Bolitho watched from the quarterdeck while Hyperion lay hove-to, her canvas booming in protest, and once again marvelled at the sunset's primitive beauty. The long undulating swell, like the boats and their labouring crews, seemed to glow like rough bronze, while even the faces around him looked unreal; like strangers.
With two of Hyperion's boats and thirty of her men safely transferred, Bolitho made the final crossing in a jolly boat.
He had barely been received aboard Thor before he saw Hyperion's yards swinging round, her shadowed outline shortening as she turned away to follow the two brigs into the last of the sunset.
If Commander Ludovic Imrie was bothered by having his flag officer coming aboard his modest command, he did not show it. He displayed more surprise when Bolitho announced that he did not intend to wear his epaulettes, and suggested that Imrie, as Tbor's commander, should follow his example.
He had remarked calmly, 'Your people know you well enough. I trust that they will know me too when this affair is finished!'
Bolitho was able to forget Hyperion and the others as they headed further and further away towards Puerto Cabello. He could feel the tension mount around him as Thor made more sail and steered, close-hauled, towards the invisible shoreline.
Hour followed hour, with hushed voices calling from the chains where two leadsmen took regular soundings, so that their reports could be checked carefully against the chart and the notes Bolitho had made after his meeting with Captain Price.
The noise was loud, but deceptive. Astern on its tow-line, the clumsy lighter was pumped constantly in a battle which Imrie had admitted had begun within hours of leaving harbour. Any rise in the sea brought instant danger from flooding, and now, with both Thor's heavy mortars and their crews on board, the lighter's loss would spell disaster.
Bolitho prowled restlessly around the vessel's quarterdeck and pictured the land in his mind, as he had seen it that late afternoon. He had made himself climb aloft just once more, this time to the maintop, and through a rising haze had seen the tell-tale landmarks of La Guaira. The vast blue-grey range of the Caracas Mountains, and further to the west the impressive saddle-shaped peaks of the Silla de Caracas.
Penhaligon could be rightfully proud of his navigation, he thought. Allday barely left his side after they had come aboard, and Bolitho could hear his uneven breathing, his fingers drumming against the hilt of a heavy cutlass.
It made Bolitho touch the unfamiliar shape of the hanger at his belt. The prospect of action right inside the enemy's territory occupied everyone's mind, but Bolitho doubted if Allday had missed his decision to leave the old family sword behind in Hyperion. He had almost lost it once before. Allday would be remembering that too, thinking Bolitho had left it with Ozzard only because he believed he might not return.
Adam would wear the sword one day. It would never fall into enemy hands again.
Later, in Imrie's small cabin, they peered at the chart behind shuttered stern windows. Thor was cleared for action, but her chance would come only if the first part succeeded. Bolitho traced the twisting shallows with the dividers, as Price must have done before his ship had driven ashore. He felt the others crowding around and against him. Imrie and his senior master's mate, Lieutenant Parris, and Thor's second lieutenant, who would cover the attack.
Bolitho wondered momentarily if Parris was thinking about the floggings, which had been cancelled at Haven's order. Or of the fact that Haven had insisted that the two culprits should be included in the raiding party. All the bad eggs in one basket maybe, he thought.
He pulled out his watch and laid it beneath a low-slung lantern.
'Thor will anchor within the half-hour. All boats will cast off immediately, the jolly boat leading. Soundings must be taken, but not unnecessarily. Stealth is vital. We must be in position by dawn.' He glanced at their grim expressions. 'Questions?'
Dalmaine, Thor's second lieutenant, raised his hand.
'What if the Don has moved, sir?'
It was amazing how easy they found it to speak up, Bolitho thought. Without the intimidating vice-admiral's epaulettes, and in their own ship, they had already spoken of their ideas, their anxieties as well. It was like being in a frigate or a sloop-of-war, all over again.
'Then we will be unlucky.' Bolitho smiled and saw Jenour's eyes watching the brass dividers as he tapped the chart. 'But there have been no reports of any large ships on the move.'
The lieutenant persisted, 'And the battery, sir. Suppose we cannot take it by surprise?'
It was Imrie who answered. 'I would suggest, Mr Dalmaine, that all your pride in your mortars will have been misplaced!'
The others laughed. It was the first healthy sign.
Bolitho said, 'We destroy the battery, then Thor can follow through the sandbars. Her carronades will more than take care of any guardboats.' He stood up carefully to avoid the low beams. 'And then we shall attack.'
Parris said, 'And if we are repulsed, Sir Richard?'
Their eyes met across the small table. Bolitho studied his gipsy good looks, the reckless candour in his voice. A West Country man, probably from Dorset. Allday's blunt words seemed to intrude, and he thought of the small portrait in Haven's cabin.
He said, 'The treasure-ship must be sunk, fired if possible. It may not prevent salvage, but the delay will be considerable for the Don's coffers!'
'I see, sir.' Parris rubbed his chin. The wind's backed. It could help us.' He spoke without emotion, not as a lieutenant who might well be dead, or screaming under a Spanish surgeon's knife by morning, but as a man used to command.
He was considering alternatives. Suppose, if, perhaps.
Bolitho watched him. 'So shall we be about it, gentlemen?' They met his gaze. Did they know, he wondered? Would they still trust his judgment? He smiled in spite of his thoughts. Haven certainly trusted nobody!
Imrie said cheerfully, 'Och, Sir Richard, we'll a' be rich men by noon!'
They left the cabin, stooping and groping like cripples. Bolitho waited until Imrie alone remained.
'It must be said. If I fall, you must withdraw if you think fit.'
Imrie studied him thoughtfully. 'If you fall, Sir Richard, it will be because I've failed you.' He glanced around the cramped cabin. 'We'll make you proud, you'll see, sir!'
Bolitho walked out into the darkness and stared at the stars until his mind was steady again.
Why did you never get used to it? The simple loyalty. Their honesty with one another, which was unknown or ignored by so many people at home.
Thor dropped anchor, and as she swung to her cable in a lively current, the boats were manhandled alongside or hoisted outboard with such speed that Bolitho guessed that her commander had been drilling and preparing for this moment since he had weighed at English Harbour.
He settled himself in the sternsheets of the jolly boat, which even in the darkness seemed heavy, low in the water with her weight of men and weapons. He had discarded his coat and hat and could have been another lieutenant like Parris.
Allday and Jenour were crowded against him, and while All-day watched the oarsmen with a critical eye, the flag lieutenant said excitedly, 'They'll never believe this!'
By they, he meant his parents, Bolitho guessed.
It seemed to sum up his whole command, he decided. Captains or seamen, there were more sons than fathers.
He heard the grind of long sweeps as the lighter was cast adrift from Thor's quarter, spray bursting over the blades until two more boats flung over their tow-lines.