worried.
He looked over at Jago, who was standing near the helmsmen, arms folded, feet well apart to accept the angle of the deck. What might he be thinking?
'Make the signal! Heave to! ' Like hearing somebody else. He measured the bearing and the range with his eye until it smarted. But he could see every detail of the sails, comfortably filling in the wind across her quarter. A few tiny figures in the lower shrouds, a flash of light from a telescope. He wiped his eye and raised the glass again. There were more men on the Spaniard's deck. Not running about or pointing at the sloop as might be expected. It was as if… The picture seemed to freeze in the glass. Past a boat tier to the poop and the wheel. Except that there was no wheel, and the raised poop appeared to be deserted.
'They're not shortenin' sail, sir.'
Adam said, 'Fire the warning shot! ' He held up one hand and sensed that Pointer had turned to watch him. 'Then we come about.' They had to know, be ready. There would be no second chance.
The crash of the foremost gun seemed muffled by the din of canvas overhead. He saw the gun's crew sponging out and ramming home another ball, like a drill, part of the routine.
'They're shortening sail, sir! ' Somebody even laughed.
Adam's fingers throbbed from the force of his grip as he steadied the glass, his feet moving without thought as the hull lifted and dipped, while the sound of thrashing canvas was like that of giant sea birds, spreading their wings in flight.
He blinked, but it was no error, or the effect of strain. The barque's poop was moving, even as he watched, folding like painted canvas, as if controlled by a single hand.
There were men in plenty now, in teams, bowed over as they hauled at invisible tackles, even as three gun ports opened below her mizzen mast and the driver boom which had first troubled the keen-eyed lookout.
Adam yelled, 'Now, Roger! Show them your teeth! '
With the helm hard over and every spare hand hauling on braces and halliards, Lotus began to swing wildly to larboard. Spray burst over the scrambling gun crews as the ports opened as one, and her broadside of eight twelve-pounders squealed into the sunlight.
'Steady she goes! West by south! '
Adam watched the other ship, now almost broadside on, near enough to mark every detail. He saw smoke fanning across the barque's ports and the spitting orange tongues from two of them, heard the smack of a ball punching through the main topsail, within feet of the fighting top where the swivel gun's crew had called out to him. A split second later he felt the sickening crash of a ball as it smashed into the lower hull. All in seconds, and yet in so short a space of time he heard the words of Celeste'?' only survivor before he, too, paid the price.
Fired into us at point-blank range, double-shot ted by the feel of it!
They had all felt it now.
Pointer was gripping the rail, his battered hat still in place, his voice strangely calm.
'As you bear, lads! On the up roll.' He glanced only briefly at two running seamen, or perhaps at the sound of pumps. 'Fire! '
Adam saw the carefully prepared broadside smash into the barque's poop, doubleshotted and with grape for good measure. Pointer's gun captains knew their work well. In small ships, you needed to.
He saw thin scarlet streaks running from the barque's scuppers, as if she and not her sailors was bleeding to death.
There was more smoke in the air now; men were yelling below decks, and there were sounds of axes, and the clank of pumps.
But at each gun nothing moved. Every twelve-pounder was loaded and run out again, each gun captain faced aft, his hand raised.
'Ready, sir! '
Adam watched the other vessel. Perhaps that carefully prepared broadside had damaged her steering; her topsails were in confusion and she was falling slightly downwind.
He could still feel the force and weight of the ball which had crashed into Lotus's hull. Like the ones which had fired into Celeste when she had been asking for medical help.
And all those other pictures which came crowding into his mind. On the African patrols when they had found another survivor, from a prize crew put aboard a slaver. The slavers had somehow overpowered the prize crew, and with the slaves still on board threw them to the sharks. Pointer had seen it, too. A sea of blood.
What had warned him this time? Fate? Or was it part of the legend he had heard sailors talk of?
He made himself lift the glass to his eye again.
He saw the splintered timbers and torn sails, some corpses sprawled where they had fallen. But the third gun was still thrust through its port, manned or not he could not tell. A big gun. Perhaps a thirty-two pounder. Even Athena did not carry such massive weapons.
Pointer was still by the rail, waiting. Perhaps he thought he had not heard him. He said, 'Their flag still flies, sir.'
He turned as his first lieutenant appeared through the companion hatch.
'We're holding it, sir! She'll live to fight again! ' He stared around at the silent gun crews.
Pointer asked sharply, 'What is the bill?'
Ellis spread his hands. 'We lost one killed, sir.' He looked at, and through, Adam as if he did not see him. 'Mr. Bellamy, sir.'
The only midshipman, who had never wanted to leave this ship.
Adam shouted, 'Broadside! '
It seemed louder than before, and the smoke less eager to clear. He gripped his hands behind his back to contain the anger and emotion. He stared at the other vessel, the poop clawed away as if by some giant.
'Their flag is down now, Roger.' Jago was beside him although he had not seen him move. 'Prepare to board. But have the guns loaded and be ready. If he attempts to trick us or resists us this time he will drown in his own sea of blood! '
Jago followed him to the main deck where the boatswain's party were once again preparing to sway out and lower boats for boarding.
He knew he had to stay close to the captain. They had shared and done far worse, but he could not recall seeing him so moved. He thought suddenly of the girl in the portrait and wondered what she would feel if she saw her man like this.
'Boats alongside, sir! '
Pointer was gazing at the starboard side gun crews. But for
Bolitho's instinct, second sight, or whatever it was, Lotus and most of these men would be dead.
And he was going across in one of the boats. Again, as if something or somebody was driving him.
He realized that Bolitho had paused with his leg over the side, and was looking up at him.
Take care, sir! '
Adam shaded his eyes. 'You will need a prize crew, Roger. They might listen to us in future! '
'Cast off! Bear off forrard! ' The boats were moving away from the side, some of the seamen peering at their ship, looking for the hole where cannon had smashed through the hull, and had killed one of their own. Others gripped their cutlasses and boarding axes and stared ahead at the unexpected enemy, ready to fight and kill if any one opposed them.
The sailing master murmured, 'Close thing, sir.'
Pointer pulled his mind together. 'We were ready for that scum.' He beckoned to a boatswain's mate, still hearing the inner voice. But I was not.
Both boats were pulling strongly so that within minutes the drifting barque seemed to tower over them like a cliff. Adam crouched beside Jago and the boat's coxswain, his sword pinned between his legs. Two of the seamen were armed with muskets which they held trained on the barque, ready for a last show of force. He found time to think it strange not to have Royal Marines in either boat, but Lotus's men were experienced in this sort of work. Over the months since the anti-slavery laws had grudgingly been accepted, they must have stopped and boarded many suspected slavers, some without result, and others which had been allowed to go free because of slackness in the wording of some regulations. Adam had heard of a case where a ship had been seized with only one slave still on board. Enough evidence, any sane person might have thought. But the Act stated any vessel carrying slaves,
