get those men to work!' He walked quickly across to the weather side, his shoes slipping in a shining crescent of blood as he lifted his glass to look for the convoy.
As the Hyperion thrust herself clear of the smoke he saw the Justice. She was well astern of the other ships and the tumult of battle which surrounded them in another great bank of writhing smoke. Above the smoke he could see the Harvester's topgallants still standing, although how that could be was hard to understand. Most of her sails were gone, and the masts of a French frigate appeared to be almost alongside, yardarm to yardarm.
Sickened he saw a growing bank of flame beyond the two frigates, and as a short gust parted the smoke like a curtain he saw the little sloop Snipe burning like a torch as she drifted helplessly downwind. She was completely dismasted and already listing badly, but he could see the savage scars along her flush deck, the lolling corpses by her smashed and upended guns, and knew she had after all chosen not to remain an onlooker to the battle.
The transports appeared to be intact and still protected by the embattled Harvester, but as the smoke eddied once more the second French frigate thrust her bows clear and tacked purposefully towards the Vanessa. The frigate had lost her mizzen topmast, but was more than a match for the heavy merchantman. From her forecastle her two bowchasers had already opened fire, and Bolitho watched coldly as pieces of woodwork flew skyward from the Vanessa's ornate stern as if plucked away by the wind.
He said harshly, 'Starboard a point!' He watched the Hyperion's bowsprit edge across the distant ships like a relentless pointer and wondered why her disengagement from the Saphir had passed imnoticed.
It was only when the frigate had drawn almost across the transport's stem that some sort of alarm became visible. Then it was already too late. She could not withdraw because of the helpless Vanessa, and she could not swing around because of the wind. Desperately she spread her courses and with her yards braced almost fore and aft heeled to the fresh breeze, until the watchers on the Hyperion's decks could see the copper on her bottom gleaming like gold in the hazed sunlight.
Straight ahead, with her hard-eyed Titan below the bowsprit staring at the smoke-shrouded transport, the Hyperion drove purposefully past the Vanessa's counter.
Bolitho lifted his sword, his voice stilling an eager guncaptain who even now was tugging at his trigger line.
'On the downroll!' The sword gleamed in the sunlight, and to some aboard the struggling frigate it was probably the last sight on earth. 'Now!' The sword flashed down, and as the Hyperion eased herself heavily into a trough and the double line of miles tilted towards the sea the air split apart in one -savage broadside. It was the first time the starboard battery had fired, and the full fury of the double-shotted charges smashed the frigate's unprotected bilge with the force and devastation of an avalanche.
The enemy ship seemed to lift and then stagger upright, her fore and mainmastss falling as one in a thrashing tangle of rigging and brightly splintered spars.
There were just a few minutes before the Hyperion was hidden from the frigate by the Vanessa, but the gunners needed no more urging. As the bowsprit and flapping headsails passed the transport's mauled stem the whole starboard battery fired again, the hail of balls ripping down the remaining mast and turning the low hull into a floating ruin.
The men were cheering again, and it was taken up by the men on the Vanessa's poop. The latter had fallen back when the last broadside had swept past them, and some must have thought that the Hyperion's rage was so great she could no longer distinguish between friend and foe.
By now her seamen were climbing into the weather rigging to wave and cheer as the old two-decker loomed abeam, and more than one wept uncontrollably as her seamen cheered them back.
Bolitho gripped his fingers behind him to stop them shaking. `Signal the Justice to make more sail and resume proper station!'
Caswell was nodding dazedly, but in spite of his shocked senses was still able to call his men to the halyards.
`Deck there! T'other frigate is haulin' off, sirl' The masthead lookout sounded as wild as the rest of them.
Caswell lowered his glass and confirmed the news. `Harvester has just signalled, sir. She cannot give chase. Too much damage aloft.'
Bolitho nodded. It was no wonder. Harvester's captain had given battle to two frigates at once, aided only by the tiny Snipe. He was lucky to be alive.
He said, 'Signal the Harvester, Mr. Caswell.' He frowned with effort to clear his mind and concentrate on what was needed. It must not sound trite and meaningless. Harvester's people had shown what they could do. Nothing he could say would ever match their value. He said slowly, 'Make, 'Yours was a fine harvest today. Well done.' '
Caswell was scribbling frantically on his slate as he added, 'And I don't care if you have to spell out every single word!'
Tie shaded his eyes as with a sullen hiss the sloop rolled over to her beam ends, the water around her pockmarked with flotsam and burned woodwork.
Gossett said gruffly, 'The Erebus 'as lowered boats to look for survivors, sir.'
Bolitho did not answer. Not many seamen ever bothered to learn how to swim. There would be few to recall the sloop's last and greatest fight.
Heavily he said, 'I want a full report of our damage and casualties, Mr. Rooke.'
Rooke was still staring at the enemy, ships. The dismasted frigate was yawing uncontrollably, beam on to the steep troughs, and it would be some time before she could be taken in tow. It was more likely she would sink as she lay. The other frigate was closing the battered two-decker, and above the drifting smoke the signal flags were bright and busy.
Bolitho said, 'We must attend to our convoy. Those two will have to wait another day for final reckoning.' He spoke aloud, but it was almost as if he was speaking with his ship.
Caswell shouted, `Justice has acknowledged, sir!' He grinned. 'So has Harvester.' He looked around at the other strained and grimy faces. 'She says, 'Have discontinued the action!' '
Bolitho felt his lips cracking with a smile. The formality of Leach's reply spoke volumes for the man's tenacity. 'Acknowledge.'
He saw one of the surgeon's mates standing below the ladder, his arms bloody to the elbows. He felt the same pang of despair he had known so often in the past. The suffering and the mutilation which made victory so bitter.
'What is it?'
The man looked vague jy around the deck as if surprised it was still intact. Below the waterline, with the ship wilting and shuddering to the broadsides, it was no easy task to deal with screaming wounded.
'Surgeon's respects, zur. Mr. Dalby 'as bin 'it, zur, an' wishes to speak with you.'
Bolitho shook himself. Dalby? The lieutenant's face floated before his eyes as he had last seen it. Then he said, 'How bad is he?
The man shook his head. 'Matter o' minutes, zur!'
'Take over the deck, Mr. Rooke. Signal the convoy to resume previous order once Erebus has recovered her boats.'
Rooke touched his hat as he passed. 'Aye, aye, sir.'
Bolitho climbed down the ladder, suddenly aware of the stiffness in his limbs, the aching tension in his jaw. Beside their smoking guns his men watched him pass. Here and there a braver soul than the rest reached out to touch his coat, and one even called, 'God bless you, Cap'n!'
Bolitho saw and heard none of it. It was taking all his strength to move between them, and he was conscious only of one thing. They had fought and won. It should be left at that. But as always he knew the cost was yet to be measured.
Bolitho ducked his head beneath the low beams and groped his way through the semi-darkness of the orlop deck. By comparison the air and light of the quarterdeck even at the height of the battle was fresh and clear, for down here deep in the Hyperion's hull there was little ventilation, and his stomach rebelled against the mingled stenches of bilge and tar, of neat rum and the more sickly smell of blood.
Rowistone, the surgeon, had soon found that his tiny sick bay was quite inadequate for the casualties sent down from the decks above, and as Bolitho stepped into a circle of swaying lanterns he saw that the whole area forward of the mainmast's massive trunk was filled with wounded men. Hyperion was plunging heavily in a lively
