'Thank you, Lieutenant. Rest assured that what you have done will be remembered.'
'I think not.' Charlios was dying even as they watched. 'It might have succeeded if only you had got there in time! But there were doubters and those who were afraid. They needed a gesture, you understand? Just a gesture of` faith!'
Bolitho stood back. 'Fetch his son. He is going fast:
As soon as the shivering youth was brought to the cabin Bolitho walked out on to the quarterdeck. The boy hated the English, not his father. It was right that they should be together now, he thought.
Herrick asked, 'Is it true about the attack, sir?'
Bolitho watched the leaping spray and listened to the whine 176
of wind through the rigging. 'It is half-true, Thomas,' he answered quietly. 'The Saphir is at St. Clar. If our people try and storm the harbour there will be a massacre.'
Herrick said at length, 'Then we must cruise off the inlet, sir. That way we can meet the squadron and prevent this attack from starting.'
Bolitho seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud. 'A gesture. That is what they want. A gesture of faith.'
Then he swung round and grasped Herrick's arm, his face -close and determined. 'They shall have one! That Saphir has escaped me once, Thomas, I'll not let her spoil anything more for us!'
Herrick did not understand. 'Do you mean to attack, sir?'
He nodded firmly. 'I do. Under cover of darkness and as soon as possible!'
He broke off as the French boy walked slowly past, Allday's arm around his shoulders. It was over for Charlois.
Bolitho continued harshly, 'There was a brave man, Thomas. I have no time for one who dies for ambition. But a man who dies for a cause, no matter how unlikely, is a man to be remembered!' He gripped his hands behind him and stared at the dark sky. 'Now bring her around two points to larboard and lay a fresh course for the southern headland. We will be more sheltered there, and safe enough in this visibility to remain unseen.'
Herrick said, 'It will go against the admiral's orders, sir.'
Bolitho eyed him for several seconds, as if his mind was only half on what he was saying. Then he replied tersely, 'I am going to walk for a bit, Thomas. Do not disturb me until we are with a mile offshore.'
As the rain and spray lashed the decks and the Hyperion clawed her way closer to the hidden land, Bolitho strode restlessly up and down the weather side, his chin sunk in his neckcloth. his hands clasped behind him. He was hatless, yet seemed oblivious to the wind and spray, and conscious of nothing but his thoughts,
Herrick watched him and found time to wonder that he was still able to be surprised by anything Bolitho could do.
The Hyperion's wardroom felt damp and stuffy, and the air around the gyrating lanterns was encircled with thick blue smoke from several pipes as the assembled officers listened in silence to their captain's steady voice. Outside the pitching hull and beyond the shuttered stem windows the sea noises seemed muted, but it was also true that the ship's movements were less violent now that she was closer inshore and the headland was taking the worst of the wind's force.
Bolitho leaned on the spread chart and looked around at the intent faces. The expressions which met his gaze were as mixed as their owners. Some were obviously nervous, others showed an unthinking excitement. There were some like Herrick who were openly dismayed at the prospect of being left out of the actual operation until its final stage.
He said slowly, 'This' is a boat action, gentlemen. It has to be if we are to have any chance of a surprise attack.' He glanced down at the chart, not seeing any of the scribbled details, but in order to search his mind's fullest extent to find if he had forgotten, or worse, failed to explain what he expected of each of these men.
He said briskly, 'We will take the launch, the two cutters, gig and jolly boat. All told we will muster a force of ninety officers and men. Cutlasses and pistols, but make sure the latter are only issued to senior hands. I don't want some eager fellow letting off his weapon too soon and giving the game away!'
Gossett said gruffly, 'You say there's a beacon on the northern 'eadland, sir?' He leaned forward and tapped the chart with his long-stemmed pipe. 'According to the chart it's not been lit since war was declared.'
'Quite so.' Bolitho felt his limbs beginning to tremble with suppressed excitement. 'As we know, it was not alight during our other visit. The French take the view that by night nobody would be fool enough to try and sail into the anchorage without it. That, of course, does not apply to us!'
Several smiled, and he marvelled that such reckless comment could be greeted with anything but doubt. The whole scheme might be killed within minutes of starting if they were sighted by a sentry or stumbled on a patrol.
He hurried on, shutting out the picture of these same attentive officers lying dead or wounded under the angry sky. 'Mr. Herrick, you know what to do. You will cruise off the inlet and await the signal. When the beacon is lit you will enter harbour.' He fixed Herrick's grave eyes across the heads of the others, shutting them out from his words. 'If the signal does not appear you will under no circumstances try to force an entrance. You will seek out the squadron and endeavour to persuade Sir Edmund to stay clear.' He looked around their faces again. 'For if there is no signal, gentlemen, we will have failed!'
Rooke said, 'There will be the devil to pay if that happens, sirl'
Bolitho smiled quietly. `And maybe if we succeed, too.' He straightened his back, his expression final. 'Any more comments?'
There were none. They were committed, and Bolitho guessed that like himself most of them wanted to get it over with, one way or the other.
As they moved out to the upper deck Herrick paused and said softly, 'I wish I were going, sir.'
'I know.' Bolitho'watched the groups of motionless seamen being checked and rechecked by their petty officers, while others under the charge of Mr. Tomlin busied themselves around the tiered boats in readiness for lowering. He said, 'But this ship needs a good master, Thomas. If I fell in action afloat she would be in your hands.' He shrugged. 'If I die tonight the same applies.'
Herrick persisted stubbornly, 'All the same, sir, I would feel better being with you.'
Bolitho touched his sleeve. `All the same, you will stay. here and carry out my orders, eh?'
The boatswain crossed the crowded deck and touched his forehead. 'All ready, sir!'
-'Very good, Mr. Tomlin. Man your boats!'
Seconds later at a whispered command from the quarterdeck the ship wallowed round towards the shore and hove to. The noise of yards and canvas, the creak and clatter of tackles and blocks as the boats were swung high above the larboard gangway seemed indescribably loud, yet Bolitho knew that from the land with the encroaching sounds of wind and sea they would not be noticed, with any luck at all.
He said. 'When we have left you will clear for action. You are short of officers now, but still have plenty of hands.'
Herrick tried to grin. 'I have the master and Mr. Caswell. The oldest and the youngest, and of course the bullocks, sir.'
Bolitho held up his arms as Allday buckled the swordbelt around his waist. For a moment longer he touched the worn hilt at his side and then said, 'Me ship is yours; Thomas.
Take good care of her.' Then he climbed up the gangway and peered down at the boats tethered alongside. They were filling with men, and even in the darkness he could see the checked shirts of the seamen, the gleam of weapons, the occasional darker shape of an officer.
He called, 'Very well, Mr. Rocket Carry on, if you please!'
He watched intently as the big launch and the first cutter cast off, and with their oars already dropping into the rowlocks idled clear of the side. Rooke and a midshipman were in charge, and within seconds both boats were swallowed up in the gloom. Next Inch in the second cutter cast off, and with rather more noise than necessary pulled lustily around the ship's bows. That only left the gig and little jolly boat, in the charge of Fowler, the third lieutenant, and Mi
dshipman Piper.
Bolitho took a deep breath and glanced quickly around the upper deck. He could see Herrick and Gossett watching from the quarterdeck, and Captain Ashby further aft by the poop ladder, the latter no doubt still brooding because his marines were excluded from the raid.
Allday said, 'Ready when you are, Captain!' In the darkness his teeth were very white.
Bolitho nodded and swung himself out and down the main chains, waiting until the jolly boat lifted momentarily in a wavecrest before leaping down beside the others.
He leaned over the gunwale and waved to the gig. 'Mr. Flower, keep close astern of mel' To Midshipman Piper who squatted beside him he added, 'Cast off. There's a long pull ahead.'
The jolly boat lolled clear of the Hyperion's shining side, and as the oars bit into the tossing water turned and headed towards the shore. It was a small boat, and with ten seamen in addition to her crew, as well as Allday and the officers, would make heavy going of it.
Bolitho saw Seton- crouching by his knees and wondered what he was thinking about. It would be different from his last visit. he thought grimly.
When he looked astern he could hardly see his ship, and apart from a white cream of surf under her beakhead she was already 'merged with the dark sky.
The gig was pulling strongly in their wake, the oars rising and falling as one, the black heads of the seamen moving like part of a machine. Of the other boats there was no sign, and he found himself willing them to be heading for their proper objectives, with neither panic nor uncertainty to drive them ashore under some French guard post.
He heard Allday bark. 'Get bailing there! She'll ship more water than you've ever sailed on otherwise!' Then to Bolitho he added, 'It will take the best part of two hours to get into positon, Captain.'
'It will.' Bolitho sat forward and swayed loosely with the pitching boat. 'If what Mr. Inch says is correct, we shall be hearing the church clock chiming as soon as we round the headland.' He lifted his voice so that the oarsmen could hear. 'It will keep us company all the way up the harbour, lads. If you were in England you'd not be out of your beds as late as this.'
He turned away to study the darker shadow of land as some of the men chuckled at his remark. Please God they live to hear that clock in the morning, he thought.
Below his knees he heard Seton retching uncontrollably. He at least bad something worse than fear to contend with. ..
12
NIGHT ACTION
It took over an hour to reach the more sheltered water between the two headlands, and by then the jolly-boat's oarsmen were gasping from sheer fatigue. The necessity of constant baling and the regular relief of oarsmen by the extra hands made it difficult to maintain a perfect trim, so that it was all Piper could do to keep the boat on a steady course or to stop the stroke from becoming ragged and noisy.
Bolitho peered astern and saw the gig's dark shape keeping within fifty feet of his own boat. Lieutenant Fowler had more. oarsmen, but his boat was proportionally heavier, and no doubt he was staring after his captain hoping and praying for a short rest.
But there was still a long way to go, and as the boat swayed and tossed in a sudden surge of offshore currents he wondered how Rooke and his party was getting on. As they had passed between the headlands at the entrance of the inlet he had seen the faint white outline of the beacon standing at the top of the cliff like a portly ghost, and had prayed that Rooke would be able to seize it without raising an alarm. He had also seen Inch in the second cutter for just a few moments before it had vanished into a tiny cove at the foot of the southern headland. The men in the jolly boat had found time and breath to curse and envy the lot of Inch's party. They would at least be able to loll across their oars while the cutter rode to her anchor and Inch waited for his moment to act.
The bowman hissed sharply, "There it is, Cap'nl' He was pointing with his boathook, his crouching shoulders outlined against the dark water like a figurehead. 'The boom, sirl'
Bolitho snapped, 'Easy, ladsl Get ready to hook on!'
Allday lifted the shutter of his lantern for just two seconds and trained it astern, and they heard the gig's muffled oars rise dripping from the sea and fall silent.
Gratefully the two boats glided to the makeshift boom and squeaked against it while the bowmen dropped their grapnels snugly into place. The boom consisted of a massive cable which stretched away in a black crescent on either beam to vanish into the darkness. It was buoyed by great casks at regular intervals, and although hastily constructed would be more than' ample to prevent a ship from entering the harbour.
Bolitho climbed across the boated oars, resting his hands on the wheezing seamen as he scrambled forward into the bows. The boom was waterlogged and greasy with sea slime, and as he looked to either beam he could see it bending with the force of the current. It was as he had expected and hoped. The rainfall had been as heavy as it was rare, and the small river must be swollen to twice its size as it poured down from the hills to gush into the inlet towards the waiting sea.
He looked up startled, realising at that moment the rain had stopped. Even the clouds seemed finer and less menacing, and for a few seconds he felt something like panic. Then the distant church clock chimed once. It was either one o'clock or half past the hour, amid the sounds of spray and creaking timbers it was hard to tell which. But it helped to steady him, and without speaking he returned to the sternsheets. There was still plenty of time, and his men had to be rested.
Lieutenant Fowler leaned across the gunwale from the gig and asked in a strained whisper, `Can we cross it, sir?'
Bolitho nodded. 'We will cross first. You follow as soon as we are clear. That boom is practically submerged between the buoys. It will not be difficult.'
He froze as a man gasped, `Boat, sir! Starboard bowl'
They sat quite motionless, the seamen holding the two boats apart to deaden the sounds, while vaguely in the distance and then more insistently they heard the splash and creak of oars.
Bolitho said softly, 'Guardboat.'
Against the water and cruising wavelets it was impossible to see the actual boat, but the regular slice of oars, the low, white moustache around the stem were clear enough. Bolitho heard a man whistling softly, and more unexpected and frightening, a great, satisfied yawn.
Piper whispered, 'They're following the boom, sir.' He was shivering violently, but whether from fear or the fact that he was soaked to the skin, Bolitho could not be sure.
He saw the guardboat's splashing progress drawing across the bows and becoming more indistinct with each stroke. Naturally the French coxswain would try and stay away from the boom itself with this current running. Caught beam-on to that cable it would take a lot of sweat and effort to get back on course, and without harsh supervision no sailor would bother too much, provided the boom was still intact. After all, nothing could get over it, and as it was guarded at either end it would be simple to detect any effort to cut it.
Bolitho relaxed his muscles very slightly as the guardboat vanished into the darkness. It would probably rest awhile on the other side of the inlet before rowing back again. With luck, fifteen minutes at the very least. And by that time ... He twisted in his seat and snapped, `Right, lads! Over we go!'
Squeaking and scraping the two boats slithered over the sagging cable, the oars used like flails as the seamen poked and prodded the protesting hulls clear of the snare and into the harbour. Bolitho watched the nearest cask bobbing astern and half-expected a sudden challenge or an alarm flare to show that he was discovered. Nothing happened, and with renewed vigour the men lay back on the oars, and by the time the church clock chimed two they were on their way up the centre of the narrowing inlet, the current opposing them more and more with each dragging minute.
Even in the darkness it was possible to see the pale houses rising on either side of the harbour on tiers, the lower windows of one peering over the roof of the next. For all the world like a fishing port in his own Cornwall, Bolitho thought. He could
without effort picture the tiny, narrow streets linking the tiers of houses, the nets hung to dry, the smell of raw fish and tar.
Allday said hoarsely, 'There she is, Captain! The Saphir'
The anchored two-decker was just a deeper shadow, but against the lightless houses her masts and yards stood out like black webbing. Allday eased the tiller very gently, and followed by the gig they edged out further into midstream and away from the sleeping ship.
Bolitho twitched his nostrils as the wind carried the acrid scent of charred wood and burned paintwork across the choppy water to remind him of that last meeting. It was possible too to see the break in her outline left by her missing topmast. Here and there he could see a shaded lantern or the soft glow of a skylight from the forecastle. But there was no challenge or sudden cry of alarm.
The captured sloop-of-war Fairfax was anchored in the shallower water some two cables beyond the Frenchman. She was swinging at her cable, her slim bowsprit pointing inland as she rocked uncomfortably in the current. Bolitho studied her intently as the two boats glided past. His first command had been a sloop, and he felt a sudden compassion for the little-Fairfax. There was always something very sad about a captured prize, he thought. Stripped of her familiar figures and everyday language, renamed and manned to the requirements of her captors, she was nevertheless the same ship.
Piper said, `The bridge, sir!'
It was little more than a grey hump, but Bolitho knew they had reached the end of the harbour, and as if to confirm his calculations the church clock chimed three o'clock. When he looked up he saw that there were some breaks in the cloud now, the occasional star to mark the storm's passing.
All at once the moment of decision was on him. His men could pull no longer, and below the bridge he could hear the tide-race of water like a millstream, which removed any hope of rest for his tired and sweating oarsmen.
He glanced swiftly around the boat. 'Right, lads. We can drift with the current as planned. We will take the main chains, and Mr. Fowler will board over the fo'c'sle.' Gently he withdrew his sword and pointed across the gunwale. 'Put her about, Allday. Keep well clear of the gig. Mr. Fowler has enough to do without worrying about us!'
Form Line Of Battle! Page 21