Labouret was sitting in a chair, chin on chest, but as Boli tho came through the door he rose to his feet and without a word grasped his two hands in his own.
Bolitho looked down at him, seeing too plainly the pain and the misery in his dark eyes. He said quietly, 'I know, Labouret! Believe me, I understand!'
Labouret nodded dully. 'It could have been a great victory, m'sieu.' He dropped his eyes, but not before Bolitho had seen the tears running unchecked down his face.
Captain Ashby said, 'Glad to see you again, sir.' He was nodding grimly. 'More glad than I can say!'
Bolitho looked past him. 'Where is Colonel Cobban?'
A young infantry captain said quickly, 'He sent me, sir. He was, er, not able to get here.'
Bolitho eyed him coldly. 'No matter.' He saw the Spanish colonel sitting in the same chair as before, his uniform as fresh as if he had just been on parade. The Spaniard gave him a curt nod and then stared at his boots.
Captain Dash said heavily, 'Er, if you're ready to begin, Bolitho?'
Bolitho turned to face the others. Dash had not made it public that he was handing over his control to him.
He said quietly, 'There is not much time. We are to begin total evacuation at once.' They looked at each other as he spoke. Surprise? Relief? It was hard to tell. He continued, 'We will make a general signal to the squadron for boats. We can start with the wounded. Are there many?'
The soldier replied crisply, 'Over four hundred, sir.'
'Very well. Get them down to the Erebus and the Welland without delay. Captain Dash will make all the necessary arrangements for extra help from our own seamen.'
He looked quickly at Dash, half-expecting some argument, some small spark of pride. But he merely nodded and muttered, 'I'11 do that right away.'
Bolitho watched him pass. God, he's glad to go, he thought wearily.
Then he forgot Dash as Labouret asked quietly, 'What will I tell my people, Captain? How can I face them now?' It was obvious that he knew or guessed what was in Pomfret's orders.
Bolitho faced him. 'By the time you have enquired how many of your people want to leave with us the boats will have evacuated all the wounded, m'sieu.' He saw the Frenchman's lip quiver as he added, 'All who want to go can get into the boats. I cannot promise you much, my friend. But at least your lives will be safe!'
Labouret stared at him for several seconds, searching his face as if to unlock some inner secret. Then he said thickly, 'We will never forget, Captain! Never!' Then he was gone.
Bolitho said, 'The Harvester will be here soon with the convicts. They can be spread amongst the two transports, too.'
The Spanish colonel jerked upright in his seat, his eyes flashing dangerously. 'What is this you say? Convicts on top of wounded and wretched peasants! What about my horses,. Captain? How can I get them aboard two ships?
The infantry captain added uncertainly, 'And the artillery's guns, sir?'
Bolitho looked through the door as a marine showed Aliday up the staircase towards Pomfret's room. He said flatly, 'They will have to be left behind, gentlemen. The people come first.' He held their combined stares until they looked away. 'Just this once, they come first!'
The colonel stood up and walked towards the door. Over his shoulder he said harshly, 'I think you are a fool, Captain! But brave certainly!'
They heard his horse trotting away through the gates, and Bolitho said, 'Now show me where the soldiers are in position, if you will. This operation will have to be smooth and without any sort of panic, if it is to succeed at all!'
Thirty minutes later he watched the others depart. All except Ashby. 'Well, is there something you need explaining?' Bolitho felt completely drained.
Ashby pulled down his tunic and fumbled with his belt. Then he said, 'I had no time to tell you, sir. But Miss Seton is still here in St. Clan'
Bolitho stared at him. 'What?'
'I tried to put her aboard the Vanessa, sir.' Ashby looked wretched. 'But she insisted; on staying. She's been helping at the hospital.' His eyes gleamed in the dusty sunlight. 'She's been an example to everyone, sir.'
Bolitho replied quietly, 'Thank you, Ashby. I will see her. myself.' Then he picked up his hat and walked out into the noise.
16. A FACE IN THE CROWD
Bolitho reined his borrowed horse to a halt behind a massive stone barn and lowered himself to the ground. Ashby, who had stayed with him all afternoon, also dismounted and leaned heavily against the wall, his chest heaving with exertion.
It was early evening, but so thick was the drifting smoke that it could have been nightfall, and in the deepening shadows the savage gun-flashes and the sharper pinpoints of musket-fire seemed to ring the small town with an unceasing bombardment.
Ashby said, 'This is as far as we go, sir.' He gestured towards the pale line of the road. 'The French are within a hundred yards of us here.'
Bolitho moved along the wall and ducked behind a rough barricade of wagons and earth-filled barrels. He could see the scattered line of soldiers spreading away on either hand, their movements slow but regulated as they loaded and fired towards the road, their red tunics dark against the dust and loose stones.
A young lieutenant crawled from behind an upended farm cart and ran swiftly to Bolitho's side. Like his men he was bedraggled and filthy, but his voice was quite calm as he pointed' towards the deeply shadowed hills beyond the road.
'We've come back about fifty yards in the past hour, sir. He ducked as a musket-ball whimpered overhead. 'I can't hold on here much longer. I've lost half of my men, and those which are still able to fight are down to their last powder and shot.'
Bolitho opened a small telescope and peered above the barricade. It was already darker, and as he stared towards the bright flashes he saw too the spreadeagled bodies, the white crossbelts which marked every yard of the retreat. Here and there an arm moved, and once in a brief lull he heard a cracked voice calling for water.
He found himself thinking of the makeshift hospital by the jetty. He had seen the girl working beside two army surgeons and the town's solitary doctor, her dress stained with blood, her hair pulled back from her face with a piece of bandage. It was not like the enclosed horror of the Hyperion's orlop, but in some ways it had seemed worse because of its primitive desolation. The crowded ranks of wounded, the stench and -the pitiful cries, a never-ending stream of limping figures coming down the street from the firing line, and from the look of the doctors' haggard faces it had seemed to Bolitho that they worked with neither respite nor feeling, their eyes only on the wretched man who happened to be in front of them at any particular time.
Then she had seen him, and for a long moment their eyes had embraced above the bowed heads and agonised figures between them. Bolitho had told the senior surgeon what he intended to do, but all the while he had been looking at the girl. The surgeon had eyed him with something like disbelief. As yet another wounded man had been carried in he had said wearily, 'We'll get 'em to the boats, Captain! If we have to swim with each one on our backs!'
Bolitho had taken the girl aside to a small room, which appeared to have been a children's nursery at some time. Amidst the litter of soiled dressings and torn uniforms there were crude pictures painted and drawn by some of the children who were now trapped or dying in the beleaguered-town.
She had said, 'I knew you would come, Richard. I just knew!
He had held her against his chest, feeling the tautness in
her limbs, the sudden pressure of her head on his shoulder. 'You're exhausted! You should have gone in the Vanessa!' 'Not without seeing you, Richard.' She had lifted her chin
and studied his face. 'I'm all right, now.'
Outside the building the air had vibrated with gunfire and the sounds of running men. But in those few
