Palliser asked, “D’you mean he’ll use the San Augustin against us, sir?”
Dumaresq’s eyes flashed with sudden anger at the interruption. Then he said almost mildly, “Eventually, yes.”
Feet shuffled, and Bolitho heard several voices murmuring with sudden alarm.
Dumaresq said, “Don Carlos Quintana will have surrendered, although he may have fallen in the first engagement. For his sake, I hope that was so. He will receive little mercy at the hands of those murdering scum. Which is something you will bear in mind, do I make myself clear?”
Bolitho found he was clenching and unclenching his hands. His palms felt clammy, and he knew it was the same sickness of fear which had followed the attack on the island. His wound started to throb as if to remind him, and he had to stare at the deck until his mind cleared again.
Dumaresq said, “You will recall the first shots at the Spaniard? From a single cannon to the west’rd of the hill. They were deliberately fired badly to encourage the intruder into their trap. Once past the point they used the battery and some heated shot to create panic and final submission. It gives an idea of Garrick’s cunning. He was prepared to risk setting her afire rather than allow her amongst his carefully collected flotilla. And Don Carlos might well have persevered against an ordinary bombardment, although I doubt if he would have succeeded.”
Feet moved overhead, and Bolitho imagined the men up there on watch, without their officers, wondering what schemes were being hatched, and who would pay for them with his life.
He could also picture the ship, without lights and carrying little canvas as she ghosted through the darkness.
“Tomorrow Garrick will still be watching us, to see what we intend. We shall continue throughout the day, patrolling, nothing more. It will do two things. Show Garrick that we expect assistance, also that we have no intention of leaving. Garrick will know time is running out and will endeavour to hasten things along.”
Gulliver asked uneasily, “Won’t that be the wrong thing to do, sir? Why not leave him be and wait for the squadron?”
“Because I do not believe the squadron will come.” Dumaresq eyed the master’s astonishment blandly. “Fitzpatrick, the actinggovernor, may well delay my despatches until he is relieved of his own responsibility. By then it will be too late anyway.” He gave a slow smile. “It is no use, Mr Gulliver, you must accept your fate, as I do.”
Palliser said, “Us against a forty-four, sir? I’ve no doubt Garrick’s other craft will be fairly well armed, and may be experienced in this sort of game.”
Dumaresq appeared to grow tired of the discussion. “Tomorrow night, I intend to close the shore and drop four boats. I cannot hope to force the entrance myself, and Garrick will know this. He’ll have guns laid on the channel anyway, so I’d still be at a grave disadvantage.”
Bolitho felt his stomach muscles tighten. A boat action. Always chancy, always difficult, even with the most experienced of hands.
Dumaresq continued, “I will discuss the plans further when we see how the wind supports us. In the meantime, I can tell you this. Mr Palliser will take the cutter and the jolly-boat and land at the sou’-west point of the island. It is the best sheltered part and the least likeliest for an assault. He will be supported by Mr Rhodes, Mr Midshipman Henderson and…” his eyes moved deliberately to Slade, “… our senior master’s mate.”
Bolitho glanced quickly at Rhodes and saw how pale his face seemed. There were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, too.
The senior midshipman, Henderson, by comparison looked calm and eager. It was his first chance, and like Palliser he would soon be trying his luck for promotion. It would be uppermost on his mind until the actual moment came.
“There will be no moon, and as far as I can discover, the sea will be kind to us.” Dumaresq’s stature seemed to grow and expand with his ideas. “The pinnace will be lowered next, and will make for the reefs to the north-eastern end of the island.”
Bolitho waited, trying not to hold his breath. Knowing what was coming.
It was almost a relief when Dumaresq said, “Mr Bolitho, you will take charge of the pinnace. You will be supported by Midshipmen Cowdroy and Jury, and an experienced gunner’s mate with a complete gun’s crew. You will find and seize that solitary cannon below the hill-side, and use it as I direct.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “Lieutenant Colpoys can select a squad of picked marksmen and take them to cover Mr Bolitho’s actions. You will please ensure that your marines discard their uniforms and make do with slop clothing like the seamen.”
Colpoys looked visibly shocked. Not by the prospect of being killed, but at the idea of seeing his marines clad in anything but their red coats.
Dumaresq examined their faces again. Perhaps to see the relief of the ones who would be staying, the concern of those detailed for his reckless plan of attack.
He said slowly, “In the meantime, I shall prepare the ship to give battle. For Garrick will come out, gentlemen. He has too much to lose by staying, and as Destiny will be his last witness he will be eager to destroy us.”
He had their full attention.
“And that is what he will have to do, before I let him pass!”
Palliser stood up. “Dismissed.”
They moved to the door, mulling over Dumaresq’s words, trying perhaps to see a last glimmer of hope that an open battle might be avoided.
Rhodes said quietly, “Well, Dick, I think I shall take a large drink before I stand my watch tonight. I do not feel like brooding.”
Bolitho glanced at the midshipmen as they filed past. It must be far worse for them.
He said, “I have done a cutting-out expedition myself. I expect that you and the first lieutenant will be told to excise one of the anchored vessels.” He shivered in spite of his guard. “I don’t fancy the prospect of taking that cannon from under their noses!”
They looked at each other, and then Rhodes said, “The first one of us to return buys wine for the wardroom.”
Bolitho did not trust himself to answer but groped his way to the companion-ladder and up to the quarterdeck to resume his watch.
A large shadow sidled from the trunk of the mizzen-mast and Stockdale said in a hoarse whisper, “Tomorrow night then, sir?” He did not wait for a reply. “Felt it in me bones.” His palms scraped together in the darkness. “You’d not be thinkin’ of takin’ anyone else as a gun-captain?”
His simple confidence helped to disperse Bolitho’s anxiety more than he would have thought possible.
“We’ll stay together.” He touched his arm impulsively. “After this, you’ll lament the day you ever quit the land!”
Stockdale rumbled a chuckle. “Never. ’Ere, a man’s got room to breathe!”
Yeames, master’s mate of the watch, grinned. “I don’t reckon that bloody pirate knows what ’e’s in for, sir. Old Stockdale’ll trim ’is beard for ’im!”
Bolitho walked to the weather side and began to pace slowly up and down. Where was she now, he wondered? In some ship heading for another land, a life he would never share.
If only she would come to him now, as she had on that other incredible night. She would understand. Would hold him tenderly and drive back the fear which was ripping him apart. And there was another long day to endure before they would begin the next act. He could not possibly survive this time, and he guessed that fate had never intended it otherwise.
Midshipman Jury shaded the compass-light with his hands to examine the swinging card and then looked across at the slowly pacing figure. Just to be like him would be the only reward he could ever want. So steady and confident, and never too impatient or hasty with a quick rebuke like Palliser, or scathing like Slade. Perhaps his father had been a bit like Richard Bolitho at that age, he thought. He hoped so.
Yeames cleared his throat and said, “Best get ready to pipe the mornin’-watch, sir, though I fear it’ll be a long day today.”
Jury hurried away, thinking of what lay ahead, and wondering why he was not apprehensive any more. He was going with the third lieutenant, and to Ian Jury, aged fourteen years, that was reward enough.
Bolitho had known the waiting would be bad, but throughout the day, as Destiny’s company laid out the
