Warren; could he be trusted any more than the arrogant Captain Varian?
He found Allday waiting near the weather shrouds and said,'I have been thinking…'
Allday faced him. 'You saw th' size o' that ball, Sir Richard? It's a fortress. We'd need more ships, an' even then we'd be hard put to close with the buggers.' Then he gave a great sigh and rubbed his chest, where the pain of a Spanish sword-thrust lurked as a constant reminder. 'But I sees it's no use me arguing-is it, Sir Richard?'
Bolitho eyed him fondly. 'I don't want to see men butchered to no good purpose, old friend.'
'Nor I, but…'
'And I want to go home. The two enjoined make only one course to take. And if we delay I fear that we shall lose the both.'
From the opposite side Tyacke watched them thoughtfully.
Simcox joined him and mopped his face with his red handkerchief. 'A close thing, James.'
Tyacke saw Bolitho clap his hand on Allday's thick arm, the same impetuous gesture he had used to himself. The youthful viceadmiral with the wild black hair blowing in the wind, in his soiled shirt and tar-smeared breeches, was actually laughing, until his coxswain responded with a reluctant grin.
Almost to himself Tyacke replied, 'We are not out of the woods yet, Ben.' He tried to hide his relief from his friend as the haze-shrouded headland began to swing away across the quarter. 'But they'll cheer as loud as all the rest when the call comes. They've never seen a real battle, that's why But Simcox had gone to supervise his men again, and did not hear.
5. 'Must They Die For Nothing?'
'IF YOU WOULD care to follow me, Sir Richard?' The young army captain stared at Bolitho as he strode up the sloping beach, as if he had just dropped from the moon.
Bolitho paused and glanced at the closely anchored vessels in the bay Between them and the land every sort of boat was pulling back and forth, some disgorging redcoated soldiers into the shallows to wade ashore, others making heavy weather of it. They seemed loaded down with weapons and stores so that one or two looked in some danger of capsizing.
Bolitho saw Miranda's longboat threading her way back to the schooner to await his next instructions. Tyacke would be only too glad to be out of this place, he thought.
If it was hot aboard ship it was doubly so ashore. The heat seemed to rise from the ground like a separate force, so that within minutes Bolitho's clothing was clinging to him. For the army's sake he was fully dressed in the frock coat and gold-laced hat he had collected from Themis during their brief pause to inform Warren what was happening, and to pass his orders to the other captains.
He walked behind the young officer, watching for signs of success or delays in the army's progress so far. There were plenty of soldiers in evidence, working to haul powder and shot from the beach while others marched steadfastly in squads and platoons towards the hills. A few glanced at him as they passed, but he meant nothing to them. Some of them were very bronzed, as if they had come from garrisons in the Indies; others looked like raw recruits. Weighed down as they were with packs and weapons, their coats were already darkly patched with sweat.
Allday tilted his hat over his eyes and commented, 'Bloody shambles, if you asks me, Sir Richard.'
Bolitho heard the far-off bang of light artillery-English or Dutch it was impossible to tell. It seemed impartial and without menace, but the canvas-covered corpses awaiting burial along the rough coastal track told a different story.
The captain paused and pointed at some neat ranks of tents. 'My company lines are here, Sir Richard, but the General is not present.' When Bolitho said nothing he added, 'I am sure he will be back shortly.'
Somewhere a man screamed out in agony, and Bolitho guessed there was a field hospital here, too, with the headquarters company. Progress was slow. Otherwise the army surgeons would be beyond that forbidding-looking ridge, he decided.
The captain opened a tent flap and Bolitho ducked to enter. The contrast was unnerving. The ground was covered by rugs and Bolitho imagined the challenge it must have been for the orderlies to find somewhere flat enough to lay them, and pitch this large tent so securely.
A grave-faced colonel, who had been seated in a folding campaign chair, rose to his feet and bowed his head.
'I command the Sixty-First, Sir Richard.' He took Bolitho's proffered hand and smiled. 'We knew of your presence here, but not amongst us of course! ' He looked tired and strained. 'There was no time to receive you with due honours.'
Bolitho looked up and saw a singed hole in the top of the tent.
The colonel followed his glance. 'Last evening, Sir Richard. One of their marksmen got right through our pickets. Hoping for an important victim, no doubt.' He nodded to the orderly who had appeared with a tray of glasses. 'This may quench your thirst while you are waiting for the General.'
'Are the enemy well-prepared?'
'They are, Sir Richard, and they have all the advantages.' He frowned and added disdainfully, 'But they use methods I find unsoldierly. That marksman, for instance, was not in uniform, but dressed in rags to match his surroundings. He shot two of my men before we ran him to earth. Not the kind of ethics I care for.'
Allday remarked, 'I think I sees him just now, Sir Richard, hanging from a tree.'
The colonel stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.
'What…?'
Bolitho said, 'Mr Allday is with me, Colonel.'
He watched as Allday took a tall glass of wine from the orderly and winked at him. 'Don't you stray too far, matey.' In his fist, the glass looked like a thimble.
Bolitho sipped the wine. It, like the General, travelled well.
The colonel walked to a folding table where several maps were laid out.
'The enemy falls back when pressed, Sir Richard-there seems no eagerness to stand and fight. It is a slow business all the same.' He shot Bolitho a direct glance. 'And if, as you say, we can expect no further support in men and supplies, I fear it will be months rather than weeks before we take Cape Town.'
Bolitho heard horses clattering amongst loose stones, the bark of commands and the slap of muskets from the sentries outside the tent. The horses would be glad to be on dry land again, Bolitho thought, even if nobody else was enjoying it.
The General entered and threw his hat and gloves on to a chair. He was a neat man with piercing blue eyes. A no-nonsense soldier who claimed that he asked nothing from his men that he could or would not do himself.
There were instructions; then the General suggested that the others should leave. Allday, with three glasses of wine under his belt, murmured, 'I'll be in earshot if you needs me, Sir Richard.'
As the flap fell across the entrance the General commented, 'Extraordinary fellow.'
'He's saved my life a few times, Sir David; my sanity a few times more.'
Surprisingly, some of the sternness left the General's sun-reddened face.
'Then I could use a few thousand more like him, I can tell you! ' The smile faded just as quickly 'The landings went well. Commodore Popham worked miracles, and apart from the inevitable casualties it was very satisfactory He looked at Bolitho severely 'And now I am told that I shall receive no reinforcements, that you even intend to strip the squadron of some of the frigates.'
Bolitho was reminded vividly of his friend Thomas Herrick. His eyes were that blue. Stubborn, loyal, hurt even. Was Herrick still his friend? Would he never accept his love for Catherine?
He said shortly, 'It is not merely my intention, Sir David! ' Thinking of Herrick and the gulf which had come between them had put an edge to his voice. 'It is the King's own signature on those orders, not mine.'
'I wonder who guided his hand for him?'
Bolitho replied quietly, 'I did not hear that, Sir David.'
The General gave him a wry smile. 'Hear what, Sir Richard?'
Like two duellists who had changed their minds, they moved to the maps on the table.
