blade on his trousers, disappeared around the side of the hut.
This time there was a little more noise. A clatter of a falling musket, and something like a gurgle. But nothing more.
Bolitho scrambled up to the pier, his body shaking with suppressed excitement. `Right, Mr. Okes, get your party ashore and up to the end of the pier at the double!' He stopped an onrushing seaman with the back of his hand and snarled, `Quietly there! There's a guardhouse at the far end!'
Rennie's marines were already pouring gratefully from the hold, their white crossbelts bright and eerie against their uniforms. Rennie had not forgotten his part, and within minutes he had split his men into two parties, and with a single command had both files trotting briskly -along the pier towards the silent village.
Stockdale was the last to leave the lugger, his cutlass swinging from his hand like a toy.
Bolitho took a last look round and checked his bearings. `Very well, Stockdale, let us go and take a look!'
8. THE RAID
Bolitho lifted his hand, and behind him the file of sailors shuffled to a standstill. `We will wait here for ten minutes! Pass the word down the line!'
He waited until silence had againn fallen over the steep roadway and then added quietly to lieutenant Okes, `We'll push on a bit further and have a look at the bridge. We can't help Rennie's marines by standing here worrying, and it's already near two o'clock. There is a lot to do before dawn finds us.'
He walked on without waiting for Okes to comment. He could feel the loose stones crunching beneath his shoes, and was conscious of a new sense of light-headedness. Everything had gone so well that the strain was all the more telling. Surely the luck could not last?
It had been less than an hour since the lugger had tied up to the pier. After killing the two luckless sentries, Captain Rennie's marines had gone on to capture the small guardhouse at the end of the coast road with hardly a scuffle. The sleeping soldiers, all ten of them, had been gleefully clubbed into deeper slumber, or worse, and the duty N.C.O. had been seized and trussed like a terrified chicken.
Bolitho had left Rennie to spread his men along the roadside and occupy the high ground above the village. From there they should be able to withstand anything but a really heavy assault until the raiding party had completed its work.
Bolitho dropped on one knee and strained his eyes into the darkness. He could just see the spidery outline of a high wooden bridge and the isolated headland beyond, where the sleeping gun battery lay as yet unaware of what was happening. It was quite a solid bridge, Bolitho thought. Wide and heavy enough for guns and stores, for shot, and all the materials for building breastworks and embrasures. It would take a long time to replace once destroyed.
A boot crunched at his side and Sergeant Garwood peered down at him. `Cap'n Rennie's respects, sir. The marines is all in position. We've 'ad the lugger warped to the end o' the pier so that we can cover our withdrawal with the swivel gun.' He stared towards the bridge. `I'd like to 'ave a crack at that lot, sir!' He sounded envious.
`You get back to Captain Rennie and tell him to hold the road.until we fall back.' Bolitho smiled in the darkness. `,Don't worry, Sergeant, you'll get your pennyworth of fighting before the night's done!'
He saw the man's white crossbelt fading in the shadows and then said sharply, `Right, Mr. Okes, call up the rest of the party and keep them quiet! A flogging for the first man to make a sound!' He turned back to the bridge. There was probably a sentry atone end, if not both. It would all have to be very quick.
Okes returned breathing heavily. `All here, sir.'
Farquhar was close behind him, his face,pale in the faint moonlight. He said, `I have picked Glover for the job, sir.'
Bolitho nodded. He recalled that the seaman in question was the one who had so neatly killed the first sentry.
`Very well. Send him forward.' He watched the man slide -over the rim of stones and bushes and fade immediately into the deep patch of shadow before the bridge. Then he added slowly, `Now remember, men, if Glover fails to find that sentry and the alarm is given, we will have to make a rush for it.' He drew his sword and saw the lethal glitter of cutlasses along the roadside.
To Okes he whispered, `Mr. Farquhar will take five men to deal with the guns and magazine. McIntosh, the gunner's mate, will lay a good charge to blow the bridge when we fall back, understood?'
Okes nodded. `I-I think so, sir!'
`You must be sure, Mr. Okes!' Bolitho eyed him keenly. Suddenly he wished it was Herrick at his side. Should he be killed before the raid was finished, how would Okes manage? He continued evenly, `According to our captive Spaniard, there is a rough track down from the battery to the inside of the anchorage. I intend to go down there as soon as the battery is taken and see what can be done about the ships in the harbour. I will try to set fire to one or more of them, and Phalarope can deal with any which make a dash for it!' He swung round as Stockdale, dragging the whimpering Spaniard behind him, strode through the bushes, his teeth white in his face.
`Sir! Glover's just whistled! 'E's done for the sentry!'
Bolitho stood up. If only he had a thousand men instead of sixty, he thought vaguely. They could take and hold the whole island intact until help arrived. He tugged his hat down firmly over his eyes and glanced back at his men. He was thankful that every one of them was hand-picked. There had not been a single incident so far to warrant either punishment or anger.
`Now then, lads! Quickly and quietly, and no fussl' He waved his sword, aware suddenly that his face was fixed in a wild grin. `Follow mel'
In two files the sailors padded towards the bridge. Bolitho kept just ahead of the nearest men, his eyes straining ahead towards the deserted bridge, which all at once seemed a long way off and vulnerable.
Pad, pad, pad went the feet, and Bolitho knew without turning his head that the orderly approach was already changing into a charge. Then his shoes were booming hollowly on the wooden boards of the bridge, and from the comer of his eye he saw the angry swirl of surf, and heard the roar of a tide-race between the steep walls of the ravine. He almost fell over the spread-eagled corpse of a uniformed sentry, and saw Glover waiting to greet him, a captured musket in his hands.
Bolitho did not pause but gasped, `Well done, Glover! Now follow me!'
A semi-circular wall pitted with square gunports ran around the far side of the headland, and as his feet slipped on the stubble of gorse and dried grass Bolitho counted seven or eight large guns facing seaward. A high mound was built well behind the guns, and he guessed that these earthworks had been thrown up to protect the magazine.
There was a startled cry from the shadows behind the wall and a soldier seemed to rise out of the ground at Bolitho's feet. He saw the bared teeth and heard the man's quick intake of breath as he lunged forward and upward with his bayonet.
Glover, who was pressing close on Bolitho's heels, gave a terrible scream and fell back pinioned on the blade like a slaughtered pig. Bolitho slashed out wildly and felt the shock jar up the sword blade and along his arm like a blow. The soldier seemed to enunple, his arm almost severed from his body by the force of the stroke.
He was lost and forgotten underfoot as the sailors surged wildly along the flattened ground, their eyes staring like madmen as they looked for fuither victims.
There were only six more French soldiers sleeping in a small stone hut beside a great earth furnace, which even now glowed malevolently and cast an eerie light across the garlands of bright round shot and the cutlasses of the jubilant sailors.
One soldier sat up gaping, as if he no longer trusted what he saw. A cutlass cut him down before he could even cry out, and two more died screaming even as they struggled for their weapons.
Bolitho ignored the gruesome sounds from the hut and leaned across the breastworks to stare down at the great shimmering mirror of the anchorage. There were two big ships anchored well out in the centre and two smaller ones near the foot of the cliffs. He could see the riding lights like fireflies on the still water. There was no alarm. Nothing to break the quiet night watch. Bolitho felt the sweat cold on his brow and realised that his body
