aware of it!'
When Bolitho had made to question him further he had said, 'He is a good officer, make no mistake. Our squadrons had cause to damn his eyes in the war. France has loaned Muljadi their best, as I hope England has aided me in the same manner!'
Much of his thoughts Bolitho had spoken aloud, for Herrick exclaimed, 'But it is not war, sir! No Frenchman will cross swords for fear of starting one!'
Bolitho watched him and was glad he was here. 'Le Chaumareys will have a letter of marque. He is far from a fool. When he runs out those forty-four guns it will be Muljadi's flag at his peak, not the Fleur de Lys of France.' He stood up and moved vaguely about the cabin. 'But behind each breech will be an experienced crew, the cream of his navy. While we.'He half turned, his face suddenly drained again. 'But that is enough. Battles are not won or lost on daydreams.'
Herrick nodded. 'And what will we do now, sir?'
Bolitho tugged the shirt over his head, the same stained one as before.
'We will weigh when the tide is right. If IIuljadi has vessels in the area we must close with them. Show him we mean to continue what we have begun.'
He pulled Herrick towards the stern windows as a bugle wailed sadly across the glittering water. Above the fort there was Conway's new flag, the little group of marines beneath it glowing like tiny red insects.
'See, Thomas, there is no drawing back. Not for Conway. Not for any of us.'
Herrick watched the little tableau doubtfully. 'Better to await the Bedford, surely? With troops and more cannon we would stand a better chance.'
'That is what Le Chaumareys will be thinking.' He smiled, his face suddenly very young. 'At least, I hope that is so!'
Herrick groped for his hat, glad of something to occupy his mind and to hold back the apprehension Bolitho's news had brought.
'Will we leave Bellairs and his marines?'
'Half of them. There is much to be done. With corpses lying unburied, the place is a dunghill. The defences are stout, but in need of good men to patrol them. Rosalind will remain also under the protection of the battery, such as it is. I think her master is eager to get clear of this place, but Conway is more than a match for him.'
Herrick moved towards the door. 'It is not what I was expecting, sir.'
'Nor I. But like it or not, we have a duty. If Muljadi and his threat is to be overcome, then he must be seen as a common pirate.' He ran his hands along the desk top. 'Argots or no!'
Herrick hurried out, his thoughts tugging in several directions at once. He found IVIudge in the wardroom staring gloomily at a plate of salt beef.
The master asked, 'Are we off again, Mr. 'Errick?'
Herrick smiled. Fact soon grew from rumour in a small ship.
'Yes. The Argus is busy here, it seems. As a privateer, and not openly in the name of France.'
Mudge yawned. Unimpressed. 'Nothin' new. We used to do the same for the Company in India. A few ready muzzles always seemed to impress a doubtin' rajah if a little strength was called for.'
Herrick looked at him and sighed. 'So the Frogs will back an armed uprising, and we will support the protection of trade. But what of the people in between, Mr. Mudge?'
The master pushed his plate away with disgust. 'Never asked 'em!' was all he said.
11. Luck of the Game
Bolitho studied the masthead pendant and then walked aft to the compass. North-west by west. It was mid- afternoon, and despite the sky's unclouded, relentless glare there was sufficient wind to make it easier to endure. Undine had been made to lie at anchor in Pendang Bay almost until dusk the previous day, the set of the coastal currents and the wind's determination to remain from the south-west making a night passage too dangerous even to attempt. But in the last moments the wind had backed considerably, and with her sleek hull tilting to its pressure, Undine had beaten out of the bay, losing the settlement and its grim memories in purple shadow.
But if the wind had remained fresh it was still necessary to hold the ship close-hauled, the yards braced round to keep each sail drawing and steer Undine clear of the land. Should the wind veer without warning, and she lay too close to that undulating pattern of green coast, Undine could easily find herself hard upon a lee shore, and in real danger.
Herrick asked, 'How much longer will we continue, sir?'
Bolitho did not reply immediately. He was watching the tiny triangular sails of Undine's cutter as it tacked daintily around a small clump of rocky islets.
Then he shifted his gaze to the maintop where Midshipman Keen sat with one bare leg dangling over the barricade, a telescope trained on the distant boat. Davy had the cutter, and would signal the moment he sighted anything. There was no sense in taking the ship too close when good visibility remained.
He said, 'We are off the south-western cape, or as near as I can calculate. There are marshes and swamps a'plenty, accord ing to Mr. Mudge and Fowlar. If Captain Vega's information is correct, the Muljadi's vessels may be close by.'
He turned his face into the wind, feeling the sweat drying on his forehead and neck.
'The Benua Islands are about a hundred miles to the west'rd of us. A goodly piece of open water, if we get the chance to run these pirates down.'
Herrick watched him doubtfully, but was comforted by Bolitho's apparent optimism.
'What do we know of Muljadi, sir?'
Bolitho walked up the slanting deck to the'e weather rail and tugged the sticky shirt clear of his ribs.
'Little or nothing. Originally he came from somewhere in North Africa, Morocco or the Barbary Coast, jtt is said. He was taken as a slave by the Dons and chained in one of their galleys.
He escaped and was recaptured.'
Herrick whistled quietly. 'I imagine the Dons were hard with him.'
Bolitho thought suddenly of the elderly Colonel Pastor and his impossible mission.
'The Dons lopped off a hand and an ear and left him marooned on some desolate beach.'
Herrick shook his head. 'Yet somehow he reached the Indies, and can now strike fear into his old masters.'
Bolitho regarded him impassively. 'Or whoever stands between him and his final goal, whatever that may be.'
They both stared up as Keen yelled, 'Deck there! Cutter's signalled, sir! Mr. Davy points to the north'rd 1'
Bolitho snatched a glass. 'Of course! I should have realised!'
He trained it on the cutter, and then beyond to the gently sloping cape. Tiny islets, crumbling ridges and rocks, and everywhere the unbroken backcloth of green. Any small vessel could work her way through there, as Davy's cutter was now doing.
Herrick slammed his fists together. 'Got 'em, by God!'
Bolitho said crisply, 'We will remain on this tack for the present. Hoist the recall signal for Mr. Davy and then beat to quarters.' He smiled, if only to ease the mounting excitement. 'In ten minutes maybe?'
Herrick waited until Keen had shinned down a backstay to rejoin his signal party and then yelled, 'Beat to quarters! Clear for action!'
A solitary drummer-boy did the best he could, his sticks blurring in double-time as the tattoo brought the hands tumbling from hatchways and gratings.
'That might frighten 'em off, sir.'
Mudge was by his helmsmen, his jowl working on some meat or a quid of tobacco. There was little to choose between them, Bolitho often thought.
'I believe otherwise.'
Bolitho watched the bare-backed seamen dashing to their guns, casting off the lashings and groping for the tools of their trade. A reduced detachment of marines, under the command of a solitary corporal, was parading
