Sheaffe said, 'The jolly-boat's ashore, sir.'
Bolitho saw Okes wading through the shallows, his white-stockinged legs like huge inverted flasks. There was a broad-shouldered seaman already leaving the others, naked but for some tattered trousers and wide-brimmed hat. One of Hallowes' best men, and as bronzed as any native. With a telescope carelessly jammed under one arm he was striding towards the trees and the hills beyond.
The gig grounded and Bolitho climbed outboard and then trod on firm sand as the seamen hauled the keel up the beach.
The trees looked almost tropical and their bushy tops moved in the sea breeze as if in a dance.
The gig's crew were already returning to the cutter to fetch some water casks.
Bolitho touched his forehead and then, as if to test his reaction, he felt beneath his dangling lock of hair and along the deep scar which had almost killed him. That had been a watering party too. It always made him feel uneasy.
It was a strange thing that the lock of hair was now tinged with white. The rest of his hair was as black as before. What was it? Vanity, or the anxiety about the difference in his and Belinda's ages which made him worry about it?
Two seamen armed with cutlasses and muskets strolled behind the little group as, with Bolitho in the lead, they started to make their way up the first slope. Once sheltered by the scrub and overhanging fronds it seemed moist and very warm. No birds sang or screamed out a warning. It was almost drowsy.
Stayt said, 'You could shelter two squadrons hereabouts, sir.' He was already breathing hard for one so young. 'Nelson was right.'
Did that innocent remark have a sharper edge? Was Stayt implying that if Nelson had not suggested Sardinia, nobody else would?
It was not long before they saw the glitter of a stream with a chattering waterfall at its head. Okes was already there, his booming voice calling for axes to cut a passage for his casks which would be hauled to the boats on crude sledges.
When they walked into bright sunlight again Bolitho shaded his eyes to look back at the anchored cutter. She looked like a graceful toy, her great sails folded like wings. Bolitho raised his glass and saw the bare-backed sailor settling himself on top of the adjoining hill, his long telescope propped on some loose stones. He should see the whole coastline from there.
Bolitho felt his shirt dragging at his skin. He was wet through but felt elated, and pictured himself swimming in that clear, inviting water.
He thought of Keen and whether he had been alone with the girl. Bolitho knew he trusted him, but it was more important that others should know it.
The climb to the top took longer than Bolitho had imagined but he was secretly pleased that he had managed it. The others looked weary and wet with sweat. Only Bankart seemed fresh. As Allday used to be. The thought stabbed Bolitho like a marline spike.
Bolitho looked down at the cutter again, her deck alive with tiny antlike figures, while the boats moved slowly between her and the beach like water beetles.
He moved his glass to the lookout and saw the sunlight flash from the man's glass. He had sensibly put some dried branches on his back to protect himself from the rising glare, and his hat was pulled across the telescope as an extra shield.
It felt good to be here. Bolitho wished he was completely alone. Stayt would soon protest if he even suggested it. He sat down on the hot ground and unfolded his small map. Where was Jobert now, he wondered? What was the overall intention of the French fleet?
He heard the others resting, the sound of a water flask being shaken. What would he not give for some of Ozzard's clear hock which he always managed to keep cool in the bilges?
Bolitho slipped one hand inside his shirt and touched his skin. It was only too easy to picture her in his arms. Her hands on him, whispering to him, arching with pleasure when he entered her. He folded the map with sudden despair. Of whom was he really thinking?
Stayt said, 'Look at the birds, there are enough of them now!'
A vast flock of gulls swept round and down as if held together by thread. There must be a thousand of them. As they dived down and past the anchored Supreme Bolitho saw swift darting movements in the water and remembered the fish he had seen. The gulls had timed it perfectly, and even at this distance Bolitho could hear them mewing and shrieking as they plunged to the attack.
Work on the cutter's deck had stopped as the seamen paused to watch as gull after gull rose flapping wildly, a shining fish gripped in its beak.
Stayt said, 'We've a good lookout, sir. Never took his eyes off the proper bearing even for that. I've never seen birds act like-'
Bolitho said abruptly, 'The lookout?' He snatched his glass and opened it quickly. As he swung it across the bright water and darting seabirds his eyes stung with sweat. For some reason the old wound was throbbing. What was the matter with him?
Bolitho relaxed very slowly; the bronzed lookout was still in position. He said, 'Put a ball into the rocks below the crest. The bloody man's asleep.'
Stayt scowled and gestured angrily to one of the seamen.
'Did you hear that, man?'
The seaman grinned. 'Aye, sir. I'll wake Jake up, right 'nough.'
He dropped on one knee and raised the musket to his shoulder. It might startle the boats' crews, but a sleeping lookout was a real danger.
The crack of the musket sent the birds wheeling and flapping away while here and there a fish dropped once more into the sea.
Bolitho closed his telescope and stood up, his face impassive even though he thought his heart was bursting. The lookout had not moved although the telescope still glinted as before.
'That man is not asleep.' He tried to keep his voice level. 'I fear we are in some peril.' He felt them stir, their eyes swivelling from the drifting musket smoke to his face.
Stayt exclaimed, 'Here, sir?' He sounded stunned.
Bolitho snapped, 'Mr Sheaffe, you are the youngest, run back to the beach. Warn Lieutenant Hallowes.'
The midshipman was watching his mouth, his lips forming the words as if he could not believe what was happening.
'You, Bankart, go with him.' He forced a smile. 'As fast as you like.'
As the other two blundered downhill and into the trees Bolitho said, 'See to your weapons.' He cursed himself for not bringing a pistol. He stared around at the nodding fronds. But who would suspect danger in a place like this?
He walked deliberately down the slope, straining his ears in every direction, but only the rustle of the trees mocked him, as if a hidden army was on the move.
They reached the trees and Bolitho said, 'We'll circle around the hill.' He saw the doubt in Stayt's dark eyes, the way that the two armed seamen had suddenly hunched together.
Bolitho said, 'They must have seen us after the musket shot. But we're out of sight now. They'll think we're following the others.'
Stayt hissed, 'Who are they, sir?'
Bolitho drew his sword and gripped it firmly. How many times- He realized what Stayt had asked. 'Must be French.'
They seemed to outguess everything they did, where they went, what the ships were doing. It was unlikely that anyone knew he had moved to the cutter, but Supreme was one of his strength; even the wind on a lee shore was the same as that which had nearly done for Barracouta.
Stayt had drawn his hanger and together they moved slowly towards the hillside, avoiding patches of sunlight, anything which might betray them. He wondered if Sheaffe had reached the beach yet. Unlikely, even running at full tilt.
He gritted his teeth to prevent him from despairing aloud. Why didn't I think? I should have realized it was just the kind of trap Jobert might think of. The secret was out now, that musket shot would have made sure of
