Bolitho clung to a stay and waited for his heart to return to normal. Damn the others who had raced him up the shrouds when they had all been reckless midshipmen.
He turned and stared at the lookout. "You're a Cornishman."
The sailor grinned and bobbed his head. He did not appear to be holding on to anything. "That be roight, zur. From Penzance."
Bolitho unslung the telescope from around his shoulders. Two Cornishmen. So strange a meeting-place.
It took several attempts to train the glass in time with the schooner's lunges into the offshore breakers. He saw the sharp beak of the headland creeping out towards the weather bow, a telltale spurt of spray from the reefs Tyacke had mentioned.
It was already much warmer; his shirt clung to him like another skin. He could see the crisscross of currents as the sea contested the jutting land before surging, confused and beaten, around it. As it had since time began. From this point and beyond, two great oceans, the Atlantic and the Indian Ocean, met. It was like a giant hinge, a gateway which gave access to India, Ceylon and all the territories of New South Wales. No wonder Cape Town was so valuable, so cherished. It was like Gibraltar at the gates of the Mediterranean: whoever held the Rock also held the key.
"Ships, zur! Larboard, yonder! "
Bolitho did not need to ask how he could already see them without the advantage of a telescope. Good lookouts were born, not trained, and he had always respected such sailors. The ones who were first to sight the dreaded breakers ahead when every chart claimed otherwise. Often in time for the captain to bring his ship about and save the lives of all aboard.
He waited for the glass to steady again and felt his face stiffen.
Two large ships at anchor; or were they moored fore-and-aft? It would seem so, he thought, to offer greater protection, a defence against a cutting-out attempt, and also to provide a fixed battery of guns to fend off attack.
The lookout said, "Beggin' yer pardon, zur. I reckon they be Dutch Indiamen."
Bolitho nodded. Like the Honourable East India Company, such vessels were usually well-manned and armed and had proved more than a match for privateers, even men-of-war on occasions.
He turned to watch the sea breaking over some rocks. It was far enough. Further, and Tyacke would be hard put to claw away into open water.
Whatever the ships were doing, they represented a real threat. They had probably brought stores and men for the Dutch garrison, and might well be expecting others to join them.
Bolitho stared down at the deck and almost lost his grip. The mast was so steeply angled to the wind that the topmast leaned right over the blue water. He could even see his own shadow reflected on the crests.
"You may come about, Mr Tyacke! " For a moment he thought he had not heard, then saw the men running to their stations again.
A tall waterspout lifted suddenly abeam and seconds later Bolitho heard the echoing boom of a gun. He had no idea where it came from, but it was too close to ignore.
He made to lower himself to the ratlines again when the lookout said hoarsely, "There be a third 'un, zur! "
Bolitho stared at him, then raised the glass again. He must be quick. Already the jib was flapping wildly, spilling wind and cracking like musket-fire as the helm went over.
Then, for just a few seconds, he saw the masts and furled sails of the other vessel, her hull lower and almost hidden by the two bigger ships. Dutch or French, it did not really matter. Bolitho had been a frigate captain and had commanded three of them in his time; there was no mistaking that familiar rig.
Waiting, maybe, for the letter which Tyacke's men had found aboard the Albacora. Bolitho pushed the hair from his eyes as the mast bucked and swayed over again and the spar felt as if it would splinter itself apart. This was a very large bay according to Tyacke's chart some twenty miles across, far bigger than Table Bay, which they had passed before dawn.
Whatever the Dutch commander's motives might be, he obviously considered the bay and the moored ships well worth protecting. A frontal attack by the English squadron would be costly and probably end in disaster.
He touched the man's shoulder. "Take care of those eyes! " Even as he spoke the words they seemed to come back at him like a mocking threat. He did not hear the lookout's reply; he had begun the difficult climb down to the deck.
Tyacke listened to what he had seen before saying, "They could divide us until-"
"Until they are reinforced? I agree." Bolitho made up his mind. "You will close with the squadron as fast as you wish." He found that he could look at the lieutenant's terrible scars without steeling himself. "Then I will need to speak with the general." He touched Tyacke's arm. "Sir David will not be too pleased."
Tyacke strode away, calling commands, watching the compass and rudder while Simcox scrawled his calculations on a slate.
A voice seemed to whisper inside Bolitho's mind. Why interfere? Why not let others take responsibility-or are you allowing yourself to be taken in a trap like some wild animal?
He shook his head, as if he was replying to someone else. How could he request Commodore Popham to detach some of his ships, when they might be needed to evacuate the soldiers and marines if the worst happened? And Warren; could he be trusted any more than the arrogant Captain Varian?
He found Allday waiting near the weather shrouds and said,"I have been thinking…"
Allday faced him. "You saw th' size o' that ball, Sir Richard? It's a fortress. We'd need more ships, an' even then we'd be hard put to close with the buggers." Then he gave a great sigh and rubbed his chest, where the pain of a Spanish sword-thrust lurked as a constant reminder. "But I sees it's no use me arguing-is it, Sir Richard?"
Bolitho eyed him fondly. "I don't want to see men butchered to no good purpose, old friend."
"Nor I, but…"
"And I want to go home. The two enjoined make only one course to take. And if we delay I fear that we shall lose the both."
From the opposite side Tyacke watched them thoughtfully.
Simcox joined him and mopped his face with his red handkerchief. "A close thing, James."
Tyacke saw Bolitho clap his hand on Allday's thick arm, the same impetuous gesture he had used to himself. The youthful viceadmiral with the wild black hair blowing in the wind, in his soiled shirt and tar-smeared breeches, was actually laughing, until his coxswain responded with a reluctant grin.
Almost to himself Tyacke replied, "We are not out of the woods yet, Ben." He tried to hide his relief from his friend as the haze-shrouded headland began to swing away across the quarter. "But they'll cheer as loud as all the rest when the call comes. They've never seen a real battle, that's why But Simcox had gone to supervise his men again, and did not hear.
5. "Must They Die For Nothing?"
"IF YOU WOULD care to follow me, Sir Richard?" The young army captain stared at Bolitho as he strode up the sloping beach, as if he had just dropped from the moon.
Bolitho paused and glanced at the closely anchored vessels in the bay Between them and the land every sort of boat was pulling back and forth, some disgorging redcoated soldiers into the shallows to wade ashore, others making heavy weather of it. They seemed loaded down with weapons and stores so that one or two looked in some danger of capsizing.
Bolitho saw Miranda's longboat threading her way back to the schooner to await his next instructions. Tyacke would be only too glad to be out of this place, he thought.
If it was hot aboard ship it was doubly so ashore. The heat seemed to rise from the ground like a separate force, so that within minutes Bolitho's clothing was clinging to him. For the army's sake he was fully dressed in the frock coat and gold-laced hat he had collected from Themis during their brief pause to inform Warren what was happening, and to pass his orders to the other captains.