Command a King's Ship (35 page)

Bolitho walked to the table and moved the heavy silver inkwells into a pattern.

“The Benuas are much as they appear on our charts, sir, al- though I suspect some of the smaller channels between the islets are silted and shallow. The fortress stands high on a central islet, a rock-pile, if you like.” His fingers made a sweeping gesture down the front of one inkwell. “The seaward face of the islet is sheer, and what I first took to be reefs at its foot I now believe are fragments of cliff which have fallen away over many years of wear.”

He heard Captain Strype say gloomily, “That rules out any hope of a scaling attempt. It
is
hopeless.”

Conway glared at him and then snapped, “Continue. What about this cliff?”

Bolitho looked at him calmly. “If we attack at once, sir.” He ignored the gasps. “Before Muljadi is ready. We might nip his whole plan in the bud.”

Conway exclaimed, “Attack? When you have just finished de- stroying our hopes even of staying alive!”

“The main gun battery is on the seaward rampart, sir. Bring it down and the ships at anchor will be without immediate protec- tion.”

Conway was rubbing his chin in quick, nervous movements. “Yes, I can see that. But how?”

Jardine sneered, “An act of God maybe?”

“The schooner, sir.” Bolitho kept his gaze fixed on Conway's lined forehead, seeing all the doubts and apprehension gathering like a storm. “We could use the prevailing wind, sail her straight on to the fallen rocks at the foot of the cliff, filled to the deck beams with powder and a goodly fuse. The explosion would, I believe, bring down more of the cliff.” He hesitated, feeling the sudden tension around him. “And the battery.”

Captain Strype was staring at the inkwell as if seeing the actual explosion. “It might well work, sir! A damn fine idea!”

Jardine growled, “Hold your tongue! What sort of fool would do such a thing anyway?”

He fell back as Conway snapped, “Be still!” To Bolitho he added, “And you think this is a reasonable risk?”

“I do. The schooner would be lightly manned, and her crew could get clear in their boat once the final course was laid. A long fuse would allow them time enough.” He kept his eyes steady. “The moment the charge explodes I will force the channel in
Undine
and take the anchored frigates before they can recover. After an explo- sion like that, they will not be expecting a further intrusion.”

Puigserver nodded grimly. “Fair justice, too.”

Conway glared at him. “It is the wildest plan I have ever dis- cussed.”

Bolitho said quietly, “I must argue that point, sir.”

“What?”
Conway swung on him. “Are you questioning me again?”

“I recall a certain captain, sir. Years back, when I was a stupid midshipman. He took a fair chance or so when he considered it necessary.”

Conway reached out and gripped his wrist. “Thank you for that.” He looked away, patting his pockets as if searching for some- thing. “I'd forgotten.”

Bolitho said, “The troops will have to remain here, of course.”

He thought he saw relief on Jardine's heavy face, resentment on his aide's. Strange, he thought, that the one who appeared the weaker was the stronger after all.

He added, “If this plan fails, and we must face that possibility, it will be up to the sepoys to evacuate the settlement as best they can. But please take my word for this. No parley with Muljadi, for to him victory means only one thing. Extinction for all those who have represented his enemies throughout his entire life.” He pointed towards the window. “And once through those palisades, there will be no time left for regrets.”

Conway returned to the table, his face very composed.

“I agree.” He glanced at Jardine. “Set your men to work trans- ferring powder to the schooner, every barrel and cask from our magazine, if that is what is needed.”

He looked at Bolitho. “And who will command the schooner, have you thought of that?”

“I am not decided, sir.” He smiled gravely. “Yet.”

He turned as Raymond walked around the table, showing his face at last in the sunlight.

Raymond said, “I acted as I thought fit.”

Conway nodded, his eyes contemptuous. “If we survive this affair, you may yet share the advantages, if there are any.” His tone was like ice. “If we fail, you will probably receive the knighthood you covet so dearly.” He paused as Raymond hurried to the door. “Posthumously, of course!”

When he faced the table again Conway seemed about ten years younger.

“Now that I am decided, Bolitho, I cannot wait!”

Bolitho nodded. He could feel his muscles and bones aching as if from physical effort, and could barely realise what he had done, what he had committed himself and his ship to.

He said, “I will return aboard now, sir. I need fresh water and fruit if there is any.”

Faces flashed across his thoughts. Carwithen with his axe em- bedded in the pirate's neck. Davy's pride at being given command of the schooner. Fowlar's genuine pleasure with his temporary promo- tion. And Herrick most of all. What would he say to this pathetic, desperate plan? Smile? Shake his head? Accept that at last his cap- tain had made the one fatal mistake? For all of them.

Conway was saying, “You are a sly-boots, Bolitho, more than I ever suspected.” He made as if to reach for the new decanter but changed his mind. “If I am to lose my head, then it had better be a clear one, eh?”

Puigserver was touching one of the silver inkwells with a spatulate finger.

“When will it be,
Capitan?
”

“Early.” Bolitho watched him thoughtfully. Puigserver, too. He had been in the story from the very beginning. “Dawn attack.”

Conway nodded. “And if ever you have prayed for the wind to set fair, then do it from now on.”

Bolitho smiled. “Aye, sir. I will bear that in mind.”

He made to leave, but halted as the admiral added gruffly, “Whatever the outcome, we will have tried. Done our best.”

When he turned towards the sunlight Bolitho was shocked to see the moisture in his eyes.

“Raymond was right, of course. I'm not the man for the ap- pointment, nor do I suppose it was ever intended I should retain it once the settlement had been founded . . . ,” he hesitated, “. . . or lost. But we will show them.”

He strode to his private door and slammed it behind him.

Puigserver whistled. “The old lion awakes, eh?”

Bolitho smiled sadly. “If you have known him as I once did,
Señor.
If you had seen the people cheering themselves hoarse, with the smoke of battle still thick between decks, then you would have understood.”

“Perhaps.” Puigserver grinned broadly. “Now away with you. I think you have learned a great deal since we first met. About many things, eh?”

Bolitho walked out past a nodding servant, and then started as someone touched his sleeve. It was Viola Raymond's maid, her face screwed up with fright as she whispered, “This way, sir! Just down here!”

Bolitho followed her quickly, and then saw the pale figure by a door at the far end of the passageway.

He asked, “What is it? We should not meet like this.”

She stared at him, her eyes blazing. “You are going to get killed! He just told me!” She threw her big hat on the floor and added angrily, “And I don't care! I don't care what happens to you!” Then she threw herself against him, her voice breaking in sobs as she cried, “It's a lie! I
do
care, my darling Richard! I'll die if any- thing happens to you! I didn't mean to say those things.”

He held her chin in his hand. “Easy, Viola.” He pushed the hair from her forehead. It was hot and feverish. “I had no choice.”

Her body shook uncontrollably and she gripped his arms even tighter, oblivious to her maid, and the real possibility that someone might walk into the passage at any second.

“And no chance! No chance at all!”

Bolitho held her away and waited until she was calmer.

“I must go! And I
will
take care.” He saw her returning an- guish and said quickly, “I must not damage my new watch, now must I?”

She tried to return his smile, the tears flowing freely down her face as she said, “I would never forgive you.”

He turned and walked towards the stairway, and then stopped again as she called his name. But she did not follow him. Instead she held up one hand, as if he was already a long way off. Beyond reach.

He found Allday waiting by the beached gig and said sharply, “Back to the ship.”

Allday watched him curiously. “They're taking powder casks to the schooner, Captain.”

“Is that a question?” He glared at him but Allday's face was unmoved.

“I was just thinking. Mr. Davy's not going to be happy about this.”

Bolitho clapped his arm. “I know. And I have no excuse for taking out my temper on you.”

Allday squinted up at the timbered fort above the palisades, the white figure in one of the windows.

Under his breath he said, “I know just how it feels, Captain.”

Bolitho twisted in the sternsheets to watch the boats busying themselves alongside the schooner. It had sounded so simple, so neat. To take two anchored frigates in a confined space was better than matching gun for gun in open waters. But many would curse his name as they died, nonetheless.

He sighed as the gig gathered speed towards the frigate. Puigserver had been right. He had learned a great deal since their meeting at Santa Cruz. Mostly about himself.

“All present, sir.” Herrick seated himself beside the cabin door and waited for Bolitho to speak.

Beyond the stern windows it was very dark, but it was possible to see the yellow lanterns moving back and forth between the settlement and the surf as the business of loading the schooner continued without pause.

Bolitho looked at the faces around the cabin. Everyone was here. He let his gaze rest briefly on Midshipman Keen. Even him, although the surgeon had told him he would not be responsible for his condition. Keen looked strained, and whenever he moved it was easy to see the pain on his mouth and eyes. But he had insisted on rejoining the ship.

Mudge and Soames. Fowlar, looking slightly self-conscious at his first important conference. Davy, whose handsome features were still showing some of the dismay remaining from Bolitho's news about the schooner. Captain Bellairs, debonair and bland- faced in the gently spiralling lantern light. The purser, as mournful as ever. Armitage and Penn, like ill-matched brothers, and lastly, below the skylight, Whitmarsh, the surgeon, his face glowing like a great beetroot.

Bolitho clasped his hands behind him. An average wardroom, he thought. No better, no worse than most, yet he was about to ask more of them than would be expected from a veteran company.

“You know me well enough by now to understand that I dislike speeches. Making or listening to them.”

He saw Herrick grin, and Mudge's tiny eyes vanish on either side of the great nose.

“At the beginning of this commission there were many aboard, wardroom included, who thought my methods too hard, my ideals too high for a ship on a peacetime mission. Now all of us know that things have changed, and our experience, our training is the only thing of value we have to protect us, and more to the point, those who are depending on our ability.”

He nodded to Herrick. “Open the chart.”

As Mudge leaned forward to weigh down Herrick's chart with books and brass dividers he took another glance at their faces. Anxiety, trust? It was too early to know.

He continued, “The schooner will sail directly into the main channel, using the easterly headland for cover until the last avail- able moment. Once on course for the rocks at the foot of the cliff,” he paused to lay the dividers on the small cross, “the helm will be lashed, and the crew will take to the boat. They will be recovered later.” He made himself smile, although his heart felt strangely heavy. “After we have excised the two frigates while their people are still collecting their wits!”

Penn said, “We'll show 'em, sir!” He quailed under Mudge's withering stare.

“And
we,
” Bolitho smiled at the scarlet-faced midshipman, “driven on by Mr. Penn's enthusiasm, will move into the channel, rake both anchored ships, come about and rake 'em again.” He looked at Davy. “So tell all gun crews to look alive. The first broad- sides will be the telling ones.”

Bellairs drawled, “Bit of a chance for the schooner, I'd say, sir. All that gunpowder aboard. One heated ball from the battery, and up she goes.” He blinked under Bolitho's level stare and added, “No disrespect to the bold fellows aboard her, of course, but where would it leave
us?
”