"Were you here then?" Breen watched the master's mate with undisguised awe.
"Ardly, Mr. Breen. That was over two "undred years back!" He looked at Veitch and shook his head. "Was I "ere indeed!"
The nearest fortress was gliding abeam now, its upper rampart crowded with colourful figures. It was apparently used as much as a thoroughfare as a bastion. Beyond it, Bolitho saw the glittering water opening up to receive the Segura. The harbour was busy with shipping and tiny oared boats which scurried back and forth from vessels to jetties like water-beetles. There were a few schooners, gaunt Arab dhows, and the more common feluccas with their huge lateen sails. Two painted and gilt-encrusted galliasses lay beside a flight of stone steps. Like things from the past. They might have looked not too much out of place when the Romans had conquered England, Bolitho thought. The Knights of Malta had used them very successfully over the centuries for harrying Turkish ports and shipping, and had done much to drive the Turks" influence away from the West, it was hoped for good.
But now, Malta 's role had changed again. It had with- drawn on to its own resources, combing revenue and trade from ships which came to the harbour, or anchored out of sheer necessity through storm or attack by corsairs.
'stand by the anchor."
Bolitho strode to the foot of the mainmast and watched for any sign of a challenge. In fact, there was little interest, so he guessed that Segura was not the first vessel to enter wearing the American flag.
Allday whispered, "By God, it will take Mr. Gilchrist a year to get these lads to jump like seamen again." He grinned as one of the men spat deliberately on the deck and then grinned somewhat sheepishly at his companions. Such an act would have cost him a dozen lashes in Lysander.
Veitch called, "Hands wear ship!"
Bolitho took a brass telescope and trained it on the longest stone jetty; Boats were already shoving off, laden to their gunwales with fruit, basketware and probably women as well. For despite the original Christian standards and guidance within these stout walls, the core had long since deteriorated, and it was hinted that even the Knights themselves looked more to personal enjoyments than to heaven.
"Helm a"lee!"
The Segura tilted above her shadow, the patched sails barely moving as she headed into the wind, and her rusting anchor splashed into clear water. "Mr. Veitch. If you allow these bumboats alongside, I suggest you make certain their occupants stay in them. You can let a few aboard at a time. They’ll get out of control otherwise. "
Veitch gave a rare smile. "Aye, sir. It"d be a powerful combination, eh? A hold full of wine, some British tars and whatever mischief these traders are about to offer!"
Allday was already mustering a small but fearsome looking anchor watch. Each man was armed with a cutlass, and in addition a heavy wooden stave.
"Lower the boat."
Bolitho wiped his face and throat. It was more stifling in the harbour than below decks.
The first craft were already alongside, the merchants and boatmen standing upright to display their wares, and vieing with each other in a variety of tongues.
Veitch came aft again. "All done, sir. I’ve got two swivels loaded with canister, and a stand of muskets hidden under the fo"c'sle. I noticed that the harbour batteries face seaward, so we’ll be all right for the present."
Bolitho nodded. "People who build fortresses often make that mistake. They never expect an attack from the rear." He thought of the charge down a Spanish hillside, the crackle of musket fire, and the marines cheering like fiends as they went in with their bayonets fixed.
"Just as well."
"Boat's lowered, sir."
Allday strode to the bulwark by the main shrouds as a dark-skinned little man wearing a turban and hung about with beads, bottles and gaudy daggers tried to climb on to the deck. "Wait for the order, Mustapha!" Allday cupped his hand under the man's chin and sent him pitching back into the
water. It raised a chorus of laughter and jeers from the unfortunate bumboatman's companions, who probably considered that this vessel's master, if hard-hearted, was at least going to be fair to all.
Veitch followed Bolitho to the rail. "If an official comes aboard, sir, shall I bluff it out?"
Bolitho had been in Malta before. He smiled grimly. "Be guided by Mr. Plowman. I suspect he has visited here on other unorthodox missions. The port officers may decide to wait until you show signs of unloading. But if they come and ask for your papers, tell them what I told you to say. That we had to throw them overboard when chased by an unknown ship. You will find a bag of gold coins in the cabin to grease the hawse for you. "
Plowman grinned at the lieutenant's uncertainty. "Love you, Mr. Veitch! Port officials are the same everywhere, an" with more an" more Yankee ships finding their ways into the Mediterranean they’ll not want to lose a new sort of trade!"
Bolitho threw one leg over the rail. "And watch our people.
There may be French spies amongst these bumboat men. It’ll do no harm to spread the notion anyway!"
He clambered down into the Segura 's remaining longboat. 'shove off."
As the boat pulled away he saw one of the traders tap smartly on a pile of rugs, and from beneath it he also saw a smooth, rounded arm pushing the covering aside. It was no man's arm. With Segura 's captain out of the way, the real trading was about to begin.
Allday murmured, "Top of the stairs, sir. Two officers of some kind."
But the officers paid them little attention, other than a courteous nod, and continued to watch the anchored newcomer, possibly judging the right moment to board her.
Bolitho stood on the hot stonework and waited for Allday and one other to climb up beside him. The seaman was the Swede, Larssen. He had a cheerful, trusting expression, and one of the broadest pairs of shoulders Bolitho had seen.
Allday remarked, "In case we run into a spot of trouble." He paused and looked at him. "You all right, sir?"
Bolitho replied, "Of course. Don’t fuss." He turned away. 'send the boat away. We will attract as little attention as possible. "
He heard Allday speaking to the boat's crew and tried not to keep plucking the shirt away from his body. It was wringing with sweat, and he felt strangely light-headed. The wine? Some of the food he had eaten last night? Inwardly, another more likely reason was already forming and it was all he could do to conceal his sudden anxiety.
It was improbable, surely. He gritted his teeth, willing Allday to finish with the boat and follow him into some shadow. But it was not impossible. Nearly nine years ago, in the GreatSouthSea. The fever had all but killed him. He had had a few bouts of it since, but not for a year or so. He almost cursed aloud. It could not be. It must not happen now of all times.
Allday said, "Ready, sir."
"Good. Now let us find that address and finish the matter. " He swayed and touched Allday's shoulder. "Damn!"
As he pushed his way through a group of chattering traders, Allday watched him with sudden alarm. Larssen asked, "The captain? Is he not well?"
Allday gripped his arm tightly. "Listen, and listen good. If it's what I think it is, he's going to be all aback within the hour. Stay with me and do whatever I do, see?"
The Swede shrugged. "Yes, sir, Mr. All-Day!"