vieing with each other in a variety of tongues.
Veitch came aft again. 'All done, sir. I’ve got two swivels loaded with canister, and a stand of muskets hidden under the fo'c'sle. I noticed that the harbour batteries face seaward, so we’ll be all right for the present.'
Bolitho nodded. 'People who build fortresses often make that mistake. They never expect an attack from the rear.' He thought of the charge down a Spanish hillside, the crackle of musket fire, and the marines cheering like fiends as they went in with their bayonets fixed.
'Just as well.'
'Boat's lowered, sir.'
Allday strode to the bulwark by the main shrouds as a dark-skinned little man wearing a turban and hung about with beads, bottles and gaudy daggers tried to climb on to the deck. 'Wait for the order, Mustapha!' Allday cupped his hand under the man's chin and sent him pitching back into the
water. It raised a chorus of laughter and jeers from the unfortunate bumboatman's companions, who probably considered that this vessel's master, if hard-hearted, was at least going to be fair to all.
Veitch followed Bolitho to the rail. 'If an official comes aboard, sir, shall I bluff it out?'
Bolitho had been in Malta before. He smiled grimly. 'Be guided by Mr. Plowman. I suspect he has visited here on other unorthodox missions. The port officers may decide to wait until you show signs of unloading. But if they come and ask for your papers, tell them what I told you to say. That we had to throw them overboard when chased by an unknown ship. You will find a bag of gold coins in the cabin to grease the hawse for you. '
Plowman grinned at the lieutenant's uncertainty. 'Love you, Mr. Veitch! Port officials are the same everywhere, an' with more an' more Yankee ships finding their ways into the Mediterranean they’ll not want to lose a new sort of trade!'
Bolitho threw one leg over the rail. 'And watch our people.
There may be French spies amongst these bumboat men. It’ll do no harm to spread the notion anyway!'
He clambered down into the Segura 's remaining longboat. 'shove off.'
As the boat pulled away he saw one of the traders tap smartly on a pile of rugs, and from beneath it he also saw a smooth, rounded arm pushing the covering aside. It was no man's arm. With Segura 's captain out of the way, the real trading was about to begin.
Allday murmured, 'Top of the stairs, sir. Two officers of some kind.'
But the officers paid them little attention, other than a courteous nod, and continued to watch the anchored newcomer, possibly judging the right moment to board her.
Bolitho stood on the hot stonework and waited for Allday and one other to climb up beside him. The seaman was the Swede, Larssen. He had a cheerful, trusting expression, and one of the broadest pairs of shoulders Bolitho had seen.
Allday remarked, 'In case we run into a spot of trouble.' He paused and looked at him. 'You all right, sir?'
Bolitho replied, 'Of course. Don’t fuss.' He turned away. 'send the boat away. We will attract as little attention as possible. '
He heard Allday speaking to the boat's crew and tried not to keep plucking the shirt away from his body. It was wringing with sweat, and he felt strangely light-headed. The wine? Some of the food he had eaten last night? Inwardly, another more likely reason was already forming and it was all he could do to conceal his sudden anxiety.
It was improbable, surely. He gritted his teeth, willing Allday to finish with the boat and follow him into some shadow. But it was not impossible. Nearly nine years ago, in the GreatSouthSea. The fever had all but killed him. He had had a few bouts of it since, but not for a year or so. He almost cursed aloud. It could not be. It must not happen now of all times.
Allday said, 'Ready, sir.'
'Good. Now let us find that address and finish the matter. ' He swayed and touched Allday's shoulder. 'Damn!'
As he pushed his way through a group of chattering traders, Allday watched him with sudden alarm. Larssen asked, 'The captain? Is he not well?'
Allday gripped his arm tightly. 'Listen, and listen good. If it's what I think it is, he's going to be all aback within the hour. Stay with me and do whatever I do, see?'
The Swede shrugged. 'Yes, sir, Mr. All-Day!'
Mercifully the address was not far from the harbour stairs. In fact, the white walled building was attached to one of the smaller fortresses as if for support, and from a broad balcony Bolitho could see the end of a large telescope trained across the anchorage like a gun.
He felt beneath his coat to make sure his pistol was loose and ready to draw. He was taking a great gamble. Perhaps this French agent already knew of the vessel's fate which had been entrusted with this letter. The convoy which Buzzard had chased, and with which the ship had been sailing, might have been into Malta, left word and gone on to its intended destination.
But he still believed it unlikely. A letter of such importance, if such it was, would have been carried by one of the French escorting frigates and then sent ashore by boat, probably at night.
He said shortly, 'Come along. We shall have to make haste.'
The lower part of the building was filled with wine casks and mounds of straw for packing bottles. A few Maltese labourers were rolling empty barrels down a ramp to a cellar, and a bored-looking man with a ruffled shirt and mustard-coloured breeches was writing in a ledger on the top of another cask.
He looked up, his eyes wary. 'sit He could have been almost anything, from Greek to Dutchman.
Bolitho said, 'I only speak English. I’m master of the American ship which has just anchored.'
