Alexander Kent - Midshipman Bolitho and the Avenger

`The matter is closed.' Hugh smiled. `Besides, it will all be over before you know it. A few bloody heads and the sight of the dragoons will be sufficient. Sir Henry Vyvyan can have all the hangings he wants after that!'

As he vanished below Dancer said, `It's no matter, Dick. We've done far worse in the old Gorgon. And this may stand us in good stead when our examiations come due, whenever that wretched day will be!'

By noon the waggons had arrived and were loaded without delay. Again, Hugh Bolitho had planned it

well. Not enough fuss to make the preparations appear false, but enough to suggest the genuine pride of a young commander's capture.

If it went well, Gloag's remark would make good sense. The prize money from the stranded Dutch vessel and the destruction of a gang of smugglers or wreckers would do much to push Hugh's other problems to one side.

`You there! Give me a hand down with my bag!'

Bolitho turned to see a seaman helping a tall, loose-limbed man in a plain blue coat and hat down. on to the cutter's bulwark.

The seaman seemed to know him well and grinned. `Welcome back, Mr Whiffin, sir!'

Bolitho' hurried aft, raking through his mind to place where he had heard the name. He had now been aboard the cutter for ten days and had learned the names and duties of most of the men, but Whiffin's role eluded him.

The tall man regarded-him calmly. A mournful, expressionless face.

He said, 'Whiffin. Clerk-in-charge.'

Bolitho touched his hat. Of course, that was it. These cutters carried a senior clerk to do several jobs in one. To act as purser, captain's clerk, in some cases even to try their hand at surgery, and Whiffin looked as if he could do all of them. Bolitho remembered hearing his brother mention vaguely he had put Whiffin ashore for some reason or other. Anyway, now he was back.

`Captain aboard?' He was studying Bolitho curiously. `You'll be the brother then.'

Wherever he had been, Whiffin was remarkably well informed.

`Aft.'

'Very well. I'd better see him.'

Shooting another glance at Dancer he went below, twisting himself around and down the companion like a weasel.

`Well now.' Dancer pursed his lips in a whistle. `He's a strange one.'

The boatswain's mate of the watch called, 'Cap'n wants you below, sir!'

Bolitho hurried to the ladder, wondering if Whiffin's return had changed something. Perhaps he and not Dancer was going with the waggons after all.

His brother looked up sharply as he entered the cabin. Whiffin was sitting near him, filling the air with smoke from a long clay pipe.

`Sir?'

`Slight alteration, Richard.' He gave a small smile. `I want you to get ashore and find the chief revenue officer. Hand him this letter, and bring me a signature for it.'

Bolitho nodded. `I see, sir.'

`I doubt it, but no matter, so off you go.'

Bolitho looked at the address scrawled on the waxsealed envelope and then returned to the deck.

He led Dancer to the side and said, `If I'm not back aboard before you leave, good luck, Martyn.' He touched his arm and smiled, surprised at his sudden uneasiness. `And take care.'

Then he climbed on to the jetty and strode quickly towards the town.

It took over an hour to find the revenue officer in question. He seemed out of sorts, probably because of the extra work he was being given, and also at having to sign for the letter, as if he was not to be trusted.

When Bolitho returned to the jetty nothing seemed to have changed. Not at first glance. But as he drew nearer to the Avenger's tall mast and furled sails he realized that the waggons had already gone.

As he lowered himself to the deck Truscott, the gunner, said, `You're wanted below, sir.'

Again? It never stopped. He was still a midshipman, no matter what title Hugh had chosen for him.

Hugh Bolitho was seated at the table, as if he had not moved. The air was still wreathed in smoke, and it gave the impression that Whiffin had only just left.

`You didn't take long, Richard.' He sounded preoccupied. `Good. You can tell Mr Gloag to call the hands and prepare to get under way. We'll be shorthanded, so see that,they know what they are doing.'

`The waggons are gone.'

His brother watched him for several seconds. `Yes. Soon after you left.' He raised one eyebrow. `Well?'

`Is something wrong?' Bolitho stood his ground as he recognized the quick flash of impatience.

'Whiffin brought news. There is to be an ambush. The waggons will take the road to the east'rd towards Helston, then nor'-east to Truro. Whiffin has made good use of his time ashore and a few guineas in the right palms. If all goes as expected, the attack will be between here and Helston. The coast road is within easy reach of a dozen coves and beaches.

Avenger will get under way now and be ready and waiting to offer assistance.'

Bolitho waited for more. His brother was explaining crisply, confidently, but there was a difference. He sounded as if he was speaking his thoughts aloud to convince himself of something.

Bolitho said, `And the letter I carried was for the dragoons?'

Hugh Bolitho leaned back against the curved timbers and said bitterly, `There are no dragoons. They're not coming.'

Bolitho could not speak for several moments, seeing only his friend's face as they had parted, recalling Hugh's remark about Avenger being short-handed. The plan had been for ten seamen to go with Dancer, while the rest of the escort would be some revenue officers. The dragoons from Truro, superbly trained and experienced, were to have been the main force.

The fact that Hugh had sent more seamen than intended showed he had known for some while.

He said, `You knew. Just as you did about the informant Portlock.'

`Yes. If I had told you, what would you have done, eh?' He looked away. `You'd have passed the news to Mr Dancer, frightened him half to death before he'd even started.'

`As it is, you might be sending him to his death.'

`Don't be so bloody insolent!' Hugh stood up, stooping automatically between the deckhead beams. It made him look as if he was about to spring at his younger brother. `Or so self-righteous!'

`I could ride after them.' He could hear his own voice. Pleading, knowing at the same time it was wasted. `There'll be other ways of catching the smugglers, other times.'

`It is settled. We sail on the tide. The wind has veered and is in our favour.' Hugh lowered his voice. `Rest easy. We'll manage.'

As Bolitho made for the door he added, `Mr Dancer is your friend, and we are brothers. But to all else we are authority, with a plain duty to carry out.' He nodded. `So be about it, eh?'

Standing aft by the taffrail as he watched the Avenger's depleted company preparing to take in the mooring lines, Bolitho tried to see it as his brother had suggested. Detached. Uninvolved. It would be simple to recall the waggons. A fast horse would be up to them in less than two hours. But Hugh was not prepared to risk his plan, no matter what chance it had of success without the dragoons' aid. He would rather put Dancer and two dozen of his own men in mortal danger.

Standing out of harbour almost into the eye of the wind, the Avenger made a leisurely exit.

Bolitho watched his brother by the compass, seeking some sign, a hint of his true feelings.

He heard Gloag say, `Damn this fair weather, I say, sir. We'll not be able to change tack 'til we're hid from the land by dusk.' He sounded anxious, which was unusual. `Time's runnin' out.'

Then Bolitho saw through his brother's guard as

he thrust himself away from the compass with a

sharp retort. `Keep your miseries to yourself, Mr

Gloag! I'm in no mood for them!'

He went below, and Bolitho heard the cabin door slam shut.

The acting-master remarked to the deck at large, `Squalls ahead.'