quarter sea, so that the lanterns kept up a crazy haphazard motion and threw weird dancing shadows against the curved sides, or picked out small tableaux for just a few seconds at a time like sections of an old and faded painting.
Above the sounds of groaning timbers and the muffled pounding of water against the hull Bolitho heard the confused murmur of voices, mingled with sobbing and an occasional sharp cry of agony. For the most part the wounded lay still, only their eyes moving in the gyrating lanterns as they stared dully at the little group around the heavy scrubbed table, where Rowistone, his suety face screwed up with concentration, worked on a seaman who was being held down by two of his loblolly boys. Like any badly wounded man the sailor had been well dosed with rum, and as Rowlstone's saw moved relentlessly across his leg he lolled his head from side to side, his cries muffed by the leather strap between his teeth, his frantic protests drowned by both rum and vomit.
Rowistone worked busily, his fingers as bloody as the heavy apron which covered him from chin to toe. Then he gestured to his assistants and unceremoniously the seaman was hauled from the table and carried into the merciful darkness beyond the lanterns.
The surgeon looked up and saw Bolitho. Surrounded by wounded and mutt' -Ated men he seemed suddenly frail and vulnerable.
Bolitho asked quietly, 'How many?’
'fen dead, sir.' The surgeon wiped his forehead with his arm; leaving a red smear above his right eye. 'So far.' He glanced round as two of his assistants half-carried another man towards the table. Like so many wounded in a sea action he had been hit by wood splinters, and as the surgeon's mates tore off his stained trousers Bolitho could see the great jagged tooth of wood where it jutted from below his stomach. Rowlstone stared unwinkingly at the man for several seconds. Then he said flatly, 'Some thirty wounded, sir. Half of them might live through it.'
Another man was slopping rum into the wounded seaman's open mouth. He did not seem to be able to drink the neat spirit fast enough, and all the time his eyes were fixed on Rowlstone's hands with the fascination of hope and terror combined.
The surgeon groped for his knife and gestured towards the side. 'Mr. Dalby's over there.' He eyed the man on the table with something like despair and added, 'Like most of the men he got his wound on the lower gundeck.'
Bolitho turned towards the side as the surgeon bent forward across the naked body on the table. The wounded man had gone immediately rigid, and Bolitho could almost feel the first pressure of that knife in his own body.
Dalby was propped in a sitting position with his shoulders against one of the ship's massive ribs. He was naked but for a wide, sodden bandage around his stomach, and with each painful breath the blood was spreading unchecked even by the thick dressing. As officer in charge of the lower battery he had been cut down by the first French broadside, yet in spite of his wound his face seemed almost relaxed as he opened his eyes` and stared up at his captain.
Bolitho dropped on his knees. 'Is there anything I can do?'
Dalby swallowed hard, and a few droplets of blood glistened on his lips. 'Wanted to see you, sir!' He gripped the mattress at his sides and held his breath. 'Had to tell you…'
'Don't talk, Mr. Dalby.' Bolitho looked round for a clean dressing, but finding none dabbed the lieutenant's mouth with his handkerchief.
But Dalby tried to struggle forward, his eyes suddenly bright. 'It has been driving me mad, sir! That money… I took it.' He fell back against the timbers, his mouth slack. 'Quarme had nothing to do with it. I had to have it, d'you see? Had to!'
Bolitho watched him sadly. It did not really matter any more who had taken the money. Quarme was dead, and Dalby should by rights have followed him already.
'It is all right, Mr. Dalby. It is over now.'
Dalby shuddered, his chest and arms suddenly running with sweat. Yet when Bolitho touched him his skin was cold and clammy like that of a corpse.
Then he muttered thickly, 'I owed money. Gambled everything.' He stared at Bolitho, but his eyes no longer held a proper focus. 'I would have told him, but…'
Behind Bolitho a man screamed. The sound seemed to scrape at the walls of his mind, but he leaned forward trying to hear what Dalby was saying. The blood was running more freely from his mouth, and with sudden despair Bolitho turned and peered beyond the nearest lantern to where a midshipman was stooping over another stripped and bandaged seaman. 'You, lad, bring me a dressing!'
The midshipman turned and -hurried towards him, a clean bandage held out ready.
But Bolitho stared up in shocked surprise. 'In the name of God, Miss Seton, what are you doing here?'
The girl did not answer immediately, but dropped beside Dalby and began to dab the blood and spittle from his face and chest. Even in the lantern's yellow glare Bolitho's mistake was not very obvious. In the midshipman's coat and white breeches, and with her thick auburn hair pulled back to the nape of her neck she passed easily as a young boy.
Dalby stared at her and tried to smile. He said, 'Never a boat, miss! We call her a ship in th'…'His head lolled to one side and he was dead.
Bolitho said, 'I ordered that you should stay in the midshipmen's berth until I said otherwsie!' His sick despair. was giving way to something akin to anger. 'This is no place at all for you!' He could see the bloodstains on her coat and across the front of her open-necked shirt.
She faced him gravely, her eyes studying him with sudden concern. 'You do not have to worry on my account. I saw enough of death in Jamaica.' She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. `When the guns started to fire I wanted to help.' She looked down at Dalby. 'I needed to help.' When she raised her eyes again they were almost pleading. 'Don't you see that?' She reached out and gripped his sleeve. 'Please do not be angry!'
Bolitho looked slowly around the littered deck. The naked bodies, dead and wounded alike, lay like macabre statuary, and at his table Rowlstone worked on as if nothing else mattered beyond the swaying circle of lanterns.
Then he replied quietly, 'I am not angry. I suppose. I was afraid for you. Now I feel ashamed.' He wanted to get to his feet but was unable to move.
She said, 'I listened to the noise and felt the ship shaking about me as if it would tear apart. And all the time I thought of you, out in the open. Unprotected'
Bolitho did not speak but watched the quick movements of her hands, the rise and fall of her breasts as she relived each terrible moment.
She continued, 'Then I came here to help these men. I thought they would curse me, or abuse me for being alive and unmarked.' She dropped her eyes and Bolitho saw her mouth tremble. 'They cursed and swore well enough, but they never complained, not once!' She met his eyes again, her expression almost proud. 'And when they heard you were coming down they actually tried to cheer!'
Bolitho stood up and helped the girl to her feet. She was crying now, but without tears, and she did not resist as he piloted her through the lanterns towards the companionway.
On deck it seemed unfair that the sun was still so bright, that the ships sailed on without a thought for what lay astern or those whom they carried. Across the quarterdeck with its great red stains and splintered planks. Past the helmsmen who watched the swinging compass and stared up at the set of each pockmarked sail.
At the cabin door Bolitho said quietly, 'Promise me you will lie down.'
She turned and looked up at him her eyes searching. 'Must you go now? Then she gave a small shrug, or it may have been a shudder. 'That was a foolish thing to say! I know what you must do. It is all out there waiting for you.' The swing of her hand seemed to indicate the whole ship and every man aboard. She touched his arm unsurely and added, 'I saw the look in your eyes and I think I understand you better now.'
A voice called urgently, 'Captain, sir! Harvester requests permission to heave to and carry out burials!'
'Very well.' Bolitho still looked down at the girl's face, his mind rebelling against the thousand and one things which awaited his attention.
He said at length, 'You did well today. I will not forget.'
As he turned towards the sunlight he heard her reply softly, 'And neither will I, Captain!'
