Suppose things went badly wrong? He touched the locket again and knew Loftus was watching him. Don't leave me… It seemed so wrong that Yovell, the most peaceful and un warlike person he knew, should have seen it, and pondered on the island's total lack of welcome.
In his heart he answered her. Never. What he had said when they had abandoned the Golden Plover. And had lived to tell of it.
He heard the boom of water in some cave below the cliff and knew they were closer. He gripped his sword with all his strength and whispered, I'm coming, but he spoke only to himself.
'It all seems quiet enough.' Lieutenant Urquhart looked at the others, his frown deepening. 'Well, we're here, so I suppose we shall have to search the place, though it is God's truth I know not for what! ' He glanced around for a boatswain's mate and snapped, 'Protheroe, take your party to the huts yonder. Find out what you can! ' He pointed at a young midshipman. 'You go with them, Mr. Powys, and take chargeV
Avery murmured to Allday, 'What were you saying to Sir Richard?'
Allday grinned, but his eyes were on the rocks. 'I says a lot o' things to Sir Richard.'
'About the place where you were so badly wounded.'
'Oh, when we were in Old Katie together?' He watched the little midshipman strutting away with the party of seamen. He was the one who had caused the man Jacobs to be flogged until he had eventually died under the lash. Little toad, he thought.
Then he said, 'At San Felipe, it was. Just after you were released from a French prison, I reckon.' He saw the shot strike home. Always the pain.
Surprisingly Avery gave a rueful smile. 'Even prison was better than this god-forsaken place! '
Urquhart seemed rather desperate. 'I shall go up to the monastery, if that's what they call it! '
Avery watched him. The first lieutenant was seeing all the pitfalls, and the end of it when Trevenen would vent his temper on him.
'No need, sir.' Allday eased his cutlass very slightly in his belt. 'The old fellow himself is coming down to us.'
Avery wondered if he would ever get used to Allday's humour. But there was awareness too, like a fox on the prowl when a hunter is near. They all looked up the path that led from the monastery's crumbling outer wall. It was so steep in places that here and there crude stairs had been hacked out to give access.
Avery watched the slow-moving figure in the brown robe, the hood pulled up over his head to keep out the wet, salty breeze. Each stair, like the stones of the building itself, had doubtless been cut by hand. He turned to seek out the frigate,
but she had moved or drifted around the out-thrust spur of land. To see the water so empty sent an unexpected chill up his spine.
He shook himself angrily and looked at Urquhart. It was obvious he did not know what to do.
The figure was nearer now, still moving at the same steady pace. In one hand he carried a long, polished staff on which he leaned occasionally as if to get his breath. When he drew nearer Avery could see the fine carved crucifix on the top of the staff, below which was a plain gold band. It was probably the most valuable object in this dismal hole, he thought.
Urquhart said urgently, 'He must be the abbot! You see, I was right. There's nothing to worry about! ' When Avery said nothing he insisted, 'He will demand to know what we're doing on this this sacred land! '
Allday spat in the sand but Urquhart was too agitated to notice it.
Avery said, Tell him, then. If he becomes unreasonable, we can give him some ship's stores. Can we not?'
Urquhart nodded, relieved. 'Yes, I shall.'
Allday grunted. In ten minutes Urquhart would imagine it was all his idea. He knew that Bolitho thought the first lieutenant would be a good officer. He chuckled. But not this week.
The abbot stopped on one of the last stairs and held up the staff so that the crucifix faced Urquhart and his companions. Then he shook his head firmly while he held the staff. It all took place in complete silence, but he might have been denying them entry into the monastery with a voice like thunder.
Urquhart had removed his hat and now gave a brief bow.
He said, 'I come in the name of King George of England…'
The abbot stared down at him, his eyes expressionless. Then he shook his head several times.
Urquhart tried again. 'We mean no harm. We will leave you in peace.' He turned helplessly and exclaimed, 'He speaks no English! '
Avery felt the wildness surging through him. Something he thought he had lost or learned to contain.
The others stared at him as he said quietly, 'Duncere Classem Regem Sequi.'
The abbot could only gape at him, and he added in a harsher tone, 'Nor Latin either, it would seem! ' He knew Urquhart was unable to understand, and he shouted, 'Take this man! '
A seaman seized the man's robe but he was too strong for him.
Allday pushed past them. 'Sorry, Father! ' Then he smashed his fist into the man's face and sent him reeling down the steps.
Someone yelled, There be boats comin', sir! '
Allday straightened up and allowed the imposter's hand to fall on the stones. 'See the tar, sir! If he's a cleric, I'd be the Queen of England! ' Then he seemed to realise what had been shouted and said with relief, 'Sir Richard, then. I knew it somehow! '
They all stared around as two shots cracked out, their sharp echoes repeating and ringing around the narrow landing-place as if twenty marksmen were firing.
Someone gave a shrill scream, and even as their ears cringed to that a corpse fell from the rocks overhead, still clinging to a smoking musket until he hit the ground and rolled off into the water below.
'Who was hit?' Urquhart stared round, his eyes wild.
A seaman called, 'Mr. Powys, sir! He's dead! '
Somebody else said, 'He's no bloody loss.'
'Silence! ' Urquhart was trying to assert himself.
Bolitho and the captain of marines appeared at the landing place, and a squad of scarlet coats fanned out amongst the rocks, their bayonets very bright in the sunshine.
Bolitho climbed up beside them and nodded to Allday. 'Well, old friend?'
Allday grinned, but the pain in his chest had been awakened and he had
to speak carefully.
This fellow must be one of them, Sir Richard.' He held up a pistol. 'Not quite right an' proper for a man of the cloth, eh?'
Bolitho looked at the abbot who was trying to recover his senses. Then he said, 'We've much to do here.'
Protheroe, who had been with the unpopular midshipman,
appeared on the slope, his eyes dull with shock. As a boatswain's mate he was one of those required to carry out a flogging, and yet by the navy's own code he was not blamed for what he must do. Especially under Trevenen's command.
'What is it, man?'
Protheroe wiped his mouth. 'Two women we found, sir. Raped several times is my guess, then cut about something' terrible! ' He was shaking despite everything he had seen in his service.
Bolitho glanced at the figure in the brown robe and saw his eyes move. He said calmly, 'There appear to be no trees here. Take this man to the water's edge. Captain Loftus, you will detail a firing party. At once! '
Captain Loftus looked so grim that it was likely he would shoot the man himself. As he stepped forward the imposter flung himself forward, and would have gripped Bolitho's shoes but for Allday's heavy foot across his neck.
'Down, you scum! Butchering women is that all you're good for?'
'Please! Please! ' The man's earlier composure, which had so convinced Urquhart, had vanished like smoke. 'It wasn't me! It was some of the others! '
'Strange how often it's the others! '
Avery felt his hand trembling on his sword hilt but managed to say, 'Speaks English now well enough!'
'How many of you are there here?' Bolitho turned away. He was beyond pity. The women were probably
