chuckled. 'It might make a speedy departure difficult!'
Bolitho smiled at him. and did not see a master's mate nudge his companion by the wheel.
The next move will be theirs.'
Christie touched his hat and moved away. 'Have the gunner lay aft.'
Another madness, some would think. To fire a salute to a lot of murdering heathen.
Avery said, 'Your flag, sir.' He glanced meaningly at the mainmast truck. 'Is it wise?'
'They must see us for what we are, George. If they fire on my flag without provocation, they will know the consequences.
I am relying,' he smiled again and touched his arm, 'depending on their curiosity!'
He thought of Djafou, the harshness of the land, the cruelty of their enemy. Napoleon was beaten; if the allies did not stand together now, there would be another conflict. It could begin here.
The main topsail filled and boomed and the hull tilted over very slightly. Men scampered to braces and halliards, cupping the wind while it held.
Avery said. 'Perhaps the major-general was misinformed about the guns, sir. Over six hundred, did he say?'
Bolitho turned to the midshipman. 'Give my flag lieutenant your glass.' To Avery he said, 'You will see it was no exaggeration.' He watched Avery's profile as he trained the big signals telescope; the haze had cleared a little, and he would be able to recognise the telltale stone walls of old fortifications, and newer ones along the high ground.
It would take an army to prepare such de fences An army of slaves.
Avery said, 'A lot of shipping, sir. One of them must be the vessel they seized, Galicia.'
Bolitho turned away. Avery missed nothing, but rarely seemed to write anything down. It was a great pity about the fair Susanna, like his uncle's offer of security and a prosperous future. He had given up both. For me. For us.
Ozzard appeared on the gangway and, after a quick, incurious glance at the land, threw something over the side. He was giving up nothing. This was all he had.
Bolitho saw Halcyon's gunner speaking to his selected gun captains. One of them glanced aft, and his expression was as clear as if a voice had shouted it.
A proper salute? For them bastards!
But whoever was watching their slow approach would be waiting for it, the one gesture of peaceful intent when Halcyon's guns would be empty. When she would be at the mercy of those hidden batteries.
'Hand me the glass.' He was surprised by a sudden edge in his voice. 'Mr. Simpson, is it not?' He saw the midshipman's alarm give way to astonishment that he should know his name. 'I shall require your shoulder also!'
It was the worst part. Tricks born out of experience.
Deceit… If he was wrong, this youth could be dead within the hour, and yet he was grinning at one of his companions, the midshipman who had called the loyal toast in the wardroom.
He eased the draw of the glass very slowly and saw the outline of the citadel harden into something solid, like a mist clearing away. As marked and described on the chart, and the information on the chart was about all they knew of this place.
And there it was. A tiny patch of scarlet floating above it as if detached. The flag. He measured the distance with his eye. Half an hour, perhaps less if this breeze continued to favour them.
Christie was there again. 'The salute, Sir Richard?'
Bolitho kept his eye on the land. 'Seventeen guns, if you please.'
Christie said nothing. He did not need to. Seventeen guns: an admiral's salute. He would probably be wishing it was a full broadside instead.
Avery watched him, and thought of Catherine; she must have seen him like this when they had been together in the open boat after shipwreck. Jenour had been his flag lieutenant then, and afterwards, Bolitho had given him a command of his own, when all Jenour had really wanted was to remain with his admiral.
Am I so like poor Jenour? I watch his moods, I share his excitement, and often his pain in the aftermath of victory. And now, we are sailing towards an unknown force, a power of evil. He half-smiled. How his father, the clergyman, would have described it.
And yet I feel no fear, nor would I be anywhere else.
He saw Allday standing by the companion way, his arms folded while he looked along the deck, recognising each move, understanding every sheet and halliard, the bones of a ship as he had once described them. Briefly their eyes met, and Allday gave a slight nod. Like that very first time, when Avery had known that he was accepted by others of Bolitho's 'little crew'.
He saw Bolitho return the big telescope and say something to the midshipman. He wondered what it had been. Words which had suddenly made the lively midshipman become so serious. So proud.
Bolitho turned and looked at him, his hand touching the hilt of the old sword.
'Soon now, George.'
Someone yelped with alarm as a single shot crashed out from the land, the sound lingering long afterwards. Every glass was raised, but nobody moved, as if the whole ship were under a spell.
Then there was a yell. They'm dippin' their flag, sir!'
Bolitho gripped the old sword and stared at the land. His eye was painful, and he could not see the distant citadel. But in his mind it was very clear, like an image in a telescope.
Dipping their flag, not to him, but to His Majesty King George the Third. Perhaps they did not know that His Majesty was shut away, insane. Maybe it no longer counted for anything. He wanted to dab his eye, but knew Avery would see and become anxious.
He said, 'Begin the salute, if you please.'
Halcyon's gunner took charge himself, striding to each crew in turn. As the first shot banged out and the gun recoiled inboard on its tackles, he was already moving on to the next, repeating the couplet slowly and deliberately to time each shot.
If I wasn't a gunner I wouldn't be here. 'Number two gun, fire!'
Between shots, Bolitho said, 'Now is the time for eyes and ears, George.' To Christie he called, 'There is a guard boat yonder. Captain! Anchor when it suits you.'
Then he looked at the men who were running to their stations for shortening sail, and murmured, 'Well done.'
Allday heard and understood that, too. He was speaking to the ship.
Captain Christie lowered his telescope and said. They're sending a boat, sir.'
Bolitho walked across the quarterdeck, feeling the impact of the heat as Halcyon swung listlessly to her anchor. Close inshore now, he could see the old fortifications. You could lose an army trying to work around the town from inland, and a fleet would fare little better against the many guns facing the bay.
Allday was watching the approaching boat with obvious suspicion. It was double-banked, with two men to every oar, more like a galley than a longboat.
'Man the side!'
Avery murmured, 'It is not difficult to imagine what the marines are thinking about, sir.'
Christie said, 'There's an officer of some kind, sir.' He took another quick glance with his telescope and exclaimed, 'A white man, by God!'
Bolitho watched the oncoming galley, graceful, yet somehow sinister.
He said, 'If things go wrong, Captain Christie, you will cut your cable and put to sea. Fight your way out if you must, but do I!' He saw the immediate opposition in Christie's face. 'That is an order. You must get word to Malta.'
He moved nearer to the side and saw the oars backing smartly, holding the galley and then turning it towards the frigate's side. No barge crew could do it better.
The boatswain's mates moistened their calls on their tongues and glanced expectantly at the entry port.
Pipe!'
The squeal of calls died away just as suddenly, and Bolitho stepped forward to meet their visitor.
A white man certainly, perhaps with a mixture of other blood. His uniform was remarkably plain, its only
