The snow swirled around them as they fumbled their way up a winding, treacherous pathway. Once, Bolitho paused to give a seaman his hand on a slippery piece of the track and saw the sea reaching out far below him. Impenetrable black lined with broken crests of incoming rollers.
He thought of his mother. It was unreal to know that she was only twelve miles or so away from where he was standing. But there was a world of difference between a straight bird's flight and the Avenger's meandering track to this particular point.
Pyke was tireless, and his long, thin legs were taking him up the path as if they did it every single day.
Bolitho tried to ignore the cold and the blinding. sleet. It was like walking into oblivion.
He collided with Pyke's back as the boatswain hissed, `Still! Th' cottage is up 'ere, somewhere.'
Bolitho fingered his sheathed hanger and strained his ears, expecting to hear something.
Pyke nodded. `This way.' He hurried on again, the track levelling off as the little group of men left the sea behind them.
The cottage loomed out of the sleet like a pale rock. It was little more than the size of a large room, Bolitho thought, with very low walls, some kind of thatched roof and small, sightless windows.
Who would want to live here? he wondered. It must be quite a walk to the nearest hamlet or village.
Pyke was peering at the little cottage with professional interest. To Bolitho he said, `Man's name is Portlock. Bit of everything 'e is. Poacher, crimp for the press gangs, 'e can turn 'is 'and to most trades.' He laughed shortly. "Ow 'e's escaped the noose all these years I'll not know.' He sighed. `Robins, go 'alf a cable along the track and watch out. Coote, round the back. There's no door, but you never knows.' He looked at Bolitho. `Better if you knocks the door.'
`But I thought we were supposed to be quiet about it?'
`Up to a point. We've come this far safe an'.sound.' He approached the cottage calmly. `But if we are bein' watched, Mr Bolitho, we got to make it look good, or Mister bloody Portlock will soon be gutted like a fish!'
Bolitho nodded. He was learning.
Then he drew his curved hanger and after a fur
ther hesitation he banged it sharply on the door. For a moment longer nothing happened. Just the
patter of sleet across the thatch and their wet clothing,
the irregular breathing of the seamen.
Then a voice called, `W-who be it at this hour?' Bolitho swallowed hard. He had been expecting a
gruff voice to match Pyke's description. But it was a
No Choice
female.Young by the sound of her, and frightened too.
He heard the rustle of expectancy from the sailors and said firmly, `Open the door, ma'am. In the King's name!'
Slowly and reluctantly the door was pulled back, a shuttered lantern barely making more than a soft orange glow across their feet.
Pyke pushed past impatiently and said, `One of you stay outside.' He snatched the lantern and fiddled with it, adding, `Like a bloody tomb!'
Bolitho held his breath as the light spread out from the lantern and laid the cottage bare.
Even in the poor light he could see it was filthy. Old casks and boxes littered the floor, while pieces of flotsam and driftwood were piled against the walls and around the dying fire like a barricade.
Bolitho looked at the girl who had opened the door. She was dressed in little more than rags, and her feet, despite the cold earth floor, were bare. He felt sick. She was about Nancy 's age, he thought.
The man, whom he guessed was Portlock, was standing near the rear wall. He was exactly as Bolitho had imagined. Brutal, coarse-featured, a man who would do anything for money.
He exclaimed thickly, 'Oi done nothin'! What right be yours to come a-burstin' in 'ere?'
When nobody answered he became braver and seemingly larger.
He shouted, `An' what sort o' officer are you?'
He glared at Bolitho, his eyes filled with such hatred and evil that he could almost feel the man's strength.
'Oi'll not take such from no boy!'
Pyke crossed the room like a shadow. The first blow brought Portlock gasping to his knees, the second knocked him on to his side, a thread of scarlet running from his chin.
Pyke was not even out of breath. `There now. We understand each other, eh?' He stood back, balanced on his toes, as Portlock rose groaning from the floor. `In future you will treat a King's officer with respect, no matter what age 'e's at, see?'
Bolitho felt that things were getting beyond him. `You know why we are here.' He saw the eyes watching him, changing from fury to servility in seconds…
'Oi 'ad to be certain, young sir.'
Bolitho turned away, angry and sickened. `Oh, ask him, for God's sake.'
He looked down as a hand touched his arm. It was the girl, feeling his sodden coat, crooning to herself like a mother to a child.
A seaman said harshly, `Stand away, girl!' To Bolitho he added vehemently, `I seen that look afore, sir. When they strips the clothes off the poor devils on the gibbet!'
Pyke said smoothly, `Or off those unlucky enough to be shipwrecked, eh?'
Portlock said, `Oi don't know nothin' about that, sirP
'We shall see.' Pyke regarded the man coldly. `Tell me, is the cargo still there?'
Portlock nodded, his gaze on the boatswain like a stricken rabbit. `Aye.'
No Choice
`Good. And when will they come for it?' His tone sharpened. `No lies now.'
`Tomorrow mornin'. On th' ebb.'
Pyke looked at Bolitho. `I believe him. At low tide it's easier to get the cargo 'ooked.' He grimaced. `Also, it keeps the revenue boats in deeper water.'
Bolitho said, `We had better get the men together.'
But Pyke was still watching the other man. Eventually he said, `You will stay 'ere.'
Portlock protested, `But me money! I was promised…'
`Damn your money!' Bolitho could not stop himself even though he knew Pyke was looking at him with something like amusement. `If you betray us your fate will be as certain as that meted out by those you are b.traying now!'
He looked at the girl, seeing the bruise -on her cheek, the cold sores on her mouth. But when he reached out to comfort her she recoiled, and would have spat at him but for a burly seaman's intervention.
Pyke walked out of the cottage and mopped his face. `Save yer sympathy, Mr Bolitho. Scum breeds on scum.'
Bolitho fell in step beside him. Broadsides and towering pyramids of canvas in a ship of the line seemed even further away now. This was squalor at its lowest, where even the smallest decency was regarded as weakness.
He heard himself say, `Let us be about it then. I want no more of this place.'
The sleety snow swirled down to greet them, and when he glanced back Bolitho saw that the cottage had disappeared.
`This be as good a place to wait as any.' Pyke rubbed his hands together and then blew on them. It was the first time he had shown any discomfort.
Bolitho felt his shoes sinking into slush and halffrozen grass, and tried not to think of Mrs Tremayne's hot soup or one of her bedtime possets. Only this was real now. For over two hours they had wended their way along the cliffs, conscious of the wind as it tried to push them into some unknown darkness, of the wretched cold, of their complete dependence on Pyke.
Pyke said, `The cove is yonder. Not much to look at, but 'tis well sheltered, an' some big rocks 'ide the entrance from all but the nosiest. At low water it'll be firm an' shelvin'.' He nodded, his mind made up. `That's when it will be. Or another day.'
One of the seamen groaned, and the boatswain snarled, `What d'you expect? A warm 'ammock and a gallon o' beer?'
Bolitho steeled himself and sat down on a hummock of earth. On either side his small party of seamen, seven in all, arranged themselves as best they could. Three more with the jolly boat somewhere behind them. It was not much of a force if things went wrong. On the other hand, these were all professional seamen. Hard, disciplined, ready for a fight.
Pyke took out a bottle from his coat and passed it to Bolitho. `Brandy.' He shook with a silent laugh.
'Yer brother took it off a smuggler a while back.'
Bolitho swallowed and held his breath. It was like fire, but found just the right place.
Pyke offered, `You can pass it along. We've quite a wait yet.'
Bolitho heard the bottle going from hand to hand, the grunts of approval with each swallow.
He forgot the discomfort instantly as he exclaimed, `I heard a shot!'
– Pyke snatched the bottle and thrusting it into his coat said uneasily, `Aye. A small piece.'' He blinked into the darkness. `A vessel. Out there somewheres. Must be in distress.'
Bolitho chilled even more. Wrecks dotted this shoreline in plenty. Ships from the Caribbean, from the Mediterranean, everywhere. All those leagues of ocean, and then on the last part of the voyage home, Cornwall.
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.
5. Bait
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?'
Bolitho put on his coat and hat. He noticed that both had been cleaned, and someone had mended a rent in one of the sleeves where a blade hash iuissed his arm by less than an inch.
It was a cold, bright morning, with the snow changed to slush and the sky without a trace of cloud. Had the night been like this the ship would have seen the danger and the smugglers would have
picked up their cargo from the cove.
If… if… if… It was too late now.
Vyvyan's coach dropped him on the narrow coast
road above the headland, and to his astonishment he
saw Dancer and some seamen waiting for him, and
far below, a boat drawn up on the beach.
How different it looked in daylight. He almost
expected to see some corpses, but the beach was
silky smooth, and beyond the cove the anchored Avenger tugged at her cable with barely a roll.
`Dick! Thank God you're safe!' Dancer ran to meet him and gripped his arm. `You look terrible!'
Bolitho gave a painful smile. `Thanks.'
Together they walked down that same steep path, and Bolitho saw several burly looking men examining the two lanterns and some discarded weapons. Excisemen, or merely Vyvyan's retainers it was hard to say.
Dancer said, `The captain sent us to get you, Dick.'
`How is his temper?'
`Surprisingly good. I think the vessel you warned away from the rocks had a lot to do with it. She's beached a mile or so from here. Your brother, er, induced her people to come off, then he put a prize crew aboard. I think her master was so glad to save his skin he forgot the matter of prize money!'
By the boat Bolitho saw some seamen replacing Pyke's centipedes in the sternsheets.
Dancer explained, `We made a drag along the seabed but found nothing. They must have come in the
night after Vyvyan's men had driven away the wreckers.'
Avenger's other boat was already alongside when Bolitho returned on board. The man he had chosen to warn the jolly boat had done well, he thought. Poor Trillo had been their one loss.
Hugh was watching him as he climbed up over the side, hands on hips, hat at the same rakish angle.
`Quite the little fire-brand, aren't you?' He strode across the broad deck and gripped his hand. `Young idiot. But I guessed you'd disobey my orders as soon as I heard that distress cannon. I had a prize crew aboard before they could say knife.' He smiled. `Nice little Dutch brig bound for Cork. Spirits and tobacco. Fetch a good price.'
`Sir Henry said the wreckers got away. All but one.'
`Wreckers, smugglers, I believe they're one and the same. Pyke-thinks he may have wounded a few with his pistol shots, so they may turn up somewhere. No Cornish jury will ever convict a smuggler, but a wrecker is something else.'
Bolitho faced his brother. `The loss of the smugglers' cargo was my fault. But I couldn't help myself. A few kegs of brandy against the value of a vessel and her people made me act as I did.'
Hugh nodded gravely. `As I knew it would. But brandy? I think not. My men found some oiled wrapping hidden away in one of the caves while they were looking for clues. That drop was not for drinking, my brother. It was made up of good French muskets, if I'm any judge.'
Bolitho stared at him. `Muskets?'
`Aye. For rebellion somewhere, who can say. Ireland, America, there's money a-plenty for anyone who can supply weapons in these troubled times.'
Bolitho shook his head and immediately regretted it. `It is beyond me.'
His brother rubbed his hands. `Mr Dancer! My compliments to the master, and tell him to get the vessel under way. If weapons are the bait we need, then weapons we will have.'
Dancer watched him warily. `And where are we bound, sir?'
`Bound? Falmouth of course. I'll not run back to the admiral now. This is getting interesting.' He paused beside the companionway. `Now get yourself washed and properly turned out, Mr Bolitho. I daresay you had a quieter night than some.'
Avenger returned to Falmouth without anything further unusual happening. Once at anchor, Hugh Bolitho went ashore, while Gloag and the midshipmen prepared to take on stores and ward off the curious and others who had obviously been sent out to discover as much information as they could.
Bolitho began to imagine a smuggler at each corner and behind every cask. The news of a shipwreck, and Vyvyan's chase of the would-be wreckers had preceded Avenger's arrival, and there would be plenty of speculation as to what would happen next.
When the cutter's young commander returned he was in unusual good humour.
In the cabin he said, `All done. I have had words with certain people in town. The story will be that Avenger is out searching for another arms runner in the channel. By this ruse, the smugglers on this side will know we have discovered about the muskets, even though we did not find any ourselves.' He looked cheerfully from Gloag to his brother and then to Dancer. `Well? Don't you see? It's almost perfect.'
Gloag rubbed his bald head as he always did when he was considering something doubtful, and answered, `I can well see that nobody'll know for certain about another cargo, sir. The Frenchies will keep sendin' 'em once they've a buyer. But where will we get such a haul?'
`We won't.' His smile grew, broader. `We'll sail into Penzance and land a cargo of our own. Load it into waggons and send it overland to Truro to the garrison there. The governor of Pendennis has agreed to lend us a tempting cargo of muskets, powder and shot. Along the way to Truro someone will attempt to seize the lot of it. With the roads as they are, how could they resist the temptation?'
Bolitho asked quietly, `Wouldn't it be wiser to tell the port admiral at Plymouth what you are about first?'
Hugh glared at him. `From you that is priceless! You know what would happen. He'd either say no, or take so long the whole country would know what we were doing. No, we'll do this quickly and do it well.' He smiled briefly. `This time.'
Bolitho looked at the deck. An ambush, the anticipation of quick spoils giving way to panic as the attackers realized they were the ones in the trap. And no escape into little caves this time.
Hugh said, `I have sent word to Truro. The dragoons will be back by now. The colonel is a friend of father's. He'll enjoy this sort of thing. Like pig-sticking!'
There was a sudden silence, and Bolitho found himself thinking of the dead Trillo. They were all here safe and busy. He was already buried and forgotten.
Dancer said, `I think it would work, sir. It would depend a lot on the people who were watching for an attack.'
`Quite. On a lot of luck too. But we'll have lost nothing by trying. If all else fails, we'll stir up such a hornets' nest that we may push somebody into laying information just to get rid of us!'
A boat grated alongside, and minutes later Pyke entered the cabin.
He took a goblet of brandy with an appreciative nod and said, `The prize is in the 'ands of the Chief Revenue Officer, sir. All taken care of.' He glanced at Bolitho and added, `That informer, Portlock. 'E's dead, by the way, sir. Somebody talked too loud.'
Hugh Bolitho asked, `Another.glass of brandy, anybody?'
Bolitho looked at him grimly. Hugh knew already. Must have known all along that the man would be killed.
He asked, `What of the girl?'
Pyke was still studying him. `Dawn. Good riddance too. Like I said. Scum breeds on scum.'
Hornets' nest, his brother had predicted. It was stirring already by the sound of it.
The bell chimed overhead and Hugh Bolitho said, `I'm for the, shore. I'll be dining at the house, Richard.'
He glanced at Dancer. `Care to join me? I think my brother had best remain aboard until he's free of that bandage. Mother will have vapours if she sees our hero like that!'
Dancer looked at Bolitho. `No, sir. I'll remain here.'
`Good. Stand a good watch at all times. There'll be quite a few tongues wagging in the Falmouth ale houses tonight, I shouldn't wonder.'
As he climbed up from the cabin and left the two midshipmen alone, Bolitho said, `You should have gone, Martyn. Nancy would have liked it.'
Dancer smiled ruefully. `We came together. We'll stay that way. After last night, I think you need a bodyguard, Dick!'
Gloag came back from seeing his captain over the side and picked up his goblet. In his fist it looked like a thimble.
`What I want to know is,' he eyed them fiercely, `what 'appens if' they knows what we're up to? If they've got ears and eyes amongst us already?'
Bolitho stared at him, but Dancer answered first.
`Then, Mr Gloag, sir, I fear the loss of government arms and powder will take more explaining than we are capable of.'
Gloag nodded heavily. `My thought too.' He took another swallow and smacked his lips. `Very nasty it could be.'
Bolitho thought of what the admiral at Plymouth
and his own captain in the Gorgon would have to say about it.
The careers of James Bolitho's two sons might come to a speedy end.
6. A Plain Duty
Bolitho wandered up and down the high stone jetty and watched the activity of Penzance harbour. But for the bitter cold it could almost have been spring, he thought. The colours of the moored fishing boats and grubby coasting vessels, the rooftops and church spires of the town beyond the anchorage seemed brighter and more cheerful than they should have been.
He looked down at the Avenger tied to the jetty. She seemed even less a King's ship from this angle. Her broad deck was strewn with ropes and alive with bustling seamen. But here and there he saw the occasional motionless figure. Watchful, despite the casual atmosphere, ready to seek out any suspicious loiterer nearby.
Even their departure had been well planned and executed with stealth. The cargo of borrowed arms and powder had been swayed aboard in total darkness, while Pyke and over twenty hands had patrolled the nearest jetty and street, just to be sure that nobody had seen what they were about.