Blissett arrived beside them. “It’s pretty fair going once you get up that slope, sir.” He pointed. “I reckon the sea is just yonder, with the bay below that shoulder of rock.” He took a flask gratefully.
Quare nodded. “Mr Keen’s party will be about an hour later than us. It’s a longer route round the other side of the hill.” He cocked his head. “Still, we should meet up mid-afternoon. What d’you say, Tom?”
Blissett shrugged. “Reckon so, Sarnt. I found a few fire places in the gullies, but not new ones.” The last piece he added hastily as some of the seamen in earshot moved with sudden apprehension. “No natives around here for some while.”
Bolitho reslung his telescope and gestured to Swift. “Get the men on the move again. Same distances as before. You take two hands to the rear and make sure we’re not being followed.” He looked up at the sunbaked slopes. There would be no cover here. A perfect place for an ambush.
He could sense the men as they followed at his back. Breathless and tired already, and totally unused to tramping over land, they would never respect him again if they found he had led them on a fool’s errand.
He tightened his belt. But better him than Herrick. Herrick had taken enough knocks on his behalf.
Bolitho concentrated on the land ahead, keeping his pace slow but regular as he tried to picture the other side of the hill.
Tomorrow, if the wind was favourable, Tempest would tack around the southernmost headland once again. And if there were lookouts on the shore they should sight her immediately. More to the point, Bolitho’s scouts should see them.
It should appear quite natural. Deception was a game any number could play.
After a fierce storm it might even be expected for a King’s ship to return to the bay, if only to ascertain that Eurotas was still intact.
Allday broke into his thoughts. “A scout’s signalling, Captain. I think he’s sighted the other party.” He grinned unfeelingly. “God, Mr Keen’s people will curse when they see the hill they’ve still got to climb!”
Sergeant Quare hurried across the lip of another gully and dropped out of sight. He appeared eventually on a fallen landslide of loose stones, while slightly above him another marine gestured and pointed like a deaf mute.
Quare came back, breathing fast. “He says to stand fast, sir. A runner is coming from Mr Keen.” He mopped his face and neck. “He’ll not run for long in this lot.”
Bolitho’s party sank gratefully into the bushes again and waited for the messenger to arrive. It took a full hour, and when he was finally dragged out of a gully, the man looked almost spent with exhaustion.
It was Miller, boatswain’s mate, nimble enough when dashing about the deck in a full gale, or urging the hands out on the swaying yards, but no match for this island.
“Take your time.” Bolitho concealed his impatience, wondering why Keen should send him and delay the worst part of the journey.
Miller gulped noisily. “Mr Keen’s respects, sir, an’ ’e-” He gulped down air again like a landed fish. “We found some corpses.” He pointed vaguely. “In a little cove. Their throats was cut, sir.” He looked suddenly sick as the memory came back to him. “I- I think they was officers.”
Bolitho watched him, not wanting to break his train of thought.
But Quare asked bluntly, “You think?”
Miller looked past him. “Aye, George. You just know them things.” He gave a violent shudder. “Mr Ross reckons they’ve bin dead for days. Covered with flies, they was. Still are.”
Bolitho nodded. Despite the horror of the story he realized that either Keen or Ross had managed to keep his head and not do what every decent man would wish and bury the unknown bodies. But they were not unknown. The Eurotas’s senior officers in all probability. Murdered after being taken to the little cove. He wondered if Keen had thought the same. As he had shaken hands with the man he had thought to be the ship’s captain he had been facing a murderer in his victim’s coat.
The realization moved through him like sickness. Viola had tried to warn him. She might have died just as horribly because of it.
He snapped, “Get back to Mr Keen. Fast as you can manage. Tell him we will meet as arranged, but with double the caution.” He watched his words sinking in. “Nobody must see our approach. If we are sighted before we can act, Miller, the ship may weigh, and Mr Herrick will have no chance of catching her.” He did not add that it might as easily mean the landing party would be murdered beforehand. The expression on Miller’s stubbled face told him he had already considered it.
Bolitho looked at Quare and the others. “Come along.” He strode up the slope again, the heat and discomfort suddenly forgotten.
“You’ll need to stay down, sir.” Quare spoke with a whisper as Bolitho crawled beside him between two great boulders. The stones were like heated metal, and Bolitho was conscious of the cuts and bruises he had gathered on his limbs and body in the final part of the journey.
The big hill was quite different on the other side, and different again from the way it had looked from seaward. There was a broad cleft halfway down, and then another slope which continued down to the beach and the bay.
And there, hazy in the sunlight, lay the Eurotas. Still at her anchor, and with several boats alongside and two drawn up on the sand clear of the surf.
There were a few figures visible on her poop and maindeck, but no sign of work being carried out on the hull, or anything else.
Bolitho wished he could use his telescope and study the ship more closely. But with the sun blazing down at an angle he dared not risk a sudden reflection warning of their arrival above the bay.
Quare had already sent Blissett and another scout to see what they could discover, but Bolitho had to guess what was happening aboard the ship if he was to be of any use.
Quare hissed, “There, sir!”
Several men had walked into view from the bottom of the hill. They were moving slowly. Untroubled. But all were armed to the teeth. One was drinking from a bottle, and had to be aided over the gunwale of a small boat before they pushed it into deep water and started towards the ship.
That left one boat ashore. Bolitho blinked the sweat from his eyes. But how many men?
Swift crept up behind him. “Mr Keen’s party is coming, sir.”
Bolitho looked at him. “Keep them away from here. And no talking. You make sure the weapons are unloaded. I don’t want a musket going off in error.”
He looked at the anchored ship and tried to think what to do. She lay a cable’s length from the beach, and the boat which had left the island was barely halfway to her. Exposed. Helpless against even the smallest weapons.
But where were the guns which Keen had been told were unloaded to lighten the ship? They were certainly not in the empty ports along the nearest side. Nor were they on the beach. Surely they had not been jettisoned. It would take a long time, and there seemed no point in it.
Unless… He stared towards the southern headland, almost black against the glittering sea. Another ship perhaps. The Eurotas’s guns may have been off-loaded into her. He closed his eyes tightly. He could form no pattern at all.
Blissett came round the side of the great rocks soundlessly.
Quare asked, “What is it, Tom?”
The marine wiped his mouth and stared at the ship. “We found a dead girl down the bottom there. She must have put up quite a fight, poor lass. But they done for her all the same when they’d had their way.”
Bolitho looked at him, his mind reeling. He barely recognized his own voice. “What sort of girl?”
Blissett frowned. “Young ’un. English, I’d say. Probably bein’ deported to Botany Bay or th’ like, sir.” He said nothing more, but his eyes proclaimed bitterness. His anger at those who had sent the unknown girl to this.
“Easy, Tom.” Quare turned to Bolitho. “You were right, sir.”
“I wish to God I’d been wrong. The ship has been taken. Not by the convicts.” He saw the question on Quare’s face. “They’d not waste time and labour hoisting big guns over the side. They’d be weak and frightened after what they’ve been through. I believe our enemy is something far more dangerous and without mercy.”
He rolled on his back and dragged out his watch, despising himself for his relief. He had feared it was Viola lying down there.
