Hal jumped onto the lip of the emplacement, shouting for Aboli and Daniel. 'Come on! Each of you bring a match and follow me. We must get across to the island!'
Daniel was already helping Sir Francis reload the culverin, swabbing out the smoking barrel to douse the burning sparks.
'Avast that, Daniel. Leave that work to others- I need your help,' As they started off together along the shore, the fog bank that covered the Gulf drifted aside and she fired her next broadside, It had been but two minutes since the first. Her gunners were fast and well trained and they had the advantage of surprise. Again the Storm of shot swept the beach and ploughed into the forest with deadly effect.
Hal saw one of their culverin struck squarely by a lead ball. The tackle snapped and it was hurled backwards off its train, so that its muzzle pointed to the stars.
The cries of the wounded and dying swelled in the Pandemonium of despair as men deserted their posts and fled among the trees. The desultory return fire from the gun pits shrivelled until there was only an occasional bang and flash of cannon. Once the battery was silenced, the Buzzard turned his guns on the remaining huts and the clumps of bush in which the Resolution's crew had taken shelter.
Hal could hear the crew of the Gull cheering wildly as they reloaded and fired. 'The Gull and Cumbrae!' they shouted.
There were no more broadsides, but a continuous stuttering roll of thunder as each gun fired as soon as it was ready. Their muzzle flashes flickered and flared within the sulphurous white smoke bank like the flames of hell.
As he ran Hal heard his father's voice behind him, fading with distance as he tried to rally his shattered, demoralized crew. Aboli ran at his shoulder and Big Daniel was a few paces further back, losing ground to the two swifter runners.
'We will need more men to launch,' Daniel panted, 'They're heavy 'You will not find them to help you now. They're all hog drunk or running for their very lives,' Hal grunted, but even as he spoke he saw Ned Tyler speed out of the forest just ahead, leading five of his seamen. All seemed sober enough.
'Good manNed!' Hal shouted. 'But we must hurry. The Buzzard will be sending his men onto the beach as soon as he has silenced our batteries.'
They charged in a group across the shallow channel between them and the island. The tide was low so at first they staggered through the glutinous mud-flat that sucked at their feet, then plunged into the open water. They waded, swam and dragged themselves across, the thunder of the Gull's barrage spurring them onwards.
'There is only a breath of wind from the sou'-west,' Big Daniel gasped, as they staggered out, streaming water, onto the beach of the island. 'It will not be enough to serve us.'
Hal did not reply but broke off a dead branch and lit it from his slow-match. He held it high to give himself light to see the path and ran on into the forest. In minutes they had crossed the island and reached the beach on the far side. Here Hal paused and looked across at the Gull in the main channel.
The dawn was coming on apace, and the night fled before it. The light was turning grey and silvery, the lagoon gleaming softly as a sheet of polished pewter.
The Buzzard was training his guns back and forth, with the use of his anchor spring, swinging the Gull on her moorings so that he could pick out any target on the shore.
There was only the odd flash of answering fire from the gun pits on the beach, and the Buzzard responded immediately to these, swinging his ship and bringing to bear the full power of his broadside, snuffing them out with a whirlwind of grape, flying sand and falling trees.
All of Hal's party were blown by the hard run across the mud-flats and the plunge through the channel. 'No time to rest.' Hal's breath whistled in his throat. The devil ships were coveted with mounds of cut branches and they dragged them clear. Then they formed a ring round the first of these vessels, and each took a handhold.
'Together now!' Hal exhorted them, and between them they just lifted the keels of the double-hulled vessel clear of the sand. It was heavy with its cargo, faggots of dried wood drenched with pitch to make it more flammable.
They staggered down the beach with it, and dropped it into the shallows, where it wallowed and rolled in the wavelets, the square of dirty canvas on the stubby mast stirring idly in the light puffs of wind coming down from the heads. Hal took a turn of the painter around his wrist to prevent it drifting away.
'Not enough wind!' Big Daniel lamented, looking to the sky. 'For the sweet love of God, send us a breeze.'
'Keep your prayers for later.' Hal secured the vessel, and led them back at a run into the trees. They carried, shoved and dragged two more of the boats down to the water's edge.
'Still not enough wind.' Daniel looked across at the Gull. , In the short time it had taken them to launch, the morning light had strengthened, and now, as they paused for a moment to regain their breath, they saw the Buzzard's men leave their guns, and, cheering wildly, brandishing cutlass and pike, swarm down into the boats.
'Will you look at those swine! They reckon the fight's over, 'grunted Ned Tyler. 'They're going in for the looting.' Hal hesitated. Two more devil ships still lay at the edge of the forest, but to launch them would take too long. 'Then we must give them aught to change their opinion,' he said grimly, and gripped the burning match between his teeth. He waded out as deep as his armpits to where the first devil ship bobbed, just off the beach, and lobbed the slow-match onto the high pile of cordwood. It spluttered and flared, blue smoke poured from it and drifted away on the sluggish breeze as the pitch-soaked logs caught fire.
Hal grabbed the painter attached to the bows, and dragged her out into the channel. Within a dozen yards he was into deeper water and had lost the bottom. He swam F_ round to the stern, and found a purchase on it, kicked out strongly with both legs and the boat moved away.
Aboli saw what he was doing and plunged headlong into the lagoon. With a few powerful strokes he reached Hal's side. With both of them swimming it out, the boat moved faster.
With one hand on the stern Hal lifted his head clear of the water to orientate himself and saw the flotilla of small boats from the Gull heading in towards the beach. They were crowded with wildly yelling seamen, their weapons glinting in the morning light. So certain was the Buzzard of his victory that he could have left only a few men aboard to guard the ship.
Hal glanced over his shoulder and saw that both Ned and Daniel had followed his example. They had led the rest of the gang into the water and were clinging to the stems of two more craft, kicking the water to a white froth behind them as they pushed out into the channel. From all three boats rose tendrils of smoke as the flames took hold in the loads of pitch-soaked firewood.
Hal dropped back beside Aboli and set himself to work doggedly with both legs, pushing the boat ahead of him, down the channel to where the Gull lay at anchor. Then the incoming tide caught them firmly in its flood and, like a trio of crippled ducks, bore them along more swiftly.
As Hal's boat swung its bows around he had a better view of the beach. He recognized the flaming red head and beard of the Buzzard in the leading longboat heading into the attack on the encampment, and fancied that, even in the uproar, he heard peals of his laughter carrying over the water.
Then he had something else to think about for the fire in the cargo above him gained a firm hold and roared into boisterous life. The flames crackled and leapt high in columns of dense black smoke. They danced and swayed as their heat created its own draught, and the single sail filled with more determination.
'Keep her moving!' Hal panted to Aboli beside him. 'Steer her two points more to larboard.'
A gust of heat swept over him so fiercely that it seemed to suck the air from his lungs. He ducked his head beneath the surface and came up snorting, water cascading down his face from his sodden hair, but still kicking with all his strength. The Gull lay less than a cable's length dead ahead. Daniel and Ned followed close behind him, both their vessels wreathed in tarry black smoke and dark orange flame.
The air over them quivered and throbbed with the heat like a desert mirage.
'Keep her going,' Hal blurted. His legs were beginning to ache unbearably, and he spoke more to himself than to Aboli. The painter tied to the bows of the devil ship trailed back, threatening to wrap around his legs, but he kicked it away there was no time to loosen it.
He saw the first of the Gull's longboats reach the beach and Cumbrae leap ashore, swinging his claymore in flashing circles around his head. As he landed on the sand he threw back his head, uttered a blood-curdling Gaelic war-cry, then went bounding up the steep beach. As he reached the trees he looked back to make certain his men were following him. There he paused with his sword held high, and stared back across the channel at the tiny squadron of devil ships, blooming with smoke and flame and bearing down steadily upon his anchored Gull.
'Nearly there!' Hal gasped, and the waves of heat that broke over his head seemed to fry his eyeballs in their sockets. He plunged his head underwater again to cool it, and this time when he came up he saw that the Gull lay only fifty yards ahead.
Even above the crackling roar of the flames he heard the Buzzard's roar. 'Back! Back to the Gull. The bastards are sending fireships at her.' The frigate was stuffed with the booty of a long, hard privateering cruise, and her crew sent up a wild chorus of outrage as they
