Herrick strode up the slope and said, `Shall we return to the ship, sir?'
Bolitho shook his head. `We'll walk a little further, Mr. Herrick.'
He pushed through a line of sun-scarred bushes and headed away from the beach. Herrick walked beside him in silence, no doubt thinking of the strangeness of the land around him. The sea's gentle hiss was gone and the air was heavy with alien smells and a thick, clinging humidity.
Bolitho said at length, `I hope Okes can get the men working quickly. Every hour may be precious.'
`You are thinking of the French, sir?'
Bolitho wiped the sweat from his face and nodded. `De Grasse may have sailed by now. If he behaves as Sir George Rodney believes he will, his fleet will already be striking west for Jamaica.' He looked up fretfully at the limp leaves and cloudless sky. `Not a breath of wind. Nothing. We were lucky it held long enough for us to reach here!'
Herrick was breathing heavily. `My God, sir, I'm feeling this!' He mopped his face. `I have not set foot ashore since Falmouth. I had almost forgotten what it was like.'
Falmouth. Again the name brought back a flood of memories to Bolitho as he strode unseeingly through the thick scrub. His father would still be waiting and wondering, nursing the hurt which Hugh had left with him. Bolitho wondered momentarily what would have happened if he had seen and recogpised his brother on the Andiron's poop on that first savage encounter. Would he have pressed home his attack with such fervour? If he had caused Hugh's death it might have eased the minds of the Navy, but in his heart Bolitho knew that it would only have added to his father's grief and sense of loss.
Perhaps Hugh already had another ship. He dismissed the idea at once. The French would not trust another prize to a man who had allowed Andiron to fall into her own snare. And the American rebel government had few ships to spare. No, Hugh would have his own problems in plenty at this moment.
He thought too of Vibart, left behind in charge of the Frigate. It was strange how Evans' murder had affected him. Bolitho had always thought Evans to be more of a toady than s friend of the first lieutenant. Yet his death seemed in some way to have deprived Vibart of something familiar and reliable, the last outlet from his own isolation. Bolitho knew that Vibart blamed him for Evans' death, as much as he hated Allday for the deed. Vibart viewed humanity like sentiment. To him both were useless. hindrances to duty.
He also knew that he would never see eye to eye with Vibart whatever happened. To Bolitho the humane treatment of his men, the understanding of their problems, and the earning of their loyalty, were as precious as gold. Equally he knew he must uphold this difficult and bitter man, for commanding a ship of war left little room for personal animosity amongst officers.
Bolitho halted with a jerk and pointed. `Is that a marine?'
Herrick stood beside him breathing deeply. A red coat flashed between the dull foliage and then another, and as Bolitho started forward, Sergeant Garwood appeared at the head of a file of sweating marines.
Bolitho asked sharply, `What are you doing ashore, Sergeant?'
Garwood stared fixedly over Bolitho's shoulder. `Mr. Vibart 'as sent all the marines across, sir.' He swallowed hard. `The prisoner Allday 'as escaped, sir. We've been sent to catch 'im again!'
Bolitho heard Herrick catch his breath and glanced quickly at his, streaming face. He could see the shock and disappointment plain on the lieutenant's' features, as if he was personally involved.
`I see.' Bolitho controlled the sudden rise of anger and added calmly, `Where is Captain Rennie?’
'T'other side of the island, sir.' Garwood looked unhappy. `The relief sentry found the cell guard clubbed senseless an' the prisoner gone, sir. 'Is manacles 'ad been struck off too, sir.,
'So someone else was involved?' Bolitho stared hard at the sergeant's bronzed features. `Who else is missing?'
The marine gulped. 'Yer clerk, Ferguson, sir!'
Bolitho turned away. `Very well, I suppose you had better carry on now that you are here.' He watched the man clump gratefully away and then said tightly, `Mr; Vibart was over hasty to send all the marines ashore. If the ship was surprised at her anchor by another vessel, there woud be insufficient men to repel an attack.' He turned abruptly. `Come, we will go back to the beach.'
Herrick said wretchedly, 'I am sorry, sir. I feel to blame more than ever. I trusted Allday, and I was the one who chose Ferguson as your clerk.'
Bolitho replied flatly, `It has proved that we were both wrong, Mr. Herrick. An innocent man does not run!' He added, `Mr. Vibart should not have allowed his anger to blind his judgement in this matter. Allday will surely die if he is left here. He will go mad on this island once the ship has sailed, and will not thank Ferguson for his rescue from a cell!'
They hurried across the beach, and the drowsing gig's crew jerked into life as the two officers climbed aboard.
Bolitho shaded his eyes to look at the anchored frigate as the gig moved slowly across the placid water. The sun was only just showing above the nearest hump of land, and the Phalarope's: yards and topmasts were shining as if coated with
gilt.
Herrick asked quietly, 'If the marines catch Allday, sir. What will you do?'
`I will hang him this time, Mr. Herrick. For the sake of discipline I have no choice now.' He glanced back at the land. `For that reason I hope they do not find him.'
The bowman hooked on to the chains, and Bolitho pulled himself through the entry port.
At his elbow Herrick snapped, `Why did you not hail the gig, man?' His own unhappy thoughts put an unusual edge to his voice.
The seaman at the entry port blinked and stammered, `I'm sorry, sir. I-I…: His voice trailed away as he stared up at the quarterdeck.
There was a tight group of seamen beneath the quarterdeck, and as the cold realisation seeped into Bolitho's brain, they pushed out into the growing sunlight which shone and reflected on their raised muskets.
Herrick thrust Bolitho aside and reached for his sword, but a giant sailor with a pistol snapped, `Stay where you are, Mr. Herrick!' He pointed up at the quarterdeck rail. `Otherwise it will go hard with that one!'
Two more men appeared from behind the cabin hatch, between them carrying the small, struggling figure of Midshipman Neale. One man drew a knife from his belt and laid it across Neale's throat, grinning down at the two officers as
he did so.
The tall seaman, whom Bolitho now recognised as Onslow, stepped slowly across the maindeck, his pistol trained on Herrick. `Well, Mr. Herrick? Do you drop your sword?' He grinned lazily. `It's all the same to me!'
Bolitho said, `Do as he says, Mr. Herrick.' He had seen the brightness in Onslow's eyes, and knew that the man was eager, desperately eager to kill. He was only just keeping his pent up madness in check. One false move and there would be no more time left to act.
The sword clattered on the deck. Onslow kicked it aside and called sharply, `Take the gig's crew forrard and batten 'em down with the other pretty boys!' He tapped his nose with his pistol. `They'll all join us later, or feed the fish!'
Some of the men laughed. It was a wild, explosive sound. Brittle with tension.
Bolitho studied Onslow, the first shock giving way to sudden caution. Every captain dreaded such a moment. Some had earned it, others had fallen foul of uncontrollable circumstances. Now it had happened to him. To the Phalarope.
It was mutiny.
Onslow watched as the gig's crew was bundled below deck and then said, `We'll up anchor as soon as a likely wind blows. We have the master below, and either he or.you will take the ship to open waters.'
Herrick said hoarsely, `You're mad! You'll swing for this!' The pistol barrel came down sharply, and Herrick dropped to his knees, his hands across his forehead.
Bolitho saw the blood bright across Herrick's fingers and said coldly, `And if the wind fails to arrive, Onslow? What will you do?'
Onslow nodded, his eyes searching Bolitho's face. `A good question. Well, we have a good little ship beneath us. We can sink any boat which tries to board us, do you not agree?'
Bolitho kept his face impassive, but realised that Onslow had good reasons for confidence. Outnumbered by the
