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.'
Darkness had closed over the choppy waters of Mounts Bay when Hugh Bolitho came on deck again.
He nodded to Gloag and the watchkeepers on the lee side and said, `Tell Mr Pyke and the gunner to attend to both boats. They must be armed and ready for hoisting outboard at short notice.' He peered at the feeble compass light. `Call the hands and bring her about. Steer due east, if you please.'
As the word was passed between decks, and the seamen came hurrying once more to their stations, he crossed to where Bolitho stood beside the helmsmen.
`It'll be a clear night. Wind's brisk, but no need to take in a reef.'
Bolitho barely heard him. He was picturing the cutter's progress, as if he were a sea-bird high overhead.
From the calculations on the chart, and the new course, he knew that they would be heading inshore again, to dangerous shoal waters, towards the very coastline where the Dutchman had gone aground, and many more fine ships before.
If Whiffin's information was correct there would be an attack on the slow-moving waggons. If the attackers already knew of the deception they would be beside themselves with glee. If not, it would still make little difference unless Dancer and his men received help.
He looked up at the hard-bellied sails, the long whipping tongue of the masthead pendant.
His brother called, `Very well. Stand by to come about.'
When order had replaced the confusion of changing tack, and Avenger's long, pole-like bowsprit was pointing towards the east, the gunner came aft, leaning over to a steeper angle as the wind pushed the hull over.
`Boats checked an' ready, sir. An' I've got a good man by the arms chest in case we…'
He swung round as a voice called hoarsely, `Light, sir! On th' larboard bow!'
Dark figures slithered down across the tilting deck to the lee side to search for the light.
Someone said, `Wreckers, mebbe?'
But Gloag, who had also seen it, said, `No. It was too regular.' He pointed. `See? There it be again!'
Bolitho snatched a telescope and tried to train it across the creaming wash of crests and spray. Two flashes. A shuttered lantern. A signal.
He felt Hugh at his side, heard his telescope squeak as he closed it and said, `Where is that, d'you reckon, Mr Gloag?' Calm again. In charge.
'Ard t' tell, sir.'
Bolitho heard Gloag breathing heavily, any animosity between him and his youthful captain momentarily forgotten.
Pyke suggested, `Round the point, towards Prah Sands, is my guess, sir.'
The light blinked out twice like a malevolent eye against the black shoreline.
Pyke said with disbelief, `God damn their eyes, they're runnin' a cargo tonight, the buggers!'
Bolitho chilled, imagining the unknown vessel, somewhere ahead of the lightless cutter. If they sighted the Avenger they might sheer off. Then again, they might raise an alarm which in turn would warn the ambush. The attack would be brought forward and there would be no hope of quarter.
`We will shorten sail, Mr Gloag. Mr Truscott, have the guns loaded with grape and canister.' The sharpness in his tone held the gunner motionless. `But do it piece by piece. I don't want to hear a sound!' Hugh peered round for a boatswain's mate. `Pass the word forrard. A flogging for the first man to alert the enemy. A golden guinea for the first man to sight him!'
Bolitho crossed the deck before he knew what he was doing.
`You're not going after her?'
His brother faced him, although his face was hidden in the gloom.
`What did you expect? If I let her slip away we could lose both. This way we might do for all the devils at once!'
He swung away as the hands ran to the braces and halliards.
`I've no choice.'
As the Avenger ploughed her way through each succession of wave crests, Bolitho found it harder to contain his anxiety. The cutter seemed to be making an incredible noise, and although he knew it would not be heard beyond half a cable, he could find no comfort. The sluice of water against the hull, the boom of heavy canvas with the attendant strains and rattles in the rigging, all joined in an ever-changing crescendo.
The topsail had been taken in, as had the jib, but even under fore and mainsail alone Avenger would stand out to any watchful smuggler.
As Gloag had mentioned, it was a fair night. Now that their eyes had become accustomed to it, it seemed even brighter. No clouds, a million glittering stars to reflect on the frothing waves and spume, and when you looked up the sails were like great, quivering wings.
A man craned over a stocky six-pounder and thrust out his arm.
7. A Tragedy
`There, sir! Fine on th' lee bow!'
Figures moved about the decks, as if taking part in a well practised dance. Here and there a telescope squeaked or a man whispered to his companion. Some in speculation, others probably in envy for the man who would receive a golden guinea.
Hugh Bolitho said, `Schooner, showing no lights. Under full sail too.' He shut his glass with a snap. `-Bit of luck. He'll be making more din than we are.' He dispensed with conjecture and added shortly, `Bring her up a point, Mr Gloag. I don't want the devil to slip past us. We'll hold the wind-gage if we can.'
Voices passed hushed orders, and cordage squeaked through the sheaves while overhead the big mainsail shivered violently before filling again to the, alteration of course.
Bolitho glanced at the compass as the helmsman said hoarsely, `East by south, sir.'
