after the first dozen, but when Ellice, the surgeon, had pronounced grimly, ' 'E's still alive, sir, but not takin' it well!', Vibart had snapped, `Carry on with punishment!'
Herrick had seen Mishipman Neale holding Maynard's sleeve as if for support as the grisly flogging had continued.
Kirk had little flesh to begin with, and after eighteen strokes Herrick thought he could see the gleam of bone and muscle through the man's butchered skin.
Josling had taken the lash from his fellow boatswain's mate and had run it through his fingers to clear it of flesh and gristle. With a quick glance upwards at Vibart's expressionless face he had carried on with the second two dozen.
At the twentieth stroke Mr. Quintal had knocked up Josling's arm and had said firmly, `That's enough, sir! He's dyin'!'
Kirk's bloodied body had been cut down and carried below, but only after Ellice had backed up the boatswain's quick intervention. He had muttered vaguely, `Might live. Can't say. I think his kidneys have burst.'
Herrick had looked for some sign of pity or even triumph on Vibart's heavy features. But there had been nothing but stony indifference. Captain Pomfret had watched floggings like a man will watch a spectacle of sport, and at each bloody conclusion he was almost elated, as if he had just experienced some perverted sexual act. But not Vibart. There was nothing at all which Herrick could recognise as feeling of 'any sort.
He turned away swiftly as Vibart appeared at the cabin hatch and sniffed at the wind. Vibart studied the strange copper sky and remarked slowly, `Wind's freshened. We'll shorten sail in ten minutes.' He glanced at Proby. `Now, are you sure of our position? Our exact position?'
Proby nodded gloomily. `Aye, sir. Nevis bears nor'-east, near on fifteen miles.'
Vibart regarded him searchingly. `I hope for your sake that is so, Mr. Proby.' He contented himself with another quick bark at the helmsman, `Watch her head, you fool! Keep her close to the wind!'
Herrick glanced aloft and knew that the ship was running perfectly. Vibart was obviously getting more and more on edge as they drew nearer the island. Not afraid. He had never shown a sign of fear at any time. No, it went far deeper, to the lurking possibility of failure.
Vibart saw Herrick watching him and snapped, `Have you detailed the cutting-out parties?'
'Aye, sir. All the boats except the gig are prepared. The gig is' unsuitable for this work.'
'I know that, Mr. Herrick!' Vibart's eyes were flecked with red. 'You will take over-all charge of the boarders with Maynard, Packwood and Parker in charge of the other three boats.' He looked darkly at the men working on deck. 'As a master's mate, Parker will be ideal for getting sail on the Andiron if you succeed in your attack.'
'Yes, sir.' Herrick knew all this. He had detailed each man
personally, and had already decided on his set plan. He asked,
'Do you expect much opposition, sir?'
'We are committed now. It doesn't matter what I think!' Proby consulted his massive watch and said, 'Call all hands! Prepare to shorten sail!'
Herrick wondered why Vibart had left it so long. Several times he had seen fishing boats in the far distance. There was no point in advertising the Phalarope's haste by her obvious press of sail.
The seamen were already climbing the shrouds and pulling themselves out along the swaying yards. With the ship's uncomfortable motion the business of taking in sails was all the more dangerous to the unwary.
Vibart growled, 'This will make us harder to see. And with the wind rising all the time it will save us the trouble of shortening later on.' He seemed to be thinking aloud.
Proby cupped his hands and yelled hoarsely, 'Tops'ls and jib's all we need! Lively there!'
Followed by Vibart's eyes and the urgent shouts of their petty officers the men aloft fought at the thrashing canvas, cursing the wind and the treacherous sails: which tried their utmost to hurl the men from the yards to -the deck beneath.
Herrick felt the ship's motion ease slightly as topgallants and courses contracted and finally submitted to the struggling seamen. He watched the long cruising rollers and gauged the distance between them. It would be more sheltered below Nevis 's lee, he thought, but even so it would not be easy to keep the raiding boats together. He caught sight of Okes standing at the lee rail, and found himself wondering why Vibart had not chosen him for the cutting-out expedition. If Okes was so changed and reliable, he was the obvious choice.
Captain Rennie sauntered across the quarterdeck and remarked quietly, 'Congratulations, Herrick. I hope you do well tonight. I wish I could come with you, but the marines are hardly suitable for falling about in boats!'
Herrick smiled. 'Thank you.'
Rennie gestured towards Okes. 'It would seem that our commanding officer knows more than we thought, eh? He will not trust this attack to a man who is as weak as water!'
Herrick glanced quickly at the open skylight. 'Keep your voice down! Your remarks might be taken seriously!'
Rennie shrugged but dropped his voice. 'I feel past caring. Like a man walking on ice. It can only take so much!'
He walked away, and Herrick stood watching the seamen shinning down from the work aloft. If only Bolitho were here to inspire and carry them all, he thought heavily. He could imagine the Phalarope sailing into Antigua with Vibart expanding with pleasure as cheers and congratulations marked their return to the fleet and to glory. It would make victory all the more bitter, he thought. But for Bolitho the Phalarope would never have got this far, and if Vibart retained his command the future was bleak indeed.
Tobias Ellice rolled aft and mounted. the quarterdeck ladder, touching his shabby hat and belching simultaneously. 'Kirk's dead,' he grunted abruptly. 'I'm having him sewn up nice an' neat like!'
Herrick replied, 'Very well. I'll put it in the log.' He could smell the rum on the surgeon's breath and wondered how the man was able to perform his duties.
Ellice said, 'You can also put in the log that I'm sick of this ship and the whole bloody lot of you!' He swayed tipsily and would have fallen but for Herrick's arm. He muttered, 'Treat 'em like dogs!' He shook his head vaguely. 'No, not dogs, they live like kings by comparison.'
Herrick regarded him wearily. 'Have you finished?'
Ellice took a giant red handkerchief from the tail of his coat and blew his nose loudly. 'You can sneer, Mr. Herrick! You're off to gain glory tonight and to test your steel against the enemy.' He bared his teeth and tried to focus Herrick in his rheumy eyes. 'But you'll change yer tune when you're down below waiting for the saw to lop off your pretty arm or take away a leg or two!'
'Only two?' Herrick eyed him with sad amusement.
Ellice became suddenly serious as his rum-sodden mind grappled with Herrick's question. 'You can live without 'em, boy! I've seen it many a time.' He dropped his voice. 'But watch out for your wedding-tackle! A woman'll forgive much, but lose that lot and you might as well be food for the fish!'
Herrick watched him go and then strode aft to the taffrail. Another man dead. Whose turn would it be next?
Bryan Ferguson took another cutlass from the deep chest and handed it to old Ben Strachan. The latter peered quickly along the heavy blade and then bent over the grindstone and began to run the cutlass back and forth across the spinning stone, his eyes gleaming brightly in the flying sparks.
Ferguson looked at the berth deck and at the leaping shadows cast by the madly swinging lanterns as the ship rolled and staggered beneath his feet. It was strange how he was now able to retain his balance, and even his stomach seemed able to resist the lurking agony of seasickness.
The low-beamed berth deck was strangely deserted by comparison with its usual appearance of crowded humanity, he thought. Apart from the men selected for the boarding parties, all other available hands were on deck preparing the ship for action. As he watched Strachan concentrating on his sharpening he could hear the menacing rumble of gun trucks as the main armament was carefully loaded and then lashed once more behind 'sealed ports. The decks were already sanded, and he could hear Mr. Brock, the gunner, yelling some last-minute instructions to, his magazine party.
There was a strong smell of neat rum pervading the berth deck, and he turned to stare at the huddled groups of seamen who remained below efijoying a small moment of rest before taking to the boats.
He said quietly to Strachan, `What will happen, do you think?'
Strachan tested the blade and laid it carefully on the pile beside him. `Hard to tell, mate. I've been on a few
