He realised that Egmont was close beside him, could see the oval of his face, hear his breathing. Calm enough, giving nothing away.
He said, ‘It will be steeper on the far side. It leads right down to the bay.’ He was brushing the front of his coat with one hand as he spoke; a few dead, dry twigs clung to it. It was like seeing him for the first time; he had always been so smart, not a thread or clip out of place. Because he was so new to the rank, or because he still needed to prove something? So different from the unexpected outbursts of anger, or the hostility he had displayed in the cabin. When he had struck Sewell in the face.
‘You told me you’ve detailed two hands as scouts? Can you vouch for them?’
‘Keveth and Hooker, sir. When the names were selected…’
Egmont snapped, ‘Never mind what Tinker Thorne said. What do you think?’
Bolitho pressed his knuckles against his side to control his irritation.
‘I’d trust them, sir. Hooker was brought up in the country, and Keveth too, before he volunteered.’
Egmont might have been smiling.
‘And he is a fellow Cornishman, I believe? Say no more.’ He moved to the edge of the rough track, looking back toward the sea. ‘We shall make our way down to the bay shortly. Those two men will scout ahead. Don’t ask them, Bolitho. Tell them. This may be a waste of time, but it may not, and I’ll not have any slackness, is that clear?’
Bolitho swung round as several voices let out a collective gasp of surprise or dismay.
Just one light had appeared, moving against the black curtain of sea and sky. Tiny, a mere pinprick, but after the stealth and scent of danger it seemed like a beacon.
Egmont said, ‘Hold your noise!’ He was feeling his pocket, as if for his watch. ‘Hotspur’s riding light. To show others that we are here upon our lawful occasions, if anyone else is fool enough to be abroad at this time!’
Someone muttered, ‘The ’ole bloody world’ll know by now!’
Egmont moved away from the edge. ‘And take that man’s name! Any more insolence and I’ll see the culprit’s backbones at the gangway when we rejoin Gorgon!’
Bolitho followed him along the track. They were on the downward slope, and he thought he could feel the sea’s nearness, the protection of the little bay he had seen on the chart. When he glanced back, the tiny light had vanished, masked by the fold of the ridge. Like having a line severed, the last link with the small, personal existence they had come to know. And depend on… a sailor’s faith in his ship.
Egmont was saying, ‘Watch your weapons! Keep them covered!’
Keveth, the keen-eyed foretopman who had begun life as a poacher, murmured, ‘Ready when you are, sir.’
The second man, Hooker, one of Gorgon’s gun captains, raised his fist.
‘We won’t move too fast for you, sir!’
Bolitho could see his teeth in the darkness. As if he was sharing some private joke, reassuring him of something.
They walked a few yards and they were completely alone.
Keveth turned and said softly, ‘Just us, see?’ He drew a finger across his throat. ‘Anyone else gets this!’
How long, how far, Bolitho lost count. He heard the sea, a slow and heavy rhythm like breathing, and the faint ripple of water running over rocks.
Keveth said, ‘Bill Hooker’s gone off to smell ’un out. Good lad.’
Bolitho forced each muscle to relax. Two Cornishmen on this godforsaken piece of coast, which even now was so hauntingly reminiscent of home. If Keveth took it into his head to leave him, he could simply melt away.
‘I bin thinkin’, sir. When you gets your new ship…’ Keveth was still beside him.
Bolitho smiled. ‘I haven’t got one yet.’
‘Ah, but when ee do…’ He broke off, his hand sliding through some wet gorse like a snake. ‘Still!’
But it was Hooker, bent double, grinning when he knew he had found them.
Keveth said, ‘Thought ee’d swum back to the ship, my son!’
Bolitho had seen the glint of the dagger before he slipped it back under his coat.
Hooker took a deep breath and slumped down on the ground.
‘I seen ’er, sir!’ He nodded, as if to convince himself as well. ‘I got down to the beach. There was a rift in the clouds, an’ there she was!’
Keveth exclaimed, ‘Bloody saphead! Some ’un might have seen ee!’
‘Thought they ’ad. Two of ’em almost trod on me!’ He laughed shakily. ‘Near thing!’
Bolitho reached over and gripped his arm. He could feel him shivering.
‘Tell it as it happened. What you saw, maybe heard. Then we’ll go back and tell the others.’ He waited, allowing his breathing to slow, and said, ‘You did well. I’ll see that it’s not forgotten.’
Keveth murmured, ‘He will, too, Bill.’
‘I kept close to them rocks, just like you said.’ He was looking at his friend, but speaking to Bolitho. ‘It was as black as a well, an’ then there was a break in the clouds to the nor’ west – even saw a few early stars. Then it was gone.’
Bolitho was aware of Keveth’s irritation.
‘What sort of vessel is she? Square-rigged, fore and aft? Take your time.’
It was hard to remain calm, contained, but any sign of impatience or doubt and Hooker’s recollections would be scattered. He thought of Egmont back there in the darkness, doubtless fuming with frustration and cursing Verling for sending him out on this pointless quest. A waste of time. What Hooker had to say now would change everything.
Hooker said deliberately, ‘’Tis a brig. I’d swear to that, sir. All canvas furled an’ snugged down for the night, I’d say. But she’s anchored so far out, it was ’ard to be sure.’
Keveth nudged him.
‘Keep goin’, Bill. You’re doin’ handsome.’
Hooker did not seem to hear him. He continued in the same unemotional tone, reliving it. Feeling the menace, alone on the beach.
‘There were two boats on the sand, another one moored farther out, in the shallows. Bigger’n the others, one mast, sail-rigged.’ He banged the ground with his hand. ‘Lee-boards, I’m almost sure.’ Another nod to himself. ‘Small coaster, I reckon.’
Just the kind of vessel for a dangerous rendezvous. And there would be hundreds of such craft around the islands or used for trade along the French coast.
Hooker continued, ‘They was arguin’, do you see, sir? Shoutin’ some o’ the time. I thought they was near comin’ to fists or worse.’
Keveth prompted, almost gently, ‘English?’
Hooker stared at him, as if it had not occurred to him. ‘Some was. Others could ’ave bin French. I ain’t sure. But the ones with the coaster was cursin’ the crew from the brig. Anchored too far out, one was yellin’.’
Bolitho got to his feet. That had to be the key. Too far out. Whatever was being unlawfully traded or moved to another rendezvous, and was worth cold-blooded murder, had to be shifted now.
He said, ‘Hazardous or not, they have no choice.’ He thought of Hotspur’s isolated riding light. Neither did Verling.
He looked at Keveth, who was also standing now, his carefully wrapped musket over one shoulder.
‘I’ll have you relieved as soon as I can. We’ll go and find the others.’
Keveth hesitated, as if some sharp comment was hanging on his tongue. But he said, ‘I’ll be here, sir. The lieutenant will be wantin’ a boat’s crew, I’m thinkin’.’ He added firmly, ‘I’d like to keep with you,’ and wiped his grubby chin with the back of his hand. ‘Sir!’
It was only a short time before they found the others, but long enough for the truth to become clear to him.
A boat’s crew was needed without delay. Verling must have known it even as he was grappling with each doubt. If he had waited until dawn, the mystery ship would have sailed, despite the risks in these shoal-ridden waters. The alternative was the end of a rope.