Alexander Kent - Stand into Danger

Beneath the quarterdeck rail they halted, and Poynter reported harshly, “The prisoner, sir!”

Bolitho made himself look at Spillane’s upturned face. If anything, it was completely empty, as if the neat and usually composed man was unable to accept what had happened.

Bolitho recalled how Spillane had come to his cabin with the message from Aurora, and wondered how much he had passed on to Garrick.

Dumaresq waited for his officers to remove their hats and then said in his resonant voice, “You know why you are here, Spillane. Had you been a pressed man, or one forced into the King’s service against your will it might have been different. You, however, volunteered, knowing you were intending to betray your oath and where possible bring disaster to your ship and your companions. Yours was a conspiracy to commit murder on a grand scale. Look yonder, man.”

When Spillane remained stricken and staring at him, Dumaresq snapped, “Master-at-arms!”

Poynter gripped the prisoner’s chin and swung him round towards the bows.

“That ship is commanded by your master, Piers Garrick. Take a long look, and ask yourself now if the price of treachery was worthwhile!”

But Spillane’s eyes were fixed on the swaying halter. It was doubtful if he saw anything else.

“Deck there!” Henderson ’s normally powerful voice sounded unsteady, as if he was afraid of breaking into the drama below him.

Dumaresq glared up at him. “Speak, man!”

“The San Augustin has corpses hanging from her yards, sir!”

Dumaresq swarmed into the shrouds, snatching a telescope from Jury as he passed.

Then he climbed down to the deck very slowly and said, “They are the ship’s Spanish officers.” He darted a quick glance at Bolitho. “Hung there as a warning, no doubt.”

But Bolitho had seen something else in Dumaresq’s eyes. Just briefly, it had been relief, but why? What had he expected to see?

Dumaresq returned to the quarterdeck rail and replaced his hat. Then he said, “Remove that halter from the main-yard, Mr Timbrell. Master-at-arms, put the prisoner down. He will await judgement with the others.”

Spillane’s legs seemed to collapse under him. He clasped his hands together and said brokenly, “Thank you, sir! The Lord bless you for your kindness!”

“Stand up, you bloody hound!” Dumaresq looked at him with disgust. “To think that men like Garrick can corrupt others so easily. By hanging you, I would have been no better than he. But hear me. You will be able to listen to our progress today, and I suspect that will be an even greater punishment!”

As Spillane was hustled away, Palliser said bitterly, “If we sink, that bugger will reach the bottom first!”

Dumaresq clapped him on the shoulder. “Very true!

Now, beat to quarters, if you will, and try to knock two minutes off your time!”

“Ship cleared for action, sir!” Palliser touched his hat, his eyes gleaming. “Eight minutes exactly.”

Dumaresq lowered his telescope and glanced at him. “Shorthanded we may be, but each man-jack is working the harder for it.”

Bolitho stood below the quarterdeck watching his gun-crews by their tackles, seemingly relaxed, although the waiting was far from over.

The distant ship had spread more sail to stand well clear of the island, but as Destiny lifted and fell gently in the swell, the San Augustin appeared to be motionless. Would she turn and run for it? There was always a chance her stern-chasers might cripple the pursuing frigate with a lucky shot.

Midshipman Henderson, isolated from the preparations far below his perch, had reported that two other sail had cleared the lagoon. One was the topsail schooner, and Bolitho wondered how Dumaresq could be so sure Garrick was in the big man-of-war and not in the schooner. Perhaps he and Dumaresq were too much alike after all. Neither wishing to be a spectator, each eager to inflict a quick and undeniable victory.

Little walked slowly behind the starboard battery of twelve-pounders, stooping occasionally to check a tackle or to ensure that the ship’s boys had sanded the decks sufficiently to prevent the crews from slipping when the pace grew warm.

Stockdale was at his own gun, his men dwarfed by his great bulk as he cradled a twelve-pound ball in his hands before replacing it in the shot-garland and selecting another. In a manner born, Bolitho thought. He had often seen old gun-captains do it. To make certain the first shots would be perfect. After the opening broadsides it was usually each crew to itself and devil take the hindmost.

He heard Gulliver say, “We have the wind-gage, sir. We can always shorten sail if the enemy comes about.”

He was probably speaking merely to release his own anxieties or to await a suggestion from the captain. But Dumaresq remained silent, watching his adversary, glancing occasionally at the masthead pendant or the sluggish wave curling back from Destiny’s bows.

Bolitho looked forward and saw Rhodes speaking with Cowdroy and some of his gun-captains. The waiting was endless. It was what he expected, but he never grew used to.

“The schooners have luffed, sir!”

Dumaresq grunted. “Hanging back like jackals.”

Bolitho climbed up to peer over the gangway which ran above the starboard battery to link quarterdeck to forecastle. Even with the packed hammock nettings and the nets spread above the deck there was little enough protection for the seamen, he thought.

Almost the worst part was the empty boat-tier. Apart from the gig and the quarter-boat towing astern, the rest had been left drifting in an untidy line. In action, flying splinters were one of the greatest hazards, and the boats made a tempting target. But to see them cast adrift put the seal on what they had to face.

Henderson called, “The corpses have been cut down, sir!” He sounded hoarse from strain.

Dumaresq said to Palliser, “Like so much meat. God damn his eyes!”

Palliser answered evenly, “Maybe he wishes to see you angry, sir?”

“Provoke me?” Dumaresq’s anger faded before it could spread. “You could be right. Hell’s teeth, Mr Palliser, it should be Parliament for you, not the Navy!”

Midshipman Jury stood with his hands behind his back watching the far-off ship, his hat tilted over his eyes as he had seen Bolitho do.

He said suddenly, “Will they try to close with us, sir?”

“Probably. They have the numbers. From what we saw on the island, I would guess they outmatch us by ten to one.” He saw the dismay on Jury’s face and added lightly, “The captain will hold them off. Hit and run. Wear them down.”

Bolitho glanced up at Dumaresq by the rail and wondered. No emotion, and yet he must be scheming and planning for every possible set-back. Even his voice was as usual.

Jury said, “The other two craft could be dangerous.”

“The topsail schooner maybe. The other one is too light to risk a close encounter.”

He thought of what would have happened but for their desperate action on the island. Was it only yesterday? There would have been six schooners instead of two, and the forty-four-gun San Augustin might have had time to mount more guns, maybe those from the hill-top battery. Now, whatever the outcome, their captured schooner would carry Dumaresq’s despatches to the admiral at Antigua. Too late for them perhaps, but they would ensure that Garrick remained a hunted man for the rest of his life.

How clear the sky looked. Not yet too hot to be oppressive. The sea too was creamy and inviting. He tried not to think of that other time, when he had pictured himself running and swimming with her, finding happiness together, making it last.

Dumaresq said loudly, “They will attempt to dismast us and lay us open to boarding. It is likely that the larger of the schooners has been armed with some heavier pieces. So make each shot tell. Remember that many of their gun-crews and seamen are Spaniards. Terrified of Garrick they may be, but they’ll not wish to be pounded to gruel by you!”