Ashby yelled, 'None of 'em will live through that, sirl By God, that man must be mad!'
Bolitho nudged the horse towards the bridge. 'Angry, Captain Ashby! And I cannot find it in my heart to blame him.'
When they reached the waterfront they were greeted with even greater confusion. Along the jetty there were boats of every shape and size, and pigtailed sailors were passing women and children down from the steps and out to their comrades without pause, as if they had been doing nothing else for years.
Voices called on every side, officers shouting orders to their men, seamen and marines urging or pleading with some of the civilians who seemed determined to take as much furniture and baggage as the boats would hold.
Bolitho saw a petty officer dragging an old woman away from a tethered calf, saying gruffly, 'No, you can't take that one, Mother! There's little enough room as it is!' But the old woman did not understand and was still struggling and weeping as the seamen carried her to a waiting boat.
And why should she understand? Bolitho stood watching in silence. The calf was probably all she owned in the whole world.
Lieutenant Inch pushed through the surging crowd and touched, his hat. 'The wounded are away, sir!' He was shouting above the din. 'These are the last of the townspeople who want to go!'
Bolitho nodded. 'And the rest?'
'Hiding most likely, sir.' He winced as a sudden explosion rocked the buildings above the jetty. 'What was that?'
'The bridge.' Bolitho walked to the edge of the stonework and watched the boats gliding downstream.
Another lieutenant reported at his side, 'Harvester has unloaded the, er, convicts, sir.' He seemed stunned by the noise and chaotic activity.
'Very well.' Bolitho tore his eyes from the hurrying figures, the despair and sudden desperation of escape. 'I'll come and speak to them.'
The convicts were herded into a low-beamed shed behind the jetty. Bolitho recognised Captain Poole of the transport Erebus as he stood uncertainly looking at his extra passengers.
He said, 'Are they all ready to leave?'
Poole grinned. 'My ship is like nothing on earth, Captain! You can hardly move a belaying pin for people!' He saw the strain on Bolitho's face and added firmly, 'But never fear, I'll get 'em away from here!'
Bolitho mounted a discarded case and looked around the watching faces. Even in the feeble lantern light he could see that most of the convicts looked fitter than when he had last seen them. He had to force his mind back again. How long was that? Could it really be only four months?
He said, 'You are leaving now aboard the Erebus. There are no guards or manacles.' He saw the sudden shiver of excitement move through the packed figures below him. 'Captain Poole has written orders from Rear-Admiral Pomfret which he will hand to the senior officer at Gibraltar.' How easy the lie came to him. The orders were sealed with Pomfret's crest, but the signature was his own. 'I have no doubt that many of you will be pardoned, although some may wish to await the next convoy to New Holland to try and carve out a new life in a different country.' He felt dizzy with fatigue but continued, 'You have behaved with dignity, and no little courage. That at least is worth rewarding!'
He turned to leave, but a voice called, 'A moment, Captain Bolithol'
When he faced them again they were all staring at him, their eyes glittering in the lamplight.
The voice said, 'We know what you have done for us, Captain! Don't we, lads?' There was an answering rumble of assent. 'Some would have left us to rot in Cozar, but you had us took off! We just want you to know that you've give us back more than a hope o' freedom, Captain! You've give us back our respect!'
Bolitho walked blindly into the darkness, the great wave of cheering following him like surf roaring on a reef. Poole was grinning openly, but his words were lost in the noise.
Then Bolitho saw Midshipman Seton standing beside the jetty, one hand in a bandage, the other holding an exhausted horse by the bridle.
The boy said, 'May I rejoin the ship, sir?'
Bolitho touched his shoulder. 'Thank God you're safe! I have been searching for you this afternoon.'
Seton looked embarrassed. 'I g-got lost, sir. Actually, the horse bolted, and it t-took me two days to get back through the French lines.'
Bolitho smiled wearily. 'Mr. Piper will be glad to learn of that, he was expecting you to meet with some difficulty on your own!'
He looked back as the convicts poured down the stairs and into the next batch of boats. 'Stay here and help these men, Seton. When they are clear you can come to the admiral's headquarters. I will be there.'
The midshipman asked, 'Is it over, sir?
`Nearly so.' The words sounded final. 'At dawn tomorrow we will take off the last of the soldiers.' He shrugged. 'It will be a day for you to remember.'
Seton nodded, suddenly grave. 'I saw my sister before she left, sir. She told me e-everything.' He shifted his feet. 'Everything th-that has happened, sir!'
Bolitho saw Ashby waiting by the horses and replied quietly, 'Now then, Mr. Seton, you are starting to stutter again!' As he walked away he saw that the boy was still staring after him.
The square beside Pomfret's headquarters was deserted but for a few marines and a scavenging dog. He noticed that the enemy's bombardment had stopped and there was a great silence over the battered town, as if it was holding its breath for the coming of daylight and the final act of misery.
He entered the house and found the panelled study empty and strangely forlorn, the map lying on the floor beside Pomfret's desk. As he slumped into a chair he saw Allday watching him from the door.
He said, 'The admiral's sleeping, Captain. I've got him cleaned up, and Mr. Fanshawe is up there watching over him.'. He added firmly, 'I think you should get a bit of sleep too, Captain. You look worn out, if I may say so.'
'You may not, Allday!' But he could not find the strength to resist as Allday bent to pull off his shoes and unbluckle his swordbelt.
The coxswain added, 'I've got some soup, Captain. That should put a sparkle back inside you.'
He padded away whistling to himself, and Bolitho let his head loll against the chairback, his whole frame suddenly empty of feeling. There was such a lot still to do. He had not yet found Cobban, or arranged for the final destruction of the port's meagre installations.
Bolitho thought of the girl's face and the brightness in her eyes when they had parted. At first light the ships would sail, leaving only men-of-war to watch over the final phase of retreat.
Retreat. The word hung over him like an insult. It was never easy to accept, no matter how valid the reason.
His head drooped, the weariness closing over him like a cloak. But dimly he heard Allday re-enter the room and felt him wrap a blanket around his aching body.
As if from far away he heard Allday mutter, 'That's right, Captain, you sleep. There's many who'll sleep in safety because of you. I hope to God Almighty they know who saved 'em!'
Bolitho wanted to speak, but nothing came. Seconds later he surrendered to the waiting darkness.
Lieutenant Herrick thrust himself away from the quarterdeck rail and rubbed his eyes vigorously. Another second and he knew he would have fallen asleep on his feet. Around him the darkened ship seemed to be sleeping, and apart from the occasional shuffle from one of the watchkeepers or sentries and the gentle moan of wind through the shrouds, a great silence hung over the sheltered inlet.
The sky had clouded during the night, and as he walked slowly towards the poop ladder he felt a brief touch of rain across his cheek. The dawn was not far away, and already there was an uncertain lightening to mark the distant horizon like dull pewter.
He heard Tomlin, the boatswain, speaking angrily in the darkness, and guessed that he had stumbled upon some unfortunate seaman asleep at his station. It was hardly surprising. The men had worked like demons until the fading light had shown the last of the squadron's boats pulling wearily from the town to disperse amongst the anchored ships. What had seemed an impossible and hopeless task had been achieved, but no one really knew how it had been accomplished in such a short time. Men, women and children. Wounded soldiers and hastily recalled troops from beyond the bridge. Somehow they had been crammed aboard the transports, but Herrick doubted if any had been able to sleep. Each gust of offshore wind brought the smell of fire and death to. remind them of that which they would soon leave behind.