suddenness of magic Bolitho saw the topmasts and yards of an anchored ship swinging across the bows barely fifty yards clear.
Then as the wind cleaved the smoke aside he saw the French two-decker clear and stark, some of her guns already firing as the Hyperion pushed out of the drifting smoke and started to sail back along 'the line of ships. It was the leading Frenchman, and when Bolitho leaned across the nettings he saw with cold satisfaction that the next astern was smoking from a dozen holes in her bulwark and gangway where his blind broadside had scared several hits.
'Fire as you bear!' The larboard guns were ready and eager, and as captain after captain jerked his lanyard the smoke came back above the gangway in an unbroken wall.
'Deck there! Her mainmast's gain!' A cheer rippled along the shrouded deck, voices breaking in coughs and curses as the lower battery fired once more.
A seaman came running aft, whirled round in his tracks and fell dead at Stepkyne's feet. The lieutenant strode on, pausing merely to step over the corpse as he controlled his gunners in their fighting madness.
Bolitho felt someone grip his sleeve and saw it was Gascoigne. He must have been signalling to him, his voice lost in the din.
'Sir! Signal from Indomitable!' He gasped as a ball shrieked close overhead and parted a handrail like a cotton thread.
'Well, boy?' Bolitho felt the deck quiver and knew that some of the enemy's shots were hitting home.
'Signal says 'Discontinue the action', sir!'
Inch came aft wiping his face. 'What's that? Discontinue action?' He seemed dazed.
'Acknowledge.' Bolitho met his despairing stare. 'It means retreat, Mr. Inch.' He turned on his heel and walked to the opposite side to watch as the Hermes' bows pushed downwind from the tangle of battle, her sternchasers still firing and all masts intact.
The gunfire suddenly ceased as if every man had been rendered deaf. And when the wind pushed the smoke aside Bolitho saw that already they had moved well clear of the anchored ships, and while the Telamon wallowed round to follow the battered Indomitable, the Hermes was already clawing about to take station astern of her once more.
The Indomitable was a pitiable sight. She had now lost -all her topmasts, and her upper deck and starboard side were splintered and gouged from stem to stem.
Then across the water came the exultant cheering mixed with derisive cries and jeers that seemed to beat on the ears of the Hyperion's seamen and marines like some final damnation.
'General signal, sir.' Gascoigne sounded crushed. 'Steer south-west.' And that was all.
Bolitho climbed the poop ladder and stared across the larboard quarter. Beyond the jubilant French ships he could see a few smouldering remains of the Abdiel and some thrashing survivors, like so many dying fish in a poisoned stream. Then as the headland crept out to hide their misery he found that he was shivering uncontrollably as if from fever.
Allday climbed up beside him. 'Are you sick, Captain?'
Bolitho shook his head, almost afraid to speak. 'Not sick, just angry!'
He stared unseeingly at the endless panorama of hills and lush green undergrowth above the distant surf. Retreat. It stuck in his mind like a barbed hook. Retreat.
Inch clattered up the ladder and touched his hat. 'Two men killed, sir. None wounded.'
Bolitho looked at him, not seeing Inch's pain as he recoiled from his captain's cold eyes.
'Two men, eh?' He turned away, the words choking in his throat. They had been outwitted and outgunned, but not beaten. They had not even started to be beaten. He looked forward along the silent men restoring the lashings to their guns. They had been made to slink away because of Pelham-Martin's blind, arrogant stupidity!
Inch asked quietly, 'What will we do now, sir?'
'Do?' Bolitho faced him savagely. 'Write a bloody report, I shouldn't wonder! Let us hope the Abdiel's people will be satisfied with it!'
With a sudden impulse he unbuckled his sword and handed it to Allday. 'Next time we sight the enemy you had best bring me a white flag instead!'
Then he swung on his heel and strode to the ladder. Inch looked at Allday. 'I have never seen him so angry.'
The coxswain turned the sword over and caught the sunlight on its worn hilt. 'Begging your pardon, sir, but it's time someone got angry, if you ask me!'
Then holding the sword against his chest he followed his captain.
As the Hyperion's barge pulled swiftly across the choppy wavelets Bolitho sat motionless in the sternsheets, his eyes fixed on the anchored Indomitable. For four hours after the collapse of Pelham-Martin's attack the ships had continued south-west, following the curving shoulder of coastline, their speed reduced to a painful crawl as the crippled Indomitable endeavoured to maintain her lead.
At a point where the land curved more steeply inshore again and the 'sea's bottom afforded a temporary anchorage the commodore had halted his retreat, and now, tugging above their own reflections the ships lay in an extended and uneven line, their bows pointing towards the land which was less than two miles distant.
Bolitho lifted his gaze to explore the full extent of the Indomitable's damage, and knew that his bargemen were watching his face as if to search out their own fate from his tight expression.
Against the two-decker's battered side the Hyperion's barge crew seemed clean and untouched, as from a sharp command they tossed oars and the bowman hooked on to the chains.
Bolitho said, 'Stand off and await my call.' He did not look at Allday's concerned face as he reached for the chains. There was enough bitterness aboard his ship without letting the barge crew converse with the Indomitable's people and carry back further gossip to demoralise them to an even greater extent.
He was met at the entry port by a lieutenant with one arm in a crude sling… He said, 'Could you make your own way aft, sir?' He jerked his head towards the other ships. 'Captain Fitzmaurice and Captain Mulder will be coming aboard at any moment.'
Bolitho nodded but did not speak. As he strode towards the quarterdeck ladder he was conscious of the smells of burned wood and charred paintwork, of blistered guns and the sweet, sickly scent of blood.
Since leaving Las Mercedes the Indomitable's hands had been busy, but all around was evidence enough of their plight and their near destruction. Several guns had been unended, and there was blood everywhere, as if some madman had been at work with bucket and brush, while beneath the foremast's trunk the corpses were piled like meat in a slaughterhouse, and as he paused at the top of. the ladder more were carried from below to add to the grisly array.
He walked beneath the poop and thrust open the cabin door. Pelham-Martin was leaning with both hands on his table amidst a litter of charts, watched in silence by a captain of marines and a ship's lieutenant who could not have been much more than nineteen years old.
The commodore glanced up from the charts, his eyes shining in the reflected glare thrown through the shattered stern windows.
Bolitho said flatly, 'You sent for me, sir?'
'A conference.' Pelham-Martin looked round the littered cabin. 'This is a bad business.'
Somewhere below decks a man screamed, the sound suddenly terminated as if a great door had been slammed shut.
Bolitho asked, 'What do you intend to do?'
The commodore stared at him. 'When the others arrive I will make my… '
He swung round as the door opened and a master's mate said, 'Beg pardon, sir, but the cap'n is askin' for you.'
Pelham-Martin seemed to realise Bolitho was watching him and said heavily, 'Winstanley fell as we came clear. He is down on the orlop.' He shrugged, the movement painful and despairing. 'I am afraid he is done for.' Then he gestured to the others. 'Apart from the lieutenant on watch, these are the only officers not killed or wounded.'
Bolitho replied, 'I would like to see Winstanley.' He walked to the door and then paused, realising that Pelham-Martin had not moved. 'Will you come, sir?'
The commodore looked at the charts and ran his fingers over them vaguely. 'Later perhaps.'
