He leaned over and peered down at the deck, his voice carrying above all else. The cruelty and the greed were forgotten.
'Deck there! Breakers ahead!'
9. ABANDON
BOLITHO seized Catherine's arm and said, 'That was a brave deed, Kate! But for you Stephen would have been seen, and everything lost with him!'
She stared at him, her eyes very wide, as if she too were trying to grapple with the speed of their changing circumstances; the crushing blow from the masthead lookout. Breakers ahead.
She said, 'I would kill for you.' She stared across at the place where Lincoln had fallen, his face mercifully hidden as his blood continued to run down the deck and into the scuppers.
Bolitho peered up at the masthead lookout. 'Fetch that man down!' There was so much he needed to know and do, and yet he could not leave her. He could feel the pretence through her arm, the taut muscles hardening as she fought to retain control. She said suddenly, 'Do as you must. I will be all right… no matter what.'
Bolitho spoke to Keen. 'Muster the hands. I want the vessel lightened as much as possible.' He pointed at the two boats on their small tier; each was filled to the thwarts with water to prevent their seams opening in the sun's glare. 'Empty them, and have them lowered immediately. They can be towed with the quarter-boat.' He saw Jenour wrapping a rag around one hand where he had torn it on the corroded metal of the chains in his frantic climb from the gunport. 'Stephen! All guns over the side! Either way, we'll not be needing them now.' He saw Jenour's eyes move to the swivel, his swivel, and added, 'That one too.'
A man slithered down a stay and stood awkwardly before him.
'I'm the lookout, sir.' He knuckled his forehead. 'That brig 'as put about-she'll be waitin' for us when we weather the reef.'
Bolitho said, 'Owen, isn't it?'
The seaman stared at him. 'Well… aye, Sir Richard, that be m'name!'
'Go with the other loyal men. There is much to do, and few to do it.'
Allday called, 'The master wants a word, Sir Richard!'
Bolitho stooped by the wounded man. 'What went wrong?'
'I intended to cut it as fine as prudent, Sir Richard.' Bezant's eyes rolled in pain as he stared at the swaying compass. 'But the wind's backed a piece… unusual hereabouts.'
He looked like death, Bolitho thought desperately. His normally reddened features were ashen, his breathing slow and uneven. And despite all that had happened in so short a time, he had managed to notice the shift of wind; it was rising too, flinging spray over the men who were already draining out the two boats.
Bezant was saying, 'There be one way through the reef. I done it afore in the old Plover, a year or so back.' The memory gave him sudden strength and he shouted at the prisoners and mutineers alike who were standing under guard, as shocked, it seemed, as anyone by what had happened. 'That was afore you murderin' scum were aboard! By God, I'll be there to watch you dance on air, you cowardly bastards!'
He saw Catherine and gasped, 'Beggin' yer pardon, m'lady!'
Catherine was looking at the dark blood on her gown and shuddered.
'Save your strength, Captain.' But her eyes told Bolitho how near she had been to collapse.
Bolitho saw Allday stand back from one of the hoisting tackles and gasp with pain while he massaged his chest. Not him too…
He called, 'Take over the helm, Allday.' He saw the protest. 'No arguments this time, old friend!'
Bezant dragged a telescope from the rack, and while two men held him steady he levelled it towards the distant cloud of drifting spray.
'Steer sou'-east-by-south. Close to the wind as she'll hold.'
Bolitho said, 'We must shorten sail.' He tried not to hurry the wounded man, but time was too valuable to waste. 'What say you?'
Bezant gasped and nodded gratefully as Ozzard tilted a mug of brandy against his mouth.
Then he said thickly, 'Jib an' foretops'l, driver too. With this wind, I'm not sure of anythin'!'
Bolitho saw Keen watching him, his fair hair rippling in the freshening wind. 'You heard that, Val?'
'Leave it to me.' He turned to seek out the boatswain. 'The guns are gone-boats as well.' He glanced meaningly at the first crates of gold, which had been hoisted on deck by the jubilant mutineers.
Bolitho said, 'That too.' He heard yells of protest from Tasker and shouted back at him, 'It all goes, or we'll end up on the reef!' He gestured with the pistol he had been holding since Jenour's appearance by the swivel-gun. 'One word out of you, and I'll have you run up to the foreyard, here and now! '
He turned away, sickened by what had happened, by the knowledge that he would shoot the man down himself without waiting for any hangman's halter.
He said harshly, 'Put an armed man in the hold with them. Then start hoisting the gold on deck.' He touched Keen's arm. 'If we can ride this out, Val, we can still shake off that brig and run for the mainland.'
Carrying less canvas, the Golden Plover's pace slowed considerably. But the motion was more violent, and men fell cursing as water boiled over the gunwale, or flooded amongst them to dislodge their hold.
He saw Catherine by the companion-way speaking urgently to her maid and Ozzard. He called, 'Keep away from the bulkheads-there may be some men in hiding. No risks, Kate!'
Their eyes met again; for mere seconds it was as if nobody else were near. Then she was gone.
Keen came aft, pushing his fingers through his dripping hair. 'All secured, sir. But she'll not come closer to the wind. If it dropped-well, that might be different.'
There was a piercing scream, which stopped almost instantly as if shut off by an iron door.
Then there were more shouts from the hold and one of the mutineers appeared on the coaming, his eyes wild with fear as he clawed his way in to the sunlight.
He shouted, 'I'm not waitin' to go down with the ship! I'll take me chances with…'
He got no further but fell back down the ladder, the sunlight glinting briefly on the knife that had been flung from below, and which protruded between his shoulders.
Bolitho walked to the hold and saw Britton, the boatswain, levelling a musket in case someone tried to rush the ladder.
Bolitho called, 'Don't be fools!' Even in the brisk wind he could smell the heady aroma of rum. They were mad with it. Men without hope who still saw the crated gold as a chance of heaven.
Tasker shouted, 'Don't try to bluff us! That bloody Bezant knows this reef well. He'd not run his precious ship aground to get revenge!'
Bolitho said nothing. It was becoming more futile by the minute, and when he glanced aft he saw Allday, who was clinging to the spokes with another man, give a quick shake of the head. Golden Plover was not responding; the pressure of wind in her scanty canvas and the fierce undertow near anything like the Hundred Mile Reef were too much for her.
The hatch across the hold was slammed shut, and he thought he heard wild laughter as they wedged it from below. It would be the richest coffin of all time, he thought. There was nothing else to jettison that would, or could, make a difference.
He said, 'Put that man Owen in the chains and start sounding, Val.'
He covered his right eye with his hand and stared up at the whipping masthead pendant. He almost cried out aloud. His other eye had misted over completely, and felt raw and painful with salt.
In the pitching cabin Catherine stared round at the chaos of scattered chairs and fallen books. She recognised some of Bolitho's Shakespeare and wanted to gather them up. Through the stern windows she saw the endless array of surging white horses, felt the rudder thudding violently as if to tear itself away. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes tightly against the fear. Now she was needed, needed more than ever before.
Then she looked at Sophie, who was cowering by the screen door, her naked terror barely under control.
She said, 'Help Ozzard carry those bags to the companion-way.' She waited for her words to sink in. 'No… wait a minute.' She groped in one of the bags and pulled out a clean pair of white breeches and one of Bolitho's
