He said quietly, 'You are wrong, but I did not come to plead with you or to make my case for your understanding. You have done well so far, better than anyone could expect. You have attained already what some thought impossible, and if necessary you will do better, even if there is no water at all and I have to drive you with my bare hands!'
A probing shaft of early sunlight played down on the piled weapons, and he saw more than one man glance meaningly towards them.
He snapped, 'If you think that by killing me your thirst will be relieved, then you had better make a move! But otherwise I intend to raise the grapnels and get under way again.'
The voice yelled, 'Don't listen, lads! 'E's tryin' to protect 'is lieutenant!'
Bolitho stepped down and walked slowly towards the nearest men. Across the swamp he could see the others watching in silence, and Allday poised with one foot on the gunwale as if to hurl himself bodily to his captain's aid. He would be too late. Before he could even reach the boat's side any man could snatch a cutlass and cut him down.
He said evenly, 'I have sometimes found that the louder the voice, the greater the guilt.' He stopped on one thwart, his back to more than six of the men as he stared down at a heavily built sailor by his feet.
'Yesterday I had to use fresh water to clean a man's wound. To try and find where the snake had bitten him.'
There was not a sound in the boat, and those near him were staring at his face as if he -had gone quietly mad.
He continued in the same even tone, 'I did not even know that man, as I do not not know any of you. But he did his duty, and he did his best.' He was conscious of the sun's frail warmth against his cheek, of his heart's savage pounding as he stared fixedly at the man by his feet. If he had made a mistake he was done for. More to the point, there would be a senseless and bloody slaughter, with no victors at the end of it, just some lost and thirst- maddened wretches left to wander in the swamp until they too died, or killed each other.
He said, 'When I.cleaned the mud from that seaman his skin seemed white against the filth he had gathered in his efforts to help me, and you, to achieve our objective.' His hand shot out and gripped the man's hair before he could move clear. 'Look at his chest! See where the water, your water, spilled down it as he drank his fill and let the rest run to waste!'
The man shouted hoarsely, 'It's a lie, lads! Don't listen to 'im!'
Bolitho released the man's hair and said, 'Stand up and open your shirt.'
'I'll see you damned first!' The seaman crouched back against the gunwale, his teeth bared.
'I think not.' Bolitho walked aft to the sternsheets adding, 'You have one minute!'
The man looked round at the others. 'What d'you say, eh? Shall we do for the buggers now?'
A think seaman with a cruel scar down one side of his face said tersely, 'Do like he says, 'Arry! You've nuthin' to fear if yewm in the right!'
'You bastard!' The accused man glared round the boat. 'You snivellin' buggers!' Then he tore open his shirt. 'So I stole some water!' The flask swung into view across his chest, its neck still moist in the sunlight.
Something like a great sigh came from the watching seamen, but still nobody moved. Every eye was on the flask, as if it was a symbol or some awful disclosure which no one could yet understand.
Bolitho said quietly, 'Fetch Mr. Lang. This man will be taken to the ship and tried for his crime.'
From one corner of his eye he saw a seaman clamber over the gunwale and begin wading towards the other boats. The tension was breaking, and in its place came a wave of fury.
''Ang the bugger!' Some of the seamen peered round as if searching for a tree. 'Cut 'is gizzard, the thievin' scum!'
Bolitho lowered himself over the side and beckoned to Lang. But as he stared towards him he heard a shout of warning and the sudden rasp of steel. When he turned he saw the accused seaman right above him on the gunwale, a cutlass poised over his head.
'Now, Cap'n! You done for me, so it's my turn…' He got no further.
There was a soft thud, and with hatred changing to astonishment in his eyes he fell forward face down in the slime beside the boat. Between his shoulder blades was a bone-handled knife.
The scar-faced seaman stood by the gunwale watching the corpse as the blood made thin scarlet tendrils between the patches of slime.
'No,.'Arry. You already 'ad your turn!'
Lang stared at the stricken faces and muttered, 'I'm sorry, sir, it was my fault. I must have fallen asleep.' He hung his head. 'It'll not happen again, sir.'
Bolitho looked towards the leading boat and saw Allday sliding a pistol beneath his shirt. He had been ready, but at that range it was unlikely he would have been able to save his life.
He said shortly, 'I know it will not happen again. For if it does, I will personally see that you are court martialled!' He waded past him adding, 'Retrieve the cutlass from that corpse and get under way!'
Allday reached down to help him into the boat, his face lined with concern. 'By God, Captain, that was a fierce risk you took!'
Bolitho sat down and tried to wipe some of the slime from his legs. 'I had to be sure. It is not necessary for these men to like me. But trust me they must.' He looked across at Pascoe's worried face. 'And I must trust them. I think we have all learned a lesson this morning. Let us hope there is still time to gain profit from it.'
He stood up and looked calmly along the boat. 'Rig the towing lines again, Mr. Shambler. There's still some way to go.,'
He watched them leave the boat, bodies caked and plastered almost beyond recognition, their eyes fixed on some point beyond the next layer of reeds and swamp.
Wearily he followed them and took his place at the head of the towline. Allday was right. It had been madness to make such a gesture. Most captains would have had the man seized and flogged to ribbons in spite of their situation. More as an example for open defiance than with any sense of judgement for stealing water from his messmates.
The line went slack and he almost pitched on his face, and when he turned he saw that the men were pulling so strongly the boat was riding above the swamp with the reeds and scum parting across its stem as if being controlled by invisible hands.
The man nearest him panted between tugs, 'We'll get there, sir! Have no fear o' that!'
Bolitho nodded and turned back to peer at the swaying reeds ahead of him. Or were they swaying? He brushed his hand roughly across his eyes to clear the mist, but when he looked again it was still there.
Allday, leading the other line, glanced at him and sighed. He had seen the surprise in Bolitho's eyes, the sudden emotion as he had realised the men were trying harder than ever, not for any cause, but for him alone.
Allday had known for a long time that most seamen would do anything for an officer who treated them fairly and humanely. It was strange that Bolitho did.not know this fact, especially as he of all people should have done.
In the early afternoon Bolitho signalled a halt, and gasping from exertion the men clambered back into the boats, too weary even to watch as the barricoes were placed in readiness for their water issue.
Bolitho examined each boat in turn, his mind rebelling against what he saw. They were almost finished, and hardly a man was looking beyond his own boat. Most just sat on the thwarts, heads hanging, oblivious even to the buzzing flies which explored their eyes and cracked lips while they waited like dumb beasts for the next order.
He beckoned to Pascoe. 'Well, my lad, this is the moment.' He kept his voice calm but saw the boy's face light up with sudden eagerness. He continued, 'Climb up the oar and have a look around. Take your time and don't show disappointment if you sight nothing.' He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. 'They'll all be watching you, remember that!'
.He sank back against the tiller bar as Pascoe walked forward between the listless figures, his head tilted to stare at the oar lashed upright in the bows. He shinned up the oar, his body silhouetted against the washed-out blue sky as he twisted slowly to peer above the reeds and far beyond them.
Allday whispered, 'By God, I hope there's something to see.'
Bolitho did not move, as if by distracting the boy he might destroy their last chance of survival. 'Nothing ahead, sir!'
Some of the men were on their feet looking up at the slim figure above them, arms limp at their sides like
