right for trained gunners firing in daylight, but perhaps too much at night for excited men who were rarely drilled.
Ramage picked up the nightglass and looked forward. One of the irritations of using a nightglass was that it gave an inverted picture, and he could see the Santa Barbara sailing along upside down with the sea in place of the sky. However there was no doubt that she was under way; another fifty yards or so and she would be abreast the two forts, while another fifty yards would bring her to the open sea. And there were her boats, hauled up on the narrow strip of beach on each side of the channel. But there were no flashes along the battlements of Castillo San Antonio or El Pilar; neither the firefly-flicker of pistols and muskets nor the red lightning of cannon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rennick had selected his two parties with care. Although he was an officer short - a 36-gun frigate should have a Marine second lieutenant as well as a first lieutenant - at least the Admiral had given him the full complement of NCOS and men. Lacking a second lieutenant, he had put his sergeant in command of the second party, but he was a steady man who had the sharper of the two corporals to back him up.
Every one of the Marines had looked carefully at the hills and the forts as the Santa Barbara had sailed in: half of them had watched to larboard studying San Antonio, half to starboard had watched El Pilar. Rennick knew there was no chance of the men remembering all that they had seen; it was more important that they saw the kind of task that faced them, particularly the climb up the twisting paths, which were little more than goat tracks.
Rennick grinned to himself as he recalled the looks on the faces of the sergeant and corporals as he passed on the orders given him by Captain Ramage. They would all wear dark clothes - if necessary they were to dye or dirty duck trousers. Every man's face and hands were to be blackened - they had been lucky to find a supply of corks in the boatswain's store on board the Santa Barbara. The men were to be armed with pistols and cutlasses or pikes; they were not to carry muskets. And a few minutes before they went in to attack they were to tie narrow strips of white cloth round their foreheads to distinguish friend from foe. The blackened faces and dark clothes were to disguise them as they approached the castle; once inside it would not matter.
Now the seamen stopped rowing and the keel of the boat scraped on some coral before running up on the sand with a hiss. The grapnel dropped a few yards out held the boat's stern so that she did not broach, and Rennick gave his first low-pitched order: 'All Marines out and rendezvous at the back of the beach.'
He listened intently, but there was no crack of wood or metal hitting wood: the men were being careful with their cutlasses and pikes. That kind of noise carried a long way on a night like this. A moment later he was vaulting out of the boat, squelching through the water and then up the sharp slope of the beach.
There was the corporal acting as the marker: within a few moments the men were lined up in two ranks. 'Everyone has a head band? Pistols at half-cock?'
All Rennick could really distinguish in the dim light were eyes and the white of teeth: the men's blackened faces, arms and hands, and their dark clothes, blended with the rocks and bushes behind them.
'First rank, follow me.' With that Rennick led the way along the steep path that snaked upwards from the beach. As the Santa Barbara passed in daylight, he had inspected the path with a telescope. It was steep, it twisted and turned, but it went up towards the Castillo San Antonio, going round a crest near the top and apparently leading to a rear entrance.
As Rennick felt the muscles tighten in the backs of his legs he found himself once again worrying about the top of the path. He and Wagstaffe had agreed that the path was used very frequently and the castle was probably supplied from the beach: it would be much easier for a boat to land provisions there so that men could carry them up the path than trying to get supplies across a mile or two of steep hills. That being the case, then the path would naturally go to a back entrance. But if the castle was supplied over the hills then the path was worn by sheep and goats and might not reach the castle . . .
There would be sentries marching along the battlements, watching to seaward; that much was obvious. No matter how slack the Dons were someone up there would be keeping a lookout, however sleepy-eyed and spasmodic. But what about that back entrance? Was it the only entrance? Was there a sentry at the door? Was the door bolted at night?
He glanced back and saw that although the men were following close behind him they were hard to see: they blended in perfectly. If they had been in uniform their pipe-clayed crossbelts would have marked out every man. He looked across at El Pilar, where the sergeant's party should be well up the path. No shooting, so they had not been detected - yet.
Why would the Spaniards in San Antonio bolt the door? Why a sentry? It all depended on how they regarded San Antonio. Was it a fortress guarding Punta Reina, the headland on which it stood - in which case there would be sentries covering every direction - or was it part of the defence of the harbour entrance, its eyes and guns aimed to seaward, with no one bothering about back doors?
He paused a moment to look back along the path, which was getting steep now. He seemed to be trailing a bulky black caterpillar whose undulations were men climbing upwards, each trying to keep the ordered yard from the man in front. A hiss as a man breathed in sharply, the shrill whine of mosquitoes, the murmur of waves sucking and slapping at the beach below. And the Santa Barbara well clear of the entrance. And then suddenly Rennick saw that the beach where they had landed was indeed out of sight from San Antonio, as they had hoped, hidden by projecting ledges of rock and folds in the hills. He had forgotten to look up towards the castle once they landed on the beach, but he realized now that the Spanish sentries would have seen only the Santa Barbara sailing along the channel and out into the open sea. They might have watched her clew up her topsails, but it was unlikely that they had noticed her cast off the two boats that she had towed the length of the channel. In daylight the sentries on San Antonio would certainly have seen the sergeant's boat rowing across the channel to El Pilar; but they would not pick her out in the darkness: he could not see her on the distant beach, even though he knew where to look, because there were so many shadows made by rocks and landslides.
Rennick was beginning to feel weary. From his bird's-eye view he estimated he was more than two thirds of the way up to San Antonio. The Jocasta should be leaving the lagoon and entering the channel by now. It was hopeless trying to look at his watch while still climbing, and he passed the word for a halt. The men could have a brief rest; he could check the time and hope the sergeant across the channel was doing the same. To the minute, Captain Ramage had said of the final attack; the difference of a minute between the assaults on San Antonio and El Pilar could lose all the surprise and cost lives.
He managed to make out the hands of the watch in the faint moonlight. Eleven minutes to go. Better wait at the top than here, he thought, and started off again, followed by his men. The path was smooth, slippery with sheep and goat droppings, and soon began to level out, still with the hill to the left. Then, with startling suddenness, Rennick found the castle towering above him: the path came out from beside a sheer outcrop of rock some five yards from the western side. He ducked back and then squatted down, peering upwards across the gap at the grey walls.
It was unlikely that they would be seen. A sentry leaning over this west corner and staring downward might spot them, but the chances were about the same as being hit by a bolt of lightning. He whispered an order to the Marine behind him and waited until he saw him pass it to the next man.
He moved slowly across the gap until he was against the wall of the castle, then pulled the strip of white cloth from his pocket and tied it round his head. More Marines, all moving slowly, joined him and followed as he led the way round the castle, a sheer face of shaped stone. From here he had a fine view of El Pilar across the channel: the moon was higher now and the shadows shorter. Then he was at the corner and peering round it along the south side of San Antonio. The doorway, blast it, was halfway along the wall with no cover, and hundreds of mosquitoes seemed to be living in the cracks of the stonework, all of them with a whine that made a shrill chorus.
He watched carefully but there was no sign of movement. If there was a sentry, he would be inside the door. Mr Ramage had stressed that the attack had to begin at a certain time, but, Rennick found himself puzzling, did the attack begin here, or inside the castle?
He pulled out his watch. Four minutes to go. Here or inside the castle? He asked himself the question again and decided to risk there being a sentry down there; the one who could raise the alarm by seeing the flashes of guns at El Pilar was up on the battlements. He signalled the men to follow and crept along the wall. The darkness played tricks with distance, making the castle seem bigger than it was, and he was surprised how quickly he reached the door. It was enormous, studded with circular bolt-heads which were intended to blunt the axes of an enemy trying to cut their way in - and it was shut. He gripped the big handle, lifted it and pulled. The door moved a few inches with a spine-chilling creak and Rennick waited to see what the noise provoked. Nothing moved on the other side and he pulled it again so that the door was open just wide enough for them to slip through one at a time.
He cocked his pistol, quietly drew his cutlass, then led the way through the opening. There was a big courtyard, most of it hidden in shadow. The castle was a hollow square with a building against the north wall which was probably used as a barracks for the garrison. A smaller building a few yards beyond was most likely the officers' quarters, while another nearby would be the kitchen. To one side, stone steps led up to the top of the wall, where the guns sat, waiting.
By now all the Marines were through the door. Rennick found the corporal and gave him his orders, then took his own section of men and whispered their instructions. He looked at his watch. Two minutes to go. He hissed a warning to the men, repeated it when a minute had gone, and then counted the remaining seconds, finishing with a 'Go', when he led the rush across the square.
The corporal's section went straight to the two barrack buildings while Rennick raced to the steps. As he reached the bottom one he saw the dim outline of a man standing at the top. He knew it was hopeless to try a pistol shot in the bad light, and anyway the noise would raise the alarm quicker than a shout. The man had vanished and was shouting as Rennick rushed up the steps, all tiredness vanishing in the spasm of fear as he pictured alert men waiting to shoot him as he reached the top.
Down below there was a thudding interspersed with the sound of cutlass blades, then shouts in Spanish. Rennick reached the top of the steps and paused a moment, trying to distinguish where the sentries were. There was a flash of a musket from the western end of the wall and a shot twanged away in ricochet. The rest of the Marines streamed up the steps, but Rennick had already realized that there was only one sentry who must have bolted back from the steps to seize his musket. Now he would be gripping the empty weapon and feeling lonely and defenceless.
'Secure him! ' Rennick said loudly, and looked across at El Pilar. There was no noise, no flashes. With luck the sergeant had caught the Spanish asleep there too.
He ran down the steps followed by several of his men and found that the corporal was already beginning to line up a row of sleepy but frightened prisoners. Three Marines dragged a figure from the smaller building, a man wearing a long nightshirt and clearly the commandant. He too was forced into the line, which comprised about twenty men. Yet there had been only one man on sentry duty. It had been just on the hour when the man appeared at the top of the steps, so he was probably coming down to arouse his relief.
As Rennick thought of the commandant, the man in the long nightshirt, he realized that the castle was in his hands.
