own ship to recover them.
Hallowes said tightly, 'I've had all the guns loaded with grape and canister, sir. We'll give a good account of ourselves when those devils come at us.'
Bolitho released his hold and sank back against the curved hull. The sobs and cries had all but finished. Seven men had been killed in that brief mauling. One, the diminutive midshipman named Duncannon, had died lying across Bolitho's lap. He had felt the boy sobbing quietly, his tears mixing with his blood.
Bolitho said, 'Help me on deck. Where's my flag-lieutenant?'
'Here, sir.' Stayt had been with him and he had not known. The realization made him suddenly angry. They had all depended on him; now they were losing heart so fast they would have no fight in them despite what Hallowes thought.
He said, 'Put more swimmers over the side. If we can get the boats we might kedge Supreme closer to the headland. There are rocks there. We'd be safer from that damned frigate.'
'Aye, sir.' Hallowes sounded doubtful. 'I'll see to it right away.'
He hurried away and Stayt murmured, 'Ready, sir?'
Bolitho stood up carefully to avoid the deckhead. Every time he moved the pain in his eyes returned, stinging like fire, pricking them into torment.
He held Stayt's arm and felt the man's pistol bump against him.
The frigate had left them alone, prepared to wait until nightfall. They were in no hurry. It would have been different if they had known they had the English admiral almost in their hands. Bolitho winced as his eyes stung with emotion. A useless, helpless admiral.
On deck it felt clammy although a steady breeze slapped wavelets along the hull like catspaws.
Stayt whispered, 'He's had them all keep down, sir. Behind the bulwarks. They all seem to be armed.'
'Good.' Bolitho moved his head from side to side. He could smell the land, could picture it in his mind. What a place to die, he thought, like the young midshipman, the hill lookout, all the others he had not even known.
He heard Okes' resonant voice and Sheaffe answering.
'Where's my cox'n?'
Bankart was right behind him. 'Present, sir.'
If only Allday were here. Bolitho held his bandaged eyes in his palms. No, Allday had done and suffered enough.
Hallowes said in a hushed voice, 'The swimmers are here, sir.'
Sheaffe sounded very near. 'I'm going, Sir Richard. I learned when I was a child.'
Bolitho held out his hand, 'Here, take my hand.' He said, 'I was taught early too.' Somehow he had known it would be Sheaffe. 'Listen to me. When you reach the boat, either of them, no matter, I want you to stay there. Drop a stream anchor if you will, it's shallow enough. Who is with you?'
The seaman's name was Moore. He had a soft Kentish dialect. Like Thomas Herrick, Bolitho thought desperately.
'Keep together.'
Sheaffe asked, 'But why must we stay out there?'
Bolitho wanted to tear the bandages from his face. It was a nightmare, and he felt the urge to scream as the pain probed his eyes again.
'What can you see?' Bolitho moved towards the bulwark and grated his knee against a gun truck.
Stayt touched his left shoulder. 'The headland's that way, sir. Then as you turn slowly right there's the bluff on the other side of the bay, where the frigate first appeared.'
'Yes, yes.' Bolitho gripped a belaying-pin rack. He could see it, he remembered it. Just those last moments before he had been cut down.
'The French will come around the headland.' He moved his face. 'What say you, Mr Okes?'
Okes replied, 'Most like, sir. They'll be closer to their bloody- beg pardon, sir-to their friends ashore.'
'My thought exactly.' He touched the midshipman's bare back. The flesh felt icy, like a corpse.
'Off you go. Take care, both of you.' As they moved away Bolitho said, 'No heroics. When you see boats on the move, yell out.' He heard them splash down the side and he half expected a shot to follow.
'Is it very dark?' He felt so helpless. Like a child in the night.
'Aye, sir. No moon as yet.'
'When they reach the first boat,' he had almost said if, 'be ready. We shall see nothing, but if Sheaffe can see the French coming we shall open fire.'
Hallowes asked, 'Shoot blind, sir?' He stammered, 'I'm sorry, sir. That was stupid of me.'
Bolitho reached out again and touched his coat. 'No. But that is exactly what we shall do.'
Stayt said in a low voice, 'The Frogs will follow the coastline and expect to get between us and the beach. Once alongside they could overwhelm us.'
'It's what I would do.' Bolitho gripped his sword and let it fall into its scabbard again. Even that seemed to mock his helplessness. How could he tell Belinda? He could not face being a prisoner-of-war again. He would die first.
Hallowes asked, 'If they board us-'
Bolitho said quietly, 'Fire the ship.' He felt his words rip into the young lieutenant like canister. He added, 'There is no easy way, Lieutenant. The enemy must not take your Supreme as a prize.' He pulled him closer so that the others were excluded. 'Strike if you must to save the people. But sink the ship.' He let his words sink in.
When Hallowes spoke again his voice was changed. Firm, determined. 'I'll not let you down, sir.'
Bolitho turned away to hide his agony. 'I knew that when I recommended your appointment.'
Oh, Belinda, the foolish things I said and wrote. Now it is all too late.
He thought of Keen and knew he would command the squadron in his own way. He would fly an admiral's flag one day. Bolitho gasped. So God help him!
A man murmured, 'I 'eard somethin'!'
Another said, 'An oar in a boat.'
Hallowes said, 'They've got one of the boats, sir.'
Bolitho thought of Sheaffe's unsmiling features. His father would be proud of him. Or would he? Did he even envy his son as he did leaders like Nelson.
Bolitho rested his head in his hands. He'll not have to envy me any more.
The cry came across the water and seemed to hang above the gently swaying deck like an echo. 'Sheaffe's seen 'em!'
There was a single shot, and someone jeered, 'Couldn't hit a bloody barn door!'
Stayt said, 'By God, that fool with the musket has marked down their position well enough, sir.' He sounded excited, ready to kill, as Keen had described him aboard the convict ship.
'They're still coming.' Stayt must be crouching down, eyes level with the bulwark to seek out the dark shapes on the water.
'Three boats at least, sir.'
Voices murmured along the deck and Okes rumbled, 'Not a bloody squeak out of any mother's son, right?'
Bolitho heard the metallic clink of a swivel gun being depressed, and here and there a handspike squeak as a four-pounder was made snug against the side, each little muzzle pointing blindly into the darkness.
Bolitho said, 'Bankart, come here.' He felt the young seaman beside him. As Allday would have been.
'I shall use you as my eyes.' To Stayt he added, 'Go forrard and take charge of the foc's'le. Be ready to cut the cable if need be.' He heard Stayt move away and felt suddenly lost without him.
He thought of the girl Keen had brought to the flagship, the look in his eyes whenever he mentioned her name. If Argonaute was called on to fight, she might still be aboard.
The pain pricked his eyes again as, like an additional torment, another memory came to him.
Called on to fight. Cheney had been aboard his ship when the decks had thundered to the roar of broadsides. Cheney.
'Ready, lads!' Hallowes was drawing his sword, his face hidden in the darkness as was his despair.
'As you bear!'
Bolitho leaned forward; he had heard the splash of oars.
'Fire!'
