'He did not find the lieutenant anywhere?' Mears shook his head. 'Nor your man either.'
'No.' Bolitho stared out of the streaked windows. 'Allday would not leavehim.'
'sir?'
Bolitho turned towards them. 'What of the schooner?'
Mears collected his wits. 'You were right, sir, She is filled to the deck beams with powder and shot. And-' he looked at Javal's grim face, '-two of the finest cannon I have ever laid eyes on. Siege artillery, if I’m any judge, and only newly tested. '
'I see.'
Bolitho tried to concentrate his mind on what their capture could mean. Adam was gone. Allday, too. Probably out there dying. Waiting for a rescue which could never come.
Mears said, 'I am afraid the schooner's master was killed when he tried to jump overboard. But I found papers and charts in his cabin. Enough to show that he had orders for Toulon.'
Javal exclaimed, 'By God, you were right about that, too, sir. The Dons are working like fiends to help their powerful ally at Toulon!' He dragged a bottle from one of his sea chests. 'You did well, Toby. Take a drink while we decide what to do.' He looked at Bolitho. 'The wind is rising, sir. We had best get under way again.'
'Yes.' Bolitho felt the deck lurching unsteadily as the wind hissed against the hull. 'Detail a prize crew to take the schooner direct to Gibraltar. Fetch your clerk and dictate a despatch for the admiral there. He will know what best to do about the cannon.'
Mears grinned wearily. 'she is a fair little prize, sir. Worth a penny or two.'
Javal glared at him and said quickly, 'I am sorry about your lieutenant, sir. Had you known him long?'
'He is my nephew.'
The two officers looked at each other, appalled.
Javal said, 'By God, if I’d only known, sir, I would have sent one of my other officers.'
Bolitho looked at him gravely. 'You did what was right.
You were short-handed. But in any case, honour and danger must be shared as equally as possible.'
Mears suggested, 'If I took one of the boats under sail, sir?'
'No.' Bolitho looked past him. 'In daylight you would stand less than a dog's chance. 'He turned his back. 'Carryon with your duties, Captain Javal. There is nothing we can do here.'
The screen door slammed shut and Bolitho sat down heavily on the bench seat below the windows. He turned the broken sword over several times in his hands, seeing the boy's pleasure at receiving it, his pitiful pride when they had met for the first time.
He looked up, startled, as if he expected to see Allday nearby, as he always was when he sensed he was needed. Now there was not even him. There was nobody.
Somewhere beyond the bulkhead he heard a sailor singing some strange song which he did not recognise. Probably dreaming of his tiny share of the prize money, or of some girl back in England.
Feet clattered overhead, and he heard someone bawl, 'Bring the boats alongside and man the tackles!' The recovered boats were thudding against the hull, and he thought he heard someone give a cheer as the schooner made ready to part company.
Javal opened the door, his face wet with rain. 'schooner's about to leave, sir. Are you sure you do not wish to send a separate despatch to the admiral?'
'No, thank you. You were in charge of the cutting-out. It is right that your name should be on the despatch.'
Javal licked his lips. 'Well, thank you indeed, sir. I just wish there was something I could do about-' He broke off as voices shouted across the upper deck and the hull dipped more heavily in the wind. 'I’d better go, sir. Get her under way before we lose a spar or two.'
He hurried out, and moments later Bolitho heard his voice through the partly open skylight.
'set the forecourse, Mr. Mears, though I fear we will have to take in a reef or so before long. We are rejoining the squadron.'
'By God, I’d not have his conscience on a matter like this, sir. '
Javal's reply was swift and sad. 'Conscience does not come into it, Toby. Responsibility sweeps it out of the window.'
Allday sat with his shoulders against a slab of broken rock and watched the horses which were picketed at the foot of a slope. Across his lap Pascoe lay quite still, his eyes shut in a tight frown as if he were dead. Squatting or lying dejectedly nearby, six other sailors were waiting like Allday to see what was going to happen next.
He squinted up at the sky, wishing the rain would return to ease his raging thirst. By the set of the sun it must be about noon, he decided. Around him the rough, winding track appeared to turn inland. He sighed. Away from the sea.
He felt Pascoe stir on his cramped legs and placed one hand across his mouth.
'Easy, Mr. Pascoe!'
He saw his dark eyes staring up at him, the pain and the memory of what had happened flooding back..
'We are resting a while.' He nodded carefully towards the soldiers by the horses. 'Or they are any rate.'
