With All Despatch

Allday thrust upwards with his cutlass and yelled, 'One for the pot, you bastards!'

He fell exhausted against the side, his eyes too raw from smoke to care about the blood which poured through the hatch like paint.

The people in the cabin suddenly froze into silence, and above the creak of rudder lines Allday heard a voice yell, 'Stand to! Man the braces there! A King's ship, by Jesus!' And then another, calmer, more controlled; Delaval's. 'It's Paice's Telemachus, I'll swear. This time we'll do for him and his bloody crew, eh, lads?'

Allday did not know or care about any response. The words stood out before all else. Paice's Telemachus. Bolitho was here.

The deck was slanting down so that the corpse of Newby rolled on one side as if awakening to the din.

Allday heard the shouted orders, the slap of canvas, and then the too-familiar sound of the nine-pounder being hauled into position.

He peered through the little door and pleaded, 'Keep at it, lass. I can hold 'em off until-'

He stared blindly at the pale figure sprawled across one of the timbers. Either the last shot had caught her, or someone had fired down through the slits which held the sheaves of the rudder lines.

He reached over the sill and dragged her up and through, held her naked body against his own, turning her face with sudden tenderness until the swaying lantern reflected from her eyes.

Brokenly he whispered, 'Never mind, young missy, you bloody well tried!'

The deck bounded to a sudden recoil and he heard somebody yelling directions even as the discharged gun ran inboard on its tackles.

Allday crawled over the deck and dragged the coat from Newby's back. Then he covered her with it and with a last glance at her face lifted her to the open hatch and pushed her into the abandoned cabin.

Another minute or so and she might have cut the rudder lines, then Paice's cutter would have stood a good chance of out-sailing her, crossing her stern and raking her with those deadly carronades.

The deck heaved again and dust filtered down from the poop as the gun fired across the quarter.

Allday wrapped the girl's body in the coat and put her across his shoulder. For just those seconds he had seen her face in the pale light. No fear, all anguish gone. Probably the first peace she had known since the Terror had swept through her country.

Allday glanced round the cabin until his eyes fell on a bottle of rum which was about to slide from the table. With the girl's body carried easily over his shoulder he drank heavily from the bottle before picking up the reddened cutlass again and making for the companion ladder.

They could not hurt her or him any more. Out in the open he would die fighting. He shuddered as the gun crashed inboard again and the deck shook to the concussion.

There was a ragged cheer. 'There goes 'er topmast, by God!'

Allday blinked the sweat from his eyes and left the cabin. At the foot of the ladder he saw the man whose leg he had nearly severed when he had climbed through the hatch. His bandage was sodden with blood, and he stank of vomit and rum. Despite his pain he managed to open his eyes, his mouth ready to scream as he saw Allday rising over him.

Allday said, 'Not any more, matey!' He jammed the point of his cutlass between the man's teeth and drove it hard against the ladder. To the dead girl he muttered, 'Keep with me, lass!'

As his eyes rose above the coaming he saw the backs of several men who were standing at the bulwarks to point at the other vessel. Between them Allday saw Telemachus, his heart sinking as he saw her despoiled outline, the topmast gone, like a great crippled seabird. The gun's crew were already ramming home another charge, and past them Allday saw Delaval watching his adversary through a brass telescope. All the fury and hatred seemed to erupt at once and Allday yelled,

'I'm here, you bloody bastard!'

For those few moments every face was turned towards him, the approaching cutter forgotten.

'Who's going to be brave enough, eh, you scum?'

Delaval shouted, 'Cut him down! Bosun, take that man!'

But nobody moved as Allday bent down and laid the dead girl on the deck in the dawn's first sunlight.

'Is this what you want? All you have guts for?'

He saw the seaman Tom Lucas staring at the girl before he shouted, 'We didn't bargain for this!'

They were his last words on earth. Delaval lowered his smoking pistol and drew another.

He snapped, 'Put up the helm! We'll finish this now!'

Allday stood alone, his chest heaving, barely able to see out of his uninjured eye, or keep his grasp on the cutlass.

As if through a haze he watched the helm going over, saw sudden confusion as the spokes spun uselessly and a voice cried, 'Steerin's gone!'

Allday dropped beside the girl on the deck and grasped her hand, the cutlass held ready across her body.

'You done it, girl!' His eyes smarted. 'By Christ, we're in irons!'

The brig was already losing steerage way and heeling unsteadily downwind. Allday looked at the gun's crew, their expression dazed as the distant cutter seemed to slide away from their next fall of shot.

'Well, lads!' Allday waited for the sudden, agonising impact. He knew Delaval was aiming his other pistol, just as he knew that men were moving away from the sides to stand between them.

He repeated, 'Is this what you want?'

Delaval screamed, 'Cut him down! I order it!'

Still no one moved, then some of the seamen Allday had seen at the boatyard tossed down their weapons, while others defiantly faced aft towards Delaval.

Allday watched Telemachus's splintered topmast rise above the Loyal Chieftain's weather bulwark, knew he would have seen Bolitho were his eyes not so blind.

It seemed like a year before a grapnel lodged in the bulwark and the deck was taken over by some of Paice's armed seamen.

There was no resistance, and Paice himself walked aft until he confronted Delaval by the abandoned wheel.

Delaval faced him coldly, but his features were like chalk.

'Well, Lieutenant, your greatest triumph, I dare say. Will you murder me now, unarmed as I am, in front of witnesses?'

Paice glanced across to Allday and gave a brief nod before removing the unfired pistol from the other's hand.

'The noose is for scum like you.' He turned aside as a voice yelled, 'Wakeful in sight, sir!' Someone gave a cheer but fell silent as Bolitho climbed over the bulwark past the levelled muskets and swivels on Telemachus's side.

He looked around at their tense faces. He had seen Paice's expression, his features torn with emotion when seconds earlier he might have hacked Delaval to the deck. Perhaps, like the blind man, he had discovered that revenge would solve nothing.

Then he walked to Allday, who was kneeling again beside the dead girl. Two unknown young women. A twist of fate.

He saw the cuts and cruel bruises on Allday's body and wanted to say so much. Maybe the right words would come later.

Instead he said quietly, 'So you're safe, John?'

Allday peered up at him with his sound eye and felt his face trying to respond with a grin, but without success.

One truth stood out. Bolitho had called him by his first name. Something which had never happened before.

11. Faces In the Crowd