been involved in delaying Puigserver's mission, he would now know that Undine at least was on her way.
He clenched his fingers around his sword until the pain steadied him. But for Rojart they would have succeeded. How many battles had been lost by a single, stupid oversight? Poor Rojart. The ship which had destroyed his Nervion was the last thing he had seen on earth. Then she had murdered him just as brutally.
The bowman called, 'I can see a beach to larboard, Cap'nl Looks safe enough!'
Allday glanced at Bolitho's shoulders, feeling his despair as if it were his own.
Bolitho said, 'Take her there, Allday.' He pushed his other thoughts aside with something like physical force. 'We will work in three watches. Two hours at a time.' He tried again. 'Post sentries, and keep a good lookout.'
The bowman leapt over the stem and waded into the shallows, a line across his ragged shoulder like a halter. The boat nudged on to hard sand, tilting drunkenly to the current and the sudden shift of men as they staggered ashore.
Bolitho listened to Soames as he picked out his sentries for the first watch. Had he been in charge of the boarding party, would he have hesitated? He doubted it. Soames would have done what he saw ass his duty, helpless slaves or not, and put a ball through the brigantine's bottom or touched off her magazine. In this climate she would have been gutted in minutes, leaving the slavers isolated and easy to capture at leisure.
Because he had not been able to destroy the slaves, Bolitho had gained nothing. And he had lost nearly a third of his original party as well.
Allday slumped down beside him and handed him a water flask.
'I've secured the boat, Captain.' He yawned hugely. 'I just hope we don't have to pull too far in it, that's all.' Then he said, 'Don't you fret, things aren't that bad.' When Bolitho remained silent he added, 'We've seen an' done much worse in our time. I know some of our people took to their heels instead of rallying when they were most needed, but times are different, or seem so to many of 'em.'
Bolitho looked at him dully, but could not see his expression.
'How so?'
Allday shrugged. 'They don't see the sense in getting killed for a few slaves, or a ship they know nothing about. In the old Phalarope it was different, y'see. A flag to follow, an enemy you could recognise.'
Bolitho laid back against a tree and closed his eyes, hearing the jungle coming alive for the night. Squeaks and roars, groans and rustlings.
He said, 'You mean that they do not care?'
Allday grinned. 'If it was a proper war, Captain, a real one
like the last, we'd soon make 'em into fighters.'
'So, unless they are threatened personally they will not fight for those less fortunate?' Bolitho opened his eyes and studied the stars overhead. 'Before this voyage is done, I fear that some of them may come to understand otherwise.'
But Allday had fallen asleep, his cutlass across his chest like a dead knight.
Bolitho stood up quietly and walked to the boat to see how the wounded man had settled down for the night. He saw the stars reflected on the sluggish water, and was surprised to discover he was feeling less despairing.
He looked back at the trees, but Allday's shape was lost in darkness. By accident or design he did not know, but it had often happened with Allday. He seemed to hit upon the very thing which was troubling him in his simple, open manner. Not dispel it completely, but stand back from it and keep it in its proper perspective.
When he reached the boat he found the seaman sleeping heavily, his rough bandage very white against the planking.
Keen looked up, startled. 'Sorry, I did not see you, sir.'
Bolitho replied, 'Rest, easy, Mr. Keen. We are snug here for the night.'
As he walked away, Fowlar, who had been washing his face and hands in the water, moved to the boat and said admiringly, 'What a man, eh? Never a one to weep an' wail when things go hard.'
Keen nodded. 'I know. I hope I'm like him one day.'
Fowlar laughed, the sound bringing more cries from the forest. 'Bless you, Mr. Keen, I'm sure he'd be flattered to know that!'
Keen turned back to watch the wounded seaman. Under his breath he said fervently, 'Well, I do, and that's an end to it!'
In the pale glow of morning both sea and sky were joined by a filtered, milky haze. As the overcrowded longboat moved ponderously away from the trees and tiny beaches which lined both sides of the inlet, Bolitho watched for some sign of life or movement which might betray an ambush. A few birds floated overhead, and far beyond the last jutting spit of land he saw open water, colourless in the strange light.
He turned his attention to the men in the boat. Their brief rest seemed to have had little effect. They looked tired and anxious, their clothes filthy with dirt and dried blood, faces dark with stubble. There was little to associate them with a King's ship.
Soames was standing upright beside Allday, peering ahead, watching the men who baled away the seeping water, keeping an eye on the remaining wounded sailor. His eyes were never still.
Keen was right forward, squatting on the stemhead, his bare legs and feet dangling in the water while he watched the nearest bank, his body sagging as if from a great weight.
The hull lifted and dipped as the first inshore swell rolled into the inlet. Some of the men croaked with alarm, but most merely stared listlessly in front of them, beyond caring.
Bolitho said, 'We will turn to larboard when we get into open water. It will make our meeting with Undine's boats all the quicker.'
Soames glanced at him. 'Could be hours before they come. It'll be like a damned oven today, I'm thinking.'
Bolitho groped for his watch and winced as his fingers touchqd the bruise. When he lifted the watch from his pocket he stared at it for several seconds, seeing where the ball had lanced from it, smashing both shield and mechanism to fragments, but saving him from injury. But for it, he would probably be dying now, or at best a prisoner aboard the brigantine.
Soames said quietly, 'Made short work of that, sir.'
Bolitho nodded. He could remember exactly when his mother had given it to him. He had just been commissioned lieutenant. The watch had meant a lot to him, partly because it reminded him of her, of her gentleness and forbearance over losing her family to the sea.
The boat tilted, and several voices shouted in protest, and. he saw Keen struggling back into the hull, his face shocked as he yelled, 'Ahead, sir! Larboard bow!'
Bolitho stood up, one hand on Allday's shoulder as he stared at the two low shapes which were emerging around the last spit of land. They were moving quite fast, the long paddles plunging and rising in perfect unison as they headed purposefully into the inlet.
Fowlar said harshly, 'War canoes. I seen plenty on 'em in my time. There'll be more close by, if I'm not mistaken.' He dragged out his pistol and fumbled with a powder horn.
Soames slitted his eyes to watch the two low canoes, his face like a mask.
'God's teeth, there must be thirty men in each of 'em!'
One of the seamen shouted wildly, 'It ain't fair! We got no reason to fear 'em, lads! We ain't no slavers!'
'Silence, that man!' Fowlar cocked the pistol and rested it on his forearm. 'To them we're all the bloody same, so hold your noise P
Bolitho said, 'Speed the stroke. They may let us pass.'
Allday kept his eyes on the oars. 'If you say so, Captain.'
Another man called, 'Astern, sir! I can see the brigantine's tops'ls!'
Bolitho turned carefully to avoid unsettling the oarsmen. The man had not been mistaken. Far astern, and moving at a snail's pace above some low trees, was a limp square of sail. The slaver must have taken stock of his position and got under way before dawn. The lifeless canvas told Bolitho that the ship was being warped downstream with the aid of her boats. But once in open water she would be free and away. He glanced again at the advancing canoes. Whereas he and his men would stay here and die. If they were lucky.
Soames asked, 'What can we do, sir? We can't outpace those canoes, and they'll not let us get near enough to grapple.' He was fidgeting with his sword-hilt, showing anxiety for the first time.
Bolitho called, 'Check the powder and shot.'
