There will be two boats for the cutting-out. More would lessen our chances.' He walked away adding, 'Carry on.' Verling watched him go. 'Two lieutenants and three midshipmen will take charge of the attack.' He eyed Tregorren coldly. 'You will command. Take only trained hands. This is no work for ploughmen.' Eden whispered, 'What does it m-mean, Dick?' He looked very small beside the others. The sulky midshipman named Pearce said, 'We board the brig in the darkness and cut 'em down before they return the compliment! ' He added harshly, 'Poor John Grenfell. We grew up together in the same town.' Verling said, 'Return to your duties. The hands can fall out from quarters and secure. Keep 'em busy, I want no bleating and sobbing for what has happened.' They began to break up, each man wrapped in his own thoughts on the suddenness of death. Tregorren said, 'Thirty men will be needed -' He hesitated as Midshipman Pearce called, 'I'd like to volunteer, sir.' Tregorren regarded him calmly. 'Mr Grenfell was a friend of yours. I had forgotten. A pity that.' Bolitho watched him, sickened. Despite all that had happened, even the sudden likelihood of his own injury or death, Tregorren still found delight in taunting the grim-faced Pearce. The lieutenant said abruptly, 'Request denied.' His eyes settled on Eden. 'Tou will be one of the lucky midshipmen.' He smiled as Eden paled. 'A real chance to prove yourself.' Bolitho said, 'He is the youngest, sir. Some of us have had more experience and…' He faltered, seeing the trap opening. Tregorren shook one finger. 'I forgot about that, too. That our Mr Bolitho is always afraid that someone else will steal his thunder, deny him of honour, so that his high-and-mighty family might frown a bit! ' 'That is a lie, sir. And unfair! ' Tregorren shrugged. Ts it? No matter. You are also going, and the clever Mr Dancer.' He put his huge hands on his hips and looked at each in turn. 'The first lieutenant said only trained hands should be detailed. But we need experienced midshipmen for handling the ship. On a cutting-out raid we only require the right number! ' He took out his pocket watch. 'I want the full party mustered in an hour. Mr Hope will be my subordinate. Report to him when you are ready.' Dancer said bitterly, 'Better Hope than Wellesley. He is as weak as watered milk.' They walked along the weather gangway, thinking of Grenfell and the others who had been lost in the shattered barquentine. Eden said fiercely, 'I – I'm n-not afraid! R-really I'm not! ' He looked at them wretchedly, his eyes filling his face. 'It's just that I d-don't want to go with Mr T-Tregorren! H-he'll be the d-death of us all! ' Dancer looked down at him and tried to smile. 'We'll be with you, torn. It may not be too bad.' He turned suddenly to Bolitho. 'What is it like, Dick? You've done this sort of thing before.' Bolitho stared across the nettings towards the misty hump of land and the glittering expanse of water. 'It's quick. Everything depends on surprise.' He did not look at them. What could he say? Tell them of the fearful cries and curses of men fighting with cutlasses and knives, with axes and pikes. Of the touch of an enemy, the feel of his breath and his hatred. It was not like a sea fight, with the enemyjust another ship. It was people. Flesh and blood. Dancer said quietly, 'I can tell from your silence. Let us hope we are lucky.' Down on the orlop they found Pearce and two other midshipmen restoring the chests and well-used chairs to their proper places, the surgeon's mates having removed their instruments and medicines as soon as the secure was piped. In its place against one of Gorgon's great frames was Grenfell's chest, his best hat and dirk hanging above it. Pearce said, 'He always said he'd never rate lieutenant. He never will now.' Bolitho looked round as Midshipman Marrack entered, impeccable as ever in a clean shirt. Marrack said shortly, 'Leave his gear alone. There may still be a chance.' He threw his coat on a chair and added, 'You should have seen her go. The City of Athens never stood a chance. She was actually shortening sail to close the brig when the fortress battery took her.' He stared at nothing. 'She took fire and then turned turtle. I saw some of our people swimming. Then the sharks came.' He could not go on. Dancer looked at Bolitho. 'I remember reading something about the Sandpiper. Marrack said, 'One thing is certain. Our captain will never allow a King's ship to remain in enemy hands, no matter what it costs to recover her.' He reached into his chest and took out a leather case. 'Take my pistols, Dick. They're better than any others aboard. My father gave them to me.' He turned away, as if annoyed at showing a softer side to his nature. 'See what confidence I have in you?' The small servant scuttled into the berth. 'Beg pardon, sirs, but the fourth lieutenant is lookin' for you, and yellin' murder! ' 'That Tregorren! ' Dancer was unusually bitter. 'I agree with little torn here. The damned bully is too full of himself for my liking! ' They made for the companion ladder, and only then realized that Eden was still by the side. He was staring at Grenfell's chest and his dirk which swung easily to the ship's movements, Bolitho said gently, 'Come on, torn. There's a lot to be done before sunset.' To himself he added, and after.
6. Face to Face
'EASY there! Watch your stroke! ' Hope, the Gorgon's fifth lieutenant, hissed in the darkness, craning forward from the sternsheets as if to seek out the noise. Bolitho crouched beside him and turned to peer astern. Only an occasional feather of white spray or a trailing glow of phosphorescence around the oars betrayed the position of the other cutter. It was very dark, and after the cloudless day, surprisingly cold. Which was just as well, he thought, for they had come a long way. The boats had been lowered and manned before dusk, and while Gorgon made more sail and went about to leave them to their own resources they had settled down to a long, steady pull towards the slab of headland. When darkness had arrived it had been sudden, like the fall of a curtain, and Bolitho found himself wondering what was going on in the lieutenant's mind. It was a far cry indeed from the time when he had thrown open the door of the Blue Posts at Portsmouth and bellowed at the midshipmen. He remembered what Grenfell had said then about Hope's worries of promotion. The memory saddened him. Grenfell was dead, and Hope would indeed be moving up a place when the captain chose to accept that the lieutenant who had been in charge of the City of Athens was also killed. Eden was leaning against him, his head lowered almost to the gunwale. Bolitho said quietly, 'Still a way to go yet, torn.' It was an eerie sensation. The cutter thrusting jerkily across the inshore currents, the oars rising and falling on either beam like pale bones, their usual noise muffled by rags and thick layers of grease. Ahead of the boat there was a darker wedge to show the division between sea and sky, and Bolitho thought he could smell the earth, sense its nearness. In the bows, bent over the stem and a viciouslooking swivel gun, was a leadsman, his boat's lead and line sounding the way above sandbars and hidden rocks. Turnbull, the master, had explained to the two lieutenants that it was best to creep right inshore, so that once around the headland they would lie'somewhere between the beach and the anchored ships. It had all sounded so easy. Not now, as a man caught his foot in a cutlass and set it clattering across the bottom-boards, and Hope snarled, 'God, Rogers, I'll have you beaten senseless if you make another sound! ' Bolitho looked at his profile, a shadow against the oars' spray alongside. A lieutenant. A man who knew that Tregorren was following close astern, depending on his ability to lead the way. Thirty men. For a press-gang, or for manning a couple of heavy guns, it was ample. For taking a ship against odds, and without surprise, it was disaster. A strong eddy pushed the hull aside, so that the coxswain had to use his strength at the tiller to bring it back on course. The air felt different again and the sea across the larboard beam looked livelier. Bolitho ventured, 'We are round the headland, sir.' Hope swung on him and then said, 'Yes. You'd know, of course. You must have grown up with rocks like these in Cornwall.' He seemed to be studying him in the darkness. 'But a long pull yet.' Bolitho hesitated, unwilling to break the little contact between them. 'Will the marines attack the battery, sir?' 'Some mad scheme like that.' Hope wiped his face as spray lanced into the boat. 'The captain will tack as close as he dares to the seaward end of the island and pretend to attempt a landing. Plenty of noise. Major Dewar will be good at that, he's got plenty to say in the wardroom! ' The whisper came back along the oarsmen. 'Vessel at anchor on th' starboard bow, sir! ' Hope nodded. 'Steer a point or so to larboard.' He twisted round to make sure the other boat was following. 'That must be the first of 'em. The brig is anchored beyond her, a couple of cables yet.' Someone groaned, more worried apparently at the prospect of pulling a heavy oar for another four hundred yards than the possible closeness of death. 'Watch out! ' The bowman dropped his lead and line and seized a boathook. The oars went into momentary confusion as something large and black, like a sleeping whale, loomed over the cutter, banging into the blades and making what seemed like a tremendous noise. Eden murmured shakily, 'It's p-part of the b-barquentine,