would shade the damaged eye.
'You may go below, Ozzard.'
Ozzard pouted stubbornly. 'Because of those pirates?' He sounded outraged that he should hide from such rabble.
Bolitho glanced up as the midshipman yelled, 'Six vessels on starboard bow, sir!' A slight hesitation, perhaps remembering his admiral's words. 'Black Swan is all but dismasted!'
Tyacke swore softly. 'Stood no chance!' Thinking of his own Larne, how it might have been.
Bolitho snatched another glass. The mist had almost gone and the chebecks were clearly silhouetted against the dull land mass beyond. The same raked hulls he remembered, but more powerful now, with a square-rigged mainmast to give them additional power and speed; he could see the banks of oars churning at the water, the din and confusion quite silent in the lens. They were on a lee shore, and would need their long sweeps to regain sea room. One was still firing her heavy cannon, and Bolitho watched, his heart cold as more wreckage exploded from the helpless brig.
He said, 'Chain shot, Captain Tyacke.' He saw him nod, could sense his anguish as he urged his ship through the water.
'Get the royals on her, Mr. Kellett! Put more hands aloft!'
Tyacke must have been right about Black Swan's young commander. Using the darkness to break free for a moment from the flagship's apron strings, to see and act for himself. It was common enough. I did it myself in Sparrow, a lifetime ago. He lowered the glass as more smoke and sparks burst from the embattled brig. Sackville was paying for it now. But here and there a gun still fired, and splashes fell amongst the chebecks, when before they had been unable to bear.
He felt the sudden fury rising inside him. Captain Martinez must have been well aware of these Algerine pirates and what they were doing. Like the two frigates they had seen from the citadel; they knew. But, for him, it was like being in the dark.
Tyacke said, 'I can open fire in half an hour, sir. Extreme range, but any longer and I think we'll lose them.'
'Very well, James. If we cannot take Black Swan in tow, we'll lift off her people in our boats.' He glanced aft, and saw them still towing astern.
Kellett shouted, Two of the chebecks are coming for us, sir,' incredulous that such frail-looking craft would dare to challenge a powerful two-decker.
There was a dull report, and then a loud slap as a ball punched a brown-rimmed hole in the foretopsail.
Bolitho said quietly, They can still bite, Mr. Kellett.'
'Stand by to alter course to larboard!' Tyacke sounded very calm, totally absorbed. 'Alter course three points. That should do it.' He looked at Kellett. 'Pass the word to the starboard battery, and see that the lower gundeck understands what we are about!'
The helmsmen leaned back on their spokes and watched the driver flapping slightly, spilling wind while Frobisher answered the rudder.
'East-south-east, sir! Steady she goes!'
The two chebecks changed bearing as Frobisher edged around, every gun on the starboard side run out and ready. To most of Frobisher's men, it would seem sheer madness to challenge a ship of seventy-four guns, and some of the crews were leaning through the open ports to jeer.
But the chebecks were moving faster now, and were using their square and lateen rigged sails to stand closer into the wind than any other vessel.
Tyacke had realised the danger; perhaps he had faced it before, when dealing with Arab slavers. If they could work around Frobisher and attack her from astern, any lucky shot could leave her rudderless.
He shouted, 'Full elevation, Mr. Kellett! We can't wait any longer!'
His eyes found Bolitho across the crouching crews. He could have spoken it aloud. We dare not.
As if to give an edge to his words, another ball slammed into the lower hull. Through the telescope Bolitho saw several robed figures leaping up and down on the nearest chebeck's ram like beak head in what appeared to be a wild dance, beyond fear and beyond doubt. There was silence on the gundeck now, and only a handspike moving here and there to adjust the elevation or the training of each weapon.
'A.v you bear!' The pause seemed endless, each gun captain bent behind his port, trigger-line taut, his crew waiting to sponge and reload with the chain shot, hated almost as much by those who used it as by those who were its target.
The two chebecks were almost bows-on, and another flash of gunfire came from one of them, the ball smashing through the hammocks in the nettings and hurling two seamen to the deck, their blood like tar on the pale planking.
'Fire!'
Even the sound of the broadside was different, and as each gun threw itself inboard on its tackles it was possible to hear the chain shot, moaning and screaming like the fury of a hurricane. Bolitho imagined he could see its passage over the water, the sea's face torn into sharp fins as the whirling shot blasted above it.
The nearest chebeck seemed to stagger, as if it had struck a reef. The brightly-coloured sails were ripped away in the wind, spars, bulwarks, and men were smashed down in one bloody tangle. But a few figures still leapt about by the big cannon, and even when the chebeck began to heel over they were still there, waving their weapons and screaming defiance at their destroyer.
Tyacke lowered his glass. The others are coming about, sir! They intend to attack from the opposite side!' He gestured to Kellett. 'Larboard battery, run out. Those bastards are closely bunched. We'll give them a tune to dance to!'
But Bolitho was watching the first chebeck; somehow it had survived the broadside, and if anything had increased speed, even as her consort was torn apart.
Avery cleared his throat. 'Straight for us, sir! It's madness!'
Bolitho touched the old sword at his hip; he had not recalled Allday clipping it into place.
'They don't think so, George.'
'Fire!' The hull shook violently as the two larboard gun decks fired almost simultaneously. The range was down to half a mile. Not what British sailors had become used to, with an enemy hard alongside, and ships pounding one another into submission until one of the flags was cut down.
A single chebeck had survived the devastating broadside, and, like the first, showed no intention of retreating, or pausing to rescue the survivors who floundered amongst the flotsam and the drifting carnage.
'Marines, stand too.'
Tyacke turned toward Bolitho, his scarred face strangely calm. 'No time to reload, sir.' He drew his sword, and then raised his voice, so that men who were snatching up cutlasses and boarding axes faltered and stared at him. 'They intend to board us, lads! If one man, just one man, can get below, it will bring disaster!' He saw the uncertainty, and the doubt, especially on the more seasoned faces. This will be their last fight. Let it not be yours.' He looked at the dark blood where the two wounded seamen had been dragged away. 'So stand together!'
The marines were already crouching at the nettings, muskets trained, bayonets like ice in the sunlight. A seaman stood in the shrouds and took aim with his musket. Then he fell, his mouth wide in a final cry as he hit the water.
Frobisher's seamen abandoned their guns and clambered up to repel boarders.
Bolitho saw it all with an immense detachment, as if he were someone else, an onlooker, untouched by the sudden bang of muskets, and a deep baying chorus as the first chebeck surged alongside, sweeps splintering in the impact, men falling and yelling as the marines fired down amongst them at a few yards' range. They had no chance, but, as that onlooker, Bolitho felt no surprise when figures swarmed up and over the gangway, hacking with their curved swords, some still firing muskets and pistols while they clung to the chains and then the shrouds, driven onward by something even the stabbing bayonets could not repulse.
Avery drew his sword, and Allday moved closer to Bolitho, his cutlass resting on his shoulder, his eyes on the surging, swaying mass. But the squads of scarlet-coated marines were gaining the upper hand, their boots stamping in unison as, with bayonets parrying and pointing, they formed a barrier between the Algerines and the quarterdeck.
One marine slipped on the bloody deck and lost his balance. As though it were a scene in a nightmare, Bolitho
