With All Despatch

voice pealed down to the deck. 'Sail on th' weather quarter, sir!' Paice stared across at him questioningly. Bolitho called, 'Well, we know she's not the Loyal Chieftain

this time, Mr Paice.' Paice nodded very slowly. 'And we know there's naught 'twixt

her and the land but-' Bolitho looked at the boy. 'Us, Mr Paice?' 'Aye, sir.' Then he raised his speaking trumpet. 'Masthead!

Can you make out her rig?' 'Schooner, sir! A big 'un she is, too!' Paice moved nearer and rubbed his chin with agitation. 'She'll take the windgage off us. It would be two hours or

more before we could beat up to wind'rd, even in Telemachus.' He glanced meaningly at the sky. 'Time's against that.' Bolitho saw some of the idlers on deck pausing to try and

catch their words.

He said, 'I agree. Besides, when she sights Telemachus she might turn and run if she thinks we are about to offer a chase.'

'Shall I signal Wakeful, sir?' Once again that same hesitation.

'I think not. Wakeful will stand a better chance downwind if this stranger decides to make a run for the Dover Strait.'

Paice gave a tight grin. 'I'll say this, sir, you never let up.'

Bolitho glanced away. 'After this, I hope others may remember it.'

Paice beckoned to his first lieutenant. 'Call all hands, Andrew-' He glanced anxiously at Bolitho. 'That is, Mr Triscott. Clear for action, but do not load or run out.'

Bolitho watched them both and said, 'This is where Telemachus's ability to sail close to the wind will tell. It will also offer our small broadside a better chance should we have to match the enemy's iron!'

He crossed to the lee side and looked down at the creaming wake. There was only this moment. He must think of nothing further. Not of Allday, nor that this newcomer might well be an honest trader. If that were true, his name would carry no weight at all.

He heard the boy ask, 'What'll I do, sir?'

Bolitho looked at him and saw him falter under his gaze. Then he said, 'Fetch my sword.' He nearly added and pray. Instead he said, 'Then stand by me.'

Calls trilled although they were hardly needed in Telemachus's sixty-nine-foot hull.

'All hands! Clear for action!'

Tomorrow would bring the first day in May. What might it take away? Bolitho lowered the telescope and spoke over his shoulder. 'What do you estimate our position, Mr Chesshyre?'

There was no hesitation. ''Bout ten miles north of Foreness Point, sir.'

Bolitho wiped the telescope with his sleeve to give himself time to digest the master's words.

Foreness Point lay on the north-eastern corner of the Isle of Thanet, and the mainland of Kent. It reminded him briefly of Herrick, as had Chesshyre's voice.

Paice said hoarsely, 'If he is a smuggler he'll be hard put to go about now, sir.'

Bolitho levelled the glass again and saw the big schooner's dark sails standing above the sea like bat's wings. Paice was right. The north-easterly would make it difficult, even hazardous to try and claw round to weather the headland. The lookouts would be able to see it from their perch, but from the deck it looked as if the two vessels had the sea to themselves.

Bolitho glanced at the sky, which was still cloudless and clear. Only the sea seemed darker, and he knew that sooner or later one of them would have to show his hand.

He pictured the coast in his mind. They were steering towards the old anchorage at Sheerness, but before that lay Whitstable, and as the two vessels maintained their same tack and speed they were slowly converging, drawing together like lines on the chart.

Paice said, 'He'll have to stand away soon, sir, or he'll end up with Sheppey across his bows.'

Bolitho glanced along the deck, at the gun crews crouching or lounging by the sealed ports, each captain having already selected the best shot from the garlands for the first loading.

Bolitho had been in so many actions that he could recognise the casual attitudes of the seamen, the way they watched the schooner's steady approach with little more than professional interest. With Allday it was different; but these men were not accustomed to real action. A few might have fought in other ships, but most of them, as Paice had explained, were fishermen and workers driven from the land because of falling trade.

Bolitho said, 'You may load now, Mr Paice.' He waited for the lieutenant to face him. 'He is not going to run, you know that, don't you?'

Paice swallowed. 'But I don't see that-'

'Do it, Mr Paice. Tell the gunner's mates to supervise each piece personally. I want them double-shotted but with no risk of injury from an exploding cannon!'

Paice yelled, 'All guns load! Double-shotted!'

Bolitho ignored the curious and doubtful stares as several of the seamen peered aft to where he stood by the taffrail. He raised the glass again and watched the big sails leap into view. People too, at the bulwarks, and moving around the tapering masts. How would Telemachus look to them, he wondered? Small and lively, her guns still behind their port lids. Just one little cutter which stood between them and the land.

'D'you know her?' Bolitho lowered the glass and saw young Matthew staring at him unblinkingly, as if fearful of missing something.

Paice shook his head. 'Stranger, sir.' To the master he added, 'What about you?'

Chesshyre shrugged. 'Never laid eyes on her.'

Bolitho clenched his fists. It had to be the right one. A quick glance abeam; the light was slowly going, the sun suddenly misty above the hidden land.

He said, 'Bring her up two points, Mr Paice.'

Men scampered to their stations, and soon the blocks squealed, and the great mainsail thundered from its long boom.

'Steady she goes, sir! Nor'-West!'

'Run up the Colours!'

Bolitho dragged his eyes from the schooner and watched the gun crews. Some of them were still standing upright, gaping at the other ship.

Bolitho snapped, 'Tell those bumpkins to stand to, damn them!'

He heard the big ensign cracking in the wind above the deck, then shouted, 'Fire one of the larboard guns, Mr Paice!'

Paice opened his mouth to dispute the order, then he nodded. By firing a gun from the opposite side they would keep the whole starboard broadside intact.

Moments later the foremost six-pounder banged out, the smoke dispersing downwind before the crew had begun to sponge its barrel.

Bolitho folded his arms and watched the schooner, like the boy at his side, not daring to blink.

Paice said, 'He's ignored the signal, sir.' He sounded dazed, as if he scarcely believed it was happening. 'Maybe he's-'

Bolitho did not know what Paice intended to say for at that second there was a great flash from the schooner's forecastle, and as smoke belched over the wave crests a ball smashed through Telemachus's bulwark and burst apart on a six-pounder. Splinters of wood and iron shrieked away in all directions, and as the gun's echo faded the sound continued, but this time it was human.

One of the seamen was on his knees, his bloodied fingers clawing at his face and then his chest, his scream rising until it sounded like a woman in terrible agony. Then he pitched on his side, his life-blood pumping across the sloping deck and into the lee scuppers. Several of the other sailors stared at the corpse with utter horror; and there were more yells and screams as another ball crashed into the bulwark and hurled a fan of splinters across the deck.

'Open the ports! Run out!' Paice was standing silhouetted against the surging water alongside, his face like a mask as men whimpered and crawled across the shattered planking, marking the pain and progress with their blood.