Alexander Kent - Midshipman Bolitho and the Avenger

Rocks to rip out a keel, angry cliffs to deny safety to even the strongest swimmer.

And now, after what he had heard, the additional horror of wreckers.

Perhaps he had been mistaken, but even as he tried to draw comfort from the thought another bang echoed against the cliffs and around the hidden cove.

A seaman whispered fiercely, `Lost 'er way most like. Mistook the Lizard for Land's End. It's 'appened afore, sir.'

Pyke grunted, `Poor devils.'

`What will we do?' Bolitho tried to see his face. `We can't just leave them to die.'

`We don't know she'll come aground. An' if she does, we can't be sure she'll sink. She might beach 'erself up at Porthleven, or drift free of danger.'

Bolitho turned away. God, Pyke does not care. All he is interested in is this job. A quick capture with the booty.

He pictured the unknown vessel. Probably carrying passengers. He might even know some of them.

He stood up. `We will go round the cove, Mr Pyke. We can stand by on the other headland. She'll. most likely be in sight very soon.'

Pyke jumped to his feet. `It's no use, I tell you!' He was almost beside himself with anger. `What's done is done. The cap'n gave us orders. We must obey'em.'

Bolitho swallowed hard, feeling them all looking at him.

`Robins, go and tell the men at the boat what we are doing. Can you find the way?'

It only needed Robins to say no, to proclaim ignorance, and it was over before it had started. He could barely recall the other men's names.

But Robins said brightly, `Aye, Sir. I knows it.' He hesitated. `What then, sir?'

Bolitho said, `Remain with them. If you sight Avenger at daybreak you must make some effort to tell my, er, the captain what we are about.'

It was done. He had disobeyed Hugh's orders, overruled Pyke and taken it on himself to look for the drifting vessel. They had nothing but their weapons, not even one of Pyke's centipedes to grapple the vessel into safer waters.

Pyke said scornfully, `Follow me then. But I want it understood. I'm dead against it.'

They started to scramble along another narrow path, each wrapped in his own thoughts.

Bolitho thought of the brig Sandpiper where he and Dancer had faced a pirate ship twice her size. This was entirely different, and he wished yet again his friend was with him.

As they rounded a great pile of broken rocks a seaman said hoarsely, `There, Sir! Lights!'

Bolitho looked, stunned even though he had been expecting it. Two lanterns, far apart and lower down the sloping side of the headland. They were moving, but only slowly, one hardly at all.

Pyke said, `Got 'em tied to ponies, I expect. That ship's master out there will think they're ridin' lights.' He spat out the words. `A safe anchorage.'

Bolitho could see it. As if it had happened. As if he were there. The ship, which seconds before had been beset with doubts and near panic. Then the sight of the two riding lights. Other vessels safely at anchor.

When in fact there was nothing but rocks, and the only hands waiting on the shore would be gripping knives and clubs.

He said, `We must get to those lights. There may still be time.'

Pyke retorted, `You must be mad! There's no doubt a bloody army o' the devils down there! What chance do we 'ave?'

Bolitho faced him, surprised at his own voice. Calm, while his whole body was shaking. `Probably none, Mr Pyke. But we have no choice either.'

As they started to descend towards the cove even the night seemed to become quieter. Holding its breath for all of them.

`How long before dawn?'

Pyke glanced at him briefly. `Too far off to ' elp us.'

Bolitho felt for his pistol and wondered if it would fire. Pyke had read his thoughts. Hoping against hope that with daylight they might see the cutter standing inshore to help them.

He thought of Hugh. What he would have done. He would certainly have had a plan.

He said quietly, `I'll need two men. We'll go for the lights, while you, Mr Pyke, can take the remaining hands to the hill and cause a diversion.'

Just like that.

Pyke stared at him. `You don't even know this beach! There's not an inch o' cover. They'll cut you down afore you've gone a pace or two!'

Bolitho waited, feeling his skin sticking to his wet shirt. He would be still colder very shortly. And quite dead.

Pyke had sensed his despair, his determination to do the impossible.

He said abruptly, 'Babbage an' Trillo will be best. They- knows these parts. They got no cause to die though.'

The one called Babbage drew his heavy cutlass and ran his thumb along the edge. The second seaman, Trillo, was small and wiry, and favoured a wicked-looking boarding axe.

They both moved away from their companions and stood beside the midshipman. They were used to obeying orders. It was senseless to protest.

No Choice

Bolitho looked at Pyke and said simply, `Thank you.'

'Huh!' Pyke beckoned to the others. `Follow me, men.' To Bolitho he added, `I'll do what I can.'

Bolitho set his hat firmly on his head, and with his hanger in one hand and the heavy pistol in the other he walked clear of the fallen rocks and on to the wet, firm sand.

He could hear the two seamen squelching along at his heels, but the sounds were almost drowned by his own heartbeats against his ribs.

Then he saw the nearest light, the shadowy outline of a tethered horse, and further along the beach another animal with a lantern tied across its back on a long spar.

It seemed impossible that such a crude ruse would deceive anybody, but from experience Bolitho knew a ship's lookouts often only saw what they wanted to see.

He could see several moving figures, briefly silhouetted against the hissing spray around the nearest rocks. His heart sank, there must be twenty or thirty of them.

The puny crackle of pistol shots echoed down into the cove, and Bolitho guessed that Pyke and his men were doing their part. He heard startled cries from the beach, the clatter of steel as someone dropped a weapon amidst the rocks.

Bolitho said, `Now, fast as we can!'

He dashed towards the horse, hacking the lantern from its spar so that it fell burning on the wet sand. The horse reared away, kicking with terror, as more shots whined overhead.

Bolitho heard his companions yelling like madmen, saw the seaman, Babbage, hack down a charging figure with his cutlass before running on to cut away the next lantern.

A voice yelled, `Shoot those buggers down!' Someone else screamed in pain as a stray ball found a mark.

Figures fanned out on every side, advancing slowly, hampered and probably confused by Pyke's pistol fire from the hillside.

One dashed forward, and Bolitho fired, seeing the man's contorted face as the ball flung him backwards on to the beach.

Others pressed in, more daring now that they realized there were only three facing them.

Bolitho locked blades with one, while Babbage, slashing and hacking with his heavy cutlass, fought two men single-handed.

Bolitho could feel his adversary's fury, but found time to hear Trillo give just one frantic cry as he was struck down by a whole group of slashing weapons.

`Damn your eyes!' The man was gasping between his teeth. `Now you die, you bloody rummager!'

Dazed, his mind and body cringing to the inevitability of death, Bolitho was shocked at his own anger. To die was one thing, but to be mistaken for a revenue man was like the final insult.

He remembered with stark clarity how his father had taught him to defend himself. Twisting his wrist with all his strength he plucked the other man's sword from his hand. As he blundered past him he pointed his hanger and then laid it across his neck and shoulder.

Then something struck the side of his head and he was on his knees, dimly aware that Babbage was trying to stand guard above him, his cutlass hissing through the air like an arrow.

But darkness was closing across his mind, and he felt his cheek grind into the wet sand as he pitched headlong, his body exposed to the nearest thrusting blades.

Soon now. He could hear horses and more shouts through the painful blur in his brain.

His last conscious thought was that he hoped his mother would not see him like this.

Bolitho opened his eyes very slowly. As he did so he groaned, the sound thrusting straight through his aching body, as if from the soles of his feet.

He struggled to remember what had happened, and as realization, like the returning pain in his skull, came flooding back, he stared round with dazed bewilderment.

He was lying on a thick fur rug in front of a roaring log fire, still wearing his soiled uniform, which in the great heat was steaming as if about to burst into flames.

Someone was kneeling behind him, and he saw a girl's scrubbed hands reaching round to support his head, which he knew was bandaged.

She murmured, `Rest easy, zur.' Over her shoulder she called, `He's awake!'

Bolitho heard a familiar, booming voice, and saw Sir. Henry Vyvyan standing above him, his one eye peering down as he said, `Awake, girl, he damn near died on us!'

He bellowed at some invisible servants and then added more calmly, `God swamp me, boy, that was a damn fool thing to do. Another second and those ruffians would have had your liver on the sand!' He handed a goblet to the girl. `Give him some of this.' He shook his head as Bolitho tried to swallow the hot drink. `What would I have told yer mother, eh??

'The others, sir?' Bolitho tried to think clearly, remembering Trillo's cry, his last sound on earth.

Vyvyan shrugged. `One dead. A damned miracle.' He sounded as if he could still not believe it. `A handful of men against those devils!'

`I thank you, sir. For saving our lives.'

'Nothin' to it, m'boy.' Vyvyan smiled crookedly, the scar across his face looking even more savage in the shadows. `I came with my men because I heard the gun. I was out with ' em anyway. The Navy isn't the only intelligence round here, y'know!'

Bolitho lay still and looked straight up at the high ceiling. He could see the girl watching him, her eyes very blue, frowning with concern.

So Vyvyan had known all about it. Hugh should have guessed. But for him they would all be dead.

He asked, `And the ship, sir?'

`Aground. But safe enough 'til mornin'. I sent your boatswain to take charge.' He tapped his big nose. `Nice bit of salvage there, I shouldn't wonder, eh?'

A door opened somewhere and a voice said harshly, `Most of 'em got away, sir. We cut down two, but the rest scattered amongst the rocks an' caves. They'll be miles away by dawn.' He chuckled. `Caught one of 'em though.'

Vyvyan sounded thoughtful. `But for the ship, and the need to "help these sailors, we might have caught the lot.' He rubbed his chin. `But still, we'll have a hangin' all the same. Show these scum the old fox is not asleep, eh?'

The door closed just as silently.

`I am sorry, sir. I feel it is all my fault.'

`Nonsense! Did yer duty. Quite right too. Only way.' He added grimly, `But I'll be. havin' a sharp word with yer brother, make no mistake on it!'

The heat of the fire, his exhaustion and the effect of something in the drink, made Bolitho fall into a deep sleep. When he awoke again it was morning, the hard wintry light streaming in through the windows of Vyvyan Manor.

Freeing himself from two thick blankets he got gingerly to his feet and stared at himself in a wall mirror. He looked more like a survivor than a victor.

He saw Vyvyan watching him from one of the doorways.

Vyvyan asked, `Ready, boy? My steward tells me that your vessel is anchored off the cove. I've been up most of the night m'self, so I know how you're feelin'.' He grinned. `But still, nothin' broken. Just a headache for a few days, eh?'