They heard a nervous challenge and then Shears strode up the hill towards them. He carried a clump of grass or creeper to cover his uniform, which was why the sentry had been so startled. It reminded Bolitho of Major Paget's little cape.
'Well?' D'Esterre leaned forward.
Shears sucked in gulps of air. 'She's there, right enough, sir. Anchored close in. Small vessel, yawl by the looks of 'er.'
D'Esterre asked, 'Any signs of life?'
'There's a watch on deck, an' no lights, sir. Up to no good, if you ask me.' He saw D'Esterre's smile and added firmly, 'One of the marines from Antigua says they'd have lights lit and lines down right now, sir. There's a special sort of fish they goes after. No real fisherman would lie an' sleep!'
D'Esterre nodded. 'That was well said, Sergeant Shears. I'll see that the man has a guinea when we get back aboard. And you, too. You must have something about you to inspire an unknown marine to offer his confidences!' He became crisp and formal. 'Fetch Mr Frowd. We will decide what to do. Pass the word to watch out for anyone coming ashore from the yawl.'
Shears said cheerfully, 'They got no boats in the water, sir,
'Well, watch anyway.'
As the sergeant hurried away D'Esterre said, 'Well, Dick, are you thinking as I am? A surprise attack on them?'
'Aye.' He tried to picture the anchored vessel. 'The sight of all your marines should do it. But two armed cutters would be safer. In case they are unimpressed by your little army.'
'I agree. You and Mr Frowd take the cutters. I'll keep the midshipman with me and send him with a message if things go wrong. So work your way round. No risks, mind. Not for a damned yawl!'
Bolitho waited for Frowd to join him, thinking back to Pears' casual reference to these small islands. It had all been clear to him. If the vessel was an enemy, or up to no good, she would run at the first hint of trouble. Towards the land and the marines, or more likely use the prevailing wind and put to sea again or hide amongst the islands. Either way she would find Trojan lying there, using the offshore current and wind. Waiting like a great beast to overwhelm her in a matter of minutes.
At sea, in open waters, there was hardly a vessel afloat which could not outsail the slow-moving Trojan. But in confined space, where one false turn of the helm could mean a grounding at best, Trojan's massive artillery would make escape impossible.
Frowd remarked dourly, 'Boat action then.'
Bolitho watched him curiously. Frowd could probably think of nothing but his next appointment, getting away from the ship where so many had been his equals and were now expected to knuckle their foreheads to him.
'Yes. Pick your men, and let's be about it.'
He noticed the sharpness in his own voice, too. Why was that? Did he see Frowd's attitude as a challenge, as I owhurst had once vied with Quinn?
With muffled oars the two cutters pulled away from the other moored boats and turned east towards the far end of the island, the wind making each stroke of the oars harder and more tiring.
But Bolitho knew his men by now. They would rally when the time came. They had done it before. It was strange to be pushing through the choppy water without doubts of these silent, straining men. He hoped they held some trust in him also.
It would be funny, if after all this stealth, they found only terrified traders or fishermen rising to the marines' rough awakening. It would not seem so amusing when they had to tell the captain about it.
'Somebody must be comin', sir!'
Bolitho scrambled through the cutter to join the look-out in the bows. He could see the two seamen he had put ashore, framed against the sky, one moving his arm above his head very slowly.
I-low loud everything sounded. The water sluicing around the two moored boats, the distant boom of surf and the hissing roar as it receded from some hidden beach.
They had reached this tiny inlet several hours ago and had made fast to get as much rest as possible. Most of the seamen appeared to have no trouble. They could sleep anywhere, indifferent to the rocking boats, the spray which occasionally spattered across their already damp clothing.
Frowd, in the boat alongside, said, 'It's gone wrong, I expect.'
Bolitho waited, realizing that the men on the shore were easier to see, more sharply defined against the dull sky. It would be dawn soon.
Stockdale said feelingly, 'It's Mr Couzens, not the enemy!'
Couzens came slithering down the slope and then waded and floundered towards the cutters.
He saw Bolitho and gasped, 'Captain D'Esterre says to start the attack in half an hour.'
He sounded so relieved that Bolitho guessed he had got lost on his way here.
'Very well.' Attack. That sounded definite enough. `What is the signal?'
Stockdale hoisted the midshipman unceremoniously over the gunwale.
'One pistol shot, sir,' Couzens sank down on a thwart, his legs dripping on the bottom board
'Good. Recall those men.' Bolitho rriade his way aft again acid held his v, atch against a shaded horn lantern. There was not much time. 'RRouse the hands. Make ready to cast off,'
Men stirred and coughed, groping around to get their bearings.
From the s=et of the current Bolitdio could picture how the yawl would be swinging to her cable. He thought suddenly of Sparke, deciding on his attack. Pushing sentiment aside after he bloody fighting was over.
'Load your pistols. Take your tune.'
If he hurried them, or shared his own anxiety over the brightening sky, somebody was bound to get muddled and loose off a ball. It only took one.
Stockdale swayed through t_: e boat and then returned. 'All done, sir.'
'Mr Frowd?'
The lieutenant waved to him. 'Ready, sir!'
In spite of his tense nerves Bolitho felt he wanted to smile. Sir. Frowd would never call him by his frst name in a hundred years.
'Out oars,' He raised his arm. 'Ersy, lads. Like f eld mice!' Stockdale sounded approving. 'S,hove o f forrard! Give way larboard!'
Very slowly, with one set of oars pulling the boat round like a crab, they moved away from their tiny haven.
Frowd was following, and Lolitho saw the bowman training the swivel from side to side as if to sniff the way.
Couzens whispered, 'There's the corner, sir!'
Bolitho watched the jutting sour of rock, Couzens' 'corner'. Once round it, they would be en exposed water and visible to my vigilant sentry.
It was brigltei° ng so rapidly that he could see a touch of green on the land, the L ter of spray over some fallen stones.
Weapons too, and in the bows, leaning forward like a figurehead, the topman, Buller.
`Christ, there she be, sir!'
Bolitho saw the swaying mainmast and the smaller one right aft on the anchored yawl, stark against the sky, even though the hull was still in shadow.
A yawl, or dandy, as they were usually termed, would be just the thing for using amongst the islands.
He heard the gurgle of water around the stem, and from astern the regular, muffled beat of Frowd's oars.
Stockdale eased the tiller over, allowing the cutter to move away from the island to lay the yawl between him and D'Esterre's marines.
Soon now. It had to be. Bolitho held his breath, drawing his hanger carefully, although he knew from past experience that a tired look-out would hear little but his own shipboard noises. An anchored vessel was always alive with sound and movement.
But there was a long way to go yet. He said, 'Roundly, lads! Put your backs into it!'
The cutter was moving swiftly and firmly towards the yawl's larboard bow. Bolitho saw the anchor cable beneath the polelike bowsprit, the casual way the sails were furled and brailed up.
