Signal Close Action (36 page)

Bolitho nodded. 'Thank you.'

Midshipman Breen hurried after Allday and whispered nervously, 'But is not the commodore's wife dead ?'

'Aye.' He paused above the bobbing longboat and looked towards Bolitho by the wheel. 'An' more's the pity for it.'

13
Pursuit

Bol
itho
crouched over the
Segura's
flaking companion hatch and scribbled hastily on a small piece of paper. He was aware of the strengthening light, a hint of warmth after the first dawn air, but forced his mind to concentrate. Every so often he had to pause and gather his strength for fear that the fever was returning.

Once, when he half rose to peer above the larboard bulwark he saw the French corvette's yards and sails edging round, her slender jib boom displaying her intention to run down her quarry on a simple converging tack.

Not much more than a mile separated the smart man-of-war and the badly-used
Segura.

Bolitho folded the paper carefully and moved to Veitch's side. 'Take this with you.' He slipped it into the lieutenant's pocket. 'It tells all I know.'
Suspect
was more the word. 'So, if I fall, you must get this message to higher authority as best you can.'

Plowman called hoarsely, 'The Frenchie's shortenin' sail, sir.'

Veitch nodded. 'He'll be up to us very soon now.'

Bolitho ran his eye along the deck. It was tilting even less now, and with the light airs barely able to fill each sail, his plan was decided. If there had ever been any choice, he thought grimly.

Allday came aft. 'Fuse set and ready, sir. Should give us a quarter-hour.'

Bolitho trained a telescope on the corvette. 'Too long. Cut it as close as you dare. Five minutes.'

He heard them gasp but watched the French ship drawing nearer, her sails braced round to retain the wind, showing her bilge in the strengthening sunlight as she heeled jauntily on her new tack,

Plowman remarked, 'Look at 'er cop
per. She's not long out of port!
'

Bolitho felt a shiver of excitement. One of de Brueys's vessels perhaps ? Part of a scattered line of scouts which in turn would lead the admiral's mighty fleet into open seas and to Egypt. He thought of all the information, certain and hearsay, and knew it represented far more than the solitary corvette which was blocking their path to safety. Like a great colossus, de Brueys's fleet of transports and ships of the line would stride via Malta, using it as a stepping-stone, before setting down again on the Egyptian shore. And thence to India, and all the trade and possessions which England had so nearly lost in that other war.

He said, 'Get the hands into the boat, if you please.'

He waited, expecting further argument from Veitch or Plowman.

The lieutenant merely said, 'I'll not cast off without you, sir. And that's my last word on it.'

Bolitho smiled. 'You'd disobey your commodore, Mr. Veitch? In
time of war it could hang you!
'

They both laughed, and Veitch answered, 'A risk I'll take, sir.'

The seamen were already scrambling over the lee bulwark, and Bolitho hoped that nobody aboard the French ship had noticed anything unusual. After all, ther
e was littl
e point in trying to outpace a man-of-war as lively as a corvette. And to attempt an escape in a longboat, with the Mediterranean and not dry land across the bows, was a measure of madness.

Allday came aft again, breathing heavily. 'Fuse ready, sir.' He squinted at the other vessel. Three guns had been run out. Small six-pounders, they would be enough for the elderly
Segura,
even without her lethal cargo. He added,
^‘
There's just us left.' He gestured to the wheel. 'And this mad Swede.'

Larssen grinned, his face as devoid of fear as a child's. 'Aye, so I am, sir!'

There was a sharp crack, and as they turned to see a puff of smoke from the corvette's side, a single ball ripped through the fore-rigging and threw up a thin waterspout, away on the starboard quarter.

Bolitho gave a quiet smile. 'Signal received and understood.' He nodded to Allday. 'Get forrard, and start shouting at your invisible crew.'

He knew that the French captain must be watching
Segura
and probably himself. He darted a quick glance at the longboat, as the bows and then the rest of it slewed awkwardly away from the lee side, every inch of it filled with men and oars, and the jumble of mast and canvas which Veitch was preparing to raise.

Bolitho took the spokes and said, 'Hoist the flag, Larssen.'

The Swede grinned, and moments later the American colours broke once again from the gaff.

It brought an instant response in another sharp explosion, and this time the six-pound ball smashed into
Segura's
hull, shaking her violently like a great hammer.

Bolitho had not expected the corvette to be fooled. But it all took time, and from one corner of his eye he saw Veitch waving his hat back and forth to show that he was ready.

There was a thump from forward, and he watched Allday jump clear with an axe as the tanned jib sail came crashing down around him in a flailing heap. It seemed to satisfy the Frenchman, for her captain was already bringing her round to run almost parallel, keeping
Segura
to leeward, while her men shortened sail yet again in readiness to drive alongside. Sailors were clambering into the shrouds with grapnels, and there was a glint of metal as a boarding party ran smartly towards the forecastle for the first contact.

Bolitho felt the wheel bucking in his hands, as deprived of her jib,
Segura
idled heavily, her sails in trembling agitation.

'Light the fuse!
'

He heard Allday dash below, and then handed the wheel back to the Swede. He saw a seaman on the corvette's main-yard pointing and gesticulating, and guessed he had seen the longboat and was trying to yell his information to the poop above the din of sails and blocks, of shouting men, eager for a fight, even a one-sided one.

Bolitho made himself remain beside the wheel. If he ran too soon, the Frenchman would still be able to sheer away. He thought of the hissing fuse below decks, and hoped Allday had not been too exhausted to estimate the proper length.

'Fuse burning!
'

Allday was covered in wisps of hay, as if he had just fought his way out of a farmyard stack. He had probably taken the fuse clear of the stored fodder in the other hold to avoid a premature explosion.

'Stand by the boat's sternrope!' He waited until Allday was at the bulwark with his axe. 'You, too, Larssen, move smartly now!' He saw a shadow by his feet and then looked up at the American flag. He grimaced and said, 'I've dirtied that flag enough for one day, I'll cut it down.' But when he groped for his sword he realised that in all the excitement and his return from feverish oblivion he had forgotten to bring it on deck.

A musket barked across the fast-narrowing strip of water, and he heard the ball smack into the opposite bulwark. The French boarders were all yelling now, baying like enraged hounds at the thought of their enemy trying to escape.

Allday saw Bolitho's expression and thrust his axe into the seaman's hand. 'Hol
d this! I'm going for the sword!
'

Bolitho yelled,
'Leave
it!'

Another ball zipped past him, and then a whole fusilade of shots which threw splinters from the deck like darts and ricocheted in every direction.

Bolitho heard Larssen cry out, and saw him sag to his knees, his eyes tightly closed as he tried to stem the blood which ran freely from his thigh.

Bolitho controlled his racing thoughts, tried not to see the fuse in his mind.
Five
minutes.
It must have been burning that long already.

He dragged the seaman against the bulwark and heard Allday panting across the deck to join him.

He gasped, 'Hold him! We'll jump together!'

Then they were up on the bulwark, the wood still misty from the night air, and as Allday cut the boat's long line the three of them fell like untidy bundles into the water, the severed rope wrapped around them.

Down and down, the sunlight fading through a pink mist, which Bolitho's reeling mind told him must be Larssen's blood, and all the while he could feel the rope dragging like a snare, and knew Veitch's crew were pulling at their oars like madmen. Despite all which was happening, he found he was thinking of the two men who had deserted at Malta. They would never know how fortunate their crime was at this moment. Had they remained aboard, it was doubtful
if
there would have been room for them in the one remaining boat, nor space to pull an oar.

He saw the water brightening over his head, and as he broke surface, shaking hair from his eyes and gasping for breath, he caught sight of the longboat, its sail hoisted, and several figures waving and maybe cheering towards him.

Larssen had fainted, and it was all he and Allday could do to hold his face above water, and at the same time cling to the boat's sternrope which was being hauled hand-over-hand against the pressure of oars, sail and the drag of undertow around their legs.

Allday gasped, 'By God, I'd not want to do this very often!'

Bolitho turned his head to speak and then felt his ears cringe as a deafening explosion tore the morning apart. He felt the shock-wave surge against his legs and chest, knocking
the
wind from his lungs and twisting the three of them round in the trailing rope like helpless puppets.

Fragments
of
wood and cordage, huge yellow-coloured bundles
of
hay rained around them. A whole section of timber plunged straight down beside Allday, only to shoot up again
like
a jagged battering-ram, missing him by inches.

Allday croaked, 'Jesus! That
was
a
near thing!
'

Bolitho managed to pivot himself, treading water
as the deluge of shattered pieces subsided, and peered back at the two ships. In fact, there was only one,
Segura
having vanished completely, leaving a great widening circle of froth and bubbles, flotsam and scattered fodder, which would never feed French cavalry now.

It was as if the
Segura
had bled to death even as she plunged to the bottom, for the froth which continued to swirl around in Confusion was tinged with red. Every cask of wine must have burst apart with the gunpowder.

The corvette was in a bad way. At first glance he had imagined that she had escaped the worst of the explosion, but as she swung unsteadily across the disturbed water he saw the weak sunlight play over a deep rent in her hull where her copper had been slit open like the belly of a shark. Her rigging and sails were in shreds, swaying like creeper as the hull tilted more steeply, hiding the hole in the side as the sea surged into her. Why she had not caught fire was a miracle, but Bolitho knew her captain would be hard put to save his surviving men, let alone prevent his command from following
Segura.

A shadow loomed above him, and he felt hands under his armpits, others reaching down to lift the inert Swede to safety.

Veitch watched him, grinning, as he was hauled unceremoniously inboard with Allday.

'You see, sir, I waited
'

Bolitho lay back and stared at the sky. 'It was close.'

Allday was wringing out his shirt across the gunwale. 'I gave the fuse
ten
minutes, sir. Otherwise .. .' He said no more.

Bolitho turned to look at him, his chest heaving painfully. He saw the weals across Allday's back where the mounted trooper had used his whip. They were still very red, and would never vanish completely. He felt strangely sad about that. Allday had serve
d at sea for most of his life and had avoided the lash throughout that time. In the Navy-it was no mean feat. And now, because of his courage and unwavering loyalty, he would wear those stripes to the end of his days.

Impetuously, he reached out and touched Allday's shoulder.

'It was well done. And I am sorry about these.'

Allday twisted round on the thwart and looked at him. 'Still a long way to go to catch up with you, sir.' He grinned, the tiredness, or some of it, fading. 'I reckon you've got mo
re scars than a cat's got lives’

Bolitho smiled, sharing the moment only with Allday. 'But none more honourable, my friend.'