Alexander Kent - Midshipman Bolitho and the Avenger

Hugh Bolitho jumped down. `Tether the horses. Detail two men to stand guard.' He drew his pistol and wiped it free of rain with his sleeve. `Lead on, Pendrith, I'm more used to the quarterdeck than chasing poachers!'

Bolitho noticed that some of the men chuckled at the remark. He was learning all the time.

Pendrith and one of the farm hands moved on ahead. There was no moon, but a diamond-shaped gap in the racing clouds gave a brief and eerie outline to a small, pointed roof.

Bolitho whispered to his friend, `They still build these little witch houses in some villages here. To guard the entrances from evil.'

Dancer shifted uncomfortably in" his borrowed clothing and hissed, `They didn't have much success in this place, Dick!'

Pendrith's untidy shape came bounding amongst them, and Bolitho imagined he was being chased, or that some of the legends were true after all.. But the gamekeeper said urgently, `There's a fire of sorts, sir! T'other side of the place!'

He turned, his face glowing red as a great tongue of flame soared skyward, the sparks whirling and carrying on the wind like a million spiteful fire-flies.

Several of the men cried out with fear, and even Bolitho who was used to tales of local witches and their covens, felt ice running up his spine.

Hugh Bolitho charged through the bushes, all caution thrown aside as he yelled, `They've fired a cottage! Lively, lads!'

When they reached the tiny cottage it was already blazing like an inferno. Great plumes of sparks swirled down amongst the smoke-blinded seamen, stinging them, trying to hold them at bay.

`Mr Dancer! Take two men and get around to the far side P

In the fast spreading flames, the crouching seamen and farm hands stood out clearly against the backcloth of trees and rain. Bolitho wrapped his neckcloth around his mouth and nose and kicked at the sagging door with all his strength. More flames and sparks seared his legs, as with a rumbling crash the remains of the thatched roof and timbers collapsed within the cottage.

Pendrith was bawling, `Come back, d'you hear, Master Richard! Ain't no use!'

Bolitho turned away and then saw his brother's face. He was staring at the flames, oblivious to the heat and the hissing sparks. In those few seconds it was all laid bare. His brother saw his own hopes and future burning with the cottage. Somebody had set it alight, no ordinary fire could burst out like this in the middle of a downpour. Equally quickly, he made up his mind.

He threw himself against the door again, shutting his mind to everything but the need to get inside. It toppled before him like a charred draw-bridge,

and as the smoke billowed aside he saw a man's body twisting and kicking amongst burning furniture and black fragments of fallen thatch.

It all swept through his mind as he ran forward, stooping to grip the man's shoulders and drag him back towards the door. The man was kicking like a madman, and above a gag his eyes rolled with agony and terror. He was trussed hand and foot, and Bolitho was as sickened by the stench as by the act of leaving a man to burn alive.

Voices came and went through the roar of flames like the souls of dead witches returning for a final curse.

Then others were seizing his arms, taking the load and pulling them both out into the torrential, beautiful rain.

Dancer came running through the glare and shouted, `It's the same place, Dick! I'm certain of it. The shape of the rear wall…' He stopped to stare at the struggling, seared man on the ground.

Pendrith knelt down on the mud and embers and asked hoarsely, ' 'Oo done this thing to you?'

The man, whom Pendrith had already recognized as the missing Blount, gasped, `They left me 'ere to burn!' He was writhing, his teeth bared in agony. `They wouldn't listen to me!' He seemed to realize that there were sailors present and added brokenly, `After all I done for 'im.'

Hugh bent over him, his face like stone as he asked, `Who, man? Who did it? We must know!' He stiffened

as one of the man's blackened hands reached out to seize his lapel. `You are dying. Do this thing before it is too late.'

The man's head lolled, and Bolitho could almost feel the release from pain as death crept over him.

'Vyvyan.' For a brief instant some strength. rebelled, and with it came another agony. Blount screamed the name, `Vyvyan!'

Hugh Bolitho stood up and removed his hat. As if to allow the rain to wash away what he had. seen.

Robins whispered, `That last shout done for him, sir.'

Hugh Bolitho heard him and turned away from the corpse. `For more than one man.'

As he brushed past, Bolitho saw the claw-like stain on his white lapel, left there by the dying man. In the flickering light it looked like the mark of Satan.

Bolitho and Dancer trained their telescopes on the jetty and watched the sudden activity amongst the jolly boat's crew which had been waiting there for over an hour.

`We shall soon know, Dick.' Dancer sounded anxious.

Bolitho lowered the telescope and wiped his face free of rain. He was soaking wet, but like Dancer and most of the Avenger's company had been unable to relax, to be'' patient while he awaited his brother's return.

That first horror of finding the man who had been left to die, the excitement of knowing Dancer had been right about Vyvyan's implications, had already gone sour. Colonel de Crespigny himself and a troop of dragoons had ridden hard to Vyvyan Manor, only to be told that Sir Henry had left on an important mission, and no, they did not know where, or when he might return. Sensing the colonel's uncertainty, the steward had added coldly that Sir Henry was unused to having his movements queried by the military.

So there was no evidence after all. Apart from that last, desperate accusation of a dying man, they had nothing. No stolen cargo, no muskets, brandy or anything else. There were plenty of signs that people had been there. Hoof-marks, wheel-tracks and traces of casks and loads being hauled about in a great hurry. But what remained would soon be washed away in the continuous downpour. In any case it was not evidence.

Dancer said quietly, `It will be Christmas Day tomorrow, Dick. It may not be a happy one.'

Bolitho looked at him warmly. Dancer was the one who would be spared all enquiry but the briefest statement. His position, to say nothing of his father's importance in the City of London, would see to that. And yet he felt just as vulnerable as the Bolitho family which had got him involved in the first place.

The boatswain's mate of the watch called, 'Cap'n's boat 'as just shoved off, sir!'

`Very well. Call the side party. Stand by to receive him.'

It might well be the last time Hugh Bolitho was received aboard in command, here or anywhere else, he thought. Hugh Bolitho clambered over the side and touched his hat to the side party.

`Call the hands and hoist the boats inboard.' He squinted up at the flapping masthead pendant. `We will get under way within the hour.' He looked at the midshipmen for the first time and added bitterly, `I'll be glad to be rid of this place, home or not!'

Bolitho tensed. So there was no last minute hope, no reprieve.

As Dancer and the boatswain's mate hurried forward, Hugh Bolitho said in a calmer tone, `I am required to make passage to Plymouth forthwith. The members of my company I put aboard a prize are assembled there, so your appointment 'as my senior will no longer be needed.'

`Did you hear anything about Sir Henry Vyvyan?'

He saw his brother give a shrug as he answered, `De Crespigny was duped like the rest of us. You remember that bullion which the dragoons were suddenly and mysteriously required to escort at Bodmin? Well, we have now learned that it was Vyvyan's property. So while the revenue men and our people were being set upon by his ruffians, and cut to pieces, Vyvyan's booty was coolly being put aboard a vessel at Looe, after being escorted by the very soldiers who have since been searching for him!' He turned and looked at him, his face strained and seemingly older. `So as he slips away to France, probably to negotiate for more weapons for his private wars, I will have to face the consequences. I thought I could run before I could walk. But I was outwitted, and beaten without knowing it!'