Midshipman Bolitho & The Avenger

by Alexander Kent

  Bolitho was impressed by his brother's outward calm, the way he outlined his ideas without any sign of uncertainty. He could tell that Gloag trusted his judgement, although he was old enough to be his

  father.

  He was saying, `I had intended to put a party ashore, or go myself to meet this informant. However, the weather has other ideas. Any boat might lose her way, and the advantage of surprise would also be lost.'

  Bolitho glanced at Dancer, wondering if he was as mystified as himself. Informants, stealthy rendezvous in the dark, it was a different sort of Navy.

  Pyke said abruptly, `I knows the place well, sir. It would be where Morgan, the revenue man, was done in. A real likely spot for runnin' a cargo ashore.'

  Hugh's eyes settled on him curiously. 'D'you think you could meet this fellow? After all, if he says the birds have flown there's no damn point in my hanging about here.'

  Pyke spread his hands. `I can try, sir.'

  `Try, dammit, that's not good enough!'

  Bolitho watched. Again, Hugh's latent temper was getting the better of him. He saw the almost physical effort as reason took over.

  The lieutenant added, `You do see what I mean?'

  `Aye, sir. If we gets ashore without stovin' the boat's bottom in, we could reach 'is cottage as you wanted in the first place.'

  Hugh nodded briskly. `Very well. I want you to land the party as soon as you can. Find out what the man knows, but pay him nothing. We've got to be sure.' He looked at his brother. `You, Richard, will go with Mr Pyke. The presence of my, er, secondin-command will add something, eh?'

  Gloag rubbed his bald pate. `I'll go an' check the set o' the tide, sir. We don't want to lose your brother on 'is first affray, does we?' He went out chuckling to himself.

  His chuckling stopped as a voice called, `Breakers on the lee bow, sir!' That was Truscott, the gunner, standing a watch alone while his betters pondered on matters of strategy.

  Hugh Bolitho said, `Too many reefs about here. Take yourself on deck, Mr Dancer. Have the jolly boat swayed out and muster the landing party. See that they are armed, but ensure that nobody steps into the boat with a loaded piece. I want no eager hands loosing off a pistol by mistake.' His eyes flashed. `You'll be answerable to me.'

  He relaxed slightly. `It is all we can do. They say that a cargo of smuggled goods has been dropped in the next cove to the nor'-west of where I am putting you ashore. They say it will stay there until everyone believes the Avenger elsewhere.' He banged the table. `They say a lot of things, but tell me nothing of value!'

  Pyke grinned. `It sounds right, sir. I'll take the centipedes, just in case.'

  Another voice called, `Boat ready, zur! Mr Gloag's respects, an' could the young gentleman make haste?'

  Hugh nodded. `Immediately.' He led the way on deck.

  Bolitho felt the damp biting into his bones. Easy living for a few days at home had had its effects, he thought ruefully. Now, tired and weary from the sea and wind, he was feeling very low indeed.

  He peered at the tossing boat alongside. It was so dark he could barely make out its outline, just a pitching shape in a welter of white spray.

  Dancer hurried to his side. `I wish I was going with you.'

  Bolitho gripped his arm. `Me too. I feel a complete novice amongst these people.'

  His brother lurched across the slippery planking.

  `Be off with you. Carry on, Bosun.' He waited for Pyke to vanish over the side and added quietly, `Keep your eyes wide open. I will lie to when I can, but in any case will be nearby at first light. If there is any truth in my information we may stand a chance.'

  Bolitho threw his leg over the bulwark and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. One false step and he would be swept away like a wood chip on a mill-race.

  The boat cast off and veered away from the Avenger almost before he had regained his breath, while Pyke swung the tiller-bar and peered above the oarsmen's heads as if to seek a way through the nearest line of leaping breakers.

  To calm his nerves Bolitho asked, `What are the centipedes, Mr Pyke?'

  The stroke oarsman grinned, his teeth very white in the darkness. "Ere, sir!' He kicked out with his foot as he leaned aft for another pull at his oar.

  Bolitho reached down and felt two enormous grapnels. They were unlike any he had seen, with several sets of flukes like legs.

  Pyke did not take his eyes from the shore as he said, `The smugglers usually sink their booty to wait until the coast is clear. Then they lifts it when they'm good and ready. My little centipedes can drag the stuff off the bottom.' He laughed quietly, a humourless sound. `I've done a few in me time.'

  The bowman called, `Land ahead, sir!'

  The boat was planing forward, the spray hissing between the oar blades to beat across the already dripping inmates.

  `Easy, all!'

  A tall, slab-sided rock rushed down the starboard side, muffling the sound of breakers like a huge door.

  With a lurch and a violent shudder the boat grounded on hard sand, and as men fell cursing in the water and tried to steady the impact, others leapt on to the beach to guide the bows clear of fallen rocks.

  Bolitho tried to stop his teeth chattering. He had to assume Gloag and Pyke knew what they were doing, that his brother's plan made sense. This was the cove, but to Bolitho it could have been anywhere.

  Pyke regarded him through the gloom. `Well, sir?'

  `You know this business better than me.'

  Bolitho knew some of the men were listening, but this was no time to stand on dignity at the expense of safety. He was Avenger's second-in-command. But he was a lowly midshipman for all that.

  Pyke grunted, satisfied or contemptuous it was impossible to say.

  No Choice

  He said, `Two men stand by the boat. Load your weapons now.' He gestured upwards into the darkness. 'Ashmore, you stand guard. Watch out for any nosey bugger hanging around.'

  The invisible Ashmore asked, `An' if I does, sir?'

  `Crack 'is 'ead, for Gawd's sake!'

  Pyke adjusted his belt. `The rest of you, come with us.' To Bolitho he added, `Night like this, should be all right.' .

  The snow swirled around them as they fumbled their way up a winding, treacherous pathway. Once, Bolitho paused to give a seaman his hand on a slippery piece of the track and saw the sea reaching out far below him. Impenetrable black lined with broken crests of incoming rollers.

  He thought of his mother. It was unreal to know that she was only twelve miles or so away from where he was standing. But there was a world of difference between a straight bird's flight and the Avenger's meandering track to this particular point.

  Pyke was tireless, and his long, thin legs were taking him up the path as if they did it every single day.

  Bolitho tried to ignore the cold and the blinding . sleet. It was like walking into oblivion.

  He collided with Pyke's back as the boatswain hissed, `Still! Th' cottage is up 'ere, somewhere.'

  Bolitho fingered his sheathed hanger and strained his ears, expecting to hear something.

  Pyke nodded. `This way.' He hurried on again, the track levelling off as the little group of men left the sea behind them.

  The cottage loomed out of the sleet like a pale rock. It was little more than the size of a large room, Bolitho thought, with very low walls, some kind of thatched roof and small, sightless windows.

  Who would want to live here? he wondered. It must be quite a walk to the nearest hamlet or village.

  Pyke was peering at the little cottage with professional interest. To Bolitho he said, `Man's name is Portlock. Bit of everything 'e is. Poacher, crimp for the press gangs, 'e can turn 'is 'and to most trades.' He laughed shortly. "Ow 'e's escaped the noose all these years I'll not know.' He sighed. `Robins, go 'alf a cable along the track and watch out. Coote, round the back. There's no door, but you never knows.' He looked at Bolitho. `Better if you knocks the door.'

  `But I thought we were supposed to be q
uiet about it?'

  `Up to a point. We've come this far safe an' .sound.' He approached the cottage calmly. `But if we are bein' watched, Mr Bolitho, we got to make it look good, or Mister bloody Portlock will soon be gutted like a fish!'

  Bolitho nodded. He was learning.

  Then he drew his curved hanger and after a fur

  ther hesitation he banged it sharply on the door. For a moment longer nothing happened. Just the

  patter of sleet across the thatch and their wet clothing,

  the irregular breathing of the seamen.

  Then a voice called, `W-who be it at this hour?' Bolitho swallowed hard. He had been expecting a

  gruff voice to match Pyke's description. But it was a

  No Choice

  female.Young by the sound of her, and frightened too.

  He heard the rustle of expectancy from the sailors and said firmly, `Open the door, ma'am. In the King's name!'

  Slowly and reluctantly the door was pulled back, a shuttered lantern barely making more than a soft orange glow across their feet.

  Pyke pushed past impatiently and said, `One of you stay outside.' He snatched the lantern and fiddled with it, adding, `Like a bloody tomb!'

  Bolitho held his breath as the light spread out from the lantern and laid the cottage bare.

  Even in the poor light he could see it was filthy. Old casks and boxes littered the floor, while pieces of flotsam and driftwood were piled against the walls and around the dying fire like a barricade.

  Bolitho looked at the girl who had opened the door. She was dressed in little more than rags, and her feet, despite the cold earth floor, were bare. He felt sick. She was about Nancy's age, he thought.

  The man, whom he guessed was Portlock, was standing near the rear wall. He was exactly as Bolitho had imagined. Brutal, coarse-featured, a man who would do anything for money.

  He exclaimed thickly, 'Oi done nothin'! What right be yours to come a-burstin' in 'ere?'

  When nobody answered he became braver and seemingly larger.

  He shouted, `An' what sort o' officer are you?'

  He glared at Bolitho, his eyes filled with such hatred and evil that he could almost feel the man's strength.

  'Oi'll not take such from no boy!'

  Pyke crossed the room like a shadow. The first blow brought Portlock gasping to his knees, the second knocked him on to his side, a thread of scarlet running from his chin.

  Pyke was not even out of breath. `There now. We understand each other, eh?' He stood back, balanced on his toes, as Portlock rose groaning from the floor. `In future you will treat a King's officer with respect, no matter what age 'e's at, see?'

  Bolitho felt that things were getting beyond him. `You know why we are here.' He saw the eyes watching him, changing from fury to servility in seconds..

  'Oi 'ad to be certain, young sir.'

  Bolitho turned away, angry and sickened. `Oh, ask him, for God's sake.'

  He looked down as a hand touched his arm. It was the girl, feeling his sodden coat, crooning to herself like a mother to a child.

  A seaman said harshly, `Stand away, girl!' To Bolitho he added vehemently, `I seen that look afore, sir. When they strips the clothes off the poor devils on the gibbet!'

  Pyke said smoothly, `Or off those unlucky enough to be shipwrecked, eh?'

  Portlock said, `Oi don't know nothin' about that, sirP

  'We shall see.' Pyke regarded the man coldly. `Tell me, is the cargo still there?'

  Portlock nodded, his gaze on the boatswain like a stricken rabbit. `Aye.'

  No Choice

  `Good. And when will they come for it?' His tone sharpened. `No lies now.'

  `Tomorrow mornin'. On th' ebb.'

  Pyke looked at Bolitho. `I believe him. At low tide it's easier to get the cargo 'ooked.' He grimaced. `Also, it keeps the revenue boats in deeper water.'

  Bolitho said, `We had better get the men together.'

  But Pyke was still watching the other man. Eventually he said, `You will stay 'ere.'

  Portlock protested, `But me money! I was promised. . . .'

  `Damn your money !' Bolitho could not stop himself even though he knew Pyke was looking at him with something like amusement. `If you betray us your fate will be as certain as that meted out by those you are b.traying now!'

  He looked at the girl, seeing the bruise -on her cheek, the cold sores on her mouth. But when he reached out to comfort her she recoiled, and would have spat at him but for a burly seaman's intervention.

  Pyke walked out of the cottage and mopped his face. `Save yer sympathy, Mr Bolitho. Scum breeds on scum.'

  Bolitho fell in step beside him. Broadsides and towering pyramids of canvas in a ship of the line seemed even further away now. This was squalor at its lowest, where even the smallest decency was regarded as weakness.

  He heard himself say, `Let us be about it then. I want no more of this place.'

  The sleety snow swirled down to greet them, and when he glanced back Bolitho saw that the cottage had disappeared.

  `This be as good a place to wait as any.' Pyke rubbed his hands together and then blew on them. It was the first time he had shown any discomfort.

  Bolitho felt his shoes sinking into slush and halffrozen grass, and tried not to think of Mrs Tremayne's hot soup or one of her bedtime possets. Only this was real now. For over two hours they had wended their way along the cliffs, conscious of the wind as it tried to push them into some unknown darkness, of the wretched cold, of their complete dependence on Pyke.

  Pyke said, `The cove is yonder. Not much to look at, but 'tis well sheltered, an' some big rocks 'ide the entrance from all but the nosiest. At low water it'll be firm an' shelvin'.' He nodded, his mind made up. `That's when it will be. Or another day.'

  One of the seamen groaned, and the boatswain snarled, `What d'you expect? A warm 'ammock and a gallon o' beer?'

  Bolitho steeled himself and sat down on a hummock of earth. On either side his small party of seamen, seven in all, arranged themselves as best they could. Three more with the jolly boat somewhere behind them. It was not much of a force if things went wrong. On the other hand, these were all professional seamen. Hard, disciplined, ready for a fight.

  Pyke took out a bottle from his coat and passed it to Bolitho. `Brandy.' He shook with a silent laugh.

  'Yer brother took it off a smuggler a while back.'

  Bolitho swallowed and held his breath. It was like fire, but found just the right place.

  Pyke offered, `You can pass it along. We've quite a wait yet.'

  Bolitho heard the bottle going from hand to hand, the grunts of approval with each swallow.

  He forgot the discomfort instantly as he exclaimed, `I heard a shot!'

  - Pyke snatched the bottle and thrusting it into his coat said uneasily, `Aye. A small piece.'' He blinked into the darkness. `A vessel. Out there somewheres. Must be in distress.'

  Bolitho chilled even more. Wrecks dotted this shoreline in plenty. Ships from the Caribbean, from the Mediterranean, everywhere. All those leagues of ocean, and then on the last part of the voyage home, Cornwall.

  Rocks to rip out a keel, angry cliffs to deny safety to even the strongest swimmer.

  And now, after what he had heard, the additional horror of wreckers.

  Perhaps he had been mistaken, but even as he tried to draw comfort from the thought another bang echoed against the cliffs and around the hidden cove.

  A seaman whispered fiercely, `Lost 'er way most like. Mistook the Lizard for Land's End. It's 'appened afore, sir.'

  Pyke grunted, `Poor devils.'

  `What will we do?' Bolitho tried to see his face. `We can't just leave them to die.'

  `We don't know she'll come aground. An' if she does, we can't be sure she'll sink. She might beach 'erself up at Porthleven, or drift free of danger.'

  Bolitho turned away. God, Pyke does not care. All he is interested in is this job. A quick capture with the booty.

  He pictured the
unknown vessel. Probably carrying passengers. He might even know some of them.

  He stood up. `We will go round the cove, Mr Pyke. We can stand by on the other headland. She'll . most likely be in sight very soon.'

  Pyke jumped to his feet. `It's no use, I tell you!' He was almost beside himself with anger. `What's done is done. The cap'n gave us orders. We must obey'em.'

  Bolitho swallowed hard, feeling them all looking at him.

  `Robins, go and tell the men at the boat what we are doing. Can you find the way?'

  It only needed Robins to say no, to proclaim ignorance, and it was over before it had started. He could barely recall the other men's names.

  But Robins said brightly, `Aye, Sir. I knows it.' He hesitated. `What then, sir?'

  Bolitho said, `Remain with them. If you sight Avenger at daybreak you must make some effort to tell my, er, the captain what we are about.'

  It was done. He had disobeyed Hugh's orders, overruled Pyke and taken it on himself to look for the drifting vessel. They had nothing but their weapons, not even one of Pyke's centipedes to grapple the vessel into safer waters.

  Pyke said scornfully, `Follow me then. But I want it understood. I'm dead against it.'

  They started to scramble along another narrow path, each wrapped in his own thoughts.

  Bolitho thought of the brig Sandpiper where he and Dancer had faced a pirate ship twice her size. This was entirely different, and he wished yet again his friend was with him.

  As they rounded a great pile of broken rocks a seaman said hoarsely, `There, Sir! Lights!'

  Bolitho looked, stunned even though he had been expecting it. Two lanterns, far apart and lower down the sloping side of the headland. They were moving, but only slowly, one hardly at all.