Bolitho raised himself up on his knees, feeling the ache in his limbs and back from the long march overland. Scattered around the hillside gorse and dried grass he could see the belts and breeches of the marines as they lay gasping for breath in untidy clusters.
The sky was paler, as were the stars, there was no doubt about that. But horizon and land were still interlocked, and only where the shoreline was edged with pale sand could he get a true idea of their position. They were on a hillside, behind and about level with the headland. In the small glass he could see the crude gashes where the ground had been dug into earthworks and pallisades, the occasional flicker of light from a single lantern. It played on a pair of fat gun breeches, probably twenty-four pounders, he,thought… Leroux was leaning on his elbows, sucking quietly at a round pebble.
"Down this steep slope and up the next to the pallisade, sir.
Even allowing for there being no other protection at the rear, we might lose half our men in a charge." He glanced at his weary marines. 'shipboard life takes the wind out of "em. They"re not infantry or line soldiers."
Somewhere in the distance a dog barked with sudden vigour. It was like the beginning of another day.
Bolitho snapped, "This morning they will have to act like soldiers, Major. We must attack without delay. Before the trumpet calls the garrison to arms."
He felt the other officers moving closer to him. He kept his gaze directed towards the sea, the three dark shapes of the anchored ships. Perhaps they could silence the battery and then fight their way to some boats. All because of that gully. And his own blindness."
He said shortly, "Mr Steere, you will take what seamen remain with us and head for the beach. Mr. Luce will accompany you." He nodded to Leroux. "Carryon. We had best move directly."
Leroux touched his sergeant's arm in the gloom. The man jumped as if he had been hit by a ball.
The major said curtly, 'sergeant Gritton. Pass the word. Fix bayonets. Check each man. When I give the signal, the whole line will advance at the trot."
The marine straightened his hat. "Yes sir." He might just as well have been ordered to polish his boots from the little emotion he showed.
Men stirred along the hillside, and steel clicked against steel as the bayonets emerged to glint feebly in the dull light.
Bolitho drew his sword and said quietly, "We will make as much noise as we can. It is the best weapon today."
He swung round as a single shot echoed and re-echoed round the hills like a ricochet.
For a moment he imagined that a picket had sighted his marines, or worse still they had been out manoeuvred even as they prepared to mount their attack on the battery.
Nepean called, "Down there, sir! I saw a flash. A man fell, I think."
There were muffled shouts, and the single lantern on the battery began to move across the flat ground behind the earthworks as if carried by a spirit.
Leroux muttered, "It's no signal, by God. There must be a madman at work." He added bitterly, "In heaven's name, look at the confusion! There's no chance of a surprise now!"
Bolitho could see even without the major's telescope the surging figures along the battery wall. Most were very pale, as if only partly dressed, rudely awakened by that mysterious shot.
He replied harshly, "It is our only chance; Major." He lurched to his feet and waved his hat towards the astonished marines. "Are you with me?" He could feel the madness rising in his throat like bile, the fierce pounding against his ribs as if his heart was trying to break free.
With something like a growl the marines stumbled from their positions and as one and then another pointed his bayoneted musket towards the battery Leroux yelled, "Charge!"
Down the slope, yelling and cheering like wild things, the marines soon forgot the order to keep down their speed. Faster and faster, feet kicking over grass and stones, the wavering line of bayonets brighter now as a faint glow showed above the headland.
Here and there a man fell, only to stagger upright again, find his musket and double after his yelling companions.
Bolitho heard a few shots, but who was firing and where they went he did not know. He knew it was getting harder to maintain the pace, and realised they were going up now instead of down.
He gasped out, "Lively! Make for the pallisades!"
Some louder bangs came from above, and he heard a man gurgle and roll away down the slope.
But several marines had fallen behind and were kneeling to take aim above the heads of the others. A ball slammed past Bolitho's head and he heard a voice scream out with agony from the battery wall.
Leroux was yelling, "A path! Sergeant Gritton, take "em up there!"
Crack, crack, crack! Balls ripped into the pallisade from both sides, and as if from a great distance Bolitho heard the urgent clamour of a trumpet.
They had to reach that wall. Breach it before help came from the camp. They had all heard the horses. Cavalry would disperse the tired marines and destroy them piecemeal.
He almost fell across a sprawled soldier in a gateway, before he was pushed aside by a yelling marine at the head of the leading section. His mind reeled but clung to the strange. fact that the gate was open, the sentry killed.
Up some steps and around a narrow bend where he saw some half dozen Spaniards beating against a board door with weapons and fists, oblivious it seemed to the onrushing marines.
One turned, then the whole bunch of them scattered from the door, fighting each other to climb up and over a partly finished wall.
Whooping like fiends the marines charged amongst them, the bayonets lifting and stabbing, the awful cries drowned by their own excited madness.
Bolitho shouted, 'stand fast, marines!" To Leroux he gasped, 'stop them, for God's sake! We must get through that door!"
Shots banged down. from the battery and several marines fell kicking, but as others were still hurrying up the steps it seemed likely they would soon be unable to move, to escape the hidden marksmen.
He saw Sergeant Gritton with a great axe standing framed against the door, heard the mighty clang as the blade hacked into the studded timber.
Leroux fired a pistol and handed it to his orderly as a body spilled over the rampart and pitched amongst the yelling marines.
"He’ll never get it down in time!"
He fired his other pistol and cursed as the ball whimpered harmlessly towards the sky.
"Ready, lads!" Gritton was almost screaming. "It's openin"!"
Bolitho thrust himself through the press of men, aware that the door was swinging inwards, knowing that no axe had done it, and that in the next seconds his men might be smashed down by a blast of canister.
Gritton was bawling, Shoot, lads! Let's be at the bastards!"
Then another voice, louder even than the sergeant's. "Avast there, Sergeant Gritton! Hold your fire, damn you!"
Bolitho felt himself being carried bodily through the door on a tide of cursing, cheering marines, and as they burst into a roughly-hewn passage and fanned out on either side he stared at the two figures who were etched against a solitary lantern.
Leroux gasped, "One of us! Shoot that soldier, Gritton!" The 'soldier" threw down his musket, and as his arms were seized by two marines he called hoarsely, "It's me!" Bolitho pushed the marines aside and gripped the youth around his shoulders. "I must be dreaming!"