Their laughter died as the surgeon, unusually grim-faced, entered, and after a quick glance around to make certain they were undisturbed, said, “The gunner’s just told me something interesting.
He was asked by one of his mates if they would need to move some of the twelve-pounder shot forward to make room for the bullion.” He let his words sink in. “How long has it been? Fifteen minutes? Ten? It must be the shortest secret of any day!”
Bolitho listened to the regular creak and clatter of rigging and spars, the movement of the watch on deck overhead.
So be ready, Palliser had said. It had suddenly adopted another meaning altogether.
The morning after Dumaresq’s disclosures about the treasure ship found the strange sail still lying far astern.
Bolitho had the morning-watch, and had sensed the growing tension as the light hardened across the horizon and faces around him took on shape and personality.
Then came the cry, “Deck there! Sail to th’ nor’-east!”
Dumaresq must have been ready for it, expecting it. He came on deck within minutes, and after a cursory glance at the compass and the flapping sails, observed, “Wind’s dropping off.” He looked at Bolitho. “This is a damnable business.” He recovered himself instantly. “I shall have breakfast now. Send Mr Slade aloft when he comes on watch. He has an eye for most craft. Tell him to study that stranger, though God knows she is cunning enough to keep her distance and still not lose us.”
Bolitho watched him until he had disappeared below and then looked along Destiny’s full length. It was the ship’s busiest time, with seamen at work with holy-stones on the deck planking, others cleaning guns and checking running and standing rigging under Mr Timbrell’s critical eye. The marines were going through one of their many, seemingly complicated drills with muskets and fixed bayonets, while Colpoys kept at a distance, leaving the work to his sergeant.
Beckett, the carpenter, was already directing some of his crew to begin repairs on the larboard gangway which had been damaged when a purchase had collapsed under the weight of some incoming stores. The upper deck with its double line of twelve-pounders was like a busy street and a market-place all in one. A place for hard work and gossip, for avoiding authority or seeking favour.
Later, with the decks cleaned up, the hands were piped to sail drill with Palliser at his place on the quarterdeck to watch their frantic efforts to knock seconds off the time it took to reef or make more sail.
And all the while as they lived through the daily routine of a man-of-war, that other sail never left them. Like a tiny moth on the horizon it was always there. When Destiny shortened sail and the way fell from beneath her beakhead, the stranger too would follow suit. Spread more canvas and the lookout would immediately report a responding action by the stranger.
Dumaresq came on deck as Gulliver was just completing his supervision of the midshipman’s efforts as they took the noon sights to fix the ship’s position.
Bolitho was close enough to hear him ask, “Well, Mr Gulliver, how will the weather favour us tonight?” He sounded impatient, even angry that Gulliver should be doing his normal duties.
The sailing master glanced at the sky and the red masthead pendant. “Wind’s backed a piece, sir. But the strength is the same. Be no stars tonight, too much cloud in the offing.
Dumaresq bit his lip. “Good. So be it.” He swung round and called, “Pass the word for Mr Palliser.” He saw Bolitho and said, “You have the dog-watches today. Make certain you gather plenty of lanterns near the mizzen. I want our ‘friend’ to see our lights later on. They will give him confidence.”
Bolitho watched the change in the man, the power running through him like a rising wave, a need to crush this impudent follower.
Palliser came striding aft, his eyes questioning again as he saw Dumaresq speaking with his junior lieutenant.
“Ah, Mr Palliser, I have work for you.”
Dumaresq smiled, but Bolitho could see from the way a nerve was jumping at the corner of his jaw, the stiffness in his back and broad shoulders, that his mind was less relaxed.
Dumaresq made a sweeping gesture. “I shall require the launch ready for lowering at dusk, earlier if the light is poor. A good man in charge, if you please, and extra hands to get her mast stepped and sails set as soon as they are cast off.” He watched Palliser’s inscrutable face and added lightly, “I want them to carry several of the large lanterns, too. We shall douse ours and darken ship completely as soon as the launch is clear. Then I intend to beat hard to wind’rd, come about and wait.”
Bolitho turned to look at Palliser. To tackle another vessel in the dark was not to be taken flippantly.
Dumaresq added, “I shall flog any man aboard who shows so much as a glow-worm!”
Palliser touched his hat. “I’ll attend to it, sir. Mr Slade can take charge of the boat. He’s so keen on promotion it’ll do him good.”
Bolitho was astounded to see Dumaresq and the first lieutenant laughing together like a pair of schoolboys, as if this was an everyday occurrence.
Dumaresq looked at the sky and then turned to stare astern. Only from the masthead could you see the other vessel, but it was as if he was able to reach beyond the horizon itself. He was calm again, in control of his feelings.
He said, “Something to tell your father about, Mr Bolitho. It would appeal to him.”
A seaman tramped past carrying a great coil of rope across his shoulder like a bundle of dead snakes. It was Stockdale. As the captain vanished below he wheezed, “We goin’ to fight that one, sir?”
Bolitho shrugged. “I-I think so.”
Stockdale nodded heavily. “I’ll grind an edge on my blade, then.” That was all it apparently meant to him.
Left alone to his thoughts, Bolitho crossed to the rail and looked down at the men already working to free the launch from the other boats on the tier. Did Slade, he wondered, yet realize what might become of him? If the wind rose after they had dropped the launch, Slade could be driven miles off course. It would be harder than finding a pin in a haystack.
Jury came on deck, and after some hesitation joined him by the rail.
Bolitho stared at him. “I thought you were sent aft to do poor Lockyer’s work?”
Jury met his gaze. “I asked the first lieutenant if he would send Mr Midshipman Ingrave instead.” Some of his composure collapsed under Bolitho’s gaze. “I’d prefer to stay in your watch, sir.”
Bolitho clapped him on the shoulder. “On your head be it.” But he felt pleased all the same.
The boatswain’s mates hurried from hatchway to hatchway, their silver calls trilling in between their hoarse cries for the watch below to assist in swaying out the launch.
Jury listened to the shrill whistles and said, “The Spithead nightingales are in full cry this evening, sir.”
Bolitho hid a smile. Jury spoke like an old sailor, a real sea-dog.
He faced him gravely, “You’d better go and see what is being done about the lanterns. Otherwise Mr Palliser will have the both of us in full cry, I’m thinking.”
As dusk came down to conceal their preparations the masthead lookout reported that the other sail was still in sight.
Palliser touched his hat as the captain came on deck. “All ready, sir.”
“Very well.” Dumaresq’s eyes shone in the reflected glare from the array of lanterns. “Shorten sail and stand by to lower the boat.” He looked up as the main-topsail filled and boomed sullenly from its yard. “After that, every stitch she can carry. If that ferret back there is a friend, and merely seeking our protection on the high seas, we shall know it. If not, Mr Palliser, he shall know that, I promise you!”
An anonymous voice whispered, “Cap’n’s comin’ up, sir!”
Palliser turned and waited for Dumaresq to join him by the quarterdeck rail.
Gulliver’s shadow moved through the gloom. “South by east, sir. Full and bye.”
Dumaresq gave a grunt. “You were right about the clouds, Mr Gulliver, though the wind’s fresher than I expected.”
Bolitho stood with Rhodes and three midshipmen at the lee side of the quarterdeck ready to execute any sudden order. More to the point, they were able to share the drama and the tension. Dumaresq’s comment had sounded as if he blamed the master for the wind.
He looked up and shivered. Destiny, after thrashing and beating her way to windward for what had seemed like
