Authors: Alexander Kent
Slade nodded. “No doubt. Small pieces is my guess.”
“Good. As soon as the boats are secured, get under way again and lay her on the larboard tack. Steer nor'-west by north.”
He stood aside as the men ran through the deepening shadows to their stations.
Bolitho tested their new relationship. “Will you not wait for
Destiny,
sir?”
Palliser held up his hand and they both heard the muted sounds of gunfire.
Then he said tersely, “No, Mr Bolitho, I will not. Even if my captain succeeds in leaving harbour, and is able to discover more favourable winds than ourselves, he'll not thank me for allowing the evidence he so sorely needs to be destroyed.”
Pearse yelled, “Boats secured aft, sir!”
“Man the braces! Stand by to come about!”
The wind hissed over the water and thrust against the canvas with new strength, pushing the brigantine over as a white troth gathered around her stem.
Palliser said sharply, “Darken ship, Pearse! I want nothing to betray our presence!”
Slade said, “It might be over an' done with before dawn, sir.”
But the new Palliser snapped, “Nonsense! That vessel is being attacked, probably by pirates. They'll not risk a collision in darkness.” He turned to seek out Bolitho and added, “Not like us, eh?”
Little shook his head and breathed out noisily. Bolitho could smell the drink on his breath, as strong as an open cellar door.
“Gawd, Mr Bolitho, 'e's really 'appy at last.”
Bolitho thought suddenly of the face he had seen aboard the ship now under attack.
“Please God we shall be in time.”
Little, not understanding, walked away to join his friend Pearse for another “wet.”
So the new third lieutenant was as eager as the captain for prize money, he thought, and that could not be such a bad thing for the rest of them.
Palliser prowled across the poop like a restless animal.
“Shorten sail, Mr Bolitho. Take in the t'gan'sls and stays'l. Roundly now!”
Men groped their way to halliards and belaying-pins while others ran swiftly up the ratlines and out along the topgallant yard.
Bolitho always marvelled at the little time it took trained seamen to get used to a strange vessel, even in the dark.
It would soon be dawn, and he could feel the previous day's weariness and hours without sleep clawing at his resistance. Palliser had kept his small company on the move throughout the night. Changing tack, altering course, retrimming sails, as he plotted and estimated the whereabouts of the other vessels. Several times there had been short exchanges of gunfire, but Palliser had said it was more to deter a possible chase than with any hope of close action. One thing had been proved by the occasional cannon fire. There were at least three vessels out there beyond the
Heloise
's taut jib. Like wolves around a wounded beast, waiting for it to falter or make one fatal mistake.
Little called hoarsely, “All guns loaded, sir!”
Palliser replied, “Very well.” In a lower tone to Bolitho he added, “
All
guns. A few swivels and about enough canister to disturb a field of crows!”
Midshipman Ingrave said, “Permission to run up the colours, sir?”
Palliser nodded. “Yes. This is a King's ship for the present, and we're not likely to meet another.”
Bolitho recalled some of the muttering he had heard during the night. A few of the hands were troubled at the prospect of engaging pirates or anyone else with so puny an armament.
Bolitho darted a quick glance to starboard. Was there a faint lightening on the horizon? There was a good lookout aloft, and he was their best hope of taking the other vessel by surprise. It was unlikely that pirates intent on capturing and plundering a trader would be bothered about keeping a watch elsewhere.
He heard Slade whispering with Palliser. He was another one who was unhappy about the coming confrontation.
Palliser said fiercely, “Keep an eye on your course and be ready to change tack if we outrun the enemy. Leave the rest to me, see?”
Bolitho felt his limbs shiver.
The enemy.
Palliser had no doubts anyway.
Stockdale came from the shadows, his great frame angled against the deck as the wind held them over.
“Them buggers are usin' chain-shot, sir. Once or twice I 'eard it when I was aloft.”
Bolitho bit his lip. So they intended to cripple the
Rosario
's rigging and then pound her into submission with less risk to themselves. They would get a shock when they saw
Heloise
bearing down on them. For a short while anyway.
He said, “Maybe
Destiny
's already chasing after us.”
“Mebbee.”
Bolitho turned away as Jury came to join him. Stockdale did not believe that, any more than he did.
Jury asked, “Will it take much longer, sir?”
“Dawn comes up swiftly. You'll see their topsails or upper yards at any minute now. If one of them fires again, we should be able to plot his bearing.”
Jury watched him in the gloom. “It does not trouble you, sir?”
Bolitho shrugged. “Not now. Later perhaps. We are committed, or soon will be.” He turned and put his hand on the midshipman's shoulder. “Just remember something. Mr Palliser has picked some very experienced hands for this work. But his officers are somewhat youthful.” He saw Jury nod. “So keep your head and be where you can be seen. Leave the miracles to Mr Palliser.”
Jury smiled and then winced as his cracked lips reminded him of the previous day's boatwork.
He said, “I'll stay with you.”
Stockdale chuckled. “Beggin' yer pardon, young gentleman, but don't you be gettin' in my way.” He swung a cutlass across the bulwark like a scythe. “Wouldn't want you to lose yer 'ead, so to speak!”
Palliser called, “Stand by to take in the forecourse! Keep it quiet!”
The boatswain's mate pointed abeam. “Dawn, sir!”
Palliser rasped, “God dammit, Pearse, we're neither blind nor bloody deaf!”
Pearse grinned at Palliser's back. “Palliser, you're a real pig!” But he was careful that nobody should hear him.
“Deck there! Sail on the starboard bow! And 'nother to lar-board!”
Palliser clapped his hands together. “We did it! Damn their eyes, we're into them!”
At that moment a gun fired, making an orange flash on the dark water.
Slade said anxiously, “There's a third to wind'rd!”
Bolitho gripped his hanger and pressed its scabbard against his thigh to calm himself.
Three vessels, the centre one was doubtless the
Rosario,
with her two attackers standing off to form one great triangle. He heard a slithering sound and then a splintering crash, and vaguely through the darkness ahead he saw a jagged patch of spray as some spars and rigging hit the water.
Stockdale nodded. “Chain-shot right enough, th' buggers.”
“Stand by on deck! Watch your slow-matches!”
There was no need for stealth now. Bolitho heard a shrill whistle from the nearest vessel and the crack of a pistol. It had either exploded in error or had been used as a signal to warn their consort.
With their muskets and powder-horns ready to use, cutlasses and boarding pikes within easy reach, the
Destiny
's seamen peered into the darkness.
“Take in the forecourse!”
Men ran to obey, and as the great sail was brailed up to its yard the growing light revealed the crouching figures and trained swivels like the rising of a curtain.
There was a series of bangs, and Bolitho heard the chain-shot screeching overhead like tormented spirits in hell.
Little said between his teeth, “Too 'igh, thank the liven' Jesus!”
The deadly chain-shot threw up broken spray far to starboard, but in direct line with the brigantine's two masts.
“Lee helm!” Palliser was gripping a backstay as he studied the enemy's blurred outline. “As close to the wind as you can!”
“Man the braces!”
The brigantine crept round, until her remaining sails were rippling in protest.
“Nor'-west by west, sir! Full an' bye!”
The other vessel fired and a ball slammed down within twenty feet of the
Heloise
's bow and hurled spray high over the beak-head.
Then firing began in earnest, the balls wide and haphazard as the gun crews tried to guess what the newcomer was trying to do.
Another ball ripped through the driver and left a jagged hole in the canvas large enough for a man's head.
Palliser exploded, “That bloody fool brig fired at
us.
”
Little grinned. “Thinks we're pirates, too!”
“I'll give him pirates!”
Palliser pointed at the vessel which was rising out of the darkness to larboard and shortening as she changed tack to run down on the brigantine's impudent approach.
“Schooner! Take her first!”
Little cupped his hands. “On the uproll, lads!”
Men were still dragging one of the swivels across to mount it on the opposite side and yelled at Little to give them more time.
But Little knew his trade well.
“Easy, lads!” It was like hearing a man quietening a beast.
“Fire!”
Like glow-worms the matches plunged down and the swivels barked viciously at the oncoming vessel. A murderous hail of closely packed canister swept across her forecastle, and Bolitho thought he heard screams as it found a target.
“Stand by to come about!” Palliser's voice carried easily even without his speaking-trumpet. “Lee braces!”
Palliser walked jerkily down the sloping deck to join Slade by the helm. “We'll go for another one. Put up your helm.”
Heeling hard over, the brigantine ran to leeward, her canvas banging lustily until the seamen had hauled the yards round again. The second vessel seemed to pivot across the jib-boom until she lay to larboard, her stern end on to the charging
Heloise.
Palliser yelled, “Rake her poop, Little!” He swung on Slade and his gasping helmsmen. “Steady as she goes, you fool!”
Bolitho found time to pity Slade's concern. The
Heloise
was rushing down on the other vessel's stern as if she was about to smash bodily through her quarter like an axe.
“Fire!”
Flashes lit up the decks of both vessels as their guns spat out darting orange tongues, accompanied by the crash of iron hitting home.
Heloise
's canister must have wiped the other vessel's poop clean. Helmsmen, gun crews, there was not enough room to escape as the “daisy cutters'” jagged charges swept amongst them. She began to fall downwind, to be raked yet again by Little's other swivels.
“Set the forecourse!” Palliser's voice was everywhere.
Bolitho could see him clearly now, his lean body moving about the poop and framed against the brightening sea like an avenger.
“Fire!”
More balls shrieked overhead, and Bolitho guessed that their first target had regained his courage and was closing to the aid of his companion.
He saw the
Rosario
for the first time, and his heart sank at the spectacle. Her foremast had gone completely, and only half of her main appeared to be standing. Wreckage and severed rigging trailed everywhere, and as the sun lifted above the horizon Bolitho saw the thin scarlet threads which ran down from each scupper. It was as if the ship herself and not her defenders was bleeding to death.
“Hands wear ship!”
Bolitho jabbed a seaman's shoulder and yelled, “Join the others!” He felt the man jump before he ran to throw his weight on the braces. He had imagined it to be hot iron and not his hand.
There was a tremendous crash, and Bolitho almost fell to his knees as two hits were scored on the
Heloise
's hull.
Bolitho saw Ingrave staring at the nearest vessel, wide-eyed and unable to move.
He shouted, “Get below and attend to the damage!” He strode to the midshipman and gripped his sleeve and shook him like a doll. “
At once,
Mr Ingrave! Sound the well!”
Ingrave stared at him vacantly, and then with unexpected determination ran to the companion.
Stockdale unceremoniously dragged Bolitho's arm and held him aside as a massive block fell from aloft, broken cordage whipping behind it. It struck the bulwark and bounced over the side.
Palliser shouted,
“Stand to!”
He had drawn his sword. “Ready to larboard!”