Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

Nobody moved, and he saw the marine staring at his musket which was two feet away from his fingers. The slightest sound and they were done for.

It was then Carwithen acted. He was closest to the rock barrier, and with barely a sound he reached out and gathered up the dead bird, holding it just a few inches below the top of the nearest rock. His free hand he held under his short blue coat, and Bolitho could see his fingers moving beneath the cloth, trying to free something, while all the time his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the bird.

It seemed to take an eternity before anything else happened. When it did, it was all too fast to follow.

The man's dark face gaping down at them, his eyes flicking from the bird to Carwithen even as he groped forward to retrieve his prize. The master's mate dropped the booby, the movement so swift that the man was thrown off balance, his hand groping at his belt and the gleaming butt of a pistol.

Carwithen murmured, 'Not so, my pretty one!' It was said quietly, almost gently.

Then the other hand came out of his coat, a boarding axe twisting in his fingers as he brought the rearmost end, with its short, savage barb, hard down in the man's neck. With a great heave he gaffed him bodily over the rocks, withdrawing the axe, turning it again just as swiftly before hacking him full across the throat with its blade.

Armitage fell against the marine, whimpering and retching, blood spurting over his legs as the axe jerked free, hesitated and cut down again.

Bolitho seized Carwithen's arm, seeing the axe quivering above the bulging eyes and that great gaping wound. He could feel the pent-up hatred and madness in his biceps, the effort to shake him away and drive the axe again and again into the choking, bubbling thing at his feet.

'Easy! Enough, damn you!'

There was another terrible silence while they stared at each other or. at the corpse which was sprawled across the dead booby.

Carwithen whispered hoarsely, 'That bugger'll never raise hell again!'

Bolitho forced himself to examine the victim. Probably Javanese. Dressed in little better than rags, but the pistol was inscribed with the crest of the East India Company.

He heard Carwithen say, 'Took it off some poor sailor, the bastard!'

Nobody looked at him.

Bolitho knelt by the rocks and studied the beach with the glass. Carwithen had acted quickly and efficiently. But he had enjoyed it. Relished it.

He watched the distant lookout in his rocky ledge, the small figures still searching aimlessly amongst the pools.

He said quietly, 'They saw nothing.'

Davy looked at the sobbing midshipman and asked quietly,,Will this change things for us, sir?'

Bolitho shook his head. 'Only when this man is missed by his companions.' He looked at the slanting shadows from the rocks. 'So we must bide our time and hope for darkness to come.'

He saw Carwithen wiping his boarding-axe on some cloth he had just cut from the dead man's smock. His face was devoid of anything but satisfaction.

Davy gestured to the others. 'Take this thing away and cover it with stones.' He swallowed hard. 'I'll not forget this day in a hurry.'

Bolitho gripped the midshipman's shoulder and pulled him away from the rocks. 'Listen, Mr. Armitage.' He shook him roughly, seeing the youth's eyes as he stared at the red smudge left by the corpse. 'Get a grip on yourself! I know it was a foul thing to witness, but you are not here today as a mere onlooker, d'you understand?' He shook him again, hating to see the pain and the revulsion in his eyes. 'You are one of my officers, and our people will have to look to you!'

Armitage nodded dazedly. 'Y-yes, sir. I'll try to-' He retched again.

Bolitho added gently, 'I'm sure you will.' He saw Allday watching him over the midshipman's quivering shoulders, the almost imperceptible shake of his head. 'Now be off with you, and check that my message has been sent.'

Allday said quietly, 'Poor lad. He'll never get used to this sort of thing.'

Bolitho looked at him gravely. 'Did you? Did I?'

Allday shrugged. 'We learned to hide what we thought, Captain. It's all a man can do.'

'Perhaps.' He saw Davy kicking dust across the drying blood. Then he looked at Carwithen's dark features as he examined the dead man's pistol. 'Although there are some who have no feelings at all, and I have always found them to be less than men.'

Allday followed him back into the shade. Bolitho's mood would soon change at a hint of action, and for the present it was best to leave him to his thoughts.

'Time to move, is it, sir? Davy watched Bolitho as he craned over the rocks, his shirt pale against the darkening sky.

'I believe so. Tell Carwithen to muster the hands.'

He shivered as the sea-breeze explored his body. Once the sun had dipped over the hills at his back it grew cool, even cold, in minutes. They had been too long in the heat, plagued by sun and thirst, and a multitude of flies which had appeared as if by magic. He watched the anchored schooner's outline, the soft glow of lights from poop and forepeak. The fire on the beach had died to a blotch of red embers, and he could see nobody near it, but guessed the lookout was still in his refuge beyond the pools.

Allday whispered, 'All ready, Captain.' He held his cutlass clear of the rocks. 'Mr. Davy's making sure they all know what to do.'

Bolitho nodded without answering, trying to gauge the distance they must cover. Surprisingly, it seemed greater in the growing darkness, but he was reassured by the occasional snatches of voices from the vessel to show they had given no heed to their missing comrade.

Davy slithered down beside him. 'I've sent Carwithen's party away, sir.' He looked at the sky, the isolated puffs of light cloud. 'Wind's steady enough.'

'Yes.' Bolitho checked his pistol and tightened his belt. 'Follow me. Single file.'

Like ghosts they topped the last rock barrier, the sounds of loose stones and rubble seemingly very loud in the gloom. But as Davy had observed, the wind held steady, and was making a lively chop along the beach and narrow spur of headland. Noisy enough to drown any small sound they might be making.

Once, as they followed the curve of the hillside they all froze in their tracks as two dozing sea-birds rose flapping and screaming almost from under their feet.

Bolitho waited, listening to his heart, to the sharp breathing of the men at his back. Nothing. He lifted his arm and they began to move forward and downwards again.

When he looked across his shoulder he saw the rough edge of the rock barrier, where they had waited fretting for sunset, far above his slow-moving party. They were almost down to beach level now, and he heard a man curse quietly as he slipped in the first of the small pools. Davy's party were having to wade in the shallows to his right, and he hoped none of them would fall headlong into one of the rock pools there, now hidden by the rising tide.

He thought momentarily of the ship, anchored on the other side of the islet. The familiar sounds and smells. Herrick waiting anxiously for news of success or disaster. If it was to be the latter, he could do nothing to help this time. His would be the task of contacting the 'enemy' and making what he could of it. It was easier to think of them as the enemy. It never helped to picture them as men. Flesh and bone like himself.

Allday touched his arm urgently. 'Boat coming inshore, Captain!'

Bolitho held up his hand and brought both parties to a shuffling silence. The boat must have come around the schooner's hidden side. He could see the splash of oars, the lively froth of the stem as it bounced across the first leaping surf.

He thought of Carwithen and his handful of men who were creeping up and around the solitary lookout. They should have been there by now. He recalled Carwithen's brutal madness with the boarding axe, and wondered if he had been the one to strike the luckless lookout down.