Enemy in Sight! by Alexander Kent Page B

slightest chance of hitting the anchored Hyperion, anything could have happened. The wind might back within the hour, and the French admiral was not to know that help was not already on the way for the one solitary ship which blocked his escape. Whatever he was going to attempt, he must do it quickly.
    Bolitho said, “Send extra lookouts aloft, Mr Inch. They may sight a sail to seaward, and theirs or ours, I wish to know imme- diately.” He checked him in his stride. “And tell our people to keep silent! There’s more to this than I like, and I want them to be prepared to fight at a moment’s notice!”
    Half an hour dragged past with the anchored ships swinging calmly at their cables, separated by some two miles of rippling water, which in the harsh light shone like crumpled silk.
    â€œDeck there!” The lookout’s voice made more than one man start with alarm. “Boat shovin’ off from the French flagship!”
    Bolitho studied the boat through his glass and then said, “Flag of truce, Mr Inch. Stand by to receive it alongside, but watch out for tricks!”
    It was just a small gig, and as it moved briskly towards the Hyperion’ s bows Bolitho heard several shouts of surprise from the anchor party and some marines who had been covering its swift approach with a swivel gun loaded with canister.
    Inch came aft at the run. “Sir! There’s a British officer on board! The oarsmen, too, are some of our people!”
    Bolitho tightened his jaw to hide his sudden apprehension. “Very well. Be on your guard!”
    The gig hooked on to the main chains and the seamen at the entry port fell back in silence as a lieutenant in a torn and smoke- stained uniform climbed up through the boarding nets and made his way aft, looking neither right nor left until he had reached the quarterdeck. He saw Bolitho and crossed the last few feet of deck, his shoes dragging as if he could no longer bear the weight of his limbs.
    When he spoke his voice sounded dull and devoid of life. “Lieutenant Roberts, sir.” He tried to pull back his shoulders as he added, “Of His Britannic Majesty’s Ship Ithuriel! ”
    Bolitho said quietly, “Come to my cabin, Mr Roberts, if you have some message for me.”
    But the lieutenant shook his head. “I am sorry, sir. There is no time. I was paroled to speak with you and then return with- out delay.” He swayed and almost fell. “ Ithuriel was taken by the frigate which you have just destroyed, sir. We were investigating some luggers when she bore in from seaward. It was a clever trap, and even the luggers were filled with armed men. We were dis- masted and then boarded within an hour, and my captain was killed.” He shrugged. “I gave the order to strike. No choice or chance seemed left open to me.” His eyes suddenly clouded with despair and anger. “Had I known what would happen, I would have let every one of my men die fighting!” He was shaking vio- lently and tears ran down his grimy cheeks as he said in a choked voice, “The French admiral wishes me to say that unless you weigh and put to sea at once, ” he paused, suddenly aware of the watching faces around him, “he will hang every one of Ithuriel’ s people here and now!”
    Inch gasped, “Good God, that’s not possible!”
    The lieutenant stared at him, his eyes dull with fatigue and shock. “But it is, sir. The admiral’s name is Lequiller, and he means what he says, believe me!”
    A gun boomed dully across the inlet, and then as two small, twisting shapes rose kicking and jerking to the mainyard of the French flagship the Hyperion’ s hull seemed to quiver to the great groan of horror coming from the watching seamen and marines.
    The lieutenant said desperately, “He will hang two men every ten minutes, sir!” He seized Bolitho’s arm and sobbed, “For God’s sake, there are