'Oh, I forgot, sir.' Martin grinned. `They've got six pieces of artillery along the side of the cliff.'
Herrick felt strangely relaxed. Not knowing the odds was always worse than actually facing them. Almost to himself he said, `Just two sentries, you say?'
Martin nodded. 'Aye, sir. An' about thirty men lyin' beside the guns.' He chuckled. 'I could'a cut their throats easily!'
Herrick said, `You may have to.' Suddenly it was quite clear what he had to do. The Andiron slept at anchor because she was well protected by firmly mounted field pieces. No doubt each gun was already loaded and ranged to cover the whole anchorage. It was not an uncommon arrangement where no proper harbour was available.
He felt suddenly cold at the thought of what would have happened if his boats had made their planned attack. The casualties and the noise would have killed any chance of success.
He said flatly, `Get to the beach, Mr. Maynard. Send every available man up here as fast as you can. Anchor the boats and let the remaining men swim ashore. Tell McIntosh and the others that I intend to rush the guns and put 'em out of action. Then we'll take to the boats and go for the Andiron as planned!'
They all watched him in silence. Then Maynard said, `And you, sir?'
Herrick patted Martin's shoulder. 'Our poacher is going to earn his keep tonight, Mr. Maynard!'
Martin pulled a knife from his belt and handed his heavy cutlass to Allday. He said cheerfully, `Easy, sir! It don't seem fair, do it?'
When Martin and Maynard had slithered back into the darkness Herrick said quietly, `Those soldiers must be silenced as they sleep. Killed or clubbed, I don't care. But they must be kept from raising the alarm!'
Allday winced as Maynard's dirk clattered on a rock below and then said, `It's them or us, isn't it, sir?’
'How is your arm, Mr. Belsey?' Bolitho heard the master's mate move somewhere in the pitch darkness and knew he had asked the question merely to break the nerve-jarring silence. With Belsey and Farquhar he had been hustled below and locked unceremoniously in a tiny unused storeroom somewhere beneath the Andiron's forecastle, and after a short attempt at conversation each man had lapsed into silence and the apprehension of his own thoughts.
Belsey said, `Fair enough, sir. But this motion is makin' me sweat!'
The ship's uneasy movement had certainly increased even during the last hour. The storeroom was below the Andiron's water-line, and the savage jarring of the anchored hull was all the more apparent. The crew had already paid out more hawse to compensate for the sudden change of wind which now swept across the once protected anchorage with mounting ferocity. `
Belsey added, 'Maybe the Phalarope will stand out to sea again, sir? Surely they'll not send boats out in this lot?'
Bolitho was glad the others could not see his face, A change of weather would make little difference to Vibart's determination to produce a victory, he thought. From the moment the signal had been flashed down the hillside to the hidden defenders he had felt a growing despair, the fretting certainty of calamity and destruction for the Phalarope and her company. And he was powerless to help a single man.
He felt a sudden pressure at his shoulders as the ship heeled in a deep swell. She was snubbing at her cable at regular intervals, now, and he could feel the deck lifting and then sliding back with each shuddering jerk.
He found himself thinking again of his brother, and wondered what he was doing at this moment. His earlier eagerness at the proposed massacre of Phalarope's boarding party must have given way a little to the anxiety for his own ship's safety. At any other time he would have made sail and headed for the more sheltered side of the island. It was strange how the unexpected change of weather had taken a part in the game. Not that it could have any final effect. It merely prolonged the misery of waiting.
Farquhar said absently, `I wish something would happen! This waiting is getting on my nerves!'
Bolitho shifted his position to stare at the brightly lit crack in the storeroom door. Occasionally a shadow blotted out the tiny sliver of light as a sentry moved his position in the narrow passageway beyond. As he rearranged his cramped limbs Bolitho felt the warm touch of steel against his leg and remembered the hidden dirk. For all the use it was now he could have left it in the cabin, he thought wearily.
It was strange that the guards had not bothered to search him. But they were so openly confident, and with such good reason, that it was only to be expected. Even his brother had found time to see him just as he was being led below to the storeroom.
Hugh Bolitho had been wearing their father's sword, as well as a brace of pistols, and seemed to have gained new life and excitement from the impending battle.
`Well, Richard. This your last chance.' He had stood easily on the swaying deck, his head on one side as he had watched his brother with something like amusement. `Just one decision, and it is yours to make!’
'I have nothing to say to you. Not now. Not ever!' Bolitho had tried not to stare at the sword. It had been like a final insult.
`Very well. After this I may see little of you. I will have much to do.' He had stared up at the angry sky. `The wind is rising, but I expect to have visitors none the less!' He had added in a harder tone, `You will have to take your chances with the French authorities. I must take Andiron to join the combined fleets.'
He had seen his brother's immediate caution and had continued calmly, 'I can tell you now, Richard. For you will be unable to flake part. The French admiral, de Grasse, will join with a Spanish squadron. Together with our ships they will at tack Jamaica.' He had made a curt gesture as if to demon strate the finality of the campaign. 'I am afraid King George will have to find fresh fields to conquer elsewhere!'
Bolitho had said to his guard, 'I wish to go below.'
His brother had called after him, `You are foolish, Richard. And what is worse, you are wrong!'
As he sat in the swaying storeroom Bolitho found plenty of time to relive the bitterness and the sense of defeat.
There was a scraping of metal as the bolts were drawn from the door, and Belsey groaned. 'Comin' to gloat again! God rot their bloody souls!'
But as the lamplight flooded the storeroom and seared their eyes Bolitho could only stare with surprise. Stockdale stood blinking in the doorway, a heavy boarding axe swinging from his hand.
Bolitho struggled to his feet and then caught sight of the sentry sprawled below the swinging lantern, the back of his head smashed in like an eggshell.
Stockdale said humbly, 'I am sorry it took me so long, Captain! But I had to win their confidence.' He grinned sheepishly. `Even now I'm not sure I done as you expected.'
Bolitho could hardly speak. He gripped the man's massive arm and muttered, `You did rightly, Stockdale. Have no fear of that!' To the others he said, `Are you with me?'
Farquhar replied dazedly, `Just tell me what to do, sir!'
`Quick, Stockdale!' Bolitho stepped into the passageway and peered into the darkness beyond the lantern. `Tell me what is happening!'
The ex-prizefighter answered thickly, `They're getting worried up top, sir. No sign of an attack, an' the ship's taking the wind badly.' He thought for a moment. `Maybe we could swim for the beach, sir?' He nodded with rare excitement. `Yes, we could do it with luck!'
Bolitho shook his head. `Not yet. They will be watching like hawks. We must not think of ourselves. We must try to save the Phalarope before it is too late!'
Stockdale glanced at the corpse by his feet. `They change the guard in half an hour, sir. There's not much time!'
`I see.' Bolitho tried to stifle the excitement and urgency in his mind and think more clearly. `We cannot fight the whole crew, but with luck we might still surprise them!'
Belsey said, 'I'd like to take a few of the buggers with me!'
Bolitho drew the dirk from his breeches and held it glinting in the lamplight. 'Lead the way, Stockdale. If we can get to the forecastle there is something which we can do to provide a diversion!'
Farquhar picked up the dead guard's cutlass and murmured bleakly, `Are, you thinking of the cable, sir?'
Bolitho shot him a swift glance of approval. `The -ship is already dragging hard at her anchor. If we could cut the cable she would be in serious danger. Our men are out there somewhere, and they will soon pull clear when they see Andiron drifting towards the point!'
Belsey broke in excitedly, `The Andiron'll have to make sail, sir! Even then she might not be in time! She'll run hard aground with the wind in this quarter.'
