Command a King's Ship (13 page)

Bolitho turned to his right, the movement making the men stir with alarm. In the telescope's lens the trees and slivers of trapped water grew and receded as he continued his search. Some- thing had touched the corner of his eye, but what? The lookouts were watching him doubtfully, each caught in his own attitude as if mesmerised.

A trick of light. He blinked and rubbed his eye. Nothing.

He began another slow scrutiny. Thick, characterless forest. Or was that merely what he
expected
to see? And therefore . . . He stiffened and held his breath. When he lowered the glass the pic- ture fell away into the distance. He waited, counting seconds, allowing his breathing to steady.

The lookouts had begun to whisper again, and Penn was drinking as before. They probably imagined he had been too long in the sun.

He lifted the glass very carefully. There, to the right, where he had already noticed a faint gleam of water, was something darker, at odds with the forest's greens and browns. He stared at it until his eye watered so painfully he could not continue.

Then he closed the glass with a snap and said, “There is a ship yonder.” He saw Penn gaping at him, transfixed. “To the south'rd. It must be some sort of inlet which we did not see earlier.”

He shaded his eyes, trying to estimate the distance, where it lay in relation to
Undine
and the beach where he had come ashore.

One of the lookouts exclaimed, “Oi never saw nothin', sir.” He looked frightened, and worse.

Bolitho stared past him, trying to think.

“Take this glass and make sure you can see it
now!
”

He knew the seaman was more frightened of his captain, or what might become of him because of his negligence, than any- thing this discovery might mean.

Bolitho's mind recorded all these reactions as he said, “Have you found it?”

“Aye, sir!” The man bobbed unhappily. “ 'Tis a mast, right enough.”

“Thank you.” Bolitho added dryly, “Keep your eye on it. I do not want it to vanish again!”

Penn dropped the flask and scuttled after him as he strode down the hill.

“Wh-what might it mean, sir?”

“Several things.” He felt the trees looming around him, a small relief from the sun's torment. “They may have sighted us and are lying low until we weigh. Perhaps they are intent on some other mischief, I am not certain.”

He quickened his pace, ignoring creepers and fronds which plucked at his body. But for that brief flaw in the len's picture he would have seen nothing,
known
nothing about the other vessel. Perhaps it would have been better that way. Maybe he was worry- ing to no purpose.

He found Davy as before, lounging in the shade of the hillside, his features relaxed as he watched his men filling the casks.

“Where is Mr. Fowlar?”

Davy came out of his torpor with a jerk. “Er, on the beach, sir.”

“Damn!”

Another hard mile before he could examine Fowlar's chart and Mudge's notes. He looked up at the sky. Hours yet before sunset, but when it did come it would be quick. Shutting out the light like a curtain.

“I have discovered a ship, Mr. Davy. Well hidden, to the south'rd of us.” He saw the carpenter emerge from the under- growth, a saw glinting in one fist. “Take charge here, Mr. Pryke.” He beckoned to Davy. “We are going to the beach.”

Pryke nodded, his fat face glowing like a ripe apple. “Aye, sir.” He looked at Duff. “There be only five more casks, by my reckonin'.”

“Well, speed the work. I want our people mustered as soon as the last one is filled.”

Davy hurried along at his side, his handsome face puzzled.

“Do you think this ship may be an enemy, sir?”

“I intend to find out.”

They completed the journey in silence, and Bolitho knew that Davy, like the lookouts, thought he was making too much of it.

Fowlar listened to him calmly and then examined his chart.

“If it is where I believe, then it is not marked here. So it must lie somewhere 'twixt this beach and the next bay.” He made a mark. “About there, I would suggest, sir.”

“Could we reach it before dark? Overland?”

Fowlar's eyes widened but he answered, “It looks close enough, sir. No more'n three mile or so. But that is four times as much in the jungle.” He dropped his eyes from Bolitho's gaze. “You
might
be able to do it, sir.”

Davy asked, “But if we wait until tomorrow, sir? We could have
Undine
anchored nearer this vessel you have found.”

“It would take too long. She may have weighed and gone over- night. And if they are aware of our presence and purpose, a boat attack would be useless in daylight, and in a confined inlet. You should know that, Mr. Davy.”

Davy looked at his shoes. “Yes, sir.”

Another heavy cask lurched down the beach, the men panting like animals running from the hounds.

Soames, who had trudged up the beach to listen, said suddenly, “She might be a slaver. In which case she will be well armed.” He rubbed his chin and nodded. “Yours is a good plan, sir.” His thick forefinger scratched over the chart. “We could cross the bottom of the hill where it reaches for the sea and strike south. If we travel lightly we should be at the inlet before dark.” He looked at Davy, his eyes hard. “I'll pick some good men. Ones who won't falter when the passage gets rough.”

Davy said nothing, he was obviously smarting because Soames had offered a course of action rather than an unthinking suggestion.

Bolitho looked towards the ship. “Very well. We will rest the hands for half an hour. Then we will begin. Forty men should be sufficient if we are careful. It may be a complete waste of time.” He thought of the silent jungle.
Watching.
“But to be anchored so dangerously inland? I doubt it.”

He beckoned to Penn. “I will write my orders for the first lieutenant, and you will take them across directly.
Undine
will send her boats tomorrow morning and pick us up from seaward. By then we should know.” He glanced at Davy. “One way or the other.”

He saw Keen coming out of the trees, a pistol hanging casually from his belt. As he turned towards the sea he halted and raised one arm to point. It was the jolly boat, darting across the water at full speed, the oars winking in the sunlight like silver.

Eventually it ground on to the beach, and without waiting for it to be made fast, Midshipman Armitage leapt over the gunwale and then fell face down on the sand.

Allday, who had been watching critically, exclaimed, “God damn me, Captain! That young gentleman will stumble on an acorn!”

Armitage hurried up the beach, his cheeks scarlet as he dashed past the groups of grinning seamen.

He stammered, “Mr. Herrick's respects, sir!” He paused to wipe sand from his chin. “And we have sighted some small craft to the north of here.” He pointed haphazardly into the trees. “A whole party of them. Mr. Herrick thinks they may come this way, although . . . ,” he stopped, screwing up his face as he usually did when passing a message, “. . . although they have vanished for the present.” He nodded, relieved, as he recalled the last part. “Mr. Herrick suggests they have gone into another beach for some purpose.”

Bolitho gripped his hands behind him. The very thing he had been expecting had happened. It could not have come at a worse time.

“Thank you, Mr. Armitage.”

Davy said quietly, “That has put paid to the venture, sir. We cannot be divided if hostile natives are about.”

Soames said scathingly, “A plague on that, Mr. Davy! We have enough powder and shot to scatter a thousand bloody savages!”

“That will do!” Bolitho glared at them, his mind struggling with the problem. “Mr. Herrick is probably correct. They may have gone ashore to hunt, or to make camp. Either way, it makes our mission all the more urgent.” He watched Soames thoughtfully, seeing the mixture of anger and triumph in his deepset eyes. “Select your men at once.”

Davy asked stiffly, “What will
I
do, sir?”

Bolitho turned away. In a hand-to-hand struggle Soames would be the better man. If things went against them, Herrick would need brains rather than brawn if he was to continue the voyage on his own resources.

“You will return to the ship with the last of the shore parties.” He scribbled a note on Fowlar's pad. “And you will convey my . . . ,” he hesitated, not seeing the desperation which clouded Davy's face, “. . . my ideas to him as best you can.”

Davy said tightly, “I am senior to Soames, sir. It is my right to take part in this!”

Bolitho looked at him calmly. “I will decide where your duty lies. Your
loyalty
I take for granted.” He watched Soames marching up and down a double line of men. “Your turn will come, be sure of that.”

A shadow fell across Fowlar's chart and Bolitho saw the Span- ish lieutenant, Rojart, watching him, his face as sad as ever.

“Yes,
Teniente?
”

He must have come ashore in one of the other boats.

Rojart said, “I arrive to offer my services,
Capitan.
” He looked at Davy and Allday, his face very proud. “Don Luis 'as instructed me to do all I can to 'elp you.”

Bolitho sighed. Rojart had already shown himself to be some- what of a dreamer. Or perhaps his cruel experiences in the shipwreck had made him as he was. But one more officer, Spanish or not, would be useful. He also provided an excuse.

He said to Davy, “So you see, Mr. Herrick will need your ser- vices more than ever now?”

To Rojart he replied, “I accept your offer,
Teniente,
thank you.”

The Spaniard gave a flashing smile and bowed. “Your
servant, Capitan!
”

Allday grinned and murmured, “God help us all!”

Another cask was being manhandled on to the beach, and Duff puffed out of the trees, folding his spectacles as he shouted, “That be the last 'un, sir!” He beamed at the onlookers. “A full load!”

Soames tightened his swordbelt and said, “Ready when you are, sir.” He pointed to the assembled seamen. “All armed, but without any unnecessary gear to drag 'em back.” He ignored Davy.

Keen and his pickets were gathering at the end of the beach, and by the shallows Pryke stood guard over an odd pile of timber which his mates had collected for him.

Davy touched his hat formally. “I wish you luck, sir.”

Bolitho smiled. “Thank you. I hope we will not need it just yet.”

He glanced at Fowlar. “Lead the way and make notes as we go. Who knows, we may come here again some day.”

Then he turned his back on the sea and strode up the beach towards the trees.

“We will rest now.”

Bolitho dragged his watch from his breeches pocket and peered at it. Its face was harder to see than the last occasion. When he looked up at a gap in the trees he thought the sky was already duller, the trees touched with purple instead of gold. Around him the seamen dropped wearily on their knees or leaned against the trees, trying to gain relief after their forced march. The first part had not been too difficult. With axes swinging to carve a trail, they had made good time, but as they drew closer to where Bolitho and Fowlar estimated the inlet lay, they had stopped using axes, and had fought their way through the brush and creeper with bare hands.

He looked at them thoughtfully. Their shirts were ripped and torn, faces and arms bloody from encounters with treacherous branches and thorns. At their backs the intertwined trees had grown blacker, and seemed to shiver in the vapour of dead vegeta- tion as if in a wind which could not be felt.

Soames was wiping his face and neck with a rag. “I've sent scouts ahead, sir.” He knocked a water bottle from a man's mouth. “
Easy,
damn you! That may have to last awhile yet!”

Bolitho saw him with different eyes. Like the men Soames had selected as scouts, for instance. Not the toughest or the most sea- soned seamen as a lieutenant of his background might be expected to choose. Both scouts were from
Undine
's newest recruits and had never been to sea before. One had worked on a farm, and the other had been a Norfolk wildfowler. Excellent choices both, he thought. They had gone off into the trees with hardly a sound.

Allday muttered, “What d'you think, Captain?”

His sturdy figure, familiar and reassuring, made Bolitho relax slightly.

He replied, “I think we are very near now.”

He wondered how Herrick was managing, and whether he had sighted any more native craft. He shivered. Like most of his men, he felt out of place here. Cut off.