Bolitho had to grip his hands to steady himself. The next ball would strike. He knew it would. From then o[
… He beckoned to Stockdale?
'Away gig. Pipe for the second cutter to head for Fawn. We may yet pick up some of her people.'
He saw Dalkeith below the ladder, already dressed in his long, stained apron?
Another bang came from the bowchaser, and he saw the brown smoke billowing through the beakheads hiding the actual fall of shot. But a voice yelled, 'Got 'er! Fine on th' quarter!'
He said, half to himself, 'Not pop-guns this time, Mr? Frenchman! Not this time!'
'Gig's ready, sir!' Even Stockdale sounded shocked?
'Take charge until I return, Mr. Tyrrell.' He waited for him to drag his leg down to the entry port.' We will work out of here on the next tide.'
He heard dull hammering as Yule and his mates constructed a crude furnace. It was dangerous, even foolhardy under normal circumstances to consider heating shot aboard ship. A tinder-dry hull, cordage and canvas, tar and gunpowder. But this was not normal. Sparrow was anchored in sheltered waters. E floating gun-platform. It was merely a matter ob accuracy and patience?
Tyrrell asked awkwardly, 'How long do we keep firing, sir?'
Bolitho swung himself out above the gently slapping cat's-paws and green reflections?
'Until the enemy is destroyed.' He looked away? 'Completely.'
'Aye, sir.'
Tyrrell watched Bolitho climb into the gig, the quick flurry of oars as Stockdale guided it towards the hulk which had once been Fawn?
Then he walked slowly to the quarterdeck rail and shaded his eyes to watch the enemy ship. There was little sign of damage, but the balls were hitting her regularly now. Shortly, the heated shot would be cradled from Yule's furnace, and then… he shivered despite the growing sunlight. Like most sailors he feared fire more than anything?
Hewyard joined him and asked quietly, 'Did he mean it?'
Tyrrell thought of Bolitho's eyes, the despair and hurt when Fawn had been taken by the trap.' Aye, he did.'
He flinched as a gun fired from the Frenchman's deck, and saw the ball throw up a thin column almost a cable short. Seamen not employed on the capstan or boats were watching from the gangways and shrouds, some even made wagers as to the next shot. As each French ball fell short they cheered or jeered, spectators only, and as yet unaware that but for a twist of fate they and not Fawn's people would have died under those cannon?
Tyrrell continued, 'Colquhoun brought us to this. If our cap'n had been given his rightful position to attack we'd have got clear.' He banged his palms together? 'Arrogant bastard! An' he just sits out there like some sort of god while we finish his mess for him!'
Another bang echoed across the water and he saw a spar fall from the enemy's mainmast. Very slowly, or so it appeared, like a leaf from a tree in autumn?
Midshipman Fowler called, 'Our boats are standing off the wreck, sir!'
He was pale, but as he raised his telescope his hand was as steady as a gun?
Tyrrell looked at him coldly. And there's another one? Like Ransome, like Colquhoun. Without humanity or feelings?
Wreck was how he had described Fawn. Yet moments ago she had been a living, vital creature. E way of life for her people and those who would have come after?
Savagely he said, 'Get aloft, Mr. Fowler, and take your glass with you! Keep an eye open for Bacchante beyond th' reef and watch for her signals.'
If any?
Then as the gun banged out again he made himself walk to the opposite side leaving Heyward to his thoughts?
Bolitho heard the gun's regular bombardment even as the gig hooked on to Fawn's listing side, and with some of his men he climbed aboard?
'The cutter first!' He gestured to Bethune who was staring at the bloody shambles like a man in a trance?
'Full load, and then the gig.'
Stockdale followed him up the slanting deck, over smashed boats and tangled rigging. Once as they passed a hatchway Bolitho saw a green glow, and when he peered below he saw the sea surging jubilantly through a great gash in the hull, the reflected sunlight playing on two bobbing corpses. Huge patches of blood, upended guns around which the dazed survivors staggered down towards the waiting boats. There seemed very few of them?
Bolitho wiped his face with his shirt-sleeve. Us, Tyrrell had said. It was not difficult to understand?
He paused on the quarterdeck ladder and looked down at Maulby. He had been crushed by a fallen spars his features frozen in the agony of the moment. There was a small smudge of blood on his cheek, and there were flies crawling on his face?
He said hoarsely, 'Take him, Stockdale.'
Stockdale bent down and then muttered, 'Can't be done, sir. 'E's 'eld fast.'
Bolitho knelt over the spar and covered his face with a scrap of canvas. Rest easy, old friend. Stay with you_
ship. You are in the best of company today?
The deck gave a quick shiver. She was beginning to break up. The sea, the tide and the unlashed guns would soon finish what the enemy had begun?
Bethune's voice came up from alongside where the cutter rose and plunged in a dangerous swell.' All offs sir!'
'Thank you.'
Bolitho heard the sea crashing through the deck below, swamping the wardroom and on into the stern cabin. One like his own. There was no time to retrieve anything now. He bent down and unclipped Maulby's sword?
He handed it to Stockdale.' Someone in England might like it.'
He made himself take one long glance around him? Remembering every detail. Holding it?
Then he followed Stockdale into the gig. He did not look back, nor did he hear the sounds of Fawn's final misery. He was thinking of Maulby. His drawling voice? Feeling his last handshake?
Tyrrell met him and then said, 'Mr. Yule has the furnace ready, sir.'
Bolitho looked at him emptily.' Douse it, if you please.'
'Sir?'
'I'll not burn men for doing their duty. The Frenchman is too badly holed now to get away. We will send a boat across under a flag of truce, I don't think he'll wish to prolong senseless killing.'
Tyrrell breathed out slowly.' Aye, sir. I'll attend to it.'
When he turned back from passing the order to cease fire he found that Bolitho had left the deck?
He saw Stockdale carrying the sword and wiping it with a scrap of waste, his battered face totally engrossed in the task. He thought of Tilby's two model ships. Like Maulby's sword. Was that all that was left ob a man?
He was still pondering about it when Bacchante's topmasts hove in sight and she hoisted her first signal?
It was evening before Sparrow was able to close with the frigate. For almost as soon as she had worked clear of the bar the wind veered and gained considerably in strength, so that it was necessary to use every effort to beat clear of those treacherous breakers. In open waters again, with the darkening slab of Grand Bahama some five miles abeam, Sparrow reduced sail and hove-to within a cable ob Colquhoun's ship?
As he sat in the crazily tossing gig Bolitho watched the frigate and the last signal for him to repair on board being hauled down to the deck. It had been hoisted for some time, but like Colquhoun's previous ones, he had ignored it. Had not even made an acknowledgement?
Spray lanced back from the oars and dashed across his face. It helped to calm him, if only slightly. His sorrow was matched by anger, his self-control by an eagerness to confront Colquhoun?
The gig turned and rose dizzily on a steep swell, the bowman almost pitching overboard as he hooked on to the chains and made fast?
Bolitho clambered up the frigate's tumblehome, for once ignoring the sea which swirled along the hull as if to pluck him away?
Colquhoun was not at the entry port, and the first lieutenant said quickly, 'By God, sir, I am sorry for what
