early dusk.
He could not wait much longer. He dare not.
With the cabin sealed Bolitho felt the air tormenting him like steam and he was running with sweat in seconds.
There was a tap at the outer door and Keen's voice murmuring to someone. He was exactly on time. Had probably been aching for the moment to arrive.
Bolitho nodded to him. 'Let's be about it then.'
He saw the unwilling hostage in the background flanked by the ship's corporal and Black Joe Langtry, Achates' fearsome master-at-arms. The latter had a pair of grotesque black brows and, despite years at sea, an ashen countenance. More like an executioner, Bolitho thought.
'Well, Captain Masters, you will be leaving us directly.' He watched the gleam return to the man's eyes. He had strong faith in his master and might be quick to throw Bolitho's words back in his face. But there was no time to waste.
The yawl is waiting to cast off and take you back to harbour.' Bolitho lifted his arms and saw Masters' eyes shift to the curved fighting hanger which Allday deftly clipped to his belt. 'I am afraid it will be carrying a different crew this time, but you will take us past the boom.'
He watched his words touch a cord in Masters' mind.
'But, but…'
'The governor has acted unlawfully. I intend to take control of the island, and to do that with a minimum loss of life you will steer us through the entrance.' He counted seconds before adding quietly, 'What happens to Rivers will depend on others. But if you attempt to raise an alarm you will be killed. If you betray us in any other way I will treat such action as treason against the Crown. You know what that will mean.'
He adjusted the hanger on his belt, sickened by the man's stunned features, by his own brutal remedy.
Then he thought of Duncan and the others and said, 'Put him aboard the yawl. I shall follow.'
He looked at Keen. 'This is the only way. You must command the ship.'
They both glanced up as the wind moaned through the shrouds and ratlines like a taunt.
'Your first lieutenant is an excellent seaman, but ashore with men he sometimes abuses too much, who can tell? And we have no margin at all for error.'
He looked from Keen to Allday. Friends. Comrades. So few of us left.
'You, Allday, have the most dangerous part. You will lower the barge at the seaward side. It cannot be seen now from the fortress.'
Allday eyed him stubbornly. 'I know what to do, sir. Take the boat past them moorings and light a beacon.'
'It is a hard thing to ask. If we fail you will be cut off.'
Allday grunted. 'I'd rather stay with you, sir. It's my right, my place.'
Bolitho gripped his arm and tried to hide his emotion.
'Without that beacon Achates has no chance of entering harbour. No chance to avoid running aground in this wind.
And yonshall be with me, old friend. Make no mistake about it.'
Keen said, 'I still believe…' Then he shut his mouth and gave a rueful grin. 'But it's done.' He loosened his shirt and touched his sword. 'Rivers may be surprised, but that compares little with my own feelings!'
He nodded to Allday and strode from the cabin, his voice going ahead as he rapped out his orders.
Bolitho took a pistol and thrust it into his belt. Did it really matter if Quantock led the attack? In his heart he knew it did. Men being asked to face death while fighting for a cause they did not understand, or if they did probably had a greater sympathy for the foe, needed to see him there too. To watch him die or share whatever fate he had flung them into.
Allday followed him from the cabin, breathing hard as he ducked beneath the deckhead beams. Around them in the gloom half-naked seamen were already standing to the guns, while on the deck below the hands had cleared for action with barely a sound or an order being shouted by the lieutenants and warrant officers.
On the quarterdeck more figures stood in dark clusters or tottered about in the hot wind. It felt like burning sand, the spray hard enough to blind a man.
Bolitho tilted his head to peer at the thrashing canvas as it rippled and boomed against the spars. Once set free the ship would be like a wild thing. A good sailer, they said. She would need to be all that and more.
Tackles squeaked and he heard the barge being lowered down the side. Even though he was hidden in the menacing gloom he could almost feel Allday's resentment, his anxiety, as once more he was parted from him, from his special place in things.
Keen shouted, 'Good luck, sir!'
They made a quick handclasp, their fingers running with warm spray. Then Bolitho was out and swinging down to the pitching yawl, where hands reached out to help him aboard.
A voice growled, 'Who's this, Ted? Gawd, let's get on with it!'
Another gave a hoarse cheer. 'Tis th' admiral, lads!'
They pushed round him as if they did not believe he was joining them. In his sodden, grubby shirt he could have been anyone, but they knew, and from the darkness a voice called, 'Welcome, Equality Dick!'
Bolitho groped his way aft, moved and, as usual, ashamed that he had not even considered that these unknown seamen might trust him.
He heard Mountsteven, the second lieutenant, say cheerfully, 'Smells like a Portland whore-house, sir.' His total lack of respect showed that he too was caught in the madness like the rest.
'It's powerful.'
Bolitho reached the tiller and peered at the men nearest him. He saw Christy, the boatswain's mate who had been in the Lysander, and the vague shape of Masters, who was easily recognizable in his militia uniform.
The boat certainly stank. It was crammed with inflammable materials. Old canvas, cordage soaked in grease and pitch, oil and various oddments from the gunner's store. One careless spark and the whole boat would ignite like a grenade.
Once they had seized the boom and cut its moorings, Allday's barge, followed by Achates' two cutters with the marines, would spread the attack. He had noticed that the yawl's original crew, like the guards he had seen around the fortress, were mostly of slave stock, left-overs and half-breeds from the island's various occupations.
It was unlikely that officers like Masters would live in quarters within the fortress. It would take time for them to be called from their comfortable homes. He shivered slightly. Unless of course Rivers had already seen through his scheme and every gun was loaded and ready for the first sign of an attack.
He said, 'Cast off, Mr Mountsteven. Show a lantern forrard as planned.' He glanced at Masters. 'You have your instructions. If you value your life and the chance to rejoin your family, I would advise you to be prudent.'
He heard Christy rattle his cutlass in its scabbard as an unspoken warning.
With the mooring lines released and the sails spreading over the deck like giant wings, the big yawl reeled away from Achates' protection.
Rivers' men on the boom would be wary, but they had no cause to expect such a rash course of action. He had a sudden stark picture of Achates in the first dawn light, wrecked across the entrance and a ready target for the great guns.
A voice whispered, 'Land ahead, sir!'
Bolitho felt a murmur run through the crowded space between decks where the mass of seamen crouched and waited for the onslaught. Blades scraped each other, and men groped for pistols and muskets in total darkness to make certain they were dry and ready. One foolhardy move, a musket being fired by accident, and all would be lost. Bolitho was grateful that Achates' people were mostly experienced hands. Well trained, part of a family.
He clung to a backstay and peered through the spray towards the darker wedge of land on the larboard bow. To starboard the fortress and the fifteen-hundred foot high volcano were a vague blur in this eerie light.
A lantern bobbed across the water, seemingly from the sea itself, and Bolitho thought he heard a shout.
Masters said harshly, 'Dip the forrard lantern!' He sounded as if he could barely breathe. 'Twice!'
The lantern dipped and rose twice as directed, and Bolitho found that he was holding his breath. It was Masters' chance to betray him, to prove his last loyalty to Rivers. But nothing happened, and the light on the boom remained steady and flickering above the tossing wavecrests.
