bank.
Keen was overtaking him, his arms moving smoothly. He whispered, 'I'll make for the cable, sir.' He was actually grinning.
Further, and further still, until they had passed the halfway, and Bolitho knew if they were discovered now they would be lost. The masts and yards stood high overhead, the furled sails sharp against the sky, the lantern light shining more brightly in the descending gloom. Feet thudded on deck and a man laughed wildly. A drunkard's laugh. Perhaps you needed extra rum for such work, he thought.
And then, as if by magic, they were all together, clawing the rounded hull below the starboard cathead, the current dragging at their legs, folding them against the rough timbers as they fought to stay concealed.
Allday gasped, 'The boats'll never see us here. We're safe for a bit.'
At that very instant a terrible cry floated across the water, and for a moment Bolitho imagined someone had been killed.
But the seaman at his side was floundering and pointing towards the bank which they had just left.
Even in the dying light it was easy to recognise Rojart's ruffled shirt. He was standing in the open, his arms held out as if to seize the inlet and everything it contained. He yelled again and again, waving his fists, stamping his feet, as if he had gone raving mad.
Rojart's sudden appearance had brought a complete hush to the brigantine's deck, but now as voices babbled and shouted and more feet thudded along the planking, Bolitho knew any hope of surprise was gone.
Keen had been clinging to the bobstay below the bowsprit, but now allowed himself to drift down towards him.
He gasped wretchedly, 'Nobody told Rojart it was the ship which sank Nervion. He must have just discovered-'
The sound of the shot was deafening and seemed to come from almost overhead. The smoke gushed and eddied across the swirling water, making more than one man duck his face to avoid a fit of coughing.
Before it hid the bank Bolitho saw Rojart hurled away by a full charge of canister. A bloody rag. Not a man at all.
He clung to the line which Allday had bent on to the bobstay and tried to clear his mind. The unexpected and unforeseen.
He winced as another shot crashed out from further aft, the hull shivering under his fingers as if alive. A ball this time, he heard it smashing through the trees and then fading away completely.
And it was then, from beyond the hidden camp, that Soames's men opened fire.
7. Herrick's Decision
The sporadic bang of musket fire was almost drowned by the mingled cries and screams from the terrified slaves. Bolitho heard men tumbling into a boat on the opposite side of the brigantine, and confused yells which were probably to encourage their companions in the camp.
He gestured to Allday. 'Now! Over the bows!'
His limbs were like lead as he hauled himself up and across the small beakhead, his heart pounding his ribs, hearing the gasps and frantic whispers from the men below him.
As they climbed on to the forecastle he saw groups of manacled natives, their naked bodies crowded together while they watched what was happening on the land. Two armed seamen stood beside a swivel gun, but as the boat pulled away from the side they were unable to fire without hitting their comrades.
Allday bellowed, 'At 'em, lads!' Then he was flying along the deck, his heavy cutlass taking a man across the neck and felling him without even a cry.
The second guard dropped on one knee and aimed a musket as more and more of Bolitho's party scrambled aboard. Faces lit up in the flash, and Bolitho felt the ball whine past, the sickening sound as it smashed into flesh and bone.
More of the brigantine's crew were dashing wildly from the poop, firing as they came, regardless of the screaming slaves who fell dying in their path.
A naked girl, her body shining with sweat, was trying to reach one of the fallen slaves, her arms pinioned by a length of chain. Husband? Brother? Bolitho had no time even to guess as one of the crew hacked her down with his cutlass in order to bar the way aft.
Bolitho felt his sword jerk in his hand. as he crossed blades with the girl's killer. He saw the hatred on the man's bearded face, the madness in his eyes as they pressed forward and apart, feet sliding in someone's blood, bodies balanced to withstand each parry.
All round the deck others were fighting and slashing in the shadows with only an occasional pistol shot to throw light on friend and enemy.
Bolitho pushed the man against the main mast, forcing him backwards over the spider-band while their hilts stayed locked below his throat. He could feel the other man's anger giving way to fear, saw the sudden anguish as he jerked the hilt free and struck him hard across the mouth with it. As he fell away, gasping for breath, Bolitho turned and thrust. The man gave one shriek, lifting an arm as the blade drove under his shoulder and deeper still.
Allday dashed to his side and gasped, 'Well done, Captain!' He rolled the man away with his foot. Then he snarled, 'And another, by God!'
The seaman had jumped from the shrouds. To take them by surprise from above, to escape the unexpected attack, Bolitho did not know. All he heard was Allday's quick breathing, the swish of his blade as he slashed the man down and then finished him with one more terrible blow.
'Two boats comin', sir!'
Bolitho ran to the bulwark, and then ducked as a ball slammed hard into the rail by his fingers.
He yelled, 'Train that swivel on them!'
Someone scuttled past him firing a pistol as he fled from Allday's cutlass. Bolitho spun round, sobbing as the pain lanced into his thigh. But when he felt his leg and the jagged tear in his breeches there was no blood, no agonising splinter of broken bone.
The man who had fired had inadvertently run too close to the yelling slaves. Chains swung like serpents, and he vanished beneath a struggling heap of screaming, shining bodies.
Allday threw his arm around Bolitho's waist. 'Where are you hit, Captain?' His anxiety was clear even amidst the din of shouting and screaming.
Bolitho pushed him aside, gasping between his teeth, 'Hit my watch, damn his eyes!'
Allday grinned and ducked after him. 'I think his time has stopped, too!'
Bolitho only glanced at the thing which had rolled away from the panting slaves. They had literally torn him to pieces.
He dragged Allday clear. 'Stray too close and you will follow him!'
'Ungrateful dogs!'
Bolitho reached the abandoned swivel and swung it towards the nearest long boat.
'Probably think we are a different lot of slavers.'
He jerked the lanyard, feeling the hot breath from the muzzle as the canister exploded across the crowded boat. Screams and curses, bodies splashing in the water, and others still firing from the sternsheets.
He twisted round, trying to see where Soames had reached on the shore. But it was impossible to be certain. Shots stabbed and whimpered over the inlet, and once he thought he heard, steel on steel.
Then he turned and looked inboard. 'How many?' He caught Keen's wrist as he lurched past, a dirk gleaming in one hand, an empty pistol held like a club in the other.
Keen stared at him dazedly. 'We seem to have lost five of our people, sir. But the slavers have either been killed or have jumped overboard.'
Bolitho strained his ears for the sounds of more oars, the one thing which would tell him Soames was coming to his aid.
There was a loud thud from aft, and he guessed that another boat was grappling in readiness for boarding. He
