They watched him leap into the shrouds, like a young boy, before he began to climb up towards the maintop.
Yovell removed his spectacles and mopped his face with a large handkerchief.
"I often marvel that such men return to sea again and again, even after what they have seen!"
Galbraith grinned. "He's no different from the rest of us!" fle touched Yovell's plump arm. "Or you, for that matter!"
"Deck there! Sail to the nor'-cast!"
Galbraith almost ran up the ladder and saw Bolitho already opening a telescope. Sullivan might resent the other lookout calling a sighting before him.
Galbraith nodded to Midshipman Cousens as he offered his own glass. Ile heard Bolitho say, "She's Paradox. Makes a fine sight!"
Galbraith adjusted the telescope with care. It was strange at first: with Unrivalled lying at anchor the other vessel appeared to be much further out. It was an illusion; Paradox was standing towards the larger of the two inlets, tacking well enough, although the offshore wind had her almost aback at one point. She had all her boats in the water, towing or alongside. Galbraith hit his lip. That would do nothing to help steerage-way. The dawn haze was clearing slowly. Ile moved the glass again and saw another fan of sails, the hull still hidden in mist or smoke, as if she had fired a silent broadside. That would be Seven Sisters. He looked at Paradox again. Clearer and sharper now. The broadpendant seemed far too large for so sleek a vessel, he thought. She had shortened sail, and he could see one of the boats, then another, being hauled alongside, the occasional glint of weapons as men clambered down into them.
Adam Bolitho said, "Too soon! The oarsmen will he exhausted before they can work into position!"
Galbraith handed the big signals telescope to Cousens. "Watch the commodore." Ile looked forward. All work had ceased, and most of the hands were either standing on the guns or clinging to the shrouds, spectators, as if they had no part in it.
"Deck there!" This time it was Sullivan. "Sail in sight, sir!"
Adam raised his glass again even as he heard Cristie exclaim, "There's another of 'em, fine across the inlet!"
Paradox was on the move again, her sails changing shape as she shifted to the opposite tack.
Cousens called huskily,"From Commodore, sir! Enemy in sight."
Adam flinched as a gun banged out over the cruising wavelets. Small and dull, without menace.
Paradox would close with the other vessels and fire a few shots into them. There would be no point in their trying to resist, especially with Seven Sisters already making more sail.
Adam walked quickly to the rail, barely seeing the marines standing by or against the packed hammock nettings. He felt helpless, anchored and unable to offer support.
He turned abruptly and asked, "How long shall we hold this lie to the cable?"
Cristie answered instantly, "'Bout an hour, sir. Then we shall begin to swing."
Adam stared at the green mass of land. Between Unrivalled and the first sandbars there was a channel. It was badly charted, but doubtless well enough known to the slavers and those who hunted for them. Hastilow must know this coastline better than most. Creeks and beaches, inlets and places where even the biggest craft could lie undisturbed.
Paradox fired again. Aiming for the sails. If the vessel was packed with slaves it would be sheer murder to fire into the hull.
"Deck there! Third sail leavin' the inlet, sir!"
Adam heard Galbraith say, "They've left it too late! They can never come about in time!"
Adam turned as Cristie said, "I may be speaking out of turn, sir, but…"
Afterwards, Adam recalled the sailing master's surprise when he had gripped his arm as if to shake him.
"Tell me, man! What's wrong?"
"Paradox is on the wrong bearing." Then, more firmly, "No, I'm damn sure of it."
Adam said, "Mr Galbraith, heat to quarters, if you please, and have the starboard battery loaded." He held up one hand, like a rider quieting his mount. "But not run out!" He swung round and saw Jago watching him. As if he was waiting for it. "You were offering to sway out the gig, remember? Then do it now, larboard side."
He sensed his servant, Napier, by his side and reached out to grasp his shoulder. All the while he was watching the converging pattern of sails, like the fins of sharks closing for the kill.
"Fetch my coat and sword, David."
"Sir?" Napier stared at him, not understanding.
He squeezed the shoulder. A boy his mother should be proud to have.
"They might think twice before firing on one of the King's captains!"
Galbraith must have heard him; the urgent rattle of drums beating to quarters had ceased, the spectators had formed into tried and tested patterns. The ship seemed suddenly still, the occasional bark of gunfire remote and unreal. I ie exclaimed, "You will not do it, sir!" He was shaking with emotion.
There was a great chorus of shouts and groans, and Adam heard someone cry, "She's struck! Paradox has driven aground!"
He looked past Galbraith and saw it for himself. Paradox was slewing round, her fore-topmast falling as he watched, soundless in distance but no less terrible.
"You know, Leigh, I don't think there's any choice." Then, half to himself, "There never was."
When he looked again, Paradox was mastless. A wreck.
Seven Sisters would not be in time, and the other vessels in Turnbull's flotilla would he hard put to cut off the remaining slavers.
There was only Unrivalled, and she was anchored and impo tent, unable to move even into the other channel without sharing the same fate as Paradox.
"All guns loaded, sir!"
He held out his arms for Napier to assist him with his coat. Then he took the old sword, and thought again of the renegade's words. Bravado, courage, or vanity?
Cousens called, "They're firing on Paradox's boats, sir!" He sounded sickened, outraged.
The flat, dull bangs of carronades, packed with canister and at point-blank range. Turnbull's proud gesture was in bloody rags.
He said, "Man your capstans, Leigh. Let us see what we can do today," and looked directly at him. "Together."
9. Pike In The Reeds
ADAM BOLITHO forced himself to remain motionless, his coat brushing the quarterdeck rail while he stared along Unrivalled's deck and beyond to the main channel. The other vessels were still making good use of the offshore breeze, sails barely slackening as they altered course slightly, their outlines overlapping and distorted in the harsh light. He could hear more shots, small and individual now, marksmen, he thought, shooting at anyone in the water who had survived the carronades. Paradox had swung with the wind and tide but was still fast on the sandbar. The nearest slaver, a brig, fired two guns as she drew abeam, but there was no response.
The third vessel changed tack again, showing herself for the first time since she had left the inlet. A brigantine, if he had harboured any doubts. Cristie quenched them. "It's that bloody Alhatroz.!" And his mate's quick response. "And not empty this time, by God!"
Adam said, "Keep your men down and out of sight, Mr Varlo." He wanted to move, to climb the shrouds for a better view, but he did neither. He did not need a telescope to see that the brig Seven Sisters had come about and was attempting to alter course on to a converging tack with the leading slaver. How they must he hugging themselves, the first shock of seeing Paradox, and then an anchored frigate, giving way to something like jubilation. People would yarn about it for years, and more and more slavers would be prepared to take the risk because of it.