Allday thrust at the tiller, and as the oars were eased quietly inboard he set a course straight for the sloop's narrow outline. Every man held his breath, so that the sounds of lapping water alongside, the scrape of bared steel, seemed terrifyingly loud. Even the slop of trapped water below the bottom boards made more than one man start with alarm.
The Fairfax stood out suddenly above them, her masts and furled sails appearing to reach out for the tiny stars, her sealed ports almost close enough to touch.
Then, as Allday thrust the tiller further still and the jolly boat swung clumsily towards the chains a voice shattered the silence from right overhead.
'Qui va la?'
Bolitho saw the man's head and shoulders black against the furled mainsail, and in one movement jerked Seton to his feet, squeezing his arm almost savagely as he hissed, 'Go on, boy! Speak to himl'
Seton was still weak from seasickness, and in the sudden quiet his voice sounded cracked and uneven. 'Le patrouillerl' He retched as Bolitho shook him again. 'L' officier de gardel'
Bolitho felt a maniac grin frozen on his face and said, 'Well done!' From above he heard the man muttering, more aggrieved than uneasy now that he thought all was well.
With a thud the stem struck the hull, and as the grapnels soared over the bulwark Bolitho leapt for the chains, his sword dangling from his wrist as he struggled with the unfamiliar shapes around him and pulled himself up and over the rail.
From the darkness below the bulwark he heard a sharp cry and the sickening sound of a heavy cutlass biting into bone. -Then, apart from the heavy breathing: of his men as they swarmed aboard, the slap of bare feet on planking, all was silent once more.
He gestured urgently with his sword. 'Allday, take ten men and seize the berth deck! There'll be an anchor watch aboard, and it's likely they're still asleep!'
There was a clatter of oars and a sudden shout of anger from beneath the bows, and as Bolitho hurried along the darkened deck he saw the first of Lieutenant Fowler's men swarm up on to the forecastle to secure the gig's headrope.
He snapped, 'Keep silent there! What the hell are you trying to do?'
Fowler hauled himself awkwardly over the cathead and gasped, 'Sorry, sir! One of the men fell on top of me!' He sounded dazed. 'Is everything all right?'
Bolitho grinned in spite of his taut nerves. 'It appears so, Mr. Fowler.' He turned as one of his bargemen, a giant Irishman named O'Neil, padded across the deck and knuckled his forehead. 'What is it?'
'The poop cabin is empty, sorr.' He gestured towards the main hatch. 'But Oi think yer cox'n has found some Froggies below.' He balanced his cutlass expertly in his hand. 'Maybe we should put 'em out o' their misery, son?'
Bolitho frowned. `There'll be none of that, O'Neil!' He turned back to Fowler. 'Now get your party to work at once. I want every piece of spare canvas, loose furniture, anything which will burn, and I want it stacked below the foremast.'
Fowler shivered slightly and glanced outboard as the sloop swung diagonally towards midstream. 'Aye, aye, sir. I've detailed some men to haul the oil up from the gig. God, the ship'll burn like a torch in this wind!'
Bolitho nodded. 'I know. And I hate to do it.'
'Is there no other way, sir?' Fowler was watching his men darting back and forth from the bows, their arms laden with small kegs of oil.
'This ship is worth less than the lives of our people, Mr. Fowler. Provided the wind does not shift we can cut the cable and let her drift down on the Saphir without too much difficulty' He slid the sword back into its scabbard and added harshly, 'There is nothing like a fireship to cause panic!'
Midshipman Piper peered up at him, his eyes gleaming with agitation. 'Sir! Down below!' He seemed too confused to find the words. 'Allday has found . . .' He broke off as the coxswain strode quickly through the busy seamen followed by a small figure in a flapping shirt and little else.
Bolitho asked sharply, 'What is happening, Allday? Who is this man?'
Allday stared at the growing pile of canvas by the foremast and then replied quietly, 'I think this one is a master's mate left in charge, Captain.' He took a deep breath. 'But that's not the trouble. I've just been below and there are some thirty wounded Frenchmen down there. Young Mr. Seton is talking to -'em, quietening 'em as best he can.'
Bolitho turned his back and stared towards the distant Saphir. Then he asked, 'Are they badly wounded?'
'Aye, Captain. Some of the Saphir's company, it seems. Mr. Seton says that they were to sail some time tomorrow to try and slip past the blockade into Marseilles.' He shook his head. .'Some of 'em'll not see the morning, in my opinion.'
Fowler said savagely, 'Well, it cannot be helped! They might have died in the broadsides. Burning is a quick enough death!'
Bolitho tried to control his racing thoughts. Allday's discovery was like a slap in the face. He had planned and allowed for everything humanly possible. He had not discounted that he might have to fight his way aboard, that he could even be driven off by a vigilant anchor watch or sentry. The gig's approach from the opposite side would have taken care of that, or at worst could have taken the survivors to safety or captivity. He stared helplessly at the toiling seamen and felt suddenly sickened.
Fowler was as right about the wounded Frenchmen as he had been about the burning sloop. '... worth less than the lives of our people,' he had said.
And in his heart he knew the plan would have worked. The sloop, once ablaze, would have drifted down on the sleeping two-decker like a messenger from hell. Locked alongside, nothing would have stopped the Saphir from being fired al-, so, and together they would have burned to the waterline, and the menace to Pomfret's landing would have been wiped away.
The Saphir's company had proved their skill in battle, but tired men, awakened in a safe port to see their world ablaze and knowing that once the creeping fire reached the magazines they would all be killed or roasted alive, would soon lose the heart to fight such a dreaded and overwhelming enemy.
He thought suddenly of Rooke and the others at the beacon. They must have taken it by now or an alarm would have been raised. Rooke would be watching for the flames, while below the headland Inch and his men were waiting to dash out and sever the boom. His task was to have been the easiest, for no guardboat would wander aimlessly across the harbour entrance when their own ship was being burnedbefore their eyes.
Tonelessly he said, 'I will send no man to a death like that.' He looked at Allday. 'How many are there in the anchor watch?'
Allday replied, 'Seven others, Captain. I've got 'em tied up as you ordered. We only had to club one of 'em.' He added awkwardly, 'No one could blame you, Captain. The chances are they'd roast you alive if the game was reversedl'
Bolitho studied him gravely. 'I cannot find any comfort from that sort of supposition.' He looked at the sky. It was clearing rapidly, and eastward towards the open sea the stars stretched in an endless pattern as far as the horizon. Herrick was cruising out there somewhere, watching and worrying. Searching for the beacon to guide him in to the harbour before the dawn left them naked and vulnerable.
He made up his mind and said, 'I want those men brought on deck. This sloop has two boats, and we can usa one of our own also.' He was speaking rapidly as if to convince himself. 'Be as gentle as you can, but hurry!' He caught Piper's sleeve in the gloom. 'You take charge of swaying out the boats, lad. You've done it often enough in Hyperion, but this time you must take care to make no noise at all!'
Piper nodded and hurried away, calling his men by name. Bolitho watched him until his small body was swallowed up in the shadows and felt strangely moved. Then he forcibly controlled his sudden despair and turned to Fowler. There was no point in thinking of the midshipmen as sixteen-year-old boys. They were King's officers. It was not possible or provident to think otherwise.
Fowler said flatly, 'Unless those Frogs are stone-deaf they're bound to guess something is afoot, sir.' He added bitterly, 'Maybe that Charlois was right after all!'
Bolitho looked at him thoughtfully. 'Would you give the order to fire this ship with those helpless men trapped below?
Fowler shifted his feet and replied, 'If I was ordered to I would, sir.'
'That was not what I asked.' Bolitho's tone was cold. 'Taking orders is always easier than giving them. If you live long enough, Mr. Fowler, you may well remember that when you have a command of your own!'
The lieutenant said humbly, 'I am sorry, sir.'
There was a bump, followed instantly by a shriek of pain as one of the wounded men was hauled bodily through the ship's main hatch. Bolitho could hear Seton's voice, soothing and pleading as he tried to stem the sudden panic amongst the disturbed Frenchmen. He did not understand what was being said, but it seemed to be taking effect, for the man lay quite still below the bulwark as the first boat lifted from its chocks and swung creaking on the tackles.
Piper was dancing with anxiety. 'Easy there! Avast hoist - mg!' Then as the boat swayed over the rail he squeaked, `Lower away handsomely!'
Bolitho said, 'Take the gig and make. it fast aft. We will have to send the jolly boat ashore, I am afraid.'
Fowler replied, 'It was overloaded before, sir. With your party as well . . .' He shrugged doubtfully.
Allday ran across the deck. 'Just three more to get up, Captain. One of 'em is dead already, so I've left him in peace.'
The second boat splashed alongside and the Hyperion's seamen began to manhandle the wounded over the rail to their companions below. Standing bound and terrified in a small group the French anchor watch waited by the mainmast, guarded by several armed seamen, with their dead comrade still by the bulwark as a warning to anyone stupid enough to make any protest.
The men worked swiftly and silently, but as the time dragged by the tension became almost unbearable. Bolitho tried not to watch the sky, for the more he looked the lighter it appeared to become.
He said, 'Mr. Seton, tell these French seamen to keep quiet Once they are in the boats. One sound and I'll sprinkle 'em with cannister before they cover half a cable!'
Seton nodded. 'Aye, aye, s-sir!' He was swaying with fatigue and shock. 'I-I'm s-sorry about that n-noise, sir.'
Bolitho rested his hand on his hsoulder. 'You've done well, lad. I'm proud of you.'
Allday stood aside as Seton hurried past him and said quietly, 'He's got the makings, Captain.'
'So you said before.' Bolitho cocked his head as the clock chimed four. 'It's late, Allday. How many more now?'
The coxswain peered across the deck. `Just the two by the bulwark. I'll hurry 'em along' But as he made to move one of the limp figures rolled on to his side and emitted a shrill scream. It was so sudden and unexpected that for a moment nobody moved, then as Allday threw himself across the deck, his hands groping for the wretched man's mouth, the sound stopped as if cut off by a door.
Allday rolled on top of the body and said hoarsely, `Dead, Captain!'
Bolitho was watching the anchored Saphir. He had seen the sudden movements of lanterns on her quarterdeck, the darting shadows across the poop skylight.
'No matter, Allday,' he replied. 'He has done his work.'
Every man stopped and stared as the strident notes of a trumpet floated across the dark water, followed at once by the steady tap-tap of a drum. On either side of the harbour lights were appearing in windows, and Bolitho could hear` dogs barking and the cries from disturbed seabirds.
When he turned he saw that his men were looking at him, and his sudden despair gave way to a consuming and bitter anger. His men had trusted him, had obeyed his demands without a murmur, even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Now they were standing and waiting, while across that narrow strip of water the French ship came to arms and the trumpet blared like a herald from death itself. From the corner of his eye he saw one of his bargemen crossing himself, and another leaning on the bulwark and staring at the land as if for the last time. 'Something seemed to snap in his mind and when he spoke he hardly recognised his own voice.
'Cast off those boats, Allday!' He swung on Fowler. 'Stand by to break cable, and tell Piper to take charge of the gig's crew!' Fowler still stared at him and he seized his wrist with sudden determination. 'We've not come this far to give in so easily!' He turned on the silent seamen. 'Eh, lads. Will you fight or swim?'
The trance seemed to break as if by some signal, and as the men ran wildly for the forecastle someone called, 'Come on, boys! We'll singe those buggers afore they spits us!'
There was a dull boom and an ill-aimed bail ricocheted across the water fifty yards abeam. Someone aboard the Saphir had evidently manned one of the bow-chasers, but as both vessels were swinging heavily with the wind the shot was fired more from anger than with any hope of immediate success.
The last of the French seamen were leaping over the side, and as the boats' lines were cast off Fowler yelled, 'Ready forrard, sir!'
Bolitho shouted, 'Cut it!'
There was a clang of metal, and as the straining cable parted and cracked back over the bows like a whip the little sloop sheered away with the wind, her deck canting violently with her unexpected freedom.
Allday shouted, `Shall we bum her now, Captain?'
But Bolitho was gripping the rail and leaning out to watch the other ship. He could hear the hoarse bark of commands, the thud of ports, and then the telltale squeak of trucks as some of the guns were run out in readiness to fire.
'Not yet!'
The Saphir's captain probably imagined that this was a cutting-out operation to free the Fairfax before she could be taken elsewhere. Whatever the cost later, he must. be made to go on believing that.
Allday swallowed hard and took a firm grip on his cutlass. As the wind pushed the sloop sideways with the current he could see the Saphir's double line of ports. Some were open, and others were following suit as more and more men poured to their stations in response to the urgent trumpet.
The whole harbour lit up as if from sheet lightning as the first ragged salvo crashed and. echoed between the sides of the inlet. Tall columns spouted skyward on every hand, and Bolitho saw a broken white shape being carried down the sloop's side and heard the screams cut short as the shattered boat capsized and vanished. A ball must have ploughed into one of the Fairfax's own boats and cut it in two even as the released Frenchmen tried to row the wounded to safety.
More guns roared out, their long orange tongues reflected in the swirling water as if from a second battery. Bolitho felt the hull lurch beneath him and heard the splintering crash of torn timbers as the massive balls ploughed through the lower deck, rending the sloop apart and tearing out her heart.
A man screamed, 'Main topmast's cumin' down! Heads below there!'
Figures scattered wildly as the splintered spar and yard thundered across the narrow quarterdeck, the broken stays and shrouds clawing at the men and carrying one bodily over the side. .
Again the rippling line of flashes, but this time it was nearer and better aimed. The Fairfax shook like a mad thing, the timbers and buckled deck beams groaning in agony, as if the ship teas cursing the men who stood by and let her perish.
Bolitho clutched the rail as a ball crashed through the starboard bulwark and ploughed into some seamen who were carrying an injured man to safety. He was thankful for the darkness, but the night could not completely hide the tangled and writhing remains which seconds before had been men, nor could it mute the screams and pitiful whimpers from those unlucky enough to hang on to life.
He shut the sounds from his mind and yelled, 'Fire the ship!'
A crouching seaman hurled his lantern into the pile of loose canvas and woodwork, and for a few seconds Bolitho saw his face in the small flame, a mask of unbelievable hatred as the unknown man made his own gesture of defiance and revenge.
The distance between the ships had dropped to less than seventy yards, and for a moment Bolitho thought he had left it too late. Already he could see men running along the Saphir's gangway towards the point where b
oth vessels would embrace. He could hear them cheering and shouting, the voices mingled together so that they sounded like animals baying for the final kill.
Then the small flame seemed to dart along the sloop's tilting deck like a lighted fuse, and as it touched the oiled bundles the whole sloop lit up, so that men shielded their eyes and fell back, fascinated and appalled by what they had done.
Another salvo crashed into the hull, and below decks Boiitho heard the sudden inrush of water, the boom and clatter of collapsing compartments where the sea surged to complete its victory.
He coughed violently as the wind swept the smoke back from the bows, and when he wiped the moisture from his eyes he saw the foremast and topsail yard burst into flames like some giant crucifix. The fire was spreading at a fantastic speed, and aboard the Saphir the cries of jubilation were already changing to shouts of alarm and terror. Someone jerked the lanyard of a swivel gun, and Bolitho felt the cannister spray past his face and rip into the deck on the far side.
A seaman was picked from his feet, his scream caught in midair as he fell jerking like a bundle of sodden rags, his blood marking his movements on the planking like spilled paint
He saw Seton, bowed behind the bulwark, his hand to his mouth as he ran aft, and he had to call his name repeatedly' before he showed any sign of understanding.
'Into the gig, Mr. Seton! Clear the ship!' Beyond the flames he saw the two-decker's tall side, every port and bared gun shining as if in bright sunlight as the fireship cruised towards her.
Allday shouted, 'Come on, Captain! We'll be alongside in...........................”
Another blast of C nnister raked the deck, making the sparks fly from the leaping flames and cutting down more running figures as Fowler drove his men towards the stem.
Seton flung his hand to his shoulder and said faintly, 'I'm hit, sir!' Then he fell, and as a seaman hurried to his side the Fairfax drove her charred bowsprit hard through the Saphir's fore rigging like a lance.
Form Line Of Battle! Page 22