Bolitho added gently, 'I'm sure you will.' He saw Allday watching him over the midshipman's quivering shoulders, the almost imperceptible shake of his head. 'Now be off with you, and check that my message has been sent.'
Allday said quietly, 'Poor lad. He'll never get used to this sort of thing.'
Bolitho looked at him gravely. 'Did you? Did I?'
Allday shrugged. 'We learned to hide what we thought, Captain. It's all a man can do.'
'Perhaps.' He saw Davy kicking dust across the drying blood. Then he looked at Carwithen's dark features as he examined the dead man's pistol. 'Although there are some who have no feelings at all, and I have always found them to be less than men.'
Allday followed him back into the shade. Bolitho's mood would soon change at a hint of action, and for the present it was best to leave him to his thoughts.
14. The Bristol Sailmaker
'Time to move, is it, sir? Davy watched Bolitho as he craned over the rocks, his shirt pale against the darkening sky.
'I believe so. Tell Carwithen to muster the hands.'
He shivered as the sea-breeze explored his body. Once the sun had dipped over the hills at his back it grew cool, even cold, in minutes. They had been too long in the heat, plagued by sun and thirst, and a multitude of flies which had appeared as if by magic. He watched the anchored schooner's outline, the soft glow of lights from poop and forepeak. The fire on the beach had died to a blotch of red embers, and he could see nobody near it, but guessed the lookout was still in his refuge beyond the pools.
Allday whispered, 'All ready, Captain.' He held his cutlass clear of the rocks. 'Mr. Davy's making sure they all know what to do.'
Bolitho nodded without answering, trying to gauge the distance they must cover. Surprisingly, it seemed greater in the growing darkness, but he was reassured by the occasional snatches of voices from the vessel to show they had given no heed to their missing comrade.
Davy slithered down beside him. 'I've sent Carwithen's party away, sir.' He looked at the sky, the isolated puffs of light cloud. 'Wind's steady enough.'
'Yes.' Bolitho checked his pistol and tightened his belt. 'Follow me. Single file.'
Like ghosts they topped the last rock barrier, the sounds of loose stones and rubble seemingly very loud in the gloom. But as Davy had observed, the wind held steady, and was making a lively chop along the beach and narrow spur of headland. Noisy enough to drown any small sound they might be making.
Once, as they followed the curve of the hillside they all froze in their tracks as two dozing sea-birds rose flapping and screaming almost from under their feet.
Bolitho waited, listening to his heart, to the sharp breathing of the men at his back. Nothing. He lifted his arm and they began to move forward and downwards again.
When he looked across his shoulder he saw the rough edge of the rock barrier, where they had waited fretting for sunset, far above his slow-moving party. They were almost down to beach level now, and he heard a man curse quietly as he slipped in the first of the small pools. Davy's party were having to wade in the shallows to his right, and he hoped none of them would fall headlong into one of the rock pools there, now hidden by the rising tide.
He thought momentarily of the ship, anchored on the other side of the islet. The familiar sounds and smells. Herrick waiting anxiously for news of success or disaster. If it was to be the latter, he could do nothing to help this time. His would be the task of contacting the 'enemy' and making what he could of it. It was easier to think of them as the enemy. It never helped to picture them as men. Flesh and bone like himself.
Allday touched his arm urgently. 'Boat coming inshore, Captain!'
Bolitho held up his hand and brought both parties to a shuffling silence. The boat must have come around the schooner's hidden side. He could see the splash of oars, the lively froth of the stem as it bounced across the first leaping surf.
He thought of Carwithen and his handful of men who were creeping up and around the solitary lookout. They should have been there by now. He recalled Carwithen's brutal madness with the boarding axe, and wondered if he had been the one to strike the luckless lookout down.
A voice echoed suddenly in the darkness, and for an instant Bolitho imagined Carwithen had been delayed, or that the lookout was calling an alarm. But the voice came from the boat, louder this time, and despite the strange tongue, Bolitho knew the man was calling a question. Or a name perhaps.
Allday said, 'They've come a'looking for their mate, Captain.' He dropped to one knee to keep the grounding boat framed against the surf. 'Six of 'em.'
Bolitho said quietly, 'Stand fast, lads. Let them come to us.' He heard a man clicking his jaws together. Tense, nervous.
Probably terrified in these unfamiliar surroundings.
Allday said, 'One of 'em's going up the cliff to the lookout.' Bolitho drew his sword very carefully. Of course. It would be the first place a searcher would go. Ask if the missing man had been seen.
He watched the other five strolling up the beach, swinging their weapons casually, chatting as they approached.
Bolitho glanced behind him. His men were barely visible as they crouched or knelt amongst fallen rocks, or squatted in the sea itself. He turned to study the oncoming shadows. Twenty yards, fifteen. Surely one would see them soon.
A terrible cry tore the stillness apart, hanging above the ridge long after the man had died.
Bolitho saw the five shadows turn in confusion, knew the dying scream must have been the man sent to the lookout. lie yelled, 'At 'em, lads!'
Without a shout or a cheer they were all up and rushing after the five figures who had turned back towards the surf.
One of them slipped and fell headlong, tried to rise, but was slashed into a sobbing heap by a seaman's cutlass as he dashed past.
The others had reached the boat, but deprived of two of their strength, were unable to shift it. Steel gleamed in the shadows, and as the seamen charged amongst them the fight became confused and deadly. A seaman caught his foot in the boat-rope and before he could recover his balance was pinned bodily to the shingle by a long sword. His killer died almost simultaneously. The remaining two threw down their weapons and were instantly clubbed into unmoving heaps by the maddened sailors.
Davy snapped tersely, 'One of ours is dead, sir.' He rolled the man over on to his back and dragged the cutlass from his fingers.
Bolitho eased the sword back into its scabbard. His legs felt shaky from running, from nervous tension. He looked at the anchored schooner. No shouts, no calls to arms. He thought -he heard the same sing-song voice chanting above the seething surf, remote and vaguely sad.
Davy said hoarsely, 'Damned poor lookout, sir.'
Bolitho watched his men gathering around the two boats. The one which had been there all day was furthest up the shingle and would need the more men to move it.
He replied, 'Wouldyou have expected trouble, in their place?'
Davy shrugged. 'I suppose not.'
Carwithen came hurrying down from the ridge, his helpers hard put to keep up with him.
He said savagely, 'That bloody fool Lincoln was too slow with his dirk!' He glared at the watching men around him. 'I'll see to him later!'
Bolitho said, 'Boats in the water.' He sought out the six marines. 'You take the second one. You know what to do.'
One, the man who had first sighted the schooner, grunted. 'We knows, sir. We holds the boat where we can see the poop, an' pin down anyone who tries to pass the lanterns there.'
Bolitho smiled. 'Captain Bellairs was right about you.'
Allday whispered, 'This way, Captain.'
He felt the surf engulfing his legs and waist, the boat's scarred planking as Allday reached down to drag him over the gunwale.
'Shove off!'
Bolitho restrained the urge to watch the frantic oars, the efforts to steer the boat clear of the surf. Just one blast of canister would be enough to nip his flimsy plan in the bud.