Later, when they reached Paget's command post, Bolitho described what he had seen.
Paget said, 'We must get that pontoon.' He looked meaningly at Probyn. 'Job for seamen, eh?'
Probyn shrugged. 'Of course, sir.'
Bolitho sat with his back to a palm and drank some water from a flask.
Stockdale squatted nearby and asked, 'Is it a bad one, sir?' 'I'm not sure yet.'
He saw the pontoon, the sentry stretching as he had emerged from his hiding place. He'd quite likely been asleep. It would not be difficult for such an easily defended fort to become overconfident.
Stockdale watched him worriedly. 'I've made a place for you to lie, sir.' He pointed to a rough cover of brush and fronds. 'Can't fight without sleep.'
Bolitho crawled under the tiny piece of cover, the freshness of the water already gone from his mouth.
It was going to be the longest day of all, he thought grimly, and the waiting unbearable.
He turned his head as he heard someone snoring. It was Couzens, lying on his back, his freckled features burned painfully by the sun.
The sight of such apparent confidence and trust helped to steady Bolitho. Couzens was probably dreaming of his mother's pies, or the sleepy Norfolk village where something or somebody had put the idea in his mind to be a sea officer and leave the land.
Stockdale leaned back against a tree and watched Bolitho fall asleep.
He was still watching when one of D'Esterre's marines crawled through the scrub and hissed, 'Where is the lieutenant?'
Bolitho awoke reluctantly, his mind trying to grapple with where he was and what he was doing.
The marine explained wearily, 'The major's compliments,
sir, and would you join 'im where you was this mornin'.' Bolitho stood up, each muscle protesting violently.
`Why?'
'Mr Quinn sighted a strange sail, sir.'
Bolitho looked at Stockdale and grimaced. 'What timing! It couldn't be at a worse moment! '
It took longer to reach the look-out the second time. The sun was much higher in the sky and the air so humid it was hard to draw breath.
Paget, complete with green cape, was lying with his telescope carefully shaded by some leaves. Probyn sprawled beside him, and further down the slope, trying to find some shade, Quinn and his midshipman looked like survivors from a desert trek.
Paget snapped, 'So here you are.' He relented slightly and added, 'Look for yourself.'
Bolitho took the glass and trained it on the approaching craft. She was broad in the beam, and from her low freeboard he guessed her to be fully laden. She was moving at a snail's pace, her tan-coloured sails flapping uncomfortably as she tacked towards the fort. Three masts on a small, sturdy hull, she was obviously a coasting lugger. There were plenty of such craft along the east coast, as they were good sea-boats, but equally at home in shallow water.
Bolitho wiped the sweat from his eyes and moved the lens on to the fort's square tower. There were quite a lot of heads there now, watching the approaching lugger, and Bolitho saw that the gates were wide open, and some more men were walking unhurriedly below the walls and making for the beach on the far side of the island.
None of the fort's cannon was run out or even manned.
He said, 'Must be expecting her.'
Paget grunted. 'Obviously.'
Probyn complained, 'It'll make our task damn near impossible. We'll have the enemy on two sides of us.' He swore crudely and added, 'Just our luck!'
'I intend to attack as planned.' Paget watched the lugger bleakly. 'I can't waste another full day. A patrol might stumble on our people at any moment. Or the Spite may return ahead of time to see what we are about.' He thrust out his heavy jaw. 'No. We attack.'
He crawled awkwardly across some sharp stones and snapped, 'I'm going back. Keep watch and tell me what you think later.'
Probyn glared after him. 'He makes me sickV
Bolitho lay on his back and covered his fare with his arms. He was being stung and bitten by tiny, unseen attackers, but he barely noticed. He thought' of the lugger and how the unexpected could rearrange a puzzle in seconds.
Probyn said grudgingly, 'Still, he may be right about another delay. And I can't see him calling off the attack altogether.'
Bolitho knew he was watching him and smiled. 'What about you?'
'Me?' Probyn grabbed the telescope again. 'Who cares what I think?'
It was well into the afternoon before the lugger had worked around the end of the island and into the anchorage. As her sails were carelessly brailed up and her anchor dropped, Bolitho saw a boat pulling from the beach towards her.
Probyn looked and sounded tired out. He asked irritably, 'Well, what d'you see?'
Bolitho levelled the glass on the man who was climbing down into the boat. Bravado, conceit, or was it just to display his confidence? But his uniform, so bright against the lugger's untidiness, was clearer than any message.
Bolitho said quietly, 'That's a French officer down there.' He looked sideways at Probyn's features. 'So now we know.'
Midshipman. Couzens crawled on his hands and knees until he
had reached Bolitho at the top of the rise.
'All accounted for, sir.' He peered down the slope towards
the sea and the fort's uncompromising outline.
Bolitho nodded. There were a dozen questions at the back
of his mind. Had the seamen's weapons been checked to make sure that some nervous soul had not loaded his pistol despite the threats of what would happen to him? Had Couzens impressed on them the vital importance of silence from now on? But it was too late now. He had to trust every man jack of them. Bolitho could sense them at his back, crouching in their unfamiliar surroundings, gripping their weapons, worrying.
At least there was no moon, but against that, the wind had dropped away, and the slow, regular hiss of surf made the only sound. To get the men down to the beach and across to the island without raising an alarm would be doubly difficult without some noise to cover their approach.
Ile thought of D'Esterre s cool appraisal of the island and its defences. He had studied it through his telescope from three different angles. The fort had at least eight heavy cannon, and several smaller pieces. The garrison, although depleted, appeared to number about forty. just a dozen men could hold the fort and sweep away a frontal attack without effort. It was a miracle that some hunter or scout had not stumbled on the hidden marines. But this place was like an abandoned coast. They had seen nothing but a few men around the island and the occasional comings and goings from the anchored lugger.
The French officer was thought to be in the fort, although his purpose for being there was still a mystery.
9
Probyn's Choice
Stockdale hissed, 'Mr Quinn's party is 'ere, sir.'
'Good.' Poor Quinn, he looked like death, and they had not even begun yet. 'Tell him to get ready.'
Bolitho peered through his glass towards the lugger, but saw nothing but her shadow. No riding light to betray her presence, and even some drunken singing had stopped hours ago.
A hand touched his shoulder, and he heard the Canadian scout say, 'Now!'
Bolitho stood up and followed him down the steep side of the hill towards the water. His shoes loosened stones and sand, and he could feel the sweat running down his chest. It was like being naked, walking towards levelled
