So Vyvyan had known all about it. Hugh should have guessed. But for him they would all be dead.
He asked, `And the ship, sir?'
`Aground. But safe enough 'til mornin'. I sent your boatswain to take charge.' He tapped his big nose. `Nice bit of salvage there, I shouldn't wonder, eh?'
A door opened somewhere and a voice said harshly, `Most of 'em got away, sir. We cut down two, but the rest scattered amongst the rocks an' caves. They'll be miles away by dawn.' He chuckled. `Caught one of 'em though.'
Vyvyan sounded thoughtful. `But for the ship, and the need to "help these sailors, we might have caught the lot.' He rubbed his chin. `But still, we'll have a hangin' all the same. Show these scum the old fox is not asleep, eh?'
The door closed just as silently.
`I am sorry, sir. I feel it is all my fault.'
`Nonsense! Did yer duty. Quite right too. Only way.' He added grimly, `But I'll be. havin' a sharp word with yer brother, make no mistake on it!'
The heat of the fire, his exhaustion and the effect of something in the drink, made Bolitho fall into a deep sleep. When he awoke again it was morning, the hard wintry light streaming in through the windows of Vyvyan Manor.
Freeing himself from two thick blankets he got gingerly to his feet and stared at himself in a wall mirror. He looked more like a survivor than a victor.
He saw Vyvyan watching him from one of the doorways.
Vyvyan asked, `Ready, boy? My steward tells me that your vessel is anchored off the cove. I've been up most of the night m'self, so I know how you're feelin'.' He grinned. `But still, nothin' broken. Just a headache for a few days, eh?'
Bolitho put on his coat and hat. He noticed that both had been cleaned, and someone had mended a rent in one of the sleeves where a blade hash iuissed his arm by less than an inch.
It was a cold, bright morning, with the snow changed to slush and the sky without a trace of cloud. Had the night been like this the ship would have seen the danger and the smugglers would have
picked up their cargo from the cove.
If… if… if… It was too late now.
Vyvyan's coach dropped him on the narrow coast
road above the headland, and to his astonishment he
saw Dancer and some seamen waiting for him, and
far below, a boat drawn up on the beach.
How different it looked in daylight. He almost
expected to see some corpses, but the beach was
silky smooth, and beyond the cove the anchored Avenger tugged at her cable with barely a roll.
`Dick! Thank God you're safe!' Dancer ran to meet him and gripped his arm. `You look terrible!'
Bolitho gave a painful smile. `Thanks.'
Together they walked down that same steep path, and Bolitho saw several burly looking men examining the two lanterns and some discarded weapons. Excisemen, or merely Vyvyan's retainers it was hard to say.
Dancer said, `The captain sent us to get you, Dick.'
`How is his temper?'
`Surprisingly good. I think the vessel you warned away from the rocks had a lot to do with it. She's beached a mile or so from here. Your brother, er, induced her people to come off, then he put a prize crew aboard. I think her master was so glad to save his skin he forgot the matter of prize money!'
By the boat Bolitho saw some seamen replacing Pyke's centipedes in the sternsheets.
Dancer explained, `We made a drag along the seabed but found nothing. They must have come in the
night after Vyvyan's men had driven away the wreckers.'
Avenger's other boat was already alongside when Bolitho returned on board. The man he had chosen to warn the jolly boat had done well, he thought. Poor Trillo had been their one loss.
Hugh was watching him as he climbed up over the side, hands on hips, hat at the same rakish angle.
`Quite the little fire-brand, aren't you?' He strode across the broad deck and gripped his hand. `Young idiot. But I guessed you'd disobey my orders as soon as I heard that distress cannon. I had a prize crew aboard before they could say knife.' He smiled. `Nice little Dutch brig bound for Cork. Spirits and tobacco. Fetch a good price.'
`Sir Henry said the wreckers got away. All but one.'
`Wreckers, smugglers, I believe they're one and the same. Pyke-thinks he may have wounded a few with his pistol shots, so they may turn up somewhere. No Cornish jury will ever convict a smuggler, but a wrecker is something else.'
Bolitho faced his brother. `The loss of the smugglers' cargo was my fault. But I couldn't help myself. A few kegs of brandy against the value of a vessel and her people made me act as I did.'
Hugh nodded gravely. `As I knew it would. But brandy? I think not. My men found some oiled wrapping hidden away in one of the caves while they were looking for clues. That drop was not for drinking, my brother. It was made up of good French muskets, if I'm any judge.'
Bolitho stared at him. `Muskets?'
`Aye. For rebellion somewhere, who can say. Ireland, America, there's money a-plenty for anyone who can supply weapons in these troubled times.'
Bolitho shook his head and immediately regretted it. `It is beyond me.'
His brother rubbed his hands. `Mr Dancer! My compliments to the master, and tell him to get the vessel under way. If weapons are the bait we need, then weapons we will have.'
Dancer watched him warily. `And where are we bound, sir?'
`Bound? Falmouth of course. I'll not run back to the admiral now. This is getting interesting.' He paused beside the companionway. `Now get yourself washed and properly turned out, Mr Bolitho. I daresay you had a quieter night than some.'
Avenger returned to Falmouth without anything further unusual happening. Once at anchor, Hugh Bolitho went ashore, while Gloag and the midshipmen prepared to take on stores and ward off the curious and others who had obviously been sent out to discover as much information as they could.
Bolitho began to imagine a smuggler at each corner and behind every cask. The news of a shipwreck, and Vyvyan's chase of the would-be wreckers had preceded Avenger's arrival, and there would be plenty of speculation as to what would happen next.
When the cutter's young commander returned he was in unusual good humour.
In the cabin he said, `All done. I have had words with certain people in town. The story will be that Avenger is out searching for another arms runner in the channel. By this ruse, the smugglers on this side will know we have discovered about the muskets, even though we did not find any ourselves.' He looked cheerfully from Gloag to his brother and then to Dancer. `Well? Don't you see? It's almost perfect.'
Gloag rubbed his bald head as he always did when he was considering something doubtful, and answered, `I can well see that nobody'll know for certain about another cargo, sir. The Frenchies will keep sendin' 'em once they've a buyer. But where will we get such a haul?'
`We won't.' His smile grew, broader. `We'll sail into Penzance and land a cargo of our own. Load it into waggons and send it overland to Truro to the garrison there. The governor of Pendennis has agreed to lend us a tempting cargo of muskets, powder and shot. Along the way to Truro someone will attempt to seize the lot of it. With the roads as they are, how could they resist the temptation?'
Bolitho asked quietly, `Wouldn't it be wiser to tell the port admiral at Plymouth what you are about first?'
Hugh glared at him. `From you that is priceless! You know what would happen. He'd either say no, or take so long the whole country would know what we were doing. No, we'll do this quickly and do it well.' He smiled briefly. `This time.'
Bolitho looked at the deck. An ambush, the anticipation of quick spoils giving way to panic as the attackers realized they were the ones in the trap. And no escape into little caves this time.
Hugh said, `I have sent word to Truro. The dragoons will be back by now. The colonel is a friend of father's. He'll enjoy this sort of thing. Like pig-sticking!'
There was a sudden silence, and Bolitho found himself thinking of the dead Trillo. They were all here safe and busy. He was already buried and forgotten.