With luck the French will believe we are heating shot, eh? That will have to suffice for the present.'
Shambler called, 'Boats shovin' off from two of the Frenchmen, sir!'
Bolitho nodded. The ships would have men to spare while they were at anchor and still have sufficient to work their guns when Pelham-Martin arrived. He gripped his hands behind him. If Pelham-Martin arrived.
'Send a man to the hilltop to watch for our ships!'
Shambler looked at him. 'Aye, aye, sir.'
At that moment the gunner's mate arrived at his side. He was a wiry little man and not unlike his namesake.
'Now, Mr. Fox.' Bolitho watched narrowly as the first boats gathered way and started to pull towards the shore. 'Get to work on these guns and lay for the second ship in the line.'
Fox touched his forehead and then said gruffly, 'I kin get the furnace goin' too, sir. Given 'alf an hour.' He chuckled and showed his teeth. 'My father were a blacksmith, sir, an' taught me well enough 'ow to raise the embers in a 'urry'.
Bolitho felt the excitement running through him. Pelham-Martin or no, it would not all be wasted if he could help it.
He shouted, 'Tell Mr. Lang to hold the road! With the cliff edge on one side and his men on the other, it should not be too difficult!'
He made himself walk slowly along the edge, watching the oared boats far below him, puny and impersonal.
Fox exclaimed. 'Ready, sir!' He was crouching behind the nearest gun, his face screwed up with professional concentration.
Bolitho replied, 'Fire a ranging balll'
Fox jumped aside and held his slow-match above the breech. The roar of the gun crashed between the twin hills, and from the cliffs below came hundreds of screaming birds, wheeling and circling above the watching seamen in an enraged chorus.
'Short!' Fox was grinning gleefully. After the swaying platform of a ship's gundeck this was child's play to him. He was already bawling at his men again. ''Andspikes therel Muzzle to th' right!' He was prancing behind the breech even as the others were sponging out and reloading. 'Steady! That should do it!' He waited with obvious impatience for the massive ball to be rammed home, then, 'Right now, elevate th' old lady!' He shook his fist in a seaman's sweating face. 'Easy, lad, easy!'
The slow-match came down again and with a roar the gun jerked back against the hard rock, the smoke rising above the cliff in a solid brown cloud.
'Over!' Fox rubbed his hands. 'Now the next un'll do it!'
Quince walked to Bolitho's side to watch as first one boat then another faltered and then started back towards their respective ships. 'They must have spotted my smoke.' He chuckled, 'What now, sir?'
Bolitho could well imagine the consternation aboard the anchored ships. To be bombarded like this was bad enough, but with the prospect of heated shot for good measure, each captain would have to act soon if he was to withdraw out of range.
Fox stood back. 'Fire!' He ran to the cliff edge, shading his eyes to see the fall of shot.
A tall waterspout rose alongside the second ship's quarter, and Bolitho guessed it must have hit her close on the waterline.
Fox seemed to have hidden stores of energy. 'All guns elevate!' He scuttled from gun to gun, peering back at the first one to make quite sure of an exact salvo. 'Fire!' The line of guns jerked back in unison, and around the target ship the waterspouts arose like enraged ghosts.
'Captain, Sir!'
Bolitho turned and saw Pascoe staring up at him. He was breathing hard and had obviously run all the way from Lang's outpost by the road.
'What is it, lad?'
'Mr. Lang said to tell you there are soldiers coming down the road from the town sir. -They are about two miles away but marching very fast.' He peered at the ships as if seeing them for the first time.
Quince muttered, 'How many, of them, Mr. Pascoe?'
The boy shrugged. 'Several hundred, sir.'
Bolitho looked at Quince. 'French or Spanish, it matters little to us. They will be out for our blood, and Mr. Lang can't do much more than delay the attack by minutes.' He dragged out his watch. 'Where the hell are our ships?'
Pascoe was still watching him. 'Is there a message for Mr. Lang, Sir?'
He turned to look at Fox as the little gunner's mate jumped in the air and yelled wildly, 'Two hits, ladsl That'll teach 'em manners!'
Bolitho said calmly, 'Tell him to keep me informed.' He watched Pascoe run. back towards the hillside and then added,, 'Unless the commodore makes his attack very soon, Mr. Quince, I fear he will be too late.' He pointed at the nearest ship where men were already climbing aloft and along the yards. 'That one has lost his nerve. Our commodore will arrive to find us dead and the ships gone within an hour or two.'
Quince nodded glumly. 'Maybe he has been delayed, sir.'
Bolitho watched the smoke being sucked across the cliff edge. The wind was still brisk and steady. There was no excuse for the ships not being here as promised.
He said curtly, 'Continue firing. And tell Mr. Fox to hurry up with his damned furnace!' Then he walked quickly to the line of tents, his face deep in thought.
12. MR. SELBY
True to his word, Fox, the gunner's mate, was working wonders with the crude furnace. Using liberal helpings of sprinkled gunpowder and hastily gathered gorse he crawled around its iron door, peering and nodding with satisfaction before running back again to supervise his men.
Bolitho looked at the sun, now clear and vivid above the pointed hill, and then walked to the cliff edge to watch the anchored ships far below. The first, signs of panic had been replaced by orderly preparations for getting under way, but he guessed that all the vessels had been so carefully and strongly moored together it would still take as much as half an hour to complete the operation.
He snapped, 'I am going to see Mr. Lang. Inform me when you are ready with the heated shot.' With Allday striding at his side he turned and hurried towards the rough track, dazzled by the sea beneath him and conscious of his own mounting desperation.
He found Lang and his men scattered above the narrow track, sheltering as best they could behind fallen rocks, their muskets pointing towards the wide bend which vanished around the side of the hill from which the attack had started.
Lang saw Bolitho and stood up hastily. 'We've lost sight of the soldiers, sir. But they'll be coming around that curve at any time now.'
Bolitho beckoned to Canyon. 'Tell Mr. Quince to send twenty more men at the double!'
To Lang he continued, 'We can hold this road for a while provided the soldiers don't infiltrate behind us.' He was thinking aloud, trying to see the hillside and the country beyond as it would appear to seasoned troops. It seemed incredible for so many soldiers to be gathered in such a place, and if Lequiller had transported them in strength it was even harder to understand his purpose.
As more armed seamen panted along the track he shouted, 'Spread out on the hillside! Do not fire until I give the order!'
Lang shifted his feet uneasily. 'Any sign of the squadron, sir?'
Bolitho shook his head. 'Not as yet.'
He watched the ragged seamen climbing above the track, noting the strain on their faces, the apprehensive glances thrown towards the sea. They would know the impossibility of their position without having to be told. No more rations, and soon the sun would be high overhead to quell their last resistance and will to fight.
