Bolitho shook his head. 'In my position, would you?' He forced a smile. 'Your face tells me what I need to know.'
Le Chaumareys nodded to his watching officers and then led the way to the entry port.
Bolitho glanced quickly along the gun deck, noting the fresh repairs to timbers and cordage. Where Undine had made her own challenge, and when he had felt the battle was nearly lost. It was an uncanny feeling to be walking with Argus's captain. More like compatriots than men who had so recently tried to destroy each other. If they met again after this, there could be no more truces.
The boat pulled steadily across swirling water towards the pier below the fortress, the French seamen watching Bolitho the whole time. Curious? Or merely seeing the face of an enemy?
Le Chaumareys spoke only once on the short crossing.
'Do not lose your temper with Muljadi. One sign and he will have you seized. He is without pity.'
'And what about your position here?'
The Frenchman gave a bitter smile. 'He needs me, m'sieu.'
Once alongside the pier Bolitho gained a new understanding of the hatred he had seen earlier. With the French seamen surrounding him as an escort he was made to hurry up the steep slope towards the fortress, while on all sides voices rose in shouts and curses, and it was obvious that without Le Chaumareys' massive presence even the sailors would have been set upon.
The lower part of the fortress was little more than an empty shell, its courtyard littered with rushes and rags which the defenders and Muljadi's growing army of followers used for bedding. He looked up at the blue sky above the ramparts and saw the guns. Old but powerful, each with balls nearby, and long ropes which trailed carelessly to the courtyard, and some crude baskets which presumably were used to haul fresh powder and shot when required.
More rough steps, the sun probing across his shoulders, then sudden shadows making his body feel chilled and damp.
Le Chaumareys grunted, 'You will wait here.'
He led Bolitho into a roughly hewn room no bigger than a cable tier and strode towards an iron-studded door at one end. It was guarded by some heavily armed natives, who faced the French seamen as if hoping for a fight.
Le Chaumareys seemed to sail_ right through them, like a three-decker breaking the line of battle. Supreme confidence, or a well-practised bluff. Bolitho did not know.
He did not have to wait long. The door was dragged open and he saw a large room, a chamber, which seemed to span the whole breadth of the upper fortress. Against the dull stone and smoky walls the dais at the far end made a fine splash of colour.
Muijadi was arranged on a pile of silk cushions, eyes fixed on the door, his body completely at ease.
He was naked to the waist, and wore only white baggy trousers and red leather boots underneath. He had no hair, so that in the sunlight from the slitted windows his head seemed pointed, and his single ear very prominent and grotesque.
Le Chaumareys was standing to one side of the dais, his face stern and alert. Around the walls were some of the dirtiest and cruellest-looking men Bolitho had ever seen in his life, although the quality of their weapons marked them as leaders or lieutenants in Muljadi's command.
He walked towards the dais, half expecting one of the onlookers to rush forward and cut him down, but nobody moved or spoke.
When he was within a few feet of the cushions Muijadi said flatly, 'That is close enough!'
He spoke good English, but with a strong accent which was probably Spanish.
He continued, 'Before I have you killed, Captain, is there anything you wish to say?'
Bolitho wanted to lick his parched lips. He heard the rustle of expectancy behind him, saw Le Chaumareys watching him with despair on his tanned face.
Bolitho said, 'On behalf of His Britannic Majesty, King George, I have come to demand the release of Colonel Don Jose Pastor, subject of Spain, and under my country's protection.'
Muijadi sat bolt upright, the stump of his severed wrist pointing like a gun.
'Demand? You insolent dog!'
Le Chaumareys stepped forward hastily. 'Let me explain, m'sieu.'
Muljadi screamed, 'You will address me Highness!' To Bolitho he added savagely, 'Call on your God for help! I will make you plead for death!'
Bolitho could feel his heart pumping against his ribs, the sweat pouring down his spine and gathering around his waist like ice-rime. Deliberately he reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. As he flicked open the guard he heard Muljadi leap to his feet, the gasp of disbelief as he threw himself from the dais to seize Bolitho's wrist in a grip like a manacle.
He screamed into Bolitho's face, 'Where did you get that?'
He jerked up his wrist and the watch, upon which the prancing gold beast dangled like a fob.
Bolitho forced himself to keep his voice level. To stop his gaze from falling on the similar pendant which hung on Muljadi's chest.
'From a prisoner.' He added sharply, 'A pirate!'
Muljadi twisted his wrist slowly, his eyes like fires as he snarled, 'You lie! And you will suffer for it now!!'
Le Chaumareys called, 'In God's name, do not make him kill you!'
Bolitho kept his eyes on Muljadi's, feeling his power, his hatred, but something more. Anxiety?
He said, 'If you take a telescope, you will be able to see my ship. You will also see there is a halter at the mainyard. If I do not return before dusk, your son will hang there, you have my word on it! I took this from his neck when I captured him and his schooner some forty miles to the south'rd of where we are standing.'
Muljadi's eyes seemed to be bulging right out of his head.
'You lie!'
Bolitho eased his wrist from Muljadi's grasp. The fingers had left marks like rope burns.
He said quietly, 'I will exchange him for your prisoner.' He looked at-Le Chaumareys' astonished face. 'The capitaine can arrange it, I am certain.'
Muijadi ran to a window and snatched a telescope from one of his men.
Over his shoulder he said hoarsely, 'You will stay as a hostage!'
Bolitho replied, 'No hostages. A fair bargain. You have my word, as a King's officer.'
Muljadi threw the telescope to the ground, shattering the lens in all directions. His chest was heaving violently; and his shaven head was glittering with tiny jewels of sweat.
'King's officer? Do you think I care for you?' He spat on the stones by Bolitho's shoes. 'You will suffer, that I promise you!'
Le Chaumareys called, 'Let it be done!' He hesitated. 'Highness!'
But Muljadi was almost beside himself. Like a madman. He suddenly grasped Bolitho's arm and propelled him to the opposite end of the chamber and thrust him against the window.
'Look down there, Captain!' He was spitting out each word like a pistol ball. 'I will give you your colonel, but it is too late to save you now!'
Bolitho stared down at the glittering water which snaked around and amongst the next cluster of islets. Anchored in a bend of the channel, her decks alive with hurrying figures, was a frigate.
He felt Muljadi's hatred turning to aa wild jubilation as he shouted, 'Mine! All mine! Well, my King's officer, are you still so confident?'
Le Chaumareys said harshly, 'Why did you have to do Muljadi whirled round on him, his eyes wild. 'Do you think I have to be told what to do? That I am a child? I have waited long enough. The waiting is over now.'
A door grated open and Bolitho saw the Spanish command ant, supported on either side by an armed pirate, his eyes blinking in the light as if he was almost blind.
Bolitho strode past Muljadi and his men. 'I have come to take you home, Senor.' He saw the filth on his torn clothing, the shackle marks on his thin wrists. 'It was a brave thing you did.'
The old man peered blearily at him, his beard quivering as he said jerkily, 'I do not understand?'
Le Chaumareys said, 'Come. Now.' Under his breath he added, 'Or I will not answer for your safety!'