ALEXANDER KENT - TO GLORY WE STEER

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.'

He had seen his brother's immediate caution and had continued calmly, 'I can tell you now, Richard. For you will be unable to flake part. The French admiral, de Grasse, will join with a Spanish squadron. Together with our ships they will at tack Jamaica.' He had made a curt gesture as if to demon strate the finality of the campaign. 'I am afraid King George will have to find fresh fields to conquer elsewhere!'

Bolitho had said to his guard, 'I wish to go below.'

His brother had called after him, `You are foolish, Richard. And what is worse, you are wrong!'

As he sat in the swaying storeroom Bolitho found plenty of time to relive the bitterness and the sense of defeat.

There was a scraping of metal as the bolts were drawn from the door, and Belsey groaned. 'Comin' to gloat again! God rot their bloody souls!'

But as the lamplight flooded the storeroom and seared their eyes Bolitho could only stare with surprise. Stockdale stood blinking in the doorway, a heavy boarding axe swinging from his hand.

Bolitho struggled to his feet and then caught sight of the sentry sprawled below the swinging lantern, the back of his head smashed in like an eggshell.

Stockdale said humbly, 'I am sorry it took me so long, Captain! But I had to win their confidence.' He grinned sheepishly. `Even now I'm not sure I done as you expected.'

Bolitho could hardly speak. He gripped the man's massive arm and muttered, `You did rightly, Stockdale. Have no fear of that!' To the others he said, `Are you with me?'

Farquhar replied dazedly, `Just tell me what to do, sir!'

`Quick, Stockdale!' Bolitho stepped into the passageway and peered into the darkness beyond the lantern. `Tell me what is happening!'

The ex-prizefighter answered thickly, `They're getting worried up top, sir. No sign of an attack, an' the ship's taking the wind badly.' He thought for a moment. `Maybe we could swim for the beach, sir?' He nodded with rare excitement. `Yes, we could do it with luck!'

Bolitho shook his head. `Not yet. They will be watching like hawks. We must not think of ourselves. We must try to save the Phalarope before it is too late!'

Stockdale glanced at the corpse by his feet. `They change the guard in half an hour, sir. There's not much time!'

`I see.' Bolitho tried to stifle the excitement and urgency in his mind and think more clearly. `We cannot fight the whole crew, but with luck we might still surprise them!'

Belsey said, 'I'd like to take a few of the buggers with me!'

Bolitho drew the dirk from his breeches and held it glinting in the lamplight. 'Lead the way, Stockdale. If we can get to the forecastle there is something which we can do to provide a diversion!'

Farquhar picked up the dead guard's cutlass and murmured bleakly, `Are, you thinking of the cable, sir?'

Bolitho shot him a swift glance of approval. `The -ship is already dragging hard at her anchor. If we could cut the cable she would be in serious danger. Our men are out there somewhere, and they will soon pull clear when they see Andiron drifting towards the point!'

Belsey broke in excitedly, `The Andiron'll have to make sail, sir! Even then she might not be in time! She'll run hard aground with the wind in this quarter.'

`Begging your pardon, sir.' Stockdale looked at Bolitho sadly. 'They've already got a strong anchor party in the bows looking out for trouble!'

Bolitho smiled coldly. `I'm not surprised.' He gestured to the others. `Come, we have little time.' As they crept along the passageway he added, `Remember that nine-pounder on the forecastle, Mr. Farquhar?'

Farquhar nodded, his eyes gleaming. `Yes, sir. One of the bow-chasers!'

Bolitho paused below a narrow ladder, straining his eyes towards the hatch above. It might just work. They would all die for their efforts, but he knew that each man now understood that well enough.

He said quietly, `The gun was lashed there while the rail was being repaired from Phalarope's mauling. If it were cut loose now, in this gale, it would run amuck like a maddened bullock!'

Belsey sucked his teeth. 'My God! A nine-pounder weighs well over a ton! It'd take a bit of holding down!'

Bolitho said, 'If I cut the lashings, Stockdale, could you…’

The man grinned down at him. `Say no more, Captain!' He swung the heavy axe. `Just a few minutes is all I'd need!'

`A few minutes are all you'll get, my lad!' Bolitho eased himself up the ladder and peered through the hatch. Again the whole deck area was deserted. He stared up the next and final ladder and then said, `You can stay behind, Belsey. You can't fight with one arm.'

`Nor can I sit an' do nothin', sir!' Belsey eyed him stubbornly. `Never mind me, sir. I can still do a bit.'

Any sound made by their stealthy. footsteps was drowned by the creak of spars and the thrumming rattle of shrouds and rigging. Bolitho peered quickly at the nearest line of lashed guns and the shadowed shapes of their crews. Most of the men were lying on the deck or resting against the bulwark, and only a few were still on their feet. And they were watching outboard, their eyes only just raised above the hammock nettings.

Bolitho saw the solitary nine-pounder, its long outline jutting aft towards the maindeck. He could hear it creaking gently, as if angered by the lashings which held it tethered and impotent beside the capstan.

Bolitho brushed the sweat from his eyes and cursed the painful beating of his heart against his ribs. It was now or never. At any moment they would be seen for what they were and the gesture would have been in vain. While the others 'watched him with fixed fascination he stood up and sauntered openly towards the gun. Then he seated himself noisily on the deck and folded his arms across his chest as if trying to sleep.

Farquhar said between his teeth, `God, look at him! Surely one of those men will realise who he is?'

But the very openness of Bolitho's movements seemed to have killed any immediate interest, and while the Andiron rolled from one sickening arc to another the ship's forecastle remained quiet and undisturbed.

Belsey turned on his side by the hatch roaming and croaked, `Look! There's an officer coming!'

They watched in stricken silence as the blue and white shape of a ship's lieutenant made its way slowly forward from the maindeck towards the forecastle ladder. The officer had to pause halfway up the ladder as a heavier squall than usual struck the ship's side with a crash of spray which made the foremast vibrate like a young tree.

Then Stockdale who had turned his gaze back to Bolitho said, `He's done it!'

As the frigate's bows lifted and yawed against her anchor cable the nine pounder began to move. At first the movement was hardly noticeable, then with its small chocks squealing it thundered down the full length of the forecastle to smash with shivering force against the foot of the foremast.

Everyone was yelling and shouting at once. Some of the shouts changed to cries of fear as the gun swung malevolently as if controlled by invisible hands and then charged crazily back across the sloping deck.