With All Despatch by Alexander Kent Page A

cheeks split into a grin. “Aye, that’s what my granddad called it!”
    Bolitho looked at him steadily. Out of the mouths of babes . . .
    â€œHave you told anyone else?” He smiled gently. “Or is it just between us? ”
    â€œI said nuthin’, sir. Just thought it a bit strange.”
    The moment, the boy’s expression, the description of the fine carriage seemed to become fixed and motionless as the lookout’s voice pealed down to the deck.
    â€œSail on th’ weather quarter, sir!”
    Paice stared across at him questioningly.
    Bolitho called, “Well, we know she’s not the Loyal Chieftain this time, Mr Paice.”
    Paice nodded very slowly. “And we know there’s naught ’twixt her and the land but—”
    Bolitho looked at the boy. “ Us, Mr Paice?”
    â€œAye, sir.” Then he raised his speaking trumpet. “Masthead! Can you make out her rig?”
    â€œSchooner, sir! A big ’un she is, too!”
    Paice moved nearer and rubbed his chin with agitation.
    â€œShe’ll take the wind-gage off us. It would be two hours or more before we could beat up to wind’rd, even in Telemachus. ”
    He glanced meaningly at the sky. “Time’s against that.”
    Bolitho saw some of the idlers on deck pausing to try and catch their words.
    He said, “I agree. Besides, when she sights Telemachus she might turn and run if she thinks we are about to offer a chase.”
    â€œShall I signal Wakeful, sir?” Once again that same hesitation.
    â€œI think not. Wakeful will stand a better chance downwind if this stranger decides to make a run for the Dover Strait.”
    Paice gave a tight grin. “I’ll say this, sir, you never let up.”
    Bolitho glanced away. “After this, I hope others may remember it.”
    Paice beckoned to his first lieutenant. “Call all hands, Andrew—” He glanced anxiously at Bolitho. “That is, Mr Triscott. Clear for action, but do not load or run out.”
    Bolitho watched them both and said, “This is where Telemachus’ s ability to sail close to the wind will tell. It will also offer our small broadside a better chance should we have to match the enemy’s iron!”
    He crossed to the lee side and looked down at the creaming wake. There was only this moment. He must think of nothing further. Not of Allday, nor that this newcomer might well be an honest trader. If that were true, his name would carry no weight at all.
    He heard the boy ask, “What’ll I do, sir?”
    Bolitho looked at him and saw him falter under his gaze. Then he said, “Fetch my sword.” He nearly added and pray. Instead he said, “Then stand by me.”
    Calls trilled although they were hardly needed in Telemachus’ s sixty-nine-foot hull.
    â€œAll hands! Clear for action!”
    Tomorrow would bring the first day in May. What might it take away? Bolitho lowered the telescope and spoke over his shoulder. “What do you estimate our position, Mr Chesshyre?”
    There was no hesitation. “’Bout ten miles north of Foreness Point, sir.”
    Bolitho wiped the telescope with his sleeve to give himself time to digest the master’s words.
    Foreness Point lay on the north-eastern corner of the Isle of Thanet, and the mainland of Kent. It reminded him briefly of Herrick, as had Chesshyre’s voice.
    Paice said hoarsely, “If he is a smuggler he’ll be hard put to go about now, sir.”
    Bolitho levelled the glass again and saw the big schooner’s dark sails standing above the sea like bat’s wings. Paice was right. The north-easterly would make it difficult, even hazardous to try and claw round to weather the headland. The lookouts would be able to see it from their perch, but from the deck it looked as if the two vessels had the sea to themselves.
    Bolitho glanced at the sky, which was still cloudless and clear. Only the