced himself to remain calm. In control. He had even remembered the lieutenant’s name.

  Evelyn must have chased up the ratlines like a monkey. His voice carried easily above the wind and sea.

  Two ships making sail, sir!” A brief pause, probably to discuss it with the lookout. One of Stirling’s best, whatever Bethune thought.

  He watched a tiny hump of land far across the starboard bow. Like a basking whale. But too dangerous to ignore.

  He breathed out slowly as one of the leads men in the chains began to heave his line up and over his head, as if he were oblivious to the ship at his back and everything else.

  The heavy lead soared away and splashed into the water well ahead of Athena’s massive bows.

  Aft came the cry: ”No bottom, sir!”

  Adam had taken chances in the past, and could admit it. He had seen his ship’s entire shadow on the seabed once, and known he had been within a fathom of losing his command, and his life.

  The leadsman was already coiling his line, his fingers automatically feeling and separating the distinguishing marks of leather, knots and bunting. An experienced leadsman could tell one from another in his sleep.

  ”Deck, there!” Evelyn again, his voice shrill with effort. One of the gun’s crew nearby grinned at his mate.

  Adam waited, thankful that sailors could still share a private joke, danger or not.

  Evelyn shouted, ”One small vessel, sir. The first one is a barque!”

  Bethune dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief. ”They’ll all be scattering if we let ‘em!”

  The leadsman, unperturbed, yelled, ”By th’ mark ten!”

  Adam saw the sailing master peer at his notes. Sixty feet under the keel.

  Bethune said, ”We must anchor if it shelves.” He turned, caught off guard as two more shots echoed across the water. ”We’ll engage them after they try to break out!”

  ”An’ deep sixteen!”

  Eraser glanced at his master’s mate and blew out his cheeks.

  Adam pictured Athena’s shadow as she moved slowly into deeper water. He stared along the starboard gangway and saw Lieutenant Barclay beside one of the crouching carronades. Doubtless listening to every sounding, ready to drop anchor at a few seconds’ notice.

  Another face fixed in his mind, when he had thought he would never become a part of this ship.

  There was a chorus of groans and shouts. Audacity had been hit again; her whole foremast lay over the side. And there was smoke.

  Adam climbed into the shrouds and tried to shade his eyes from the coppery glare. He saw the barque which had up-anchored, turning bat-like past some other moored craft. But he kept his eyes on the frigate, knowing she had been hit by heated shot, how badly he could not determine.

  He heard Bethune call, ”Where’s Tolan? I want him here!”

  The leadsman’s voice was unimpressed. ”No bottom, sir!”

  ”So there you are, man!” Bethune’s face shone with sweat as he began to unfasten his heavy coat. He stared at Tolan’s telescope. ”What?”

  Tolan looked past him at the nearest strip of land. There were tiny figures running along a beach, like spectators at some terrible contest.

  He answered flatly, ”It’s the schooner, Sir Graham. Jacob’s boat.”

  His eyes were cold as he watched the words strike home.

  ”Are you certain? It could be any vessel in this damned place!”

  ”I took your message, Sir Graham.” He raised the telescope again. Poised and steady, as if he had done it all his life.

  Jago stood near him, his face grim. ”The errand you was on?”

  Tolan nodded. ”I’ll lay odds she’s aboard that schooner right now!”

  No name was mentioned. Adam stared at the admiral. There was no need. Not the ordered routine of English Harbour, or London. It was here, a place where few of his men had ever visited. Where a ship was dying, and her people with her.

  Somebody had brought the crippled Audacity under command. Her remaining canvas was coming about, filling to a wind across her quarter. But there was smoke, pale like steam as Audacity’s men fought to douse the smouldering fire from one of the shots.

  Bethune exclaimed, ”Make a signal to Hostile .. .” His voice all but trailed away. ”It’s no use, is it?”

  Adam watched the smoke. Bethune had ordered Hostile to stand away to the north, ready to run down on any slaver who managed to escape Pointer’s eventual attack on the moorings.

  Catherine might or might not be aboard the little schooner. Jacob was apparently well known for his dealings with the navy and felons alike. But somehow he knew she was here at San Jose, because of Bethune, and the man who had always protected her. Sillitoe.

  Adam forced himself to use the big signals telescope again, to take time with each thought and reaction, and all the while his body seemed to shake with anger, and with hatred.

  Audacity had been hit yet again, and was drifting with the wind, smoke rising above her main course like a cloud.

  He said, ”I intend to engage the shore battery, Sir Graham. Commander Pointer will soon be in position.” He did not look at Jago as he added, ”Remember Algiers. Boat action!”

  He heard the snap of commands, Jago calling out names abruptly. Like that last time when Lord Exmouth’s fleet had broken all the rules by choosing to fight against sited and entrenched guns. When every ship was a target.

  He waited, knowing his last reserve would snap if Bethune overruled him. But Bethune was standing by the compass box, for another moment unaware of the helmsmen, and the gun crews on either side of the quarterdeck. Boatswain’s mates, midshipmen, and the remaining section of Royal Marines. He could have been completely alone.

  When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. ”Signal Hostile to close on Flag.” Then he did look directly at his flag captain. ”Lay a course to weather the headland. We will engage.”

  Adam heard the order run through the waiting seamen and marines with the speed of light. He saw Bethune peel off his coat and toss it to his servant. Most of all, he remembered Bethune’s eyes, his expression. Like a stranger. An enemy.

  The heavy coat lay on the deck where it had fallen. Tolan had hurried after Jago, while men snatched up weapons from the open
arms chests.

  Jago asked harshly, ”You a volunteer?”

  Tolan nodded, and said something he did not hear. But Jago looked past him and up to the rail by the poop ladder.

  Adam saw him and lifted one hand in salute. Something only they had come to understand.

  There was a dull explosion, the searing hiss of spark and flame in the bay. A ship had blown up. Twenty-eight years old, like her captain. Finished.

  We will engage.

  The leadsman called out from the chains, ”No bottom, sir!”

  Adam loosened his collar and touched the silk stocking she had given him, which he had wound around his neck.

  Stirling shouted, ”Ready, sir!” His eyes were on Athena’s captain, not the vice-admiral.

  Adam tightened his grip and heard her voice. Walk with me. The rest had been a dream.

  ”Steady she goes, sir! West sou’ west!” The senior helmsman peered up as the canvas cracked when the wind fell away, and the land moved out to shield them.

  Adam had climbed on to the nettings again, his eye smarting in the reflected glare. The water in the bay was like burnished metal, as if the seabed were on fire. There was smoke, too, from Audacity’s burning hull or from the hidden guns ashore. He was conscious only of the ship’s slow, unwavering advance; the people hurrying about her decks or working high aloft on the yards and rigging seemed merely incidental, as if Athena was her own mistress.

  There was more activity amongst the moored ships. Patches of sail had appeared, but many of the slavers’ seamen were probably ashore. Unless they had been expecting some form of action .. .

  He tore his eyes away to watch Jago and two boats’ crews running aft to haul their craft alongside.

  He jumped down to the deck again and called, ”Bring her up a point!”

  He strode to the rail and stared along the full length of the ship. Every gun loaded, its crew grouped around it, some peering at the nearest land as it glided past above the starboard gangway. All the tackles were fully manned, with extra hands from the opposite side for the first, perhaps vital show of force. If Pointer was unable to get his men into position the slavers might still escape, and their attack would be futile. Far worse, it might cost the life of every man who fell into the enemy’s hands.