Alexander Kent - Command a King`s Ship

A voice echoed suddenly in the darkness, and for an instant Bolitho imagined Carwithen had been delayed, or that the lookout was calling an alarm. But the voice came from the boat, louder this time, and despite the strange tongue, Bolitho knew the man was calling a question. Or a name perhaps.

Allday said, 'They've come a'looking for their mate, Captain.' He dropped to one knee to keep the grounding boat framed against the surf. 'Six of 'em.'

Bolitho said quietly, 'Stand fast, lads. Let them come to us.' He heard a man clicking his jaws together. Tense, nervous.

Probably terrified in these unfamiliar surroundings.

Allday said, 'One of 'em's going up the cliff to the lookout.' Bolitho drew his sword very carefully. Of course. It would be the first place a searcher would go. Ask if the missing man had been seen.

He watched the other five strolling up the beach, swinging their weapons casually, chatting as they approached.

Bolitho glanced behind him. His men were barely visible as they crouched or knelt amongst fallen rocks, or squatted in the sea itself. He turned to study the oncoming shadows. Twenty yards, fifteen. Surely one would see them soon.

A terrible cry tore the stillness apart, hanging above the ridge long after the man had died.

Bolitho saw the five shadows turn in confusion, knew the dying scream must have been the man sent to the lookout. lie yelled, 'At 'em, lads!'

Without a shout or a cheer they were all up and rushing after the five figures who had turned back towards the surf.

One of them slipped and fell headlong, tried to rise, but was slashed into a sobbing heap by a seaman's cutlass as he dashed past.

The others had reached the boat, but deprived of two of their strength, were unable to shift it. Steel gleamed in the shadows, and as the seamen charged amongst them the fight became confused and deadly. A seaman caught his foot in the boat-rope and before he could recover his balance was pinned bodily to the shingle by a long sword. His killer died almost simultaneously. The remaining two threw down their weapons and were instantly clubbed into unmoving heaps by the maddened sailors.

Davy snapped tersely, 'One of ours is dead, sir.' He rolled the man over on to his back and dragged the cutlass from his fingers.

Bolitho eased the sword back into its scabbard. His legs felt shaky from running, from nervous tension. He looked at the anchored schooner. No shouts, no calls to arms. He thought -he heard the same sing-song voice chanting above the seething surf, remote and vaguely sad.

Davy said hoarsely, 'Damned poor lookout, sir.'

Bolitho watched his men gathering around the two boats. The one which had been there all day was furthest up the shingle and would need the more men to move it.

He replied, 'Wouldyou have expected trouble, in their place?'

Davy shrugged. 'I suppose not.'

Carwithen came hurrying down from the ridge, his helpers hard put to keep up with him.

He said savagely, 'That bloody fool Lincoln was too slow with his dirk!' He glared at the watching men around him. 'I'll see to him later!'

Bolitho said, 'Boats in the water.' He sought out the six marines. 'You take the second one. You know what to do.'

One, the man who had first sighted the schooner, grunted. 'We knows, sir. We holds the boat where we can see the poop, an' pin down anyone who tries to pass the lanterns there.'

Bolitho smiled. 'Captain Bellairs was right about you.'

Allday whispered, 'This way, Captain.'

He felt the surf engulfing his legs and waist, the boat's scarred planking as Allday reached down to drag him over the gunwale.

'Shove off!'

Bolitho restrained the urge to watch the frantic oars, the efforts to steer the boat clear of the surf. Just one blast of canister would be enough to nip his flimsy plan in the bud.

The boat lifted and then surged heavily forward, the blades taking control as the hull freed itself from the strong undertow. Bolitho saw the schooner's tall masts rising to greet him, the tracery of rigging and shrouds almost lost against the sky.

Allday stood straddle-legged and wary, the tiller bar held lightly in his fingertips.

'Easy all!' He craned forward as if to impress them more. 'Bow-man, ready!'

Astern Bolitho heard the regular splash of oars as the other boat pulled hastily towards the schooner's bows.

Allday said quickly, 'It's now or never, Captain!' His teeth were bared with concentration, so that some men in the forward part of the boat thought he was smiling.

Bolitho stood up beside him and reached out to fend off the overhanging quarter, as like a moving object it loomed right above the boat.

'Now!'

There was a yell and a quick clatter as the bow-man hurled his grapnelup and over the bulwark. With a jerking, grinding crash the boat came alongside, some men falling in confusion, while others climbed eagerly over their sprawled bodies and entangled oars as if using a living bridge to reach the vessel's main deck.

Figures were already dashing from the forecastle, but as a man ran wildly from aft there was a muffled bang, the wellaimed musket ball hurling him round like an insane dancer, his agony clearly silhouetted against the poop lanterns.

Bolitho felt rather than saw a figure coming at him from the scuppers. Something hissed above his head even as he ducked round and struck for his attacker with his sword. The swaying figure backed and came on again, and Bolitho realised he was holding a huge axe, swinging it from side to side as he advanced.

Carwithen exclaimed, 'A plague on that bastard!' and fired his pistol full in the man's face. To Bolitho he snarled, 'That'll teach him!'

Another of the crew had climbed frantically into the foremast shrouds and was being pursued by a yelling seaman. Once again a musket stabbed the darkness from the other boat, and with a faint cry the man fell headlong to the deck where he was promptly despatched by a waiting cutlass.

Allday yelled, 'Most of 'em have gone below,. Captain!' He ran to a hatchway and fired his pistol into it. 'The fight's gone out of 'em now, I'm thinking!'

Bolitho peered aft at the poop lanterns. 'Call the other boat to give assistance!'

It was suddenly very quiet on the schooner's deck, and as Bolitho walked slowly towards the small cabin hatch just forward of the wheel he was conscious of his own footsteps and the feeling the fight was not yet over.

He moved warily around the outstretched corpse which had been the first to fall to a marine sharpshooter, its face shining in the lantern light, the lower jaw broken away as if by an axe stroke.

Allday said, 'Stand aside, Captain!'

But a seaman was already clambering over the hatch coaming, his face suddenly screwing up in terrible agony as a pistol exploded beneath him.

A shadow darted through the pluming smoke, and Bolitho saw it was the scarfaced seaman called Lincoln, his eyes like stones as he allowed his lean body to drop straight through the hatch, using his dead companion to cushion the fall. His feet thudded into the corpse, and as he turned he whipped a knife from between his teeth, hitting out twice in the darkness, the second blow bringing a scream of pain.

More men were swarming down after him, and Bolitho -yelled, 'Bring a lantern! Drag those men clear!'

Feet pounded over the planking, and he heard Armitage calling anxiously from the boat alongside.

Carwithen was already down on the cabin deck, knocking a seaman aside even as he made to finish the wounded pirate with his dirk.

Bolitho paused on the ladder, searching for Davy, his mind still able to grapple with the realisation that Allday had saved his life. But for his warning, he and not that poor seaman would be lying there dead.

'Mr. Davy! Hoist both boats inboard once you have secured our prisoners!'