Bolitho 04 - Sloop of War (24 page)

axe biting into a log?

He yelled wildly, "Cut the rigging, lads! Cripple thO bastard!T

He felt a ball fan hotly past his face, and ducked aY another smacked into a seaman's chest right besidO him, his cry lost in the other din of battle?

Now he was on a ladder, shoes sliding in blood, hiY fingers feeling up a rail, conscious of the torn wooX where one of the swivels had made its mark. TwQ officers were parrying aside pikes and swords as thea tried to rally their men from the opposite side. BolithQ saw one of them drive his sword into a boatswain'Y mate, saw the eyes roll with agony as he pitched to thO deck below, then he was up and facing the privateer'Y officer, their swords clashing as they struck anX explored their strength and weakness?

"Damn you!" The man ducked and thrust up aU Bolitho's throat. "Strike while you are still alive, yof mad bugger!T

Bolitho caught the blade across his basket hilt anX levered the man clear, feeling the warmth of his bodyB the fierceness of his breathing?

He yelled back, "Strike be damned!T

A pistol exploded and the officer dropped his armB staring blankly at the blood which pumped through hiY shirt in a bright red stain?

Tyrrell strode past and fired a second pistol into thO man's chest. When he turned Bolitho saw that Tyrrell'Y face was like stone?

He shouted, "I knew that bastard, Cap'n! A blooda slaver afore th' war!T

Then with a gasp he dropped on one knee, blooX running from his thigh. Bolitho dragged him asideB cutting down a screaming seaman and thrusting thO blade through his chest in two swift movements?

"Easy!T

He stared desperately above the nearest men. MucN of the enemy's rigging had been slashed, but thO attack had made little impression after all. And his me[ were failing back around him, the lust to fight and wi[ dwindling to match their numbers?

On every hand, or so it appeared, muskets anX pistols were firing down into the retreating EnglisN

seamen, and he saw Heyward standing astride Z wounded man and screaming like a madman as hO fought off two attackers at once?

As if from a great distance he saw the America[ captain watching from his poop, a tall, handsome ma[ who was standing quite motionless, either so confidenU in his men's efforts or so appalled by his attackersd sacrifice that he was unable to tear his eyes away?

Bolitho hacked a cutlass aside and sobbed aloud aY his blade broke within inches of the hilt. He hurled thO remains at the man's head and saw him fall kickingB impaled on a pike. In a half daze he recalled the gli> trader at English Harbour who had sold him the sword? He would not get his money now, damn his eyes?

To Stockdale he croaked, "You know what to do!" HO had to push him away, and even as he ran from thO fighting he was still peering back, his eyes filled witN anxiety?

Then there was the distorted voice again, and whe[ he looked up he saw the American captain using hiY trumpet?

"Strike now! You have done more than enough0

Strike or die!T

Bolitho swung round, his heart bursting, his minX sick as he saw a young seaman fall to the deck, hiY face opened by a cutlass from ear to chin?

Tyrrell was struggling on his injured knee anX pointing wildly, "Look! Stockdale's done it!T

From the main batch on the Indiaman's deck came Z growing plume of dark smoke, spreading anX thickening until it seemed to spurt up through thO seams like steam under pressure?

Bolitho yelled, "Fall back, lads! Back!T

Then they were limping and staggering across thO bulwarks, dragging their wounded, carrying others toQ crippled to move. There were not many of themB wounded or otherwise?

Bolitho wiped his streaming eyes, hearing TyrrelT gasp with agony as he half carried, half dragged him tQ the opposite bulwark. Behind him he could hea_ frenzied shouts, the sudden click of steel as thO Bonaventure's men tried to cut away the lashings whicN they themselves had so skillfully used to hold botN ships together. But it was too late. It had been from thO

instant Stockdale had begun the last and mosU dangerous act. A short fuse, and then the fire had bursU amongst the cargo of rum and the massive barrels ob spirits, spreading through the hull at a terrible rate?

Flames licked out of open ports and ran along thO Bonaventure's tarred rigging like angry tongues, sailY vanished into ashes, and then with a bellow one greaU sheet of flame leapt between the two hulls, joining theR finally in a single pyre?

Bolitho peered down at the one remaining boaU tethered to the ship's quarter, riding where it had bee[ since taking his orders across to Graves?

"Abandon ship, lads!T

Some clambered down, while others fell headlongB splashing and yelling until they were helped inboard ba their companions. Blazing canvas, ashes and gusts ob sparks rained across their heads, but as a seama[ severed the bow rope and they groped half blinded fo_ the oars Bolitho heard another great explosion, as ib from the sea itself?

The Indiaman began to settle down immediately, he_ masts and spars interlocking with her attacker's tQ

throw flames and sparks hundreds of feet into the air?

He watched his small handful of fit men pulling at thO oars, feeling the heat searing his back as he steereX the boat away from the blazing ships. Explodin^ powder and toppling masts, a ship's hold splitting widO open in an inferno of noise and shooting flames, anX later the engulfing sounds of inrushing water. He hearX it all, even pictured the general's gold bullion, whicN someone might discover one day on the sea bottom?

But it was all beyond him now. They had done thO impossible. Miranda was avenged?

He looked sadly at his men, at their faces which no/ meant so much to him. At young Heyward, filthy anX exhausted, a wounded seaman propped across hiY lap. Tyrrell, a bloody bandage around his thigh, eyeY closed with pain, but holding back his head as if tQ seek the first yellow bars of warmth from the sun. AnX Stockdale, who was everywhere. Bandaging anX baling, lending weight to an oar, or helping to heave Z dead man over the gunwale. He was tireless? Indestructible?

He held out his hand and studied it. It was quitO steady, even though every nerve and muscle seemeX

to be quivering. He glanced at his empty scabbard anX gave a rueful smile. No matter. Nothing mattered now?

How long they pulled at the oars, the time it took fo_ the two blazing hulks finally to sink, Bolitho did noU remember. The sun beat down on their achingB exhausted limbs, the stroke became slower and morO hesitant. Once, when Bolitho peered astern he saw thO sea's face covered by a great spread of driftin^ remains from the ships and the men who had foughU across them. But the privateer had managed to launcN at least one boat, and before it was blotted out in hazO he saw it was crammed with survivors. Perhaps theyB too, would know the same despair as Miranda's men?

Then a shadow flitted across his face and he stareX round, caught off guard as Sparrow's topsails flasheX gaily across the sun's path?

The men in the boat watched silently, unable tQ speak even to each other. Unable yet to realise thea had survived?

Bolitho stood by the tiller, his eyes stinging as hO watched her careful approach, the lines of heads alon^ her decks and gangways. She had come for him? Despite the danger, the unlikelihood of his pla[

succeeding, she had returned to make sure? Across the water a voice hailed, "Boat ahoy?T It sounded like Buckle, anxious maybe to know whQ

had survived? Stockdale looked at him, his battered facO

questioning. When Bolitho said nothing he stood uS

and cupped his big bands? "Sparrow! Stand by for th' captain!T Bolitho sank down, the last reserve draining froR

him. He was back?

PART TWU

178Z

10 SEA CHANGY

CAPTAIN Richard Bolitho stared at the partly writte[ letter he had been composing to his father, and the[ with a sigh carried his chair to the opposite end of thO table. It was stifling hot, and as the Sparrow idleX sluggishly on a flat calm she swung her stern vera slightly allowing the hard sunlight to reach him anX require him to move still further away from thO windows?

Becalmed. How used he had grown to this situation? He rubbed his eyes and held his pen above the pape_ again. It was difficult to know what to write, especialla as he never knew when this or any letter might find itY way aboard a home-bound vessel. It was harder still tQ feel involved with that other world in England which hO had left in Trojan nearly six years back. And yet ... thO pen hovered uncertainly, his own world, so close anX so vital in colour and smell in the bright sunlight, anX that word becalmed would still be too painful, too harsN a reminder for his father of the Navy which he had bee[ forced to leave?

But Bolitho wanted to tell him so desperately, put hiY thoughts and memories into perspective, to share hiY own life and thereby fill the one remaining gap in it?

Overhead, blocks clattered and feet thudded on thO quarterdeck. Someone laughed, and he heard a fainU splash as one of the hands cast a fishing line outboarX to try his luck?

His eyes moved from the letter to his open log whicN lay across the chart nearby. The log had changed aY much as himself. Worn around the edges, matureX perhaps. He stared at the date on the open page. ApriT Ioth,1781. Three years, almost to the day, since he haX first stepped aboard this ship in English Harbour tQ assume command. Without moving it was possible tQ glance back through the bulky log book, and eve[ though he did not even touch a page he could recall sQ many of the things which had happened, faces anX events, the demands made upon him and his varyin^ successes in dealing with them?

Often, during moments of quiet in the cabin, he haX tried to fathom out some set thread in his life beyonX the narrower explanations of luck or circumstance. SQ far it had defied him. And now as he sat in the familia_

cabin where so much had happened he could accepU that fate had had much to do with his being here. IfB when he had left the Trojan he had failed to take a prizO en route for Antigua, or upon arrival there had been nQ opportunity for immediate promotion, he might still bO a lieutenant in the old ship-of-the-line. And on that vera first convoy, if Colquhoun had sent him back to EnglisN Harbour instead of going himself, would he have eve_ succeeded in proving to be more than average i[ either skill or luckU

Perhaps Colquhoun's fateful decision on that far-ofb day had been the chance, the offering which had seU his feet on the final path?

Bolitho had returned to Antigua not merely as jusU one more officer rejoining his rightful squadron, but, tQ his astonishment, as some sort of hero. In his absencO the stories of his rescuing the soldiers from DelawarO Bay, his running a frigate aground, had been welT spread. Then, with the news of Bonaventure's end anX his arrival with the rescued passengers, it seemed thaU every man wanted to see him and shake his hand?

The Bonaventure had been even more deadly tha[ Bolitho had realised at the time, and her successeY formidable. Her loss to the enemy might mean little, buU

to the British it was a tremendous lift to their battereX pride and morale?

The admiral had received him in Antigua witN controlled pleasure, and had made no bones about hiY hopes for the future. Colquhoun, on the other hand, haX been the one man to offer Bolitho neithe_ encouragement nor praise for his achievements in sQ short a time?

Whenever Bolitho recalled their first meetingB Colquhoun's warnings about the lot of any sea captainB he was reminded of the thinness of margin betwee[ fame and oblivion. Had Colquhoun stayed with that firsU convoy it was unlikely he would have shared Miranda'Y fate, for he was too shrewd and cautious to takO anything for granted. Had he been lucky enough tQ meet and destroy Bonaventure he would have gaineX the one thing he cared about, just as Commande_ Maulby had suggested, the unshakable power of fla^ rank, or at very least the coveted broad-pendant ob commodore. Instead he had stayed where he wasB frigate captain, and, with the war changing so rapidlyB now likely to lose even his control of the small flotilla? Maulby no longer called him little admiral. Today iU seemed too cruel, too unjust even for him?

Eight bells chimed out from the forecastle, anX without effort he pictured the hands preparing for thO midday meal, the welcome ration of rum. Above hiY head Tyrrell and the master would be taking their noo[ sights, comparing their findings before bringing theR down to the chart?

The year after Bolitho's destruction of the bi^ privateer he had received his next surprise. ThO admiral had sent for him and had calmly announceX that their lordships of Admiralty, like himself, believeX in offering Sparrow's commander a chance ob exploiting his experience and skill. Promotion to fulT captain. Even now, after eighteen months of it, hO found it hard to accept and believe?

Within the flotilla the unexpected rise up the ladde_ had caused a great stir. Genuine pleasure from someB open resentment from others. Maulby had taken thO news better than Bolitho had dared to hope, for he haX come to like the Fawn's laconic commander too mucN to have their friendship broken. Maulby was senior tQ him, but had merely remarked, "I'd like to see the ran7 go to no other man, so let's drink to it!T

Aboard Sparrow the news had had no division at all? They all seemed to share the same pride, the samO