Reeman, Douglas - Bolitho 08 by Command a King's Ship (as Kent Alexander)

Author:Command a King's Ship (as Kent, Alexander) [Ship, Command a King's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Lieutenant Thomas Herrick walked a few paces across the quarterdeck, his movements restless as he watched Bellairs' marines and some seamen below the nearest palisade. It was ast noon, with the sun blazing down on the anchored ships with savage intensity. Most of the unemployed hands were sheltering by the guns beneath the gangways, but Herrick felt unable to leave the deck, even though his head was swimming, his shirt plastered against his body like a wet rag.

Tugging at her cable, the Undine had swung her stern towards the long, pale beach, and with the visibility sharp and clear, it was easier to see the extent of Conway's new command. Larger than he had first imagined, it had obviously been planned and constructed by a military engineer. Even the unfinished timber pier looked neat and strong, but like the rest of the place, was in a state of bad neglect.

As he had paced the quarterdeck, or peered across the taffrail, Herrick had seen Bolitho and some of the landing party moving along the wooden ramparts, or exploring the ground between the two separate palisades which guarded the approaches to the fort and its surrounding buildings. The boats lay like dead fish on the beach, exactly where they had ground ashore some four hours earlier. He had watched some marines hauling the swivel guns towards the fort, others, harried by the massive Sergeant Coaker, had manned the ramparts, or could now be seen patrolling near the pier. The handful of Spanish soldiers had withdrawn into the fort, and of the enemy, or whatever the garrison had been firing at, there was not a sign.

He turned as a heavy step fell on the tinder-dry planking and saw Soames shading his eyes with one hand, and munching a biscuit with the other.

`Any sign yet, sir?' Soames eyed the distant settlement without enthusiasm. `What a place to end your years, eh?

Herrick was worried. Something should have happened by now. There were supposed to be some three hundred Spanish soldiers and followers in the settlement, and God alone knew how many local natives. From what he had seen there were hardly any. The same old thought crossed his mind. Plague perhaps? Or something even more terrible.

He replied, `They appear to be examining the inner defences. I am not surprised the Dons wish to be rid of it.' He shuddered. `From here it looks as if the damned jungle is pushing the whole lot back into the sea.'

Soames shrugged and pointed his half-eaten biscuit at the gun deck. `Shall I dismiss the gun crews? There seems to be little here to excite action.'

`No. There are only five of them manned. Change 'em round and send the others below for a spell.'

He was glad when Soames walked away. He needed to concentrate, to decide what to do if he was suddenly required to act without Bolitho at his elbow. It had been different the last time. A sort of wild recklessness had come over him, prompted as ever by the need to dash to Bolitho's aid in the only way he knew.

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