'No bottom, sir!'
He said, 'Pass the word for Captain Bellairs. I'll want a full landing party. Tell Mr. Davy to prepare the boats for lowering once we have anchored. He will take charge of them.'
Conway said briefly, 'Good beach, I'm told. The settlement and fort are on a slope to the western side of the bay.'
Herrick strode aft and touched his hat. 'Shall I order the guns to load, sir? He sounded guarded.
'Not yet, Mr. Herrick.'
Bolitho trained his glass across the larboard bow. Settlement, fort, they could have been imagination. The blurred green outline of the land looked totally deserted.
He heard the marine sergeant bellowing orders, the stamp of boots as his men were divided and sub-divided in readiness to disembark. Bellairs was watching them from the starboard gangway, his face completely blank, but his eyes missing nothing.
'By the mark twenty!' The leadsman sounded triumphant.
Mudge nodded gloomily. 'About right. Twenty fathoms hereabouts.'
Some small birds darted across the sea's face and circled above the braced yards. Bolitho watched them, recalling the swifts flying about the grey stone house in Falmouth. It would be fine there today. Sunshine, bright colours. The hills dotted with sheep and cattle. The town itself busy with farmers and sailors, each depending on the other, as it had always been.
He saw Herrick nearby and said quietly, 'Forgive my anger ust now.'
Herrick smiled. 'No matter, sir. You were right. We have been caught unawares already on this venture. Trouble will not fade away merely because we turn our backs on it.'
'Rosalind's settin' 'er fores'l again, sir!'
They turned to watch as the brig dipped to the wind and gathered way.
Conway snarled, 'By God, the Don intends to lead us inshore, blast him!V
'It is his right, sir.' Bolitho trained his glass on the other vessel, seeing the busy figures above and below, the great slash of her ensign with its crowned shield bright in the sunlight. 'It is still the territory of the Spanish Royal Company until he says otherwise.'
Conway scowled. 'That is mere formality.' He stared hard at him. 'Fire a warning shot, Captain!'
Bolitho looked at Herrick. 'Pass the word forrard. One ball.
But mind it drops well clear of the brig.'
The leadsman called again, 'Deep eighteen!'
Bolitho shut his ears to the squeak of gun trucks as the fore, most twelve-pounder was run out. The gun captain was peering along the muzzle, and as the light touched him Bolitho saw that
one hand was a metal hook. Turpin.
Herrick shouted, 'Ready, sir!'
'As you will then.'
The gun crashed out, and seconds later a thin waterspout rose like a feather far beyond the brig's bowsprit.
Bolitho said, 'Well, atleasttheywill knowwe are coming, sir,' Conway snapped, 'Savages. I'll soon get to the bottom of this little matter.'
Bolitho sighed as the brig fell off slightly, her foresail already being brailed up in response to his rough signal. The thought of having a poorly armed brig lying between an enemy and his own artillery was a worry he could not afford. And she was aboard Rosalind, too.
He turned round sharply, angry with himself for allowing his thoughts to drift. Right now he needed-to be completely clear. His mind like steel.
'Mr. Mudge, d'you know much of this place, other than you have already told me?'
The master shrugged. 'Very few people 'ave seen inland, sir.
'Ead 'unters, warrin' tribes there are a'plenty, I'm told. But the natives are often sailors, pirates from the north of Borneo. Sea-Dyaks they calls 'em. Many a good ship 'as been overrun at anchor by them devils.' He shook his jowls. 'Then it's snip, snip with their long knives, an' poor Jack is no more!'
At that moment a seaman beside a six-pounder pointed aloft as the masthead pendant licked out with renewed energy.
Like a long, low curtain the sea mist began to move and shred itself, vanishing into the land, and laying bare endless stretches of beach, thick jungle, and finally the overlapping hills beyond.
Herrick lowered his telescope and exclaimed, 'And is that the settlement, sir?'
Bolitho steadied his own glass, not daring to look at Conway's face. What he had first taken to be a heap of lopped and piled trees was shaping itself into long, spiked palisades, supported and guarded at regular intervals by squat, timbered blockhouses. As the mist slipped away he saw what must be the governor's residence. It had to be, for it was the largest building in sight. Again, it was built entirely of timber, with an upper and lower rampart and one spindly watchtower in its Centre, above which the Spanish flag lifted occasionally in the sea breeze.
Conway said thickly, 'In God's name!' The words were,,rung from his throat.
BolithO watched the distant fort for some sign of life other than the flag. The place looked crude, but was well sited, easy to defend. There must be settlements like this all over the world, he thought. But what about before? Someone had first to wade ashore from a boat, or march through swamp and jungle to plant a flag. To claim the land for his own country. He had heard of islands in the Pacific which were regularly claimed and re-claimed by half a dozen nations, sometimes out of the genuine desire to colonise, but often merely because their ships paused there for no other reason than to find water and firewood.
'By the mark ten!'
He looked at Herrick. 'We will anchor in eight fathoms.' He saw Allday scrambling over the gig on its chocks. 'Then boats away as fast as you can.'
He turned his attention to the cruising wavelets which had risen to enjoy the freshening breeze. It was a large but wellsheltered bay. It was said that the Spanish Royal Company had claimed it years earlier almost by accident. They had intended to place their settlement further north, to gain access for trade with the Philippines. But fever, losses in ships and resources had found them here instead. It was easy to understand why the Spaniards had lost heart, easier still to realise how much more important it would be to the British. Within reach of both India and the vast, barely-tapped resources of the China Seas, it could be a vital link, given time and skilful handling. With the French and Spaniards gone from the area, only the power of the Dutch East Indiamen offered any sort of competition. He glanced quickly at Conway's stiff features. But was he the one to begin it, he wondered?
Fighting men rarely saw much further than the strategy and tactics of the moment. And one made bitter and desperate by past mistakes would be less inclined to compromise.
'People leaving the palisade, sir!'
Bolitho raised the glass again. Twos and threes, some carrying muskets, others limping down the sand towards the water's edge and a long, partly-constructed pier of rough timber and piles. Most of them were so dark-skinned they could be natives, but the uniforms were Spanish well enough.
Not one of them waved. They merely stood or sat dejectedly watching the frigate's careful approach.
Herrick said under his breath, 'God, they look like scarecrows!'
'What did you expect, Mr. Herrick, sir?' Unseen and unheard, the surgeon had appeared on the quarterdeck, his face and neck like raw meat.
Bolitho watched him impassively. 'You are recovered, it seems, Mr. Whitmarsh?'
The surgeon turned his gaze on him. His eyes were redrimmed with strain, so that they looked too hot for their sockets.
He muttered vaguely, 'We have arrived, I see, sir.' He reached out for support and, finding none, almost fell headlong. He mumbled, 'Pattern never changes. First they hand over their power of protection to us. With ships and men if needed to give power to that protection. When all is safe the traders will come, and the Company's flag will be supreme.'
Bolitho asked coldly, 'And then what?'
Whitmarsh regarded him emptily. 'The place will become a colony, a possession. Or if we have cleaned it out like an empty shell, we will simply…' he retched, '… discard it. Cast it away!'
Conway seemed to hear him for the first time. 'Get off this deck, you drink-sodden creature!' His face was
