and a large black dog. He had not expected to see the whole enemy column crammed on to the narrow, beach, but the little group was a complete anticlimax.
Paget said, 'They're looking at the pontoon ramps. I can almost hear their brains rattling!'
Bolitho glanced at him. Paget really was enjoying it.
One of the horsemen dismounted and the dog ran across to him, waiting for something to happen. His master, obviously the senior officer present, reached down to fondle his head, the movement familiar, without conscious thought.
FitzHerbert asked cautiously, 'What will they do, sir?'
Paget did not answer immediately. He said, 'Look at those horses, D'Esterre. See how their hoofs are digging into the sand. The only piece of supported road led to the pontoon loading point.' He lowered the glass and chuckled dryly. 'Never thought they'd have to attack, I imagine!'
Sergeant Shears called, 'Saw some more of 'em on the hillside, sir!'
'Can't hit us with a musket from there, thank God.' Paget rubbed his hands. 'Tell your gunner to put a ball down on the end of the causeway.' He looked at Bolitho sharply. 'Now.'
Rowhurst listened to Paget's order with obvious enthusiasm. 'Good as done, sir.'
With some of his men at their handspikes, and other slackening or tightening the tackles, he soon trained the cannon towards the wet bank of sand nearest the land.
'Stand clear, lads!'
Bolitho yelled, 'Keep out of sight, you men! Stockdale, see that our people stay down!'
The crash of the single shot echoed around the fort and across the water like thunder. Scores of birds rose screaming from the trees, and Bolitho was just in time to see a tall spurt of sand as it received the heavy ball like a fist. The horses shied violently and the dog ran round and round, his bark carrying excitedly across the water.
Bolitho grinned and touched Rowhurst's arm. 'Reload.' He strode back to the tower and saw Quinn watching him from the other parapet.
Paget said, 'Good. Fine shot. Just close enough for them to know we're ready and able.'
A few moments later Sergeant Shears called, 'Flag o' truce, sir!'
One horseman was cantering towards the causeway where a tendril of smoke still drifted to mark the fall of shot.
Paget snapped, 'Ready with another ball, Mr Bolitho.'
'It's a flag of truce, sir.' Bolitho forgot his tiredness and met Paget's glare stubbornly. 'I cannot tell Rowhurst to fire on it.'
Paget's eyebrows rose with astonishment. 'What is this? A spark of honour?' He turned to D'Esterre. 'Explain it to him.'
D'Esterre said quietly, 'They'll want to sound us out, discover our strength. They are not fools. One sight of a marine's coat and they'll know how we came, and what for.'
FitzHerbert said unhelpfully, 'The horseman is an officer, sir.'
Bolitho shaded his eyes to follow the distant horse and rider. How was it possible to argue over honour and scruples at such a moment? Today or tomorrow he would be expected to cut down that same man if need be, without question or thought. And yet…
He said bluntly, 'I'll put a ball in the centre of the causeway.'
Paget turned from studying the little group on the beach. 'Oh, very well. But do get on with it!'
The second shot was equally well aimed, and threw spray and sand high into the air while the horseman struggled to regain control of his startled mount.
Then he turned and trotted back along the beach.
'Now they know.' Paget seemed satisfied. 'I think I'd like a glass of wine.' He left them and re-entered his room.
D'Esterre smiled grimly. 'I suspect Emperor Nero was something of a Paget, Dick!'
Bolitho nodded and moved to the seaward side of the tower. Of Probyn's new command there was no trace, and he pictured her gaining more and more distance in the favourable off-shore wind. If the enemy column had seen the vessel leave, they would assume she had turned away at the sight of the redcoats. Otherwise, why should not the fort's new occupiers go with her?
Bluff, stalemate, guessing, it all added up to one thing. What would they do if the sloop did not or could not come to take them off the island? If the water ran out, would Paget surrender? It seemed unlikely the enemy commander would be eager to be lenient after they had blown up his fort and every weapon with it.
He leaned over the parapet and looked at the seamen who were sitting in the shadows waiting for something to do. If the water ran out, could these same men be expected to obey, or keep their hands off the plentiful supply of rum they had unearthed by the stables?
Bolitho recalled Paget's words. He knew where the enemy were getting much of their powder and shot. The information would be little help to Rear-Admiral Coutts if their brave escapade ended here.
Just to be back in Trojan, he thought suddenly. After this he would never complain again. Even if he remained one of her lieutenants for the rest of his service.
The very thought made him smile in spite of his uncertainty. He knew in his heart that if he survived this time he would be as eager as ever to make his own way.
He heard Lieutenant Raye of Trojan's marines clattering up the ladder and reporting to D'Esterre.
To Bolitho it was another sort of life. Tactics and strategy which moved at the speed of a man's feet or a horseman's gallop. No majesty of sail, no matter how frail when the guns roared. just men, and uniforms, dropping into the earth when their time came. Forgotten.
He felt a chill at the nape of his neck as D'Esterre said to the two lieutenants, 'I feel certain they will attack tonight. An assault to test us out, to be followed up if we are caught unawares.,I want two platoons on immediate readiness. The guns will have to fire over their heads, so keep 'em down in their gullies until I give the word.' He turned and looked meaningly at Bolitho. 'I'll want two guns by the causeway as soon as it gets dark. We might lose them if we fall back, but we stand no chance unless we can give them bloody noses at the first grapple.'
Bolitho nodded. 'I'll see to it.' How calm he sounded. A stranger.
He remembered his feelings as he had stood facing the fort with the pontoon moving away in the darkness. If the enemy broke through the causeway pickets, it was a long way to the gates for those in retreat.
D'Esterre was watching him gravely. 'It sounds worse than it is. We must be ready. Keep our men on the alert and together. We might find ourselves with visitors after dark.' He gestured to the roughly dressed Canadian scouts. 'Two can play their game.'
As shadows deepened between island and mainland, the marines and seamen settled down to wait. The beach was empty once more, and only the churned up sand betrayed where the horses and men had stood to watch the fort.
Paget said, 'Clear night, but no moon.' He wiped one eye and swore. 'Bloody wind! Constant reminder of our one weakness!'
Bolitho, with Stockdale close by his side, left the fort and went to watch the two guns being hauled down to the causeway. It was hard, back-breaking work, and there were no laughs or jests now.
It seemed cold after the day's heat, and Bolitho wondered how he could go through another night without sleep. How any of them could. He passed little gullies, their occupants revealed only by their white cross-belts as they crouched and cradled their muskets and watched the glitter of water.
He found Quinn with Rowhurst, siting the second cannon, arranging powder and shot so that it would be easily found and used in total darkness.
Stockdale wheezed, 'Who'd be a soldier, eh, sir?'
Bolitho thought of the soldiers he had known in England. The local garrison at Falmouth, the dragoons at Bodmin. Wheeling and stamping to the delight of churchgoers on a Sunday, and little boys at any time.
This was entirely different. Brute force, and a determination to match anything which came their way. On desert or muddy field, the soldier's lot was perhaps the worst of all. He wondered briefly how the marines saw it? The best or the worst of their two worlds?
Quinn hurried across to him, speaking fast and almost incoherent.
'They say it will be tonight. Why can't we fall back to the fort? When we attacked it they said the cannon commanded the causeway and the pontoon. So why not the same for the enemy?'
