Tomlin grinned. 'I'll throw the first bugger down the cliff who utters a whisper, sir!' And he meant it.
Bolitho began to drag himself up the sloping rock face, suddenly conscious of the sun against his neck and hands, the rough touch of gorse beneath his clawing fingers. His whole world was concentrated on a small patch of cliff, and even time seemed to have lost meaning and reality.
From one corner of his eye he could see the sea, blue and clear like glass, with an horizon so bright that it stung his vision. Of the ship there was no sign, but as the cliff shook to the muffled rumble of gunfire he knew that she was still close by.
Then he raised his head and saw the rampart. It was so near that he could see the tufts of grass and tiny blue flowers which grew unconcerned between the weathered stones, and the bright scars beside the embrasures made by the Hyperion's first attack.
As he hauled himself over the edge and crawled quickly to the foot of the rampart he felt naked in the sun's glare, and expected a sudden challenge, or the terrible agony of a musketball in his back.
The nearest embrasure was only a few feet from the ground, and hardly daring to breathe he rose slowly on to his knees and peered over the rim. For a moment he forgot his own danger and the responsibility for what lay ahead. He felt strangely detached, like a mere spectator separated from reality and pain by distance and time.
The octagonal wall which surrounded the central fortress had been built regardless of foundation, so that it was moulded to the slopes and humps of hillside, as if nothing would ever dislodge it. Bolitho's embrasure was one of the highest points on the wall, and through it he could see past the sturdy tower to the twin gates on the far side of the battery. He could even see the road as it dipped down between the hills to vanish below the gates, and the busy figures of stripped and panting soldiers as they carried fresh balls towards the waiting guns which overlooked the sea.
Even in the sun's glare the balls shone with heat, and although each one was carried by a pair of soldiers in a strange iron cradle, the men were straining away from its furnace glow as they loped across the hard-packed ground.
Bolitho heard his men scrambling over the edge at his back, Rooke's whispered threats and commands as they fanned out on each side of him. But he did not turn to watch. He was studying the shallow earth mound below the fortress wall, into which the shot-carriers came and went like busy moles. The magazine and furnace, no doubt. Protected by a heavy earthwork just in case a lucky shot from, some enemy cannon should reach this far.
Rooke said tersely, 'All here, sir.' There was a cut on his cheek and his eyes were blazing from either exertion or suppressed tension.
"Good." Bolitho stiffened and pressed his face against the warm stone as. his ear picked up the far-off beat of drums and the faint sounds of Ashby's fifes. He almost forgot his own danger as he watched the distant scarlet column wheel around a bend of the road with the grey horse trotting importantly at the head. The marines' red coats appeared to remain motionless, but the white legs moved in perfect unison, so that the twisting column looked for all the world like a bright cater pillar with a back of shiny steel spines. Ashby had done well. The squads were spaced apart as he had ordered, and gave the impression of a much larger force.
Now he could see the rest of the column, Inch's seamen, a swaying, distorted mass of white and blue, their feet churning up a pall of dust to add to their formidable appearance.
Rooke asked, 'How many Frogs are there, sir?'
Bolitho narrowed his eyes, watching the French gunners as they became aware of the approaching column for the first time. There were about fifty soldiers within the battery walls, he thought. Inside the fortress itself there could be double, or treble that number, but he doubted it. He could see just a few heads outlined against the sky, and another small group on a watchtower beside the double gates.
'Enough for their purposes, Mr. Rooke.' He had also seen the defences beyond the wall, across which Ashby's men would have to attack should his own plan fail. Two steep embankments, one freshly dug, and although he could not see inside them he guessed that they would be strewn with sharpened stakes and other hazards. Any attacking troops would be cut down by grape- and musket-shot before they had even reached the main ditch below the wall.
Ashby was making a great show of his approach. Marines were wheeling and re-forming in squads and single lines, and others tramped away on either flank, probably as mystified by their orders as the French were in watching them.
Bolitho said quietly, `We've only a few minutes. The French9l soon realise that this is a bluff.' He ducked involuntarily as a single gun roared from the other wall, then added meaningly, 'Hyperion cannot keep up her slow feints and withdrawals either. One of those balls would set her ablaze if it hit somewhere that our people could not reach in time.'
Rooke drew his sword and then checked the pistols at his belt. 'I'm ready,' he said flatly. 'But I am still of the opinion we should make for the main gates. If we could reach them before the Frogs realise we are here, we could open the way for Ashby's frontal attack.'
Bolitho replied evenly, 'And if we failed? They would kill us piecemeal and Ashby would be destroyed at their leisure.' He licked his lips and lowered himself from the embrasure.
The seamen were all watching him, trying to gauge their own future in his eyes.
He said, 'When I give the word we will cross the rampart by way of these two embrasures.' He was conscious of the precious seconds ticking away, but these men had to understand exactly what was required of them. 'We have about seventy-five yards to cross before we reach the entrance of the fortress. At present it is open, but if they see us too soon it will be slammed shut in our faces!' He forced himself to smile. 'So run like the devil himself is after you. If we take the fortress the men at the battery will surrender. They cannot survive on their own.'
With a start he realised that one of the watching faces belonged to Midshipman, Seton. Rooke saw his surprise and said offhandedly, 'I thought it right, he should come, sir. We will need all our experienced hands later.'
Bolitho looked at him coldly. 'Lieutenants are not immune from cold steel either, Mr. Rooke!'
Tomlin said gruffly, `The battery's opened fire again, sir.
They'm not worried about Captain Ashby, it seems!'
Bolitho drew his sword and brushed the lock of hair from his eyes. Then over we go, ladsl Not a sound out of anyone, or I will see him flogged!'
Even the most fearful men present knew that such a threat was quite empty. If the French saw them now, flogging would be the very. least of their troubles.
He stood up slowly and threw his leg over the edge of the embrasure. The wall was very thick, but he felt a steadying hand under his arm and knew that Allday was close at his back. It was strange that he had forgotten all about his coxswain during the slow approach along the cliffs. Perhaps because he had relied on him for so long and could take his loyalty and courage for granted. He said suddenly, 'If I fall, Allday, go on with Mr. Rooke. He will need, all the help he can get.'
Allday studied him calmly. 'Aye, aye, Captain.' Then he hefted a great boarding axe over his shoulder and added, 'But it's more likely that the Frogs will be aiming at him.' He was actually grinning. 'With all due respect, Captain, you look too ragged to be worth shooting at!'
Bolitho met his eyes and then said quietly, 'One day you'll go too far, my lad!'
Then, as Rooke appeared at the head of the second party and began to climb through his embrasure, Bolitho leapt down on to the ground and sprinted towards the round tower.
Unimportant things appeared with stark clarity as he pounded across the open ground. Small white stone chippings and a discarded shirt. A crude stool and an earthenware jug of red wine, they all flashed past as he ran with his shadow towards the fortress wall.