Above the din he heard Soames's deep voice rallying and cursing as he kept his men at their guns. A swivel banged out from the top, and he imagined the marines were firing more to ease their own fears than with much hope of hitting anything,
A quarterdeck gun port seemed to explode in a great burst of flame, and Bolitho saw men, and pieces of men hurled in all directions at once as a ball tore splinters from the bulwark and transformed them into hideous darts.
One marine ran sobbing from the nettings, his hands clawing at what remained of his face. Others stood or knelt by their fallen companions, firing, reloading, firing, reloading, until it seemed life itself had stopped.
A down-draught of wind swirled the smoke away, and Bolitho saw the other frigate's yards and punctured sails barely fifty yards abeam. He saw the filtered sunlight touching pikes and cutlasses as the enemy prepared to board, or to fight off their attempt to do likewise. He gasped as another line of bright tongues darted through the smoke, felt the planks buck under his feet, the crash and clatter of a gun being overturned or smashed to fragments.
When he peered upwards he saw that the maintopsail was little better than a rag, but every spar was still intact. A wounded seaman clung to the mainyard, his blood running down one leg unheeded to the deck far below. Another seaman managed to reach him and drag him to safety, and together they crouched below the maintop, caught in the severed ratlines like two broken birds.
Herrick was yelling, 'He's trying to cripple us, sir! Take us as a prize!'
Bolitho nodded and stopped to drag an injured man clear of a six-pounder. He had already guessed Argus's intentions. Another ship for Muljadi's use, or perhaps to replace Argus so that she could return to France.
The thought seemed to drive into his heart like a knife.
'We'll put the helm hard down! Swing the bows right into him!' He did not recognise his own voice. 'Tell Davy to get ready to grapple!' He seized Herrick's arm. 'We must grapple! He'll pound us to splinters at this rate!'
He felt the blast of a ball past his head, heard it strike the opposite bulwark and send a mass of wood splinters scything across the deck like arrows.
Herrick was yelling to Mudge and the men at the braces, and through the smoke Bolitho saw Argus's shadowy outline loom above the forecastle, the sudden movement of figures in her bows as the two ships drove together.
Above the din of gunfire and shouting he heard the sails jerking and banging, the wind lost to them, the ship already falling sluggishly abeam.
Herrick staggered in some blood and gasped, 'No use! Can't grapple!'
Bolitho stared past him. The enemy was already edging ahead and across Undine's larboard bow, a few guns firing as she went, holding the wind and changing course very slightly while Undine floundered helplessly, her remaining sails almost aback.
She was going to rake Undine with every available gun, but give Bolitho time to haul down his colours before she reached his stern and finished what she had begun.
He felt Herrick tugging his arm.
'What now?'
Herrick pointed up through the smoke, where the sunlight was making a small path through the drifting smoke.
'The lookout, sir! He's reported a sail to the west'rd!' His eyes were shining with hope. 'The Frenchman's making off!'
Bolitho looked at him dully. It was true, and he had heard nothing. Deafened by gunfire, or fogged in his own despair, he did not know. But the Argus was already spreading her mainsail and was driving down-wind with gathering power towards the open strait.
Bolitho said, 'Hands to the braces, Mr. Herrick. Lay her on the larboard tack again. If we can signal this newcomer we may still be able to give chase.'
He heard a small cry, and when he turned he saw two seamen kneeling beside Keen's body. The midshipman was trying to reach down to his stomach, but one of the seamen was gripping his wrists while the other slit open his bloodstained breeches with a dirk and threw them aside. A few inches above the groin there was something like a broken bone, but Bolitho knew it was far worse. A wood splinter blasted from the deck, and probably held tight by its own barbs.
He knelt down and touched it with his fingers, seeing the blood pulsing across the youth's thigh, hearing his sobs as he tried not to scream.
Bolitho thought of Whitmarsh, far away in Pendang Bay,
helping to heal the sick and wounded from the garrison.
One of the seamen said, ''E'll not last, sir. without 'elp.
I'll fetch a surgeon's mate.'
Allday was kneeling beside him and said, 'No. I'll do it.' Bolitho looked at him, seeing the determination on his face.
Then he turned and said, 'Easy, Mr. Keen. You'll be about again soon.'
He felt the rising anger and despair pricking his eyes. What had he brought them all to? He touched the midshipman's bare shoulder. It was smooth like a woman's. He had not even begun to live yet.
He snapped, 'Are you sure, Allday?'
The coxswain eyed him calmly. 'I'm as good as those other butchers.'
Davy came hurrying aft and touched his hat. 'Masthead has reported the other ship to be the Bedford, sir. The Frenchman must have thought her to be a man-of-war.'
He looked at Keen's wound and said hoarsely, 'My God.' Bolitho stood up slowly, watching the midshipman's fingers opening and closing like trapped animals in the seaman's strong grip.
'Very well, Allday. Take him aft to the cabin. I'll be down myself as soon as I've attended to things here.'
Allday looked at him. 'Don't you fret, Captain. It's the luck of the game. Our turn will come.' He nodded to the two seamen. 'Pick him up.'
Keen gave a sharp cry as they moved him to the cabin hatch, and before he vanished below Bolitho saw that his eyes were fixed unwinkingly on the sky above the tattered sails. Trying to hold on to it? So that by keeping the picture in his mind he might retain his life itself.
Bolitho bent and picked up the midshipman's dirk from the stained deck. He handed it to Davy and said, 'We will make contact with the Bedford. There is nothing more we can do for the present but return to the settlement.'
Herrick said, 'The old Bedford.' He sounded bitter. 'A bloody storeship from Madras full of seasick soldiers and their womenfolk.'
Bolitho watched the helmsman bringing Undine carefully back on course, the skilful way they were allowing for the punctured sails' loss of power.
'If Argus had known that, she'd have done for both of us.' He saw the surprise and sudden concern and added simply, 'But not before we had rendered her equally useless.'
He glanced aloft at the masthead pendant. How many times had he done that? He took out his watch and flicked open the guard. Remembering. The whole sea-fight had taken less than two hours, and already Argus was almost lost in the offshore haze which marked the coming of evening. He shaded his eyes to look for the Bedford, and saw her topsails on the horizon like small yellow shells.
Then he looked around at the splintered planking, the small line of corpses which had been dragged below the weather gangway. There was much to do, and he must not give way for an instant if his men were to keep the will to fight again if the time came. He saw another corpse being carried up from the forehatch, and knew he would have to deal with the reports of damage, arrange for replacements and repairs. And burials.
He heard another sharp cry through the cabin skylight, and thought of Keen being spreadeagled there while Allday tried to extract the splinter.
He said, 'I am going below, Mr. Herrick. Deal with reports on damage and casualties.' He saw him nod. 'Thank you.'
As he hurried below I-Herrick said quietly, 'No. Thank.you.'
Bolitho brushed past the sentry at his door and then stopped. It was very quiet in the cabin, and when he saw Keen's naked body lying on the deck he thought he was too late.
Allday said, 'All done, Captain.' He held up the jagged red. lump in some pincers. 'I think he did very well, for a lad.'