added, 'Not much longer, my old beauty! '
On the quarterdeck with one hand loosely touching the rail, Audacity's captain watched the sky. The first hint of a new day; some one less experienced would scarcely have noticed it. In no time now they would see their heavy companion, and all caution would be tossed aside. The real game was about to begin.
He stared along the length of his ship, seeing the waiting gun crews, the sanded decks, the charges ready to be tamped home down each muzzle. Yet there was only darkness. He prided himself that he knew every scar and seam, the faces of the men who would lead, and others who would leap into a gap if those first men fell.
His first lieutenant was beside him; other figures were close by, messengers and boatswain's mates ready to pipe and carry every command to the point of need. Of strength; and it would all come from aft, from their captain.
He could hear the sailing master murmuring to one of his men. He would be missing his senior mate, Mowbray, who had been wounded in the schooner's capture. He was down in the sick bay and the surgeon had already told Munro of his attempts to quit his cot and go on deck where he belonged.
He looked up at the spiralling masthead and felt his lips go dry. He could see the maintop, the black web of shrouds and ratlines. His best lookouts were in their precarious perches, watching, waiting to be the first to sight the heavy barque.
He thought of the officer who was in charge of the Villa de Bilbao, Roger Pointer, who had been with Captain Adam Bolitho at the commodore's meeting. He wiped his face. It seemed so long ago, and yet…
'Deck there! '
Faces peered up, and Munro heard the first lieutenant say, 'Peters is first again! A bet to be settled, I think! '
There were chuckles, too.
The lookout called, 'Larboard bow, sir! '
That was all, but again Munro felt a shaft of pride. There were not many ships, large or small, where quarterdeck and forecastle maintained so close a liaison.
He felt a hand touch his elbow and said quietly, 'I see it, Philip.'
Like a pale ghost, a curling patch of mist, then stronger as a gust of wind lifted the big ensign up and clear of the gaff, and close to it the metal of a block caught the first ray of daylight.
Dawn. Almost…
'Another gun, Philip. Some may still be asleep! '
The gun captain was ready. The bang was louder, and the echo drawn out, as if feeling the land.
It would carry on the wind, and men would be running to identify the ship being chased into their sanctuary.
Pointer and his men would be on their own once Audacity was forced to withdraw. Renegades, pirates, or slavers, it made little difference when the iron began to fly.
Munro tried to empty his mind of everything but the picture of the final approach, and how it would look to San Jose 's defenders. How it must look. Audacity was fast and agile. But she was no ship of the line like Athena. He thought of the rendezvous, and his own responsibility. The big prize was strangely transformed, with the huge insignia of a crucifix which Athena's sail maker and crew had managed to make stitched to her great foresail. Even a good lookout saw only what he expected to see. It might help convince the eyes ashore that the ship being chased by a naval patrol was indeed one of their brotherhood.
But if not…
He half turned as a light exploded high in the air before drifting down like a falling star. A rocket or flare of some kind.
He wanted to clear his throat but stopped himself with effort. The light was gone just as suddenly. He saw the chart again in his mind, hidden behind that headland where the first invaders had thrown up their defenses.
'Sou' west by west, sir! '
One of the helmsmen reached up for a spoke, and Munro realized for the first time that he could see him.
'Very well. Loose t' gallants and have the guns loaded when you are ready, Philip.'
The first lieutenant looked at him, his face still in deep shadow.
'Double-shot ted sir?'
Munro saw the new midshipman, Napier, hurry past, another ensign draped over his shoulder.
He had already been in a major attack, at Algiers. Some were saying it would be the last fleet battle for all time.
Munro looked across the larboard bow and saw the prize. How could any ship so large have remained invisible until now?
He called, 'Watch your step, Mr. Napier. It will be warm work today! '
Napier paused, his dirk slapping against his thigh.
Two more shots crashed across the dark water, the flashes like orange tongues. The Villa de Bilbao was playing her part, firing back at her attacker.
He heard himself murmur, 'And you do the same, Captain.'
Some one was shouting his name and he turned to go.
Like hearing a voice, or feeling a hand on his shoulder. It made no sense. But he was not afraid.
But… He shook himself and hurried to the call, the new flag dragging at his shoulder.
In the first light, its red cross looked like blood.
Adam Bolitho climbed on to the tightly packed hammock nettings and waited for Midshipman Vincent to hand the big signals telescope up to him. Only two hours or so since they had gathered in the chart room and tried to seek out any possible flaws in today's attack. Now it was as if a vast curtain had been rolled aside, with only a dark purple line to divide sea from sky.
He half listened to the faint shouts of command, the clatter of blocks as men threw their weight on the braces to swing the yards still further and contain the wind.
With great care he held the telescope steady, his forearm resting on hammocks stowed with particular attention, creating a barrier to withstand a musket ball or deadly splinter. If you were lucky.
He waited for the ship to lean over on the new tack and saw the land spreading away on either bow, some still lost in haze or shadow, other areas keen and bright in the first sunlight. The sea, too, was shark-blue again, the depths varying in shade like fresh paint on a canvas.
He held his breath as he saw the two other ships, the barque with every sail set, changing colour even as he watched as the morning light found her and opened up her side. Almost in line and close astern, small and graceful by comparison, the frigate appeared to be touching her.
There were more flashes, the report almost lost in shipboard sounds and the hiss of spray along the weather side.
The glass moved again and he saw the low, craggy headland, and some tiny islets directly ahead, caught in Athena's mesh of rigging. There were soundings on the chart, although any experienced sailor would give that part of the bay a wide berth. But somebody had discovered this place, had taken all the risks. He blinked to clear his eye. And some had paid dearly for it, he thought.
He tried to contain his impatience while the hull plunged heavily in an offshore swell. Then he found it again: the old fortifications, and a lower stretch of land where a slipway and some storehouses were said to be located. People, too, some of whom would be waiting and watching from the headland, and the other end of the bay where the deep moorings lay.
He saw Audacity's low hull lengthening as she changed tack yet again, her gun ports a checkered line beneath her flapping canvas. He could almost hear the yards turning to refill the sails, see men scampering up the shrouds in response to more commands. All in his mind; he had heard those sounds so often that they were part of himself, his very life.
Something made him twist round to look behind him. He saw Bethune with Troubridge at his side, pointing at the land, stabbing the air with one finger to emphasize something. Perhaps his purpose was faltering, considering the aftermath if the slave ships were already gone, and the whole operation wasted. There would be enemies who would use it against him quickly enough.
He gripped the glass again. Bethune had changed since the discussion in the chart room, and was wearing a long, dark coat with a caped collar, as if he might have worn for riding in poor weather. He remembered that Tolan
