Hodges pushed ahead saying, 'My mate, Billy Norris, is keepin' a weather eye on 'em, sir. Follow close. I've marked the way.'
Bolitho took his word, although he could see no marks anywhere.
It was amazing how near they had been. It seemed no time at all before Hodges was tapping his arm and gesturing for him to take cover amidst some sharp-toothed scrub, and here, opening up like a theatre, was the inlet. And how much lighter it seemed, the sunlight still lingering on the trees, and painting the sluggishly moving water with rippling reflections.
He eased himself forward, trying to ignore the painful jabs in his hands and chest. Then he froze, forgetting all the discomfort and uncertainty as he saw the ship for the first time.
Behind him he heard Allday voicing his thoughts.
'By God, Captain, it's the one which lured the Dons on to that reef!'
Bolitho nodded. The brigantine appeared larger in the confined inlet, but there was no mistaking her. He. knew he would not forget her for many a year to come.
He heard the same pitiful moaning Hodges had described, and then the sharp clatter of steel on the,far side of the inlet.
Allday whispered, 'Putting manacles on the wretches.'
'Yes.'
He wriggled forward again, seeing the brigantine's anchor cable, a boat alongside, the glow of light from her poop. As before, no flag. But there was no doubting her watchfulness. Two guns already run out, muzzles depressed to rake any attacker.
A boat glided from the shore, very slowly, and Bolitho tensed as a woman cried out, the sound dragging at his nerves as it echoed around the trees.
'Taking slaves aboard.' Allday ground his teeth. 'They'll be off shortly. That's my guess.'
Bolitho agreed.
To Keen he said, 'Fetch the others. Tell them to take care.' He sought out the crouching shape of the second scout. 'You go with him.'
To Allday he said quietly, 'If we can seize her, we'll know for sure who was behind Nervion's destruction.'
Allday had his cutlass in both hands. 'I'm for that, Captain!'
More thuds and sounds from alongside the brigantine, and another shrill cry rising to a scream until it was swiftly silenced by a blow.
Bolitho tried to estimate how far this point was from the sea. The slaver's master would need to be able to slip away as quietly as he had entered. He would require stealth. As little noise as possible until he was clear. It seemed incredible to be watching this same vessel. While Undine had waited to search for Nervion's survivors, and had then taken wide detours to avoid land and other ships, the slaver had pushed on with his own affairs. As if nothing had happened. It took iron-hard nerves for that. There were more sharp cries. Like animals at slaughter. Slavers had no nerves. No pity.
He heard furtive noises behind him and Soames's voice, flat, unemotional.
'Young Keen was right then. It is the same vessel.' He squinted at the tree-tops beyond the brigantine. 'Not much time left, sir. It'll be as black as a boot in an hour. Maybe less.'
'What I believe, too.' Bolitho looked at the clearing where the slaves were being gathered. A few wisps of smoke from fires. Probably for a blacksmith to work on the manacles. But it was the weakest point. 'Take twenty men and move around the camp. At the first sign of alarm you open fire with everything you have. Create panic if nothing else.'
'Aye. Makes sense.'
Bolitho nodded, his mind chilling with excitement. A kind of madness which always came at such moments.
'I'll want ten men who can swim. If we can board her while the slaves are being loaded, we might be able to hold the poop until you rush the boats and join us.'
He heard Soames rubbing his chin.
'A wild plan, sir, but it's now or never, it seems to me.'
'It's settled then. Tell Rojart to keep a few hands here to protect our flank. For this is the way we must go if all fails.' Soames started to crawl away, hissing his orders into the forest until he appeared satisfied.
Other figures rustled and grunted nearby, and Keen said, 'Our party is ready, sir.'
'Our party?'
Keen's teeth looked very white in the fading light. 'I am an excellent swimmer, sir.'
Allday muttered anxiously, 'I hope there are none of those damned serpents in the water.'
Bolitho looked around at their faces. How well he had got to know most of them. He saw it all in these last moments. Fear, anxiety, wildness to match his own. Even brutal eagerness.
He said shortly, 'We will slide into the water below the bushes. Leave your shoes and everything else but your weapons.' He sought out Allday. 'See that the pistols are well wrapped. It should keep them dry for a while.'
He studied the sky. It was darkening swiftly, and only the tree-tops still held the gentle glow of sunlight. In the inlet and around the anchored brigantine the water was dull. Like liquid mud.
'Nosy!'
He caught his breath as the water came up to his waist and then his neck. It was very warm. He waited a few more seconds, expecting to hear a shout or the sound of a musket. But the muffled cries from the camp told him he had chosen the time well. They were too busy to watch everywhere at once.
The others were in the water behind him, their weapons held high as they paddled slowly away from the bank.
Keen was overtaking him, his arms moving smoothly. He whispered, 'I'll make for the cable, sir.' He was actually grinning.
Further, and further still, until they had passed the halfway, and Bolitho knew if they were discovered now they would be lost. The masts and yards stood high overhead, the furled sails sharp against the sky, the lantern light shining more brightly in the descending gloom. Feet thudded on deck and a man laughed wildly. A drunkard's laugh. Perhaps you needed extra rum for such work, he thought.
And then, as if by magic, they were all together, clawing the rounded hull below the starboard cathead, the current dragging at their legs, folding them against the rough timbers as they fought to stay concealed.
Allday gasped, 'The boats'll never see us here. We're safe for a bit.'
At that very instant a terrible cry floated across the water, and for a moment Bolitho imagined someone had been killed.
But the seaman at his side was floundering and pointing towards the bank which they had just left.
Even in the dying light it was easy to recognise Rojart's ruffled shirt. He was standing in the open, his arms held out as if to seize the inlet and everything it contained. He yelled again and again, waving his fists, stamping his feet, as if he had gone raving mad.
Rojart's sudden appearance had brought a complete hush to the brigantine's deck, but now as voices babbled and shouted and more feet thudded along the planking, Bolitho knew any hope of surprise was gone.
Keen had been clinging to the bobstay below the bowsprit, but now allowed himself to drift down towards him.
He gasped wretchedly, 'Nobody told Rojart it was the ship which sank Nervion. He must have just discovered-'
The sound of the shot was deafening and seemed to come from almost overhead. The smoke gushed and eddied across the swirling water, making more than one man duck his face to avoid a fit of coughing.
Before it hid the bank Bolitho saw Rojart hurled away by a full charge of canister. A bloody rag. Not a man at all.
He clung to the line which Allday had bent on to the bobstay and tried to clear his mind. The unexpected and unforeseen.
He winced as another shot crashed out from further aft, the hull shivering under his fingers as if alive. A ball this time, he heard it smashing through the trees and then fading away completely.
And it was then, from beyond the hidden camp, that Soames's men opened fire.
7. Herrick's Decision
The sporadic bang of musket fire was almost drowned by the mingled cries and screams from the terrified slaves. Bolitho heard men tumbling into a boat on the opposite side of the brigantine, and confused yells which were probably to encourage their companions in the camp.