fingers settled on the hilt of his sword and he felt'the painful prick of despair behind his eyes. He could see his father, and so many others of his family, ranked with his crew, and watching in silence.
Proby said hoarsely, 'I've sent a party to splice the yoke lines, Captain.' He waited, plucking the buttons of his shabby coat. 'It were not your fault, sir.' He shifted beneath Bolitho's unwavering stare. `Don't you give in, sir. Not now!'
The gunner reached the quarterdeck and touched his hat. 'Sir?' He was still wearing the felt, spark-proof slippers he always wore in the dark magazine, and he seemed dazed by the sudden silence and the litter of destruction about him.
'Mr. Brock, there is a task for you.' Bolitho listened to his own voice and felt the strange wildness stirring him like brandy. 'I want every starboard gun loaded with chain shot.' He watched the Andiron's slow, threatening approach. 'You have about ten minutes, unless the wind returns.'
The mann nodded and hurried away without another word. His was not to question a meaningless order. A command from the captain was all he required.
Bolitho looked down at the maindeck, at the dead and wounded, and the remaining gunners. He said slowly, 'here will be one final broadside, men.' The words swept away his own illusion of making a last empty gesture. He continued, 'Every gun will have chain shot, and I want each weapon at full elevation' They began to stir, their movements brittle and vague like old men, but Bolitho's voice seemed to hold them as he added sharply, 'Load, but do not run out until the wordl' He saw the gunner's party carrying the unwieldy chainshot to each gun in turn. Two balls per gun, and each ball linked together with thick chain.
Captain Rennie said quietly, `They're getting close, sir. They'll be boarding us very soon now.' He sounded tense.
Bolitho looked away. All at once he wanted to share the enormity of his decision, but at the same instant he knew the extent of his own loneliness.
His last effort might fail completely. At best it would only drive the enemy to a madness which only the death of the whole of his crew would placate.
Herrick looked aft, his eyes steady. 'All guns loaded, sir!' He seemed to square his shoulders, as if to project some strange confidence over his battered men.
Bolitho pulled out his sword. Behind him he heard the marines fixing their bayonets and shuffling their booted feet on the stained planking.
He called, 'Stand by the starboard carronade, Mr. Farquahar! Is it ready?' He watched narrowly as the other ship's bowsprit swung over the Phalarope's bulwark, her forechains and rigging alive with shouting men. Her captain must have stripped his guns to get such a large boarding party. Once aboard, they would swamp the Phalarope, no matter how desperate the resistance.
Farquhar swallowed hard. 'Loaded, sir. Canister, and a full charge!'
'Very good.' The Andiron was barely twenty feet clear now, the triangular patch of trapped water between them frothing in a mad dance. 'If I fall, you will take your orders from Mr. Vibart.' He saw the young officer's eyes seeking out the first lieutenant. 'If not, then watch for my signal!'
The Andiron's bow nudged the main shrouds and a great yell of derision broke from the waiting boarders.
Bolitho ran down the ladder and leaped on to the starboard gangway, his sword above his bare head. A few pistols banged across the gap and he felt a ball pluck at his sleeve like an invisible hand.
'Repel boarders!' He saw the gunners staring up at him, uncertain and shocked, their guns still inboard and impotent.
Herrick jumped up beside him, his eyes flashing as he shouted, 'Come on, lads! We'll give the buggers a lesson!'
Somebody voiced a faint cheer, and the men not employed at the guns surged up to the gangway, their cutlasses and pikes puny against the great press of boarders.
Bolitho felt a man drop screaming at his side, and another pitched forward to be ground between the hulls like so much butcher's meat. He could see the privateer's officers urging their men on and pointing him out to their marksmen. Shots banged and whistled around him, and the cries and jeers had risen to one, terrifying roar.
The hulls shuddered once more and the gap began to disappear. Bolitho peered back at Farquhar. The quarterdeck with its dead marines seemed a long way away, but as he waved his sword in a swift chopping motion he saw the midshipman jerk the lanyard and felt the gun's savage blast pass his face like a hot wind.
The canister shot contained five hundred closely packed musket balls, and like a scythe the miniature bombardment swept through the cheering boarders, cutting them down into a bloody tangle of screams and curses. The boarders faltered, and a young lieutenant who had climbed up on the Andiron's bowsprit dropped unsupported on to the Phalarope's gangway. His scream was cut short as a big seaman lashed out and down with an axe, and then his body was pinned between the hulls and forgotten.
Bolitho shouted wildly, 'Come on, you gunners! Run out! Run outl'
He held out his sword like a barrier in front of his men. 'Back there! Get back!'
His small party fell back, confused by this turn of events. They had facefl certain annihilation, and had accepted it, Now their captain had changed his mind. Or so it seemed.
But Herrick understood. Almost choking with excitement he yelled, 'All guns run outl'
Bolitho saw the survivors from the carronade's single blast falling back towards their guns, shocked and dismayed as the Phalarope's muzzles trundled forward and upwards towards them.
'Fire!' Bolitho almost fell overboard, but felt Stockdale catch his arm as the whole battery exploded beneath his feet.
The air seemed to come alive with inhuman screams as the whirling chain shot cut through sails and rigging alike in an overwhelming tempest of metal. Foremast and maintopmast fell together, the great weight of spars and canvas smashing down the remaining boarders and covering the gunports in a whirling mass of canvas.
The recoil of Phalarope's broadside seemed to drive the two ships apart, leaving a trail of wreckage and corpses floating between them.
Bolitho leaned against the nettings, his breath sharp and painful. 'Reload! Carry on firing!' Whatever happened next, the Phalarope had spoken with authority, and had hit hard.
The frigate's proud outline was broken and confused in tangled shrouds and sails. Where her foremast had been minutes before there was only a bright-toothed stump, and the resonant cheers had given way to screams and confusion.
But she pushed forward across the Phalarope's bows, followed by a further ragged salvo and a single angry bark from a forecastle nine-pounder. Then she was clear, gathering her tattered _sails like garments to cover her scars, and pushing downwind into the rolling bank of smoke.
Bolitho stood watching her, his heart thumping, his eyes watering from strain and emotion.
The minutes dragged by, and then the insane realisation came to him. The Andiron was not putting about. She had taken enough.
Half stumbling he returned to the quarterdeck where Rennie's marines were grinning at him and Farquhar was leaning on the smoking carronade as if he no longer trusted what he saw.
Then they started to cheer. It was not much at first. Then it gathered strength and power until it moved above and below decks in an unbroken tide.
It was part pride and part relief. Some men were sobbing uncontrollably, others capered on the bloodstained decks like madmen.
Herrick ran aft, his hat awry, his blue eyes shining with excitement. 'You did for them, sir! My God, you scuppered 'em!'
He clasped Bolitho's hand, unable to stop himself. Even old Proby was grinning.
Bolitho controlled his voice with one last effort. `Thank you, gentlemen.' He looked along the littered decks, feeling the pain and 'the blind exultation. 'Next time we will do better!'
He swung round and pushed through the whooping marines towards the dark sanctuary of the cabin hatch.
Behind him, as if. through a fog, he heard Herrick shout, 'I don't know about next time, lads! This will do me for a bit!'
Bolitho stood breathing hard in the narrow passageway listening to their excitement and laughter. They were grateful, even happy, he realised dully. Perhaps the bill would not be too high after all.
