ALEXANDER KENT - TO GLORY WE STEER

He said quietly, `Oars! Easy with those blades now! You sound like a lot of damn cattle!'

The boat rode uneasily in the inshore swell while the weary sailors fell across their oars and sucked gratefully at the damp air. The pinnace moved out of the gloom and lay close by, and then the cutter crossed to the other side and paddled nearer so that Midshipman Maynard could make himself heard.

`What shall we do, Mr. Herrick?'

`Lie here for a bit!' Herrick spoke slowly to give himself time to sort out his hazy ideas. He wished Maynard would not sound so lost and bewildered in front of his men. Things were already bad enough. He added, `Where is Mr. Parker and the jolly boat?'

Maynard shrugged, and Packwood, the boatswain's mate, called quickly from the pinnace, `We've lost sight of him long since, Mr. Herrick!'

Herrick controlled his reply with an effort. `Maybe he turned back!'

A seaman murmured, `Sunk more likely!'

Herrick made up his mind. `Come alongside! But get some fenders out!'

He waited, holding his breath as- the two boats sidled against the launch. At each creak and thud he expected to hear shouts from ashore, or the ominous rattle of musket fire. But only the wind and the hissing spray interrupted his words as Maynard and Packwood craned to hear him.

`If we pull around the point we shall be too late to make an attack.'

Maynard muttered petulantly, `We were given too far to row in my opinion. It was impossible from the start!'

Herrick snarled, `No one is asking for your opinion, so just listen to me will you?' Herrick was surprised at the savagery in his own voice but hurried on, There should be a bit of foreshore below the point, so we'll head for it now. Mr. Packwood will wait with half a crew per boat and lie as close as possible to the rocks.' He waited, feeling the tension dragging at his patience. `Understand?'

They nodded doubtfully and he continued, `Mr. Maynard will accompany me ashore with thirty men. If we scale the point we should be able to see down the other side. If the Andiron is still there we might try an attack even now, especially if she looks peaceful enough and is close to the headland. Otherwise we will head back to the picking-up area.' He had a brief picture of Vibart's scorn and rage when he returned to announce the failure of the attack. He again felt the same unreasonable anger at the mission. The admiral should have sent a heavier force. Even the Cassius would have helped just by adding her strength and availability for the final withdrawal.

Perhaps it was his own fault after all. If he had not trusted Vibart's complacency and had checked the distance from the shore more carefully. If only he had allowed for the change of wind and the savage offshore drift. He shook himself angrily. It was too late now. The present was all that counted.

But he still found time to imagine Bolitho in these circumstances. The mental picture of that impassive face helped to steady him and he said in a level voice, 'Bear off and head for the rocks. But not a sound, any of you!'

.One by one the boats moved inshore, and when almost hemmed in by dark-fanged rocks the first men leapt slipping and cursing into shallow water.

There was no point in trying to split the party into groups now, Herrick decided. It would take too long, and they had taken enough chances already. He watched the three boats move clear and then snapped, `Mr. Maynard, come with me. McIntosh will take charge down here.' He groped through his mind to remember the carefully listed names. 'Allday and Martin follow me!'

Allday seemed a capable man, and Martin, who had once earned a rare living as a Dorset poacher, was as nimble and quiet as a rabbit.

As they climbed in silence up the steeply sloping cliff Herrick again thought of Bolitho and his dashing attack on Mola Island. There he had to deal with every sort of danger, yet he had succeeded at the cost of his own life. Compared with Mola Island this escapade was nothing, he thought grimly.

And why had he made a point of suggesting an alternative to the attack? Was he perhaps already preparing to slip away to the waiting Phalarope without even attempting to complete the mission?

He stumbled and almost fell to the rocks below, but a hand seized his wrist and he heard Allday say, `You must watch this sort of cliff, sir! It feels secure, but the stones are only caked in soil. There's no real grip in them.'

Herrick stared at him. Of course, Allday had been a shepherd as well as a sailor. After Cornwall 's rocky cliffs and hills this was probably child's play to him.

As if reading his thoughts Allday murmured, 'Many's the time I've been down this sort of thing after a wandering lamb.

They both froze in silence as Martin hissed, `Sir! There's a sentry up yonder!'

Herrick stared. `Where? Are you sure, man?'

Martin nodded vehemently. `Thirty yards or so over there!. I heard his boots. There!' His eyes gleamed excitedly. 'Did you hear 'em?’

'Yes, I did.' Herrick sank down on a ledge of wet grass. A sentry up here. What was the point of it? No man could see much beyond the edge of the cliff at night-time. He said, `We'll crawl closer and take a lookl'

Holding their weapons clear of the treacherous stones they wriggled across the side of the headland, their eyes smarting from straining and watching.

Herrick said at length, `Martin, get away to the left. Allday, take the seaward side.' He watched them crawl away. `We'll push on up this slope, Mr. Maynard. I feel that something is not quite right here.'

Allday came back first, his body bent double as he ran quickly from bush to bush. `The Andiron's there right enough, sir! She's just on the other side of the point. She's in complete darkness. Not a light or a sound from her!'

Maynard muttered, `They must be damn confident!'

Allday said, `The crew could be ashore, sir.'

`Unlikely.' Herrick tried to find the cause of his uncertainty. `Their anchorage must be a good one.' He stiffened and then relaxed as. Martin slithered down the slope on his scrawny buttocks.

Martin waited to regain his breath. 'Them's soldiers up there, sir!'

`What are they doing?' Herrick forced himself to remain calm.

'Sleepin' by the looks of it, sir!' Martin picked a thorn from his bare foot. 'They'm got a sentry at each end, but the rest is just lyin' about.' He shrugged. 'Sleepin' like I said!' He sounded scornful.

Herrick asked sharply, `What did you mean, Martin, "at each end"?'

'Oh, I forgot, sir.' Martin grinned. `They've got six pieces of artillery along the side of the cliff.'

Herrick felt strangely relaxed. Not knowing the odds was always worse than actually facing them. Almost to himself he said, `Just two sentries, you say?'

Martin nodded. 'Aye, sir. An' about thirty men lyin' beside the guns.' He chuckled. 'I could'a cut their throats easily!'

Herrick said, `You may have to.' Suddenly it was quite clear what he had to do. The Andiron slept at anchor because she was well protected by firmly mounted field pieces. No doubt each gun was already loaded and ranged to cover the whole anchorage. It was not an uncommon arrangement where no proper harbour was available.

He felt suddenly cold at the thought of what would have happened if his boats had made their planned attack. The casualties and the noise would have killed any chance of success.

He said flatly, `Get to the beach, Mr. Maynard. Send every available man up here as fast as you can. Anchor the boats and let the remaining men swim ashore. Tell McIntosh and the others that I intend to rush the guns and put 'em out of action. Then we'll take to the boats and go for the Andiron as planned!'

They all watched him in silence. Then Maynard said, `And you, sir?'

Herrick patted Martin's shoulder. 'Our poacher is going to earn his keep tonight, Mr. Maynard!'

Martin pulled a knife from his belt and handed his heavy cutlass to Allday. He said cheerfully, `Easy, sir! It don't seem fair, do it?'

When Martin and Maynard had slithered back into the darkness Herrick said quietly, `Those soldiers must be silenced as they sleep. Killed or clubbed, I don't care. But they must be kept from raising the alarm!'

Allday winced as Maynard's dirk clattered on a rock below and then said, `It's them or us, isn't it, sir?’

'How is your arm, Mr. Belsey?' Bolitho heard the master's mate move somewhere in the pitch darkness and knew he had asked the question merely to break the nerve-jarring silence. With Belsey and Farquhar he had been hustled below and locked unceremoniously in a tiny unused storeroom somewhere beneath the Andiron's forecastle, and after a short attempt at conversation each man had lapsed into silence and the apprehension of his own thoughts.

Belsey said, `Fair enough, sir. But this motion is makin' me sweat!'

The ship's uneasy movement had certainly increased even during the last hour. The storeroom was below the Andiron's water-line, and the savage jarring of the anchored hull was all the more apparent. The crew had already paid out more hawse to compensate for the sudden change of wind which now swept across the once protected anchorage with mounting ferocity. `

Belsey added, 'Maybe the Phalarope will stand out to sea again, sir? Surely they'll not send boats out in this lot?'

Bolitho was glad the others could not see his face, A change of weather would make little difference to Vibart's determination to produce a victory, he thought. From the moment the signal had been flashed down the hillside to the hidden defenders he had felt a growing despair, the fretting certainty of calamity and destruction for the Phalarope and her company. And he was powerless to help a single man.

He felt a sudden pressure at his shoulders as the ship heeled in a deep swell. She was snubbing at her cable at regular intervals, now, and he could feel the deck lifting and then sliding back with each shuddering jerk.

He found himself thinking again of his brother, and wondered what he was doing at this moment. His earlier eagerness at the proposed massacre of Phalarope's boarding party must have given way a little to the anxiety for his own ship's safety. At any other time he would have made sail and headed for the more sheltered side of the island. It was strange how the unexpected change of weather had taken a part in the game. Not that it could have any final effect. It merely prolonged the misery of waiting.

Farquhar said absently, `I wish something would happen! This waiting is getting on my nerves!'

Bolitho shifted his position to stare at the brightly lit crack in the storeroom door. Occasionally a shadow blotted out the tiny sliver of light as a sentry moved his position in the narrow passageway beyond. As he rearranged his cramped limbs Bolitho felt the warm touch of steel against his leg and remembered the hidden dirk. For all the use it was now he could have left it in the cabin, he thought wearily.

It was strange that the guards had not bothered to search him. But they were so openly confident, and with such good reason, that it was only to be expected. Even his brother had found time to see him just as he was being led below to the storeroom.

Hugh Bolitho had been wearing their father's sword, as well as a brace of pistols, and seemed to have gained new life and excitement from the impending battle.

`Well, Richard. This your last chance.' He had stood easily on the swaying deck, his head on one side as he had watched his brother with something like amusement. `Just one decision, and it is yours to make!’

'I have nothing to say to you. Not now. Not ever!' Bolitho had tried not to stare at the sword. It had been like a final insult.

`Very well. After this I may see little of you. I will have much to do.' He had stared up at the angry sky. `The wind is rising, but I expect to have visitors none the less!' He had added in a harder tone, `You will have to take your chances with the French authorities. I must take Andiron to join the combined fleets.'