ever met again, it would be between them, of that he was certain.
'So there you are, Bolitho!' Paget peered down from his crude window. 'Come up here and I will give you your instructions.'
In the room once again, Bolitho felt the weariness, the aftermath of destruction and fear, pulling him down.
Paget said, 'Another piece of intelligence. We now know where the enemy are getting some of their armaments and powder, eh?' He watched Bolitho narrowly. 'It's up to the admiral now.'
There was a rap at the door, and Bolitho heard someone whispering urgently outside.
'Wait!' Paget said calmly, 'I had no choice over the lugger. She was yours by right, in my view, because of the manner in which you opened the fort for us.' He shrugged heavily. 'But the Navy's ways are not mine, and so..
'I understand, sir.'
'Good.' Paget moved across the room with remarkable speed and flung open the door. 'Well, man?'
It was Lieutenant FitzHerbert of the flagship's marines.
He stammered, 'We have sighted the enemy, sir! Coming up the coast!'
Together they walked into the blinding sunlight, and Paget calmly took a telescope from one of the sentries. Then after a full minute he handed it to Bolitho.
'There's a sight for you. I reckon your Mr Probyn will be sorry to miss it.'
Bolitho soon forgot his disappointment and the major's sarcasm as he trained the glass towards the shore. There must be a track there, following the sea's edge, probably all the way to Charles Town.
Weaving along it was a slow-moving ribbon of blue and white. It was broken here and there by horses, and shining black shapes which could only be artillery.
Paget folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. 'So here they come. No use trying any more deceptions, I think.' He looked up at the pole, his eyes red-rimmed with strain.
'Run up the colours, Sergeant! It'll give 'em something to rant about!'
Bolitho lowered the glass. Quinn was still down by the partly wrecked pontoon, oblivious to the threatening column coming up the road. Probyn was too involved in working his vessel clear of the sand-spit to notice it, or care much if he did.
He swung the glass towards the horizon, his eyes stinging in the fierce glare. Nothing broke the sharp blue line to betray the presence of a friendly sail.
He thought of the captured French officer. With any luck, his captivity would be one of the shortest on record.
Paget barked, 'Stir yourself, sir! Main battery to be man andled towards the causeway. You have a good runner with you, I believe? Tell him I want a full charge in each weapon. This is going to be hot work, dammit!'
Bolitho made to hurry away, but Paget added firmly, 'I don't care what they promise or offer. We came to destroy this place, and we will, so help me God!'
When Bolitho reached the courtyard he turned and looked again at the tower. Paget was standing bareheaded in the sun, staring at the newly hoisted Jack which the marines had brought with them.
Then he heard a seaman say quietly to his friend, 'Mister Bolitho don't look too troubled, Bill. Can't be anythin' we won't be able to tackle.'
Bolitho glanced at them as he passed, his heart both heavy and proud. They did not question why they were here, or even where they were. Obedience, trust, hope, they were as much a part of these men as their cursing and brawling.
He met Rowhurst by the gate. 'You have heard, no doubt?'
Rowhurst grinned. 'Seen 'em too, sir. Like a whole bloody army on the march! Just for us!'
Bolitho smiled gravely. 'We've plenty of time to get ready.'
'Aye, sir.' Rowhurst looked meaningly at the mounting pile of powder casks and fuses. 'One thing, they won't have to bury us. They'll just ' ave to pick up the bits!'
10
Night Action
Bolitho entered the room at the top of the tower, where the former garrison commander had lived out his spartan days, and found Paget discussing a map with D'Esterre.
Bolitho asked, 'You sent for me, sir?'
He barely recognized his own voice. He had got past tiredness, almost to a point of exhaustion. All through the day he had hurried from one task to another, conscious the whole time of that far-off blue and white column as it weaved in and out of sight along the coast. Now it had vanished altogether, and it seemed likely that the road turned sharply inland before dividing opposite the island.
Paget glanced up sharply. He had shaved, and looked as if he had been freshly pressed with his uniform.
'Yes. Won't be long now, what?' He gestured to a chair. 'All done?'
Bolitho sat down stiffly. All done. Like an endless muddle of jobs. Dead had been buried, prisoners moved to a place where they could be guarded by the minimum of men. Stores and water checked, powder stacked in the deep magazine to create one devastating explosion once the fuses were set and fired. The heavy field-pieces manhandled to the landward side to be trained on the causeway and the opposite stretch of shoreline.
He replied, 'Aye, sir. And I've brought all the seamen inside the fort as you ordered.'
'Good.' Paget poured some wine and pushed the goblet across the table. 'Have some. Not too bad, considering.'
The major continued, 'You see, it's mostly a matter of bluff. We know quite a lot about these fellows, but they'll not know much about us. Yet. They'll see my marines, but one redcoat looks much like another. Anyway, why should the enemy think we are marines, eh? Could just as easily be a strong force of skirmishers who have cut through their lines. That'll give 'em something to worry about.'
Bolitho glanced at D'Esterre, but his normally agile face was expressionless, so Bolitho guessed he and not Paget had thought up the idea of concealing the presence of his sailors.
It made sense, too. After all, there were no boats, and who better than the returning garrison commander would know the impossibility of getting a man-of-war into the anchorage without passing those heavy cannon?
The wind showed no sign of changing direction, and in fact had gained in strength. All afternoon it had driven a pall of dust from the distant marching column out across the sea like gunsmoke.
Paget said, 'Hour or so to sunset. But they'll make themselves felt before dark. That's my wager.'
Bolitho looked across the room and through a narrow window. He could just see part of the hillside where he had lain with young Couzens, a million years ago. The sun-scorched bushes and scrub were moving in the wind like coarse fur, and everything was painted in fiery hues by the evening light.
The marines were down by the uprooted timbers where the pontoon had been moored. Dug into little gullies, they were invisible to eyes across the restless strip of water.
D'Esterre had done a good job of it. Now they all had to sit and wait.
Bolitho said wearily, 'Water is the problem, sir. They always brought it from a stream further down the coast. There's not much left. If they guess we're waiting for a ship to take us off the island, they will know exactly how much time they have. And us, too.'
Paget sniffed. 'I'd thought of that, naturally. They'll try to bombard us out, but there we have the advantage. That beach is too soft to support artillery, and it will take another day at least for them to move their heavier pieces up the hill to hit us from there. As for the causeway, I'd not fancy a frontal attack along it, even at low water!'
Bolitho saw D'Esterre give a small smile. He was probably thinking it was exactly what would have been expected of him and his men if Bolitho had failed to open the gates.
The door banged open and the marine lieutenant from the flagship said excitedly, 'Enemy in sight, sir!'
Paget glared. 'Really, Mr FitzHerbert, this is a garrison, not a scene from Drury Lane, dammit!'
Nevertheless, he got up and walked into the hot glare, reaching for a telescope as he strode to the parapet.
Bolitho rested his hands on the sun-dried wood and stared at the land. Two horsemen, five or six foot soldiers
