Bolitho 03 - In Gallant Company by Alexander Kent

Author:Alexander Kent
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-26T18:31:33+00:00

10

Night Action

Bolitho entered the room at the top of the tower, where the former garrison commander had lived out his spartan days, and found Paget discussing a map with D'Esterre.

Bolitho asked, 'You sent for me, sir?'

He barely recognized his own voice. He had got past tiredness, almost to a point of exhaustion. All through the day he had hurried from one task to another, conscious the whole time of that far-off blue and white column as it weaved in and out of sight along the coast. Now it had vanished altogether, and it seemed likely that the road turned sharply inland before dividing opposite the island.

Paget glanced up sharply. He had shaved, and looked as if he had been freshly pressed with his uniform.

'Yes. Won't be long now, what?' He gestured to a chair. 'All done?'

Bolitho sat down stiffly. All done. Like an endless muddle of jobs. Dead had been buried, prisoners moved to a place where they could be guarded by the minimum of men. Stores and water checked, powder stacked in the deep magazine to create one devastating explosion once the fuses were set and fired. The heavy field-pieces manhandled to the landward side to be trained on the causeway and the opposite stretch of shoreline.

He replied, 'Aye, sir. And I've brought all the seamen inside the fort as you ordered.'

'Good.' Paget poured some wine and pushed the goblet across the table. 'Have some. Not too bad, considering.'

The major continued, 'You see, it's mostly a matter of bluff. We know quite a lot about these fellows, but they'll not know much about us. Yet. They'll see my marines, but one redcoat looks much like another. Anyway, why should the enemy think we are marines, eh? Could just as easily be a strong force of skirmishers who have cut through their lines. That'll give 'em something to worry about.'

Bolitho glanced at D'Esterre, but his normally agile face was expressionless, so Bolitho guessed he and not Paget had thought up the idea of concealing the presence of his sailors.

It made sense, too. After all, there were no boats, and who better than the returning garrison commander would know the impossibility of getting a man-of-war into the anchorage without passing those heavy cannon?

The wind showed no sign of changing direction, and in fact had gained in strength. All afternoon it had driven a pall of dust from the distant marching column out across the sea like gunsmoke.

Paget said, 'Hour or so to sunset. But they'll make themselves felt before dark. That's my wager.'

Bolitho looked across the room and through a narrow window. He could just see part of the hillside where he had lain with young Couzens, a million years ago. The sun-scorched bushes and scrub were moving in the wind like coarse fur, and everything was painted in fiery hues by the evening light.

The marines were down by the uprooted timbers where the pontoon had been moored. Dug into little gullies, they were invisible to eyes across the restless strip of water.

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