killed.
Up some steps and around a narrow bend where he saw some half dozen Spaniards beating against a board door with weapons and fists, oblivious it seemed to the onrushing marines.
One turned, then the whole bunch of them scattered from the door, fighting each other to climb up and over a partly finished wall.
Whooping like fiends the marines charged amongst them, the bayonets lifting and stabbing, the awful cries drowned by their own excited madness.
Bolitho shouted, 'stand fast, marines!' To Leroux he gasped, 'stop them, for God's sake! We must get through that door!'
Shots banged down. from the battery and several marines fell kicking, but as others were still hurrying up the steps it seemed likely they would soon be unable to move, to escape the hidden marksmen.
He saw Sergeant Gritton with a great axe standing framed against the door, heard the mighty clang as the blade hacked into the studded timber.
Leroux fired a pistol and handed it to his orderly as a body spilled over the rampart and pitched amongst the yelling marines.
'He’ll never get it down in time!'
He fired his other pistol and cursed as the ball whimpered harmlessly towards the sky.
'Ready, lads!' Gritton was almost screaming. 'It's openin'!'
Bolitho thrust himself through the press of men, aware that the door was swinging inwards, knowing that no axe had done it, and that in the next seconds his men might be smashed down by a blast of canister.
Gritton was bawling, Shoot, lads! Let's be at the bastards!'
Then another voice, louder even than the sergeant's. 'Avast there, Sergeant Gritton! Hold your fire, damn you!'
Bolitho felt himself being carried bodily through the door on a tide of cursing, cheering marines, and as they burst into a roughly-hewn passage and fanned out on either side he stared at the two figures who were etched against a solitary lantern.
Leroux gasped, 'One of us! Shoot that soldier, Gritton!' The 'soldier' threw down his musket, and as his arms were seized by two marines he called hoarsely, 'It's me!' Bolitho pushed the marines aside and gripped the youth around his shoulders. 'I must be dreaming!'
Allday shouted, 'Then so must we, sir!'
Leroux was at his side again. 'This is the main magazine, sir!' He stared at Pascoe's stained face. 'Did you…? I mean, were you going to…?'
Pascoe said huskily, 'We planned to blow the magazine.
The commandant here knows a ship is nearby. 'He looked at Allday, the strength suddenly gone out of him. 'And we knew she would be Lysander.'
Allday nodded, his filthy face split into a grin. 'What we didn't know was' that we'd see the bullocks this fine morning!'
Bolitho controlled his reeling thoughts. They might still be too late to do anything. But it no longer seemed so black, so impossible as it had just moments ago.
'Major, take some men to the battery. Tell your sharpshooters to fire with care: I doubt you’ll get much opposition. They’ll not be keen to shoot down here and build their own inferno.' He looked at Pascoe and Allday. 'As you were quite prepared to do.' Allday said, 'One thing, sir. There's a second battery on the outboard end of the point. I think. this is the only magazine, but-'
He broke off as the passageway shook to a sudden explosion. There was cheering, too, and the sporadic clatter of musket fire.
Bolitho nodded. 'That was a gun from the other battery, I’m thinking.'
Pascoe made to follow him as he ran after the marines, but he said, 'No, Adam. Yours has been the lion's share of danger. Remain here with these wounded marines until I know what to do.'
As he hurried along the dimly lighted passageway, past great vats of shots, barrels of powder and cradles for carrying the massive balls up to the furnace, he kept thinking of what had happened. Pascoe and Allday had survived. Not only that, they were here, with him, though how they had man- aged it he could not begin to comprehend. If he had been turned back completely by the gully, or had arrived at the camp perhaps minutes later, they would have blown up the magazine and battery, and themselves also. He felt the emotion pricking his eyes. To make that sacrifice, such a reckless gesture, without even waiting to see if a ship was actually entering the bay. They had known she was Lysander. It had been enough.
Another great bang brought dust filtering from the beamed roof, but he took time to sheath his sword, to compose himself, as Leroux, hatless with blood above his eye ran down some steps and shouted, 'Lysander is in sight, sir. The other battery has opened fire on her, but this one has struck to us.' He sighed heavily. 'Listen to my lads. Their huzzas are a reward enough.'
Bolitho flinched as another bang echoed around the magazine.
Traverse some of the cannon to point on the other battery. There is heated shot, I believe.'
Leroux led the way up the steps, his coat scarlet again in a rectangle of dull light from the sky.
Bolitho felt the salt air across his face, and watched the cheering marines as they hurried about the earthworks, firing as they went towards the other battery. He ignored the hiss of balls which flicked past him and stared fixedly at the high pyramid of canvas which appeared to be rising from the sea itself.
The seventy-four was moving very slowly into the bay, her lower hull still in deeper shadow. Herrick was coming in, just as he had known he would. No battery on earth would prevent his attempt to complete the plan of
