Hooker said deliberately, ‘’Tis a brig. I’d swear to that, sir. All canvas furled an’ snugged down for the night, I’d say. But she’s anchored so far out, it was ’ard to be sure.’
Keveth nudged him.
‘Keep goin’, Bill. You’re doin’ handsome.’
Hooker did not seem to hear him. He continued in the same unemotional tone, reliving it. Feeling the menace, alone on the beach.
‘There were two boats on the sand, another one moored farther out, in the shallows. Bigger’n the others, one mast, sail-rigged.’ He banged the ground with his hand. ‘Lee-boards, I’m almost sure.’ Another nod to himself. ‘Small coaster, I reckon.’
Just the kind of vessel for a dangerous rendezvous. And there would be hundreds of such craft around the islands or used for trade along the French coast.
Hooker continued, ‘They was arguin’, do you see, sir? Shoutin’ some o’ the time. I thought they was near comin’ to fists or worse.’
Keveth prompted, almost gently, ‘English?’
Hooker stared at him, as if it had not occurred to him. ‘Some was. Others could ’ave bin French. I ain’t sure. But the ones with the coaster was cursin’ the crew from the brig. Anchored too far out, one was yellin’.’
Bolitho got to his feet. That had to be the key.
He said, ‘Hazardous or not, they have no choice.’ He thought of
He looked at Keveth, who was also standing now, his carefully wrapped musket over one shoulder.
‘I’ll have you relieved as soon as I can. We’ll go and find the others.’
Keveth hesitated, as if some sharp comment was hanging on his tongue. But he said, ‘I’ll be here, sir. The lieutenant will be wantin’ a boat’s crew, I’m thinkin’.’ He added firmly, ‘I’d like to keep with you,’ and wiped his grubby chin with the back of his hand.
It was only a short time before they found the others, but long enough for the truth to become clear to him.
A boat’s crew was needed without delay. Verling must have known it even as he was grappling with each doubt. If he had waited until dawn, the mystery ship would have sailed, despite the risks in these shoal-ridden waters. The alternative was the end of a rope.
And the smuggled cargo which had reached this far?
He recalled Dancer’s quiet speculation. It was certainly neither rum nor tea.
Egmont waited for Bolitho to stride up to him.
‘Well?’
Impatient, anxious, even excited? For once, he was hiding his emotions.
‘Hooker has had a quick sighting, sir. A brig, anchored well out.’
Egmont glanced at the seaman in question.
‘Anything else? Got a tongue, has he?’
Hooker swallowed hard.
‘There was men on the beach, boats as well.’ When Egmont failed to interrupt he continued in his round country accent, but there was nothing slow-witted about his observations. Bolitho had watched him at numerous drills aboard
Egmont waited in that enigmatic silence, and then said, ‘Some were French, you think?’
Hooker shrugged. ‘I thought they was, sir.’
Egmont looked at the sky. ‘Probably locals. They speak a Norman-French patois here. No better breeding ground for smuggling on the grand scale.’ He broke off, as if surprised at himself for sharing his opinions. He regarded Bolitho coldly. ‘If the vessel is anchored far out, and it seems wise in these waters, that will mean they must begin loading their contraband straight away. No time to lose. Two boats, you say?’
Hooker spread his hands. ‘An’ the coaster.’
Egmont folded and unfolded his arms. ‘The brig would have one, maybe two more. All the same…’
Bolitho said, ‘A long haul, even so.’
Egmont stared past him, watching or listening to the trees.
‘Wind’s livelier. They might not have noticed that aboard
Bolitho said, ‘Mr. Verling will have given strict orders…’ He got no further.
‘I know that, damn it! But he won’t have any idea of the timing needed.
Bolitho felt the anger churning at his guts. No word of praise or thanks, only a threat of recrimination. He recalled Keveth’s words.
Egmont was looking at the sky again. ‘Take charge until you receive further orders. Observe their movements, but remain out of sight.’ He turned away. ‘Select five hands to stay with you. I shall manage with the other half of the party.’
Someone muttered, ‘Done, sir. I’ve picked our lads.’
Bolitho forced himself to concentrate, to blot out the glaring truth. He was being left behind, with only five of the original landing party. Keveth had known; so, probably, had Hooker.
The voice at his elbow was that of Price, the big Welshman who had been the boat’s leadsman on their passage to the beach. He was known for a rough and irrepressible sense of humour, not always appreciated by Tinker, the boatswain’s mate.
‘That’s long enough!’ Egmont was watching the small group of figures breaking up, separating into two sections, a few grins and remarks here, a quick pat on a friend’s shoulder there.
Hooker paused for the merest second by Bolitho.
‘I’ll pass the word to Mr. Dancer, sir.’ That was all. It was enough.
Egmont’s people were already moving back beneath the trees at the foot of the ridge. In two hours he would be in the boat; in three or thereabouts, in
He left without a backward look. Was that how it had to be?
Price was still beside him. ‘Well, there you are, see. The cream always comes out on top!’ One of the others even laughed.
Bolitho said, ‘Let’s find a scrap of cover – I think I felt more rain. This is what we’ll do.’
For an instant he believed he had imagined it.
But he had not. He was in charge. And he was ready.
9
Richard Bolitho pressed down on both hands to take the weight of his body and ease the pain in his legs. He was wedged between two great shoulders of rock, worn smooth by the sea. He could hear the slap and sluice of trapped water somewhere below his precarious perch, like a warning, sharpening his mind. The tide was on the make, or soon would be. That would mean climbing higher, losing contact, or worse, any protection he and his small
