Alexander Kent - Honour This Day

'Clear the lower battery, Val. Seal the ports! I want every spare hand up here!'

They dared not fire into the ship alongside now. They were locked together. It only needed one flaming wad from a gun to turn both ships into an inferno.

The seamen from the lower battery, their half-naked bodies blackened by the trapped smoke, surged up to join Major Adams's men as they charged to meet the attack.

Keen tossed his scabbard aside and tested the balance of his sword in his hand. He stared around in the drifting smoke, picking out his lieutenants amongst the darting figures. 'Where's my bloody coxswain 5' Then he gave a quick grin as Tojohns ran to join him, his cutlass held high to avoid the other hurrying seamen.

'Here, sir!' He glanced at Allday. 'Ready when you are, sir!'

Keen's eyes settled on Parris by the rail. 'Stay here. Hold the quarterdeck.' Just the flicker of a glance towards Bolitho. It was as if they had clasped hands.

Then he too was up and running along the starboard gangway, as the enemy clambered aboard, or fired down from their own ship. Lieutenant Lovering pointed with his hanger and yelled, 'To the fo'c'stle, lads!' Then he fell, the hanger dangling from his wrist as an unseen marksman found his victim.

Dacie the one-eyed boatswain's mate was already there on the beakhead, swinging a boarding axe with terrible effect, cutting down three of the enemy before some of Adams's marines jumped down to join him, their bayonets licking through the nets, hurling aside the men caught there like flies in a web.

The swivels in the maintop banged out again, and some of Spanish sailors about to join the first boarders were scattered in a deadly hail of canister. Those already aboard Hyperion fell back, one throwing away his cutlass as the marines cornered him on the forecastle, but it was already too late for quarter. Gunsmoke drifted over the deck and when it cleared, there were only corpses as the jubilant marines fought their way across to the other ship's deck.

Jenour stood close beside Bolitho, his sword drawn, his face like one already dead. He shouted, 'Two of the Dons have struck, Sir Richard!'

Despite the clash of steel and the sporadic bang of muskets, there were faint cheers from another ship, and Bolitho imagined he could hear drums and fifes.

He climbed up the poop ladder and rubbed his eyes before peering through the enveloping smoke. He could just make out Obdurate, now completely dismasted and lashed alongside the Spanish two-decker she had collided with. A British ensign flew above the other vessel's deck, and Bolitho guessed it was Captain Thynne's men who were cheering.

Then he saw Benbow, pushing past another crippled Spaniard, pouring a slow broadside into her as she moved by. Masts toppled like felled trees, and Bolitho saw Hernck's flag curling above the smoke, so bright in the mocking sunlight.

He thought wildly, Hyperion had cleared the way, just as Naylor had promised she would.

Allday shouted, 'Here, watch out!'

Bolitho turned and saw a group of Spanish seamen clamber up over the starboard gangway, slashing aside the nets before anyone had noticed them. They must have climbed from the mam chains; they could have been creatures from the sea itself.

Bolitho drew his sword, and saw some of Adams 's red-coated marines already hacking their way aft on the other ship. These boarders had no chance at all. Their own vessel would have to strike unless the other two-decker could come to her aid. But another broadside hurled smoke and debris high in the air and even on to Hyperion's mamdeck, as one of Bolitho's squadron, probably Crusader, raked her from stern to bow.

There was a lieutenant leading the small group, and as he saw Bolitho he brandished his sword and charged to the attack.

Jenour stood his ground, but the Spaniard was a fine swordsman. He parried the blue blade aside as if it was a reed, twisted it with his hilt and sent it flying. He drew back to balance himself for a last thrust, then stared with horror at the boarding pike which lunged up through the quarterdeck ladder. The seaman gave an insane yell, tugged the pike free and drove it into the lieutenant's stomach.

Bolitho faced another Spaniard who was armed only with a heavy cutlass.

Bolitho yelled, 'Surrender, damn you!'

But whether he understood or not the seaman showed no sign of giving in. The wide blade swung in a bright arc and Bolitho stepped aside easily, then almost fell as a shaft of sunlight probed through the smoke haze and touched his injured eye. It was like that other time. Like being struck blind.

He felt himself swaying, the old sword held straight out, pointing uselessly at nothing.

Parris yelled, 'Stop that man 1' Bolitho could only guess what was happening, and waited for the searing agony of the cutlass he could not see. Someone was screaming, and occasional yells told Bolitho thai more of Keen's men were running to vanquish the last of the attackers.

Allday sliced his blade at an angle, his mind numb as he saw the other man lunging towards Bolitho, who was apparently unable to move. The blade took the man on one side of his head, a glancing blow, but it had Allday's strength and memory behind it. As he pivoted round, squinting into the sudden glare, he saw Allday looming towards him.

Jenour heard the next blow even as he scrabbled in the bloodstained scuppers to retrieve his sword. Parns, who was sobbing with pain from a slash across his wounded shoulder, saw the cutlass hit the Spaniard on the forearm; could only stare as the arm, complete with cutlass, clattered across the deck.

Allday spat, 'An' this is for me, matey!' He silenced the man's scream with one final blow across the neck.

He grasped Bolitho's arm. 'You all right, Sir Richard?'

Bolitho took several deep breaths. His lungs felt as if they were filled with fire; he could barely breathe.

'Yes. Yes, old friend. The sun…'

He looked for Jenour. 'You have true courage, Stephen!'

Then he saw Jenour's features change yet again and thought for an instant he had already been wounded. There were wild cheers from the ship snared alongside by a tangle of fallen rigging, but as a freak gust of wind drove the smoke away Bolitho knew the reason for Jenour's stunned look of dismay.

He turned, covering his left eye with his hand, and felt his body cringe.

The Spanish admiral's flagship San Mateo had stayed clear of the close-action, or maybe it had taken her this long to put about. She seemed to shine above her own tall reflection; there was not a scar or a stain on her hull or a shot hole in her elegant sails. She was moving very slowly, and Bolitho's mind recorded that there were many men aloft on her yards. She was preparing to change tack again. Away from the battle.

Bolitho could feel his limbs quivering, as if they would never stop. He heard Parns shout, 'In Christ's name! She's going to fire''

San Mateo had run out every gun, and at the range of some fifty yards could not miss with any of them, even though two of her own consorts lay directly in the path of her broadside.

Bolitho's mind refused to clear. It was Hyperion they wanted. The defiant ship with his flag still at the fore which had somehow broken their line, and inspired the others to follow. He looked at Allday but he was staring at the enemy flagship, his cutlass hanging loosely from his fist.

Together Even now

Then the flagship fired. The sound was deafening, and as the weight of the broadside smashed into the drifting Hyperion, Bolitho felt the deck rear up as if the ship was sharing their agony.

He was thrown to the side of the quarterdeck, his ears deaf to the thundering roar of falling spars, of men crying and screaming before the torn rigging dragged them over the side like corpses in a huge net.