ALEXANDER KENT - TO GLORY WE STEER

Then, with a sudden rush he was through, and after a few agonising seconds, while they all waited for a shouted challenge from the deck, his eyes appeared outside the vent hole. He was scarlet in the face and his shoulder was bleeding from the rough passage.

But he was strangely determined, and Bolitho said softly, 'Take your time, boy. And no chances!'

Neale vanished, and Herrick said heavily, 'Well, at least he's out of it if the worst happens.'

Bolitho looked at him sharply. It was almost as if Herrick had read his own thoughts. But he replied calmly, 'I'll blow this ship to hell before I let it fall to the enemy, Mr. Herrickl Make no mistake about it!'

Then, in silence, he settled down to wait.

John Allday leaned against a tall slab of rock, his chest heaving from exertion as he fought to regain his breath. A few paces away, lying like a corpse with his head and shoulders in a small pool, Bryan Ferguson drank deeply, pausing every so often to give a great gasp for air.

Allday turned to look back through the tangled mass of small trees through which they had just come. There was still no sign of pursuit, but he had no doubt that the alarm was now under way.

He said, 'I've not had time to thank you, Bryan. That was a rash thing you did!'

Ferguson rolled on to his side and stared at him with glazed eyes. 'Had to do it. Had to.'

'It's your neck as well as mine now, Bryan.' Allday studied him sadly. 'But at least we're free. There's always hope when you have your freedom!'

He had been lying in his darkened cell listening to the familiar sounds of boats filling with men and pushing off from the frigate's hull. Then, as the emptied ship had fallen into silence, there had been a cry of alarm and the thud of a body falling against the door.

Ferguson had wrenched it open, his mouth slack with fear, his fingers trembling as he had unlocked the shackles and gabbled out some vague ideas of escape.

The dawn wass still a dull smudge in the sky as they had slipped quietly over the side into the cool water. Like many sailors Allday could hardly swim a stroke, but Ferguson, driven by the desperation of fear, had helped him, until choking and gasping they had both staggered on to the safety of the beach.

Hardly speaking they had run or crawled through dense brush, had climbed over fallen rocks, never pausing to either look back or listen. Now they were between two low hills, and exhaustion had pulled them both to a halt.

Allday said, `Come on, we'd better get ourselves moving again. Up this hill. We'll be safe there. You should be able to see miles from the top.'

Ferguson was still staring at him. 'You were right about Onslow. He is a bad man!' He shuddered. 'I thought he was just trying to be friendly to me. I told him things about the captain's log. About what the ship was doing!' He staggered to his feet and followed Allday slowly up the side of the hill. 'No one will believe me now. I'm as guilty as he isl'

'At least you know I didn't kill the purser!' Allday squinted up at the sun. It would soon be time to stop and hide.

'Onslow boasted about it!' Ferguson gave another shudder. `After you had been taken to the cells I overheard him talking with some of the others, Pook and Pochin. He boasted how he had killed Evans!'

Allday pulled him into a bush. 'Look!' He pointed across to a distant hillside at a slow-moving line of red dots. `The bullocks are out looking for us already.'

Ferguson gave a low cry. `I'll never get back home! I'll never see Grace again!'

Allday looked at him gravely. `Hold on, Bryan! We're not finished yet. Maybe another ship will call here one day, and we'll pretend we're shipwrecked.'

He turned to watch the distant marines as they moved away to the right. Mariness in their heavy boots and equipment were no match for this sort of game, he thought. Even on a bare Cornish hillside he could have evaded them. Here it was easier, because of the heavy tangle of scrub all around them.

He said, 'It's all right. They're over the other side now. Come on, Bryan!'

They continued up the hillside until Allday found a sheltered clump of bushes which jutted from a great fallen slide of rock. He threw himself down and stared out at the great empty waste of water.

`We'll be safe here, Bryan. When the ship puts to sea we'll build a shelter like I had outside Falmouth. Don't worry about it.'

Ferguson was still standing, his eyes wide as he peered down at his friend. 'Onslow intends to take the ship!' His mouth quivered. `He told me. He knew I couldn't do anything. He said that I was as guilty as the rest of them!'

Allday tried to grin. `You're tired!' He tried again. `Look, how can Onslow seize a frigate? His grin faded into a look cf shocked horror as the true implication dawned on him. He jumped to his feet and seized Ferguson 's arm. `Do you mean Onslow planned all of this? The fresh water, the murder, and my escape? He did not wait for a reply. The expression on the others man's face was enough.

He gave a hollow groan. `My God, Bryan! What are we going to do?'

Ferguson said weakly, `I wanted to tell you. But there was no time! They'd have killed you anyway.'

Allday nodded heavily. `I know, Bryan. I know.' He stared at the ground. `I warned them about this.' He ran his fingers through his hair. 'Mutiny! I'll have no part of it!' He looked at Ferguson with sudden determination. `We must go back and warn them.'

`It'll be too late!' Ferguson clasped his hands together. `Anyway, I couldn't go! Don't you see? I'm one of them now!' Tears began to pour down his face. 'I couldn't take the lash, John! Please, I couldn't!'

Allday turned his back to hide his face from the other man. He stared out to sea, at the hard horizon line which seemed to represent the impossibility of distance. You poor little bugger, he thought. It must have cost a lot of pluck to knock down the sentry and open the cell. Over his shoulder he said calmly, `I know, Bryan. But give me time to think things out.'.

So it was all wasted after all. The determination to take life as it came, to accept danger and hardship in order that he should one day return home, had all come to nothing. It was curious that Ferguson, the one man aboard who had the most to lose, had been the one.to spring off the disaster of mutiny.

And disaster it would be, he told himself grimly. They never gave up a search for a mutineer. No matter how long it took. He remembered seeing some of them hanging in chains at Plymouth. Rotting, eyeless remnants left to the gulls as a warning to others.

Far out on,the flat, glittering water something moved to break the calm emptiness of the horizon. Allday dropped on one knee and shaded his eyes with both hands. He blinked to clear the moisture and then looked again. Months at sea as a masthead lookout had given him the sailor's instinct to interpret more than was merely visible to the naked eye. He turned his head very slightly. There was another one. Much smaller. Probably a mile beyond the first.

Ferguson seemed to realise something was happening. `What is it?'

Allday sat down on the rock at his side and stared at him thoughtfully. `There are two frigates out yonder, Bryan. Big ones, probably Frogs by the look of 'em.' He let the words sink in and then asked quietly, `Tell me about your wife back at Falmouth. Grace, isn't that her name?'

Ferguson nodded dumbly, still not understanding.

Allday reached out and took his hand firmly in his own. `She'll not want to remember you as a mutineer, Bryan?' He saw the quick shake of the head, the unheeded tears on his sunburned cheeks. Then he continued, `Nor will she want to remember you as the man who let his ship fall to the enemy Without lifting a finger to help her.' He stood up slowly and pulled Ferguson to his feet. `Take a look at those ships, Bryan, and then tell me what to do. You saved my life. I owe you that at least!'

Ferguson stared at the dancing reflections, too blinded with tears to see beyond Allday's quiet words. 'You want me to go back with you?' He spoke in a small voice, yet unable to stop himself. 'To go back?'

Allday nodded, still keeping his eyes on Ferguson 's agonised face. 'We have to, Bryan. You can see that, can't you?'

He touched Ferguson 's arm, and after a momentary hesitation began to walk down the side of the hill. He did not have to look back to know that Ferguson was following him.

Bolitho felt the hair stirring against the nape of his neck, and stood up to face the small vent hole. After a moment he said, 'Do you feel it? The wind is returning!'

Herrick replied uneasily, 'Okes will never be back in time. And even if he is…'

Bolitho touched his lips. 'Quiet! Someone's coming!' He bent down and with a quick jerk thrust Neale's clothes out through the vent hole.

The door grated back and Pook peered in at them. He gestured with a heavy pistol. 'On deck! All of you!' His eyes were very bright, and his shirt was well stained with neat rum. Then he stared past Bolitho and shouted, 'Where's that brat gone, for Christ's sake?'

Bolitho said calmly, 'Out through the port. He swam ashore.'

Pook muttered, 'It'll do 'im no good! 'E can stay with the others to starve!'

Cursing and muttering to himself he drove the three officers on deck, where Onslow and some of his trusted men were assembled beside the wheel.

Bolitho whispered to Herrick, 'Don't provoke him. He looks too dangerous to trifle with!'

Onslow was certainly, showing signs of strain, and as Bolitho and the others reached the quarterdeck rail he snapped, 'Right then! You can get the ship under way!' He levelled his pistol at Herrick's stomach and added meaningly, 'I shall shoot him if you try and trick me!'

Bolitho glanced along the maindeck, feeling his spirits sinking. There were some twenty men staring up at him. All the ones who had been sent from the Cassius and some others he recognised as old and trusted men of the original Phalarope crew. As he had remarked to the unhappy Neale, it was just bad luck that all these men had stayed together aboard the frigate- while other, more reliable elements had been sent ashore, with the water casks. Normally it would not have mattered. He bit his lip and stared beyond the bowsprit where a small islet seemed to be swinging on its own momentum as the wind tugged at the anchored ship. Now it made the difference between life and death to all of them.

He nodded to Proby. 'Tops'ls and jib, Mr. Proby.' To Onslow he said, 'We will need more men to break out the anchor.'

Onslow showed his teeth. 'A good try, but not good enough. I will cut the cable!' He waved the pistol. 'I have enough men here for the sails!' He hardened his jaw. 'Try that sort of trick again and I will kill the lieutenant!' He cocked the pistol and pointed it again at Herrick. 'Carry on, sir!'

Bolitho felt the sun beating down on his face and tried to shut out the overwhelming sensation of defeat. There was nothing he could do. He had even put young Neale's life in danger now.

Quietly he said, 'Very well, Onslow. But I hope you live long enough to regret this.'

A man yelled from forward, 'Look! There are some men on the beach!'

Onslow swung round, his eyes glinting. 'By God, there's a boat shoving off!'

Bolitho turned to watch.as the Phalarope's jolly boat -idled clear of the sand and began to move across the water. There were only two men in it, and he guessed that the landing party must have broken into panic at the sight of the frigate preparing to sail without them. Several mutineers were already aloft, and a jibsail flapped impatiently in the rising breeze. He could see many more men further along the green ridge and the glint of metal on a drawn sword..