swung round, his features working wildly. “I have written orders for Hardacre. He will take over the settlement until…” He scattered the documents, searching for the one which would give back Hardacre all that he had lost. Except that it would be for a very short time now. “My guards will take the convicts aboard your ship today. Now. In Sydney there may be fresh instructions.”
Hardacre had remained silent until that point. “You’d leave?
Quit the settlement and lay us open to massacre? No militia, not even a schooner, thanks to you!”
Bolitho looked at him, his mind suddenly clear, like brittle ice.
“We are not leaving. I too have a document.” He turned to
Raymond again. “Remember, sir? My orders from you as to my duties here?” He walked to the window again and watched the fronds moving in the breeze. “We are not running. I do not care what forces come against us. I have listened for too long about the stupidity of sea officers, the ignorance of common sailors. But when things get bad, they are the ones who seem so important all of a sudden. I have heard you talking of war as if it were a game. Of a just war, or a wasted one. It seems to me that a just war is when you in particular are in jeopardy, Mr Raymond, and I am heartily sick of it!”
Raymond stared at him, his eyes watering. “You’re mad! I knew it!” He waved an arm towards the wall. “You’d throw away your life, your ship, everything, for this dunghill of a place?”
Bolitho smiled briefly. “A moment ago you were its governor. Things were different then.” He hardened his voice. “Well, not to me!”
The door banged open and Captain Prideaux marched into the room, his boots clashing across the rush mats like several men at once.
“I have examined the perimeter, sir.” He ignored Raymond. “My men are setting the convicts to work. The breach in the northern palisade was the worst. Sergeant Quare is dealing with it.”
Hardacre said, “I will speak with Tinah. He may be able to help.”
“No.” Bolitho faced him, suddenly glad of Hardacre’s presence, his strength. “If we fail, as well we might, I want his people spared. If it is known they were aiding us, they would have less chance than they do now.”
Hardacre watched him gravely. “That was bravely said, Captain.”
“I told you, you are mad! ” Raymond was shaking his fists in the air, and spittle ran down his chin as he yelled, “When this is over, I will…”
Hardacre interrupted hotly, “You saw that French officer, you damned fool! There’ll be nothing left to hate or destroy if Captain Bolitho cannot defend us!” He strode to the door. “I will see what I can do to assist the marines.”
Swift coughed by the open door. “Beg pardon, sir, but I’d like some advice on the best siting of the swivels.”
“At once, Mr Swift.”
Bolitho turned on his heel, wondering if both Prideaux and Swift had lingered nearby by arrangement, fearing that he might fall upon Raymond and kill him. He found his hatred for the man had gone. Raymond seemed already to have lost substance and reality.
At the darkest bend in the stairway he saw a quick movement and felt a girl’s hands gripping his arm. As Prideaux pushed between them, cursing with surprise, the hands slipped, but still clung to Bolitho’s legs, then his shoes.
He said, “Let her alone.” Then he stooped and aided the girl to her feet. The poor, demented creature was staring at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
Bolitho said gently, “I loved her, too.” It took all his strength to keep his voice level. “As you did.”
But she shook her head and pressed her face against his hand.
Allday was at the foot of the stairs. “She can’t believe it, Captain.” He gestured to a marine. “Take her to safety, but don’t touch her.”
“I cannot believe it either.”
Bolitho stood in the blazing sun, his eyes smarting in the glare. He realized dully that Allday carried a bared cutlass. He must have drawn it as the girl had hurled herself from the shadows. To defend him.
He added simply, “Who will take care of her, Allday?”
“I dunno, Captain.” He fell in step beside him. “There should be a place for everybody.” He looked away, his voice suddenly husky. “The bloody world is big enough surely!” He sheathed his cutlass angrily. “I’m fair sorry about that, Captain. I forgot myself.”
Bolitho said nothing. I would have it no other way.
Then he took the watch from his pocket, and found he could do so without hesitation. Her strength was still with him.
He said, “Come. We’ll go round the defences and see for ourselves.”
Allday grinned, relieved and strangely moved. “Aye, Captain.”
As they walked towards the gates and a marine sentry stamped his boots together, Prideaux remarked, “God’s teeth, Mr Swift, you would think they were on Plymouth Hoe!”
The youth nodded, aware he was seeing something fine, and yet unable to put a name to it.
Prideaux stared at him and exclaimed, “Not you, too! Be about your duties, sir, or acting-lieutenant or not, I’ll set my sword to your rump, damme if I don’t!”
For the remainder of the day, and all through the following one, boats plied busily between Tempest and the shore. Bolitho seemed to be everywhere, listening to ideas, which slow to come at first, grew and became more adventurous at the slightest encouragement.
Allday stayed with him the whole time, guarding and worrying, seeing the strain and determination laying firm hold in his captain. He did not care that even the shamefaced members of the Corps had returned to their duties at the settlement and had taken Prideaux’s orders without a murmur. Nor did he find comfort in the fact that even the laziest and most unreliable seaman was working through each watch without a rest, and with little more than a grumble. He knew better than most that without Bolitho none of the plans would be worth more than a wet fuse.
As Bolitho stood on the hillside watching the seamen gathering bales of dried grass and palm leaves, or shoring up the battered palisade, Allday waited. He saw the way he seemed to grow more content with each new challenge. As if he was trying to please someone nobody else could see. And he knew well enough who that was.
Just before the darkness threw shadows over the bay the lookouts reported a sail to the east.
Bolitho returned to his ship, strangely calm and without any sort of tiredness.
The sand had run out, and he was glad. One way or the other, they would end it here.
17. A Stubborn Man
HERRICK hesitated by the screen door and watched Bolitho for several seconds. He must have fallen asleep at the desk, and as he lay with his face pillowed on his arms the lantern which swung from the deckhead threw his shadow from side to side, as if he and not the ship were moving.
“It’s time, sir.”
Herrick laid his hand on Bolitho’s shoulder. Through the shirt his skin felt hot. Burning. He hated disturbing him, but even Herrick would not risk his displeasure on this morning.
Bolitho looked up slowly and then massaged his eyes. “Thank you.” He stared around the dark cabin and then at the windows. They too were black and held only the cabin’s reflections.
“It will be dawn in half an hour, sir. I’ve sent the hands to breakfast, like you said. A hot meal, and a tot to wash it down. The cook will douse the galley fires when I pass the word.”
He paused, annoyed at the interruption as Allday entered the cabin with a jug of steaming coffee.
Bolitho stretched and waited for the coffee to burn through his stomach. Strong and bitter. He imagined his men eating their extra ration of salt pork or beef, jesting with each other about the unexpected issue of rum. Yet he had slept like the dead, and had heard nothing when his ship had awakened to a new day. For some, if not all of them, it might well be the last.
