lifting and surging amongst them, and further still to a tiny crescent of beach. Too steep to climb from that place, he decided, even if he could get a boat through the rocks without stoving in her planks.
Bang! The sound of a solitary cannon echoed around the next headland, above which a lopsided hill seemed about to slide straight into the sea.
He steadied the glass and examined the black topgallant masts and yards of the anchored vessel, the careless flapping of her brailed-up sails. She was so close inshore that she must have been beached at some time. Possibly to repair damage, as Lakey had suggested.
He said, “Alter course to weather those rocks, Mr Lakey. We will cross the bay and show ourselves, though I cannot imagine what they are firing at.”
Bolitho had voiced what Herrick and some of the others had been thinking since the first sound of a shot. Eurotas, and there seemed no doubt it was she, was well armed, as a merchantman had to be in these waters, but as there was no obvious sign of another ship she was either being harassed by natives or from the shore itself. Her cannon should be well able to drive off any such threat, and as they had heard no heavy weapons fired in reply the mystery was all the greater.
“Hands to the braces!”
Men moved slowly in the blazing glare, and then with haste as their petty officers bustled amongst them.
“Put up th’ helm!”
Bolitho watched the masts’ gaunt shadows swaying across the dried planking as Tempest responded to helm and wind. Round and further so, with the humped island swinging away to larboard, revealing the bay around the second hill, and the one beyond it.
“Steady as you go!”
“Nor’-east by north, sir!”
Tempest seemed to take it upon herself to increase speed, as with the wind following almost in her wake she threw droplets of spray over the beakhead and the men crouching at the carronades.
Herrick exclaimed, “I can see ’em, sir! A dozen or more canoes! Big ones with outriggers!”
A gun fired from the other ship’s concealed side, and a fin of spray ripped past one of the nearest canoes.
Bolitho studied the low, darting hulls, the gesticulating figures who were controlling the men at the thrusting paddles.
“Clear away a bow-chaser, Mr Herrick. I want a ball amongst those canoes. The range is too much for grape.”
Herrick looked at him, his eyes as blue as the sea. “Will I pass the order to the gundeck to load and run out, sir?”
“No. It would be taking an axe to kill an ant.” He smiled, the effort making his parched lips crack.
He realized he must have been moving about this pitiless deck for hours. A few feet either way, oblivious to the heat and the discomfort as he had fretted over what he would discover.
“She’s making a signal, sir!”
Bolitho halted in his restless pacing and waited for Midshipman Swift to add, “What ship?”
Bolitho shaded his eyes as some of the canoes back-paddled vigorously and turned end-on towards him. They had at last realized that Tempest was in the bay.
He ignored the bright hoist of flags as Swift’s signal party sent them dashing up to the yards. He could leave all these things to others. He had to think. To hold his mind absolutely clear. Something was wrong. Like a picture where the artist had forgotten to include a face or a shadow.
From right forward he heard the cry, “Larboard bow-chaser ready, sir!”
“Very well.” He raised his hand. “Fire!”
The bang from the long nine-pounder was expected, but made most of the watchers start with alarm nonetheless. It was always like that.
Bolitho watched the ball’s progress as it touched the crests of two steep breakers which were receding from the rocks and then slammed down amidst the untidy clutter of canoes. Paddles thrashed wildly, and acting on some signal of their own the slender hulls began to move away towards the headland which Tempest had just cleared.
“Another ball, sir?”
“No. If we hit one of the canoes it would tell us nothing. And the others will be through the rocks and away up the other coast before we had even found the wind to come about.” He shook his head. “Eurotas is in some sort of trouble.”
“Beg pardon, sir.” Lakey looked worried. “But I feel the wind rising a bit. Not much as yet.” He gestured with a hand tanned so dark it looked like carved mahogany. “Look astern. Tongatapu is all but hidden in mist. The glass won’t tell us much, but I’m for caution.”
Bolitho nodded. The main island which they had sighted first was no more than a green and purple blur. Yet the eastern coastline was all of ten miles long, according to the latest chart. To be hidden in thick mist, while out here, just a few miles away, the wind was freshening, warned of something fiercer to come.
“Yes. I’d not wish to be caught amongst these reefs in a real squall. We’d drag our anchor and be aground in no time.”
He looked towards the open water. Open but for occasional feathers of spray to mark the scattered humps of reef and coral.
He made up his mind. “Heave to, if you please, and call away the launch. I want a boarding party sent across immediately.” He saw Herrick patting his pockets and added, “Not you, Thomas.” He sought out Keen’s slim figure on the gundeck. “Send the third lieutenant.” He held Herrick’s attention by saying, “I want it to look very normal. If I sent my first lieutenant, or,” he hesitated, “did what my heart directs and went myself, I think it might appear unusual.” He nodded. “Carry on.”
While the frigate laboured round into the wind, and the business of swaying out the big launch got under way, Bolitho sent for Captain Prideaux. He made the same point to him as to Herrick, and knew he was equally mystified.
“Just send your sergeant and a squad of marines.” He tried to smile at Prideaux’s foxy face. “Their uniforms, no matter how uncomfortable in this heat, will reassure Eurotas’s master that we are not pirates.”
Prideaux touched his hat. “Yessir.” He hurried away, snapping for his burly sergeant.
Keen was on the quarterdeck, already staring across at the anchored ship, his face creased with responsibility.
“Pass my compliments to the Eurotas, Mr Keen.” He waited for the lieutenant to turn. “Ask if we can be of assistance, although from out here the ship seems in good condition.” He knew Herrick was listening at his elbow as he continued, “There are some passengers aboard. I would be obliged if you would enquire of them also.” He saw the sudden understanding on Keen’s face. “Now off with you.”
With Herrick he watched the launch shove off from the side, the oars rising and falling like wings as it ploughed into the first steep swell from the rocks. Even aboard Tempest Bolitho could feel the powerful undertow and current in the way his ship was swaying and rattling, her sails in disorder as she drifted heavily with the wind.
Bolitho braced his legs and followed the launch with his telescope. It was in calmer water already and making good speed towards the Eurotas. He could see activity at her entry port, a touch of blue and white to mark at least one officer awaiting Tempest’s boat.
No matter what reason Eurotas had for being here, and hull damage seemed the most likely, it must have cheered every heart aboard to see the unexpected arrival of a King’s ship.
Herrick said, “I’m not sure Mr Keen will know what to look for, sir.” He sounded anxious. Excluded from something he did not recognize.
Bolitho lowered the glass. “Look for, Thomas?”
Herrick grinned awkwardly. “I know you too well, sir. You head into the bay with gunports sealed and only a chaser to speak our authority. Then you send Mr Keen instead of me, or even Mr Borlase, when he eventually reaches us.”
Bolitho smiled. “The weather signs are not good. I want to speed things along. Also, I want to know why Eurotas did not fire all her guns at those canoes. One scattered broadside would have made kindling of them.” He turned to watch the boat hooking on to Eurotas’s chains. “And only her captain can tell us that!”
“Quarter boat’s in sight, sir!” A bosun’s mate was pointing over the nettings. “Mr Borlase is standing well out to
