one hand, like a rider quieting his mount. 'But not run out!' He swung round and saw Jago watching him. As if he was waiting for it. 'You were offering to sway out the gig, remember? Then do it now, larboard side.'
He sensed his servant, Napier, by his side and reached out to grasp his shoulder. All the while he was watching the converging pattern of sails, like the fins of sharks closing for the kill.
'Fetch my coat and sword, David.'
'Sir?' Napier stared at him, not understanding.
He squeezed the shoulder. A boy his mother should be proud to have.
'They might think twice before firing on one of the King's captains!'
Galbraith must have heard him; the urgent rattle of drums beating to quarters had ceased, the spectators had formed into tried and tested patterns. The ship seemed suddenly still, the occasional bark of gunfire remote and unreal. I ie exclaimed, 'You will not do it, sir!' He was shaking with emotion.
There was a great chorus of shouts and groans, and Adam heard someone cry, 'She's struck! Paradox has driven aground!'
He looked past Galbraith and saw it for himself. Paradox was slewing round, her fore-topmast falling as he watched, soundless in distance but no less terrible.
'You know, Leigh, I don't think there's any choice.' Then, half to himself, 'There never was.'
When he looked again, Paradox was mastless. A wreck.
Seven Sisters would not be in time, and the other vessels in Turnbull's flotilla would he hard put to cut off the remaining slavers.
There was only Unrivalled, and she was anchored and impo tent, unable to move even into the other channel without sharing the same fate as Paradox.
'All guns loaded, sir!'
He held out his arms for Napier to assist him with his coat. Then he took the old sword, and thought again of the renegade's words. Bravado, courage, or vanity?
Cousens called, 'They're firing on Paradox's boats, sir!' He sounded sickened, outraged.
The flat, dull bangs of carronades, packed with canister and at point-blank range. Turnbull's proud gesture was in bloody rags.
He said, 'Man your capstans, Leigh. Let us see what we can do today,' and looked directly at him. 'Together.'
9. Pike In The Reeds
ADAM BOLITHO forced himself to remain motionless, his coat brushing the quarterdeck rail while he stared along Unrivalled's deck and beyond to the main channel. The other vessels were still making good use of the offshore breeze, sails barely slackening as they altered course slightly, their outlines overlapping and distorted in the harsh light. He could hear more shots, small and individual now, marksmen, he thought, shooting at anyone in the water who had survived the carronades. Paradox had swung with the wind and tide but was still fast on the sandbar. The nearest slaver, a brig, fired two guns as she drew abeam, but there was no response.
The third vessel changed tack again, showing herself for the first time since she had left the inlet. A brigantine, if he had harboured any doubts. Cristie quenched them. 'It's that bloody Alhatroz.!' And his mate's quick response. 'And not empty this time, by God!'
Adam said, 'Keep your men down and out of sight, Mr Varlo.' He wanted to move, to climb the shrouds for a better view, but he did neither. He did not need a telescope to see that the brig Seven Sisters had come about and was attempting to alter course on to a converging tack with the leading slaver. How they must he hugging themselves, the first shock of seeing Paradox, and then an anchored frigate, giving way to something like jubilation. People would yarn about it for years, and more and more slavers would be prepared to take the risk because of it.
'Ready on the capstan, Mr Galbraith. Take in the slack from aft.' He did not raise his voice. 'Impress on the gun captains to aim high, rigging and nothing below it.'
'Heave, lads! Ifemve:I'
Adam saw Lieutenant Bellairs urging more men from aft to add their weight to the capstan bars, feet and toes slipping as they matched their strength against the ship and the anchor cable.
Adam watched the land; it was moving, but so slowly. He stared at the three other vessels, spreading out now, with all the room they needed to avoid Unrivalled's challenge. Except for the unmarked channels. Each of the three masters would know all about them, and be ready to choose his escape route to the sea.
If they took no chances, they could do it. Full human cargoes would increase their risk of sharing Paradox's fate. And they had fired on a King's ship, had killed Turnbull's men in the water. Yes, every man aboard would know the penalty of failure now.
Unrivalled was swinging, but not fast enough. It had to be soon. Adam gripped his sword and pressed it against his thigh until the pain steadied him. It was now.
'Open the ports! Run out.'
He watched the leading and nearest slaver. It would surprise them if nothing else.
But they would know that Unrivalled could not move. If she weighed now, it would take an eternity to clear the treacherous anchorage and give chase. He had already told Varlo what to do; the gun captains would lay and fire without even the movement of the deck to disturb them.
He realized that Yovell was still on deck, instead of having gone to the orlop, his station when the ship was cleared for action.
The gun captains were peering aft, fists raised, eyes on the bluecoated figure by the rail, surrounded by many but totally alone.
'A prayer today, Mr Yovell, might not come amiss.' He raised his arm, and gauged the glittering arrowhead of water which separated them. There was no sound on the quarterdeck; each man was waiting, wondering. Perhaps it was not merely prize-money this time. He thought of Hastilow. Or revenge.
'As you bear!' His arm sliced down. Fire.'
The deck jerked violently, the sun-dried wood flinching to every shock as gun by gun along the ship's side each eighteenpounder hurled itself inboard to be restrained by its tackles and crew.
Many of the shots went far too high. One even splashed down alongside the mastless Paradox. Adam found a moment to wonder if Turnbull had survived, at least long enough to see what he had caused.
He heard Rist say, 'Got that bugger!' Then he seemed to realise he was beside his captain, and added, 'Nice one, sir!'
A lucky shot or a skilled aim, the result was the same. The vessel's topmast had cracked like a carrot, and the rising wind did the rest. The spars and heavy canvas splashed hard down alongside like one huge sea-anchor, dragged her round broadside-on, and Adam could see tiny ant-like figures running about the brig's deck, probably expecting the next broadside to smash directly into them.
Her sails flapped in sudden confusion, as if her master was going to attempt to wear ship, and claw back into the narrows.
Cristie said flatly, 'Aground. Hard an' bloody fast, rot him!'
The second vessel was already changing tack. Unrivalled could not fire again without raking the first one.
Adam said, 'Number one gun, larboard battery!' He saw Galbraith turn and stare at him. 'We might lose the other brig, but not Albatroz, not this time!'
Then he took a telescope from its rack and walked to the larboard side. The brigantine, even fully laden, would still draw less water than the others. That one channel, which had always been avoided by larger craft, was Albatroz's obvious choice. He thought of his uncle's words again. The unexpected…
And there she was, exactly as he had remembered. Well handled, her rig, which Partridge had first described, bracing now to carry the vessel closer inshore, where she would tack again and cross Unrivalled's bows unharmed.
Galbraith had gone forward and was standing with the gun crew, gesturing, and the gun captain was nodding, red neckerchief already tied firmly around his ears.
