Signal Close Action (8 page)

'By th' mark five!
' The leadsman's chant sounded like
a
dirge.

Javal muttered, 'I will have to alter course to starboard, sir.' The words were being dragged from his throat.

Bolitho looked at him, noticing how the people and objects around the quarterdeck had assumed shape and reality in the first dull light.

He said briskly, 'Do your duty, Captain Javal.'

He turned away, sharing the other man's despair.

'Deep four!'

Bolitho thrust his hands behind his back and walked aft. The frigate was sailing in about twenty-four feet of water. It was only minutes before she ran her full length ashore. Over his shoulder he saw the land reaching out towards the bowsprit. Mocking him.

'Man the lee braces!' Feet scampered across the decks. 'Put up the helm!'

With a squeal of blocks the yards creaked ponderously above the decks, and as the wheel was hauled over and
over
Buzz
ard
started to swing once again towards the open sea.

Javal said harshly, 'Steer due east. Lay her as close as you dare to the headland.'

'By th'mark ten!'

Bolitho watched the land as it started to slip past the forecastle, the faint marks of white at its foot where the wind drove the sea into beaches and small coves.

'Deck there! Sail on the weather bowl Comin' round the point!'

Javal sucked in air. 'Run out the larboard battery, Mr. Ellis!' He added sharply,
'Belay that order!
'
His face glowed faintly in a bright red flare which had just burst clear of the land. 'Stand by to shorten sail!' To Bolitho he exclaimed, 'The schoon
er, by God! Mears has taken her!
'

Even without a glass Bolitho could see the low-hulled vessel thrusting away from the encroaching land, her great sails rising like wings above the choppy wavecrests. At her counter he saw the darker shapes
of
Buzz
ard's
boats being towed astern,
a
lantern rising and dipping at her foremast to confirm the capture. Perhaps Mears feared that because of the delay, his failure to signal earlier, he might be met with a broadside rather than cheers.

Javal snapped, 'We will come about. Lay her on the starboard tack and steer sou' by west until we have more sea room.' He glanced at Bolitho by the nettings. 'You will wish to rejoin the squadron, sir ?'

'Yes.'

He walked clear of the busy seamen and marines as they ran to obey the pipe. It was over, and as far as he could tell, without a shot being fired. He found he was shaking badly. As if he had been there with them.

When
Buzz
ard
leaned steeply on her new tack Bolitho saw the schooner following suit, her lee bulwark almost awash. She was certainly deep laden.

He said abruptl
y, 'Heave-to at your discretion, Captain. Signal your lieutenant to close within hailing distance.'

Javal eyed him doubtfully. 'Aye, sir. If you say so.' He saw Bolitho's expression and said no more.

Bolitho walked slowly to the nettings, shutting out the sounds of the unexpected preparations to heave-to once again. He did not even hear the squeak of halliards as the signal flags ran up the yards and broke to the wind. He was watching the boats surging along under the schooner's stern. The jolly boat was not one of them.

*

Lieutenant Mears had no intention of shouting his news from the captured schooner's deck. While
Bu^ard
rolled heavily in short, steep waves he crossed the narrow gap between the two ships in his cutter, its sleek hull lifting and rearing like a dolphin until it was made fast to the frigate's chains.

In the stern cabin the sea's noises were muted, like surf booming in a long cave.

Bolitho kept his hands clasped behind him, his head lowered between the deck beams as Mears, still panting, told his story.

'We pulled under the headland as planned, sir. Then we separated. I took my boat direct for the schooner's seaward side, and Mr. Booth headed his around and under her bowsprit. There is no doubt that the schooner's master was expecting the weather to worsen and was anchoring for the

night. Our suspicion he had sighted
Buzzard
was ill-founded.' Bolitho asked quietly, 'And the jolly boat?' Mears rubbed his eyes. 'Your lieutenant was ordered to take it to the western side of the headland and beach it. If the Dons had tried to send for help from the land, Mr. Pascoe's party would have been able to intercept them.'

Javal snapped, 'You took your damn time, Toby.' The lieutenant shrugged limply. 'The first part went well. There was only an anchor watch, and they didn't even raise a shout until our fellows were amongst 'em. No boarding nets, no swivel guns, they almost died of fear.' He hesitated, sensing the tension around him for the first time. 'We waited for the jolly boat to come around the point and join us again. When it failed to appear I sent Mr. Booth in the cutter.' He spread his hands helplessly. 'With dawn close by, and every minute adding to the chance of discovery, I dared not fire a signal until I had received news of the landing party.'

Javal nodded grimly. 'That was well said, Mr. Meats. Some would have left the few to save the many.' Bolitho asked, 'What did your people discover?' 'It had been raining, sir.' Mears looked at the stern windows, streaked with salt and droplets of spray. 'As it is now. Booth found the beached jolly boat with its hull stove in and two seamen dead nearby. Another was lying in some dunes. They had all been killed by sword thrust, sir.' He fumbled inside his stained coat. 'Mr. Booth found this in the sand. I could not understand it. It is surely an admiral's sword
-'

He broke off as Bolitho snatched the glittering hilt from him and held it to the windows. The blade was snapped like a carrot halfway from the ornate guard. It was like yesterday. Vice Admiral Sir Lucius Broughton on the splintered quarterdeck of his flagship. Handing his beautiful sword to an astonished Adam Pascoe and saying gruffly, 'Any damn midshipman who tackles th
e enemy with a dirk deserves it!
Besides, a
lieutenant
must look the part, eh ?'

He heard himself say, 'It
was
an admiral's once. It belongs to Mr. Pascoe.' He touched the stain on the hilt. Blood and
wet sand. He added quietly, 'H
e would not part willingly with it.' The others stared at him.

Then Mears said, 'Mr. Booth searched as long as he could, sir. There were many hoofmarks in the beach, leading from inland. He feared that his own party might be challenged at any moment, and I had given him a direct order to return to me if
-'

'He did not find the lieutenant
anywhere ?'
Mears shook his head. 'Nor your man either.' 'No.' Bolitho stared out of the streaked windows. 'Allday would not leave him.' 'Sir?'

Bolitho turned towards them. 'What of the schooner ?'

Mears collected his wits. 'You were right, sir, She is filled to the deck beams with powder and shot. And -' he looked at Javal's grim face, ' - two of the finest cannon
I
have ever laid eyes on. Siege artillery, if I'm any judge, and only newly tested.'

'I see.'

Bolitho tried to concentrate his mind on what their capture could mean. Adam was gone. Allday, too. Probably out there dying. Waiting for a rescue which could never come.

Mears said, 'I am afraid the schooner's master was killed when he tried to jump overboard. But I found papers and charts in his cabin. Enough to show that he had orders for Toulon.'

Javal exclaimed, 'By God, you were right about that, too, sir. The Dons are working like fiends to help their powerful ally at Toulon!' He dragged a bottle from one of his sea chests. 'You did well, Toby. Take a drink while we decide what to do.' He looked at Bolitho. "The wind is rising, sir. We had best get under way again.'

'Yes.' Bolitho felt the deck lurching unsteadily as the wind hissed against the hull. 'Detail a prize crew to take the schooner direct to Gibraltar. Fetch your clerk and dictate a despatch for the admiral there. He will know what best to do about the cannon.'

Mears grinned wearily. 'She is a fair little prize, sir. Worth a penny or two.'

Javal glared at him and said quickly, 'I am sorry about your lieutenant, sir. Had you known him long ?' 'He is my nephew.'

The two officers looked at each other, appalled. Javal said, 'By God, if I'd only known, sir, I would have sent one of my other officers.'

Bolitho looked at him gravely. 'You did what was right. You were short-handed. But in any case, honour and danger must be shared as equally as possible.'

Mears suggested, 'If I took one of the boats under sail, sir ?'

'No.' Bolitho looked past him. 'In daylight you would stand less than a dog's chance.' He turned his back. 'Carry on with your duties, Captain Javal. There is nothing we can do here.'

The screen door slammed shut and Bolitho sat down heavily on the bench seat below the windows. He turned the broken sword over several times in his hands, seeing the boy's pleasure at receiving it, his pitiful pride when they had met for the first time.

He looked up, startled, as if he expected to see Allday nearby, as he always was when he sensed he was needed. Now there was not even him. There was nobody.

Somewhere beyond the bulkhead he heard a sailor singing some strange song which he did not recognise. Probably dreaming of his tiny share of the prize money, or of some girl back in England.

Feet clattered overhead, and he heard someone bawl, 'Bring the boats alongside and man the tackles!' The recovered boats were thudding against the hull, and he thought he heard someone give a cheer as the schooner made ready to part company.

Javal opened the door, his face wet with rain. 'Schooner's about to leave, sir. Are you sure you do not wish to send a separate despatch to the admiral?'

'No, thank you. You were in charge of the cutting-out. It is right that your name should be on the despatch.'

Javal licked-his lips. 'Well, thank you indeed, sir. I just wish there was something I could do about
-'
He broke off as voices shouted across the upper deck and the hull dipped more heavily in the wind. 'I'd better go, sir. Get her under way before we lose a spar or two.'

He hurried out, and moments later Bolitho heard his voice through the partly open skylight.

'Set the forecourse, Mr. Mears, though I fear we will have to take in a reef or so before long. We are rejoining the squadron.'

'By God, I'd not have his conscience on a matter like this, sir.'

Javal's reply was swift and sad. 'Conscience does not come into it, Toby.
Responsibility
sweeps it out of the window.'

*

Allday sat with his shoulders against a slab of broken rock and watched the horses which were picketed at the foot of a slope. Across his lap Pascoe lay quite still, his eyes shut in a tight frown as if he were dead. Squatting or lying dejectedly nearby, six other sailors were waiting like Allday to see what was going to happen next.

He squinted up at the sky, wishing the rain would return to ease his raging thirst. By the set of the sun it must be about noon, he decided. Around him the rough, winding track appeared to turn inland. He sighed. Away from the sea.

He felt Pascoe stir on his cramped legs and placed one hand across his mouth.

'Easy,
Mr. Pascoe
!
'

He saw his dark eyes staring up at him, the pain and the memory of what had happened flooding back.

'We are resting a while.' He nodded carefully towards the soldiers by the horses. 'Or
they
are any rate.'

As Pascoe made to move he pressed one hand on his chest. It felt cool despite the sun overhead. He brushed a fly away from the livid scar on Pascoe's ribs, the mark which had been left by the duel at Gibraltar.

'What
...
what
happened?
'

Pascoe felt his body as if to seek out his limbs one by one. Like the rest of them he was without shoes or belt, and wore only breeches and the remains of his shirt.

Allday murmured, 'The bastards took everything they could. I think they killed two of our lads back on the road because they were wounded and couldn't keep pace with the horses.'

He thought of the pitiful screams and then the silence, and was glad Pascoe had been unconscious.