A Game of Bones by David Donachie

Author:David Donachie [Donachie, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781590130322
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 1996-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

“Thanks, Carrick. Hold the captain upright while I bind it round.”

Harry’s protests that seeing to his needs was a waste of time were ignored. The men he led were carrying out their duties, doing what needed to be done without any help from him or Pender.

But that could alter at any second, and without a word being exchanged they all accepted they would need Harry Ludlow upright and in command if they were going to get out of this scrape alive.

“It will only slow the bleeding,” Pender whispered in his ear, as he tied the knot. “It’ll take a needle and thread to stop it proper.”

“Rum!”

Harry lifted his head at that word, to see the one-legged 1 9 0

T H E P R I V A T E E R S M A N M Y S T E R I E S

Willerby standing there with a tankard, as calm as a day on the green, as if there were no shots nor shells, not to mention blocks, pulleys, and shards of wood, flying in all directions. Two of his guns were hit at once, though with luck only on the wood of the trucks, but it was enough to slew them uselessly sideways, their splinters adding deep cuts to bodies smashed by moving metal.

The whole of the deck was covered in blood, and most of the guns that could still fire were doing so with reduced crews. The loss, in men and firepower, was ruinous.

“Get off the deck, Willerby.”

“This rum will help set you up, Capt’n. Very least it’ll ease the pain.”

Harry, even wounded, knew better than to argue with Willerby.

He grabbed it and drained it down, gasping at the strength of the mixture. “Now get below. The men will need you more than they need me after this is over.”

Willerby grinned and ducked down the companionway like a man with two good legs. “The old rum never fails a sailor.”

Bucephalas was drifting crabwise, the current carrying her towards Lothian. The fire from the East Indiaman was infrequent now, while that from the shore had lessened considerably as the guns on the privateer’s deck engaged in individual duels. But someone was in command, and had the means to signal his desires, since the shore-based cannon ceased their duelling and started to fire in unison. Even with fewer guns it was like the first salvo, deadly in the sheer quantity of shot that came aboard. But this time the target was moving—not much, but enough to make the victims of this renewed barrage feel that at least they had a chance.

Harry could hear the men coming to the quarterdeck to report, each one talking to Pender rather than himself, a sorry litany of more men wounded and guns rendered useless. He was looking to larboard. Over the shattered bulwarks he could see the outline of the Lothian clearly now, still square on and blocking the channel. He tried to move the wheel but he lacked the strength.

“Pender, help me. Get her rudder round so that she’s bows on.

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