Bolitho 28 - Band of Brothers by Alexander Kent

Author:Alexander Kent
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781590131060
Publisher: McBooks Press
Published: 2005-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

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6

No Quarter

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The deck seemed unusually crowded, all thought of rest and food forgotten. Some men were in the bows, peering or gesturing ahead, calling to one another, voices distorted by the wind. Others had climbed into the shrouds, but the sea was still dark and empty. And there was no more gunfire.

Verling said, 'Due south of us.' His eye lit up as he gazed into the compass. 'Dead ahead, if I'm not mistaken.'

'At least we can outsail 'em, sir.' That was Tinker.

Egmont snapped, 'We're not at war, man!'

Verling glanced at him. 'We take no chances, Mr. Egmont. Today's handshake can easily become tomorrow's broadside.'

Dancer murmured, 'What do you think, Dick? Heavy guns?'

Bolitho shook his head. 'Big enough. There was no return fire.' Ships meeting by accident, a case of mistaken identity in the darkness and foul weather. These were busy trade routes where almost any flag might be sighted. And the possibility of war was never forgotten. Shoot first, was often the first rule.

Smugglers, privateers, or local pirates, every deepwater sailor had to take his chance.

Bolitho looked over toward Verling and tried to see it as he would. Facing an unknown threat, considering his own responsibility. The officer in charge . . . He had heard it said all too frequently. Do wrong and you carried the blame. Do right, and if you were too junior, others reaped the praise.

Deliver Hotspur to her new command, and return to Plymouth without unnecessary delay. The orders were plain enough. Maybe Verling was weighing the choices that might lie ahead. Fight or run, as Tinker had suggested. Hotspur carried two small bow-chasers, six-pounders, quite enough to deal with trouble in home waters. But no shot had yet been brought aboard. And her four swivel guns would be useless in any serious engagement.

Verling had made up his mind.

'Stand by to shorten sail. Reef tops'ls and take in the gaff tops'l.' Another glance at the compass. Bolitho could see his face now without the aid of the lamp. The sky was clearing, the clouds purple toward the horizon, when it was visible.

He heard Egmont ask, 'Shall we fight, sir?'

Verling was gesturing to Dancer. 'Fetch my logbook, then stand by me.' He seemed to recall the question. 'We've no marines to support us this time. Break open the arms chest.' He did not even raise his voice.

He looked at Bolitho. 'Up you go. Sweep to the sou' east. Take your time. Remember what you saw on the chart.'

Afterwards, Bolitho recalled how each point was allowed to settle in his mind, take shape. So calmly said when Verling's entire being must have wanted to ram his meaning home, or even to snatch up the glass and claw his way aloft himself. In case he was mistaken. When Bolitho and the other midshipmen had gathered around Gorgon's sailing master, old Turnbull, for their regular instruction in navigation and pilotage, or when they were struggling with the mysteries of the sextant, they had often been warned about the first sight of land.

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