Grubb peered aloft as a ball slapped through the main topsail like a great metal fist, leaving a hole as big as a man's waist.
He said, "Gawd A"mighty."
Herrick strode about the deck, his mind grappling with one situation to another. As the ship's angle lessened to the reduced pressure of sails the boarding nets were raised, and with a chorus of yells and cheers the two cutters were swayed up and across the gangway. Men tumbled over the side, cutlasses and muskets held high, while other hands unlashed the oars and thrust away from the ship's fat side:
More crashes came from the land, and one ball shrieked through the weather shrouds and made a seaman drop, gasping on to the nets which were spread to protect the guns from falling debris.
And how quickly the light had filtered and strengthened within the bay. Herrick turned from watching the two boats thrashing around the counter and realised he could see the hill battery, a plume of smoke above it. It would soon be time to wear ship, he thought. Beat back across the bay and cover the cutting-out party and their boats.
Bang. He turned swiftly as a ball slammed into the lower hull, shaking it to the very planks under his shoes.
Under topsails, forecourse and jib, Lysander was making very slow progress, and as a target she could not have looked better.
Herrick said harshly, "We will stand off shortly, Mr. Grubb." He shut his ears to someone screaming. "We have done all we can."
Two more balls skipped over the blue water like a pair of darting sharks. One whipped between the two cutters narrow- ly missing the frantic oar blades, the other thudded into Lysander's side just below the beakhead.
He made himself watch the efforts of the two cutters. One had already grappled the heavy transport ship, the other was exchanging musket fire with darting figures along her poop.
He must recall the boats also. The whole venture was a shambles. He turned to Midshipman Saxby, who was standing with the signal party, when he heard a man yell with disbelief, 'sir! On t" other battery, sir!"
From the yards and the gun decks men began to cheer, and as Herrick stared fixedly at the hairline mast above the Spanish battery he saw the flag jerking to the top, the same one which was streaming from Lysander's peak.
Grubb muttered, "I can see scarlet! Them bloody bullocks got there after all!"
The rest of the voices were drowned in one tremendous explosion. It swelled out and down from the headland, hurling rocks and fragments right along the beach and scattering some soldiers who had been trying to approach the battery from there.
Herrick tried to control his grin. "Heave-to, Mr Veitch!" He nodded sharply. "Yes, you! Promotion comes fast in a ship of war!"
He pointed at the transport. The explosion in the remaining battery had finished all resistance, and he could see Fitz-Clarence's men swarming aboard, the Spanish flag dipping to confirm the capture. The second brig was under way, her sails filling as she made all possible speed to escape destruction.
Herrick watched her calmly. "Harebell will catch that one."
Sails awry and thundering, Lysander came up into the wind. No more shots were fired from the land, and along the foreshore only the dead and injured remained to mark the extent of the bombardment.
"Get more boats lowered." Herrick gauged the slow drift across the bay. "We may have to anchor, but I want every man-jack picked up."
Saxby shouted, "Commodore's coming along the beach now, sir!" He was hopping up and down. "And here come the marines!"
Herrick gripped the rail and watched the untidy procession with something like awe. He saw Lieutenant Steere standing up to his waist in water beside a boat which his seamen must have unearthed somewhere. The hesitant steps of the wounded being carried aboard, the two cutters speeding from the prize ship to help the others.
Grubb ambled to his side. "It’ll give the Dons somethin" to bite on, sir."
Herrick nodded. One ship sunk, a larger one captured. and the defences in ruins.
He stiffened. "Mr. Saxby! Give me your glass!"
Grubb stared at him. "What is it, might I ask, sir?" Herrick handed him the glass and replied quietly, "The commodore has his nephew with him."
The master gave a low whistle. "His cox"n, too, be God." He snapped the glass shut. "I don’treckon I can stand any more miracles in one day!"
Herrick walked slowly along the gangway, unable to take his eyes from the approaching boat. It had been a near thing. He had almost not made the decision. Perhaps Grubb was right about miracles.
He sought out Veitch's figure on the quarterdeck. 'stand by to receive the commodore!"
Moments later Bolitho clambered up and through the entry port. His face was grimy with smoke and his elbows were showing through his sleeves, but he was smiling in a way which Herrick had almost forgotten.
Bolitho said, "That was a fine piece of timing, Thomas!" "I almost obeyed your orders, sir." Herrick grinned awkwardly. "Then I remembered what you would have done in my place."
Bolitho threw back his head and took several deep breaths. It had been very close. Leroux's men had fired three heated balls into the other battery, and he had thought they might surrender. But they had been urged on and rallied again and again by a slim, fanatical officer. Allday had said he was the camp's commandant. The Spaniard had also managed to keep up an accurate bombardment with his seaward cannon, and at least two balls had hit Lysander, maybe more.
Then, as the ship had seemed about to tack away from the merciless cannon fire, one of Leroux's heated shots had ploughed into the battery's powder store. It had ended there, and he had seen the Spanish captain torn apart in the blast, his sword still waving in the air.
He turned and watched as Pascoe limped through the port, accompanied by cheers and laughter as some of the gun crews clustered round to slap his shoulders or point at his wine stained uniform.
Herrick shook his head. "And I doubted if we could do it, sir. "
Bolitho eyed him sadly. "With men like these I could do just about anything, Thomas."
Allday walked past, his bare feet held painfully away from ring-bolts and gun tackles.
Bolitho unbuckled his tarnished sword and handed it to him. "Here, Allday. I’ll be down directly."
Allday looked at him, the strain coming back to his face. "Aye, sir."
Bolitho added quietly, "I’ll take it amiss if the level in my decanters is still high when I examine them. "He watched" him fondly. "I’m grateful for your safety."
Herrick waited until Allday had vanished through the cabin hatch before saying, "It is the first time I have known him robbed of a reply, sir."
Bolitho watched the marines climbing or being hauled bodily through the port, the looks of bewilderment, pain and sheer pleasure at being safe and alive. He could feel his own wildness ebbing away, and imagined what it had been like for Pascoe and Allday.
He shook himself from" his thoughts. "Well, Captain Herrick, get the boats secured and signal our prize to up-anchor and take station to lee"rd." He clapped him lightly on the shoulder, his smile returning" "We will rejoin the squadron directly."
Bolitho waited in silence until Herrick had completed his examination of the chart. Through the stern windows he could see the captured Spanish transport wallowing heavily in Lysander's wake, and wondered for the hundredth time at his decision not to send her to Gibraltar as another prize.