With All Despatch by Alexander Kent Page B

sea seemed darker, and he knew that sooner or later one of them would have to show his hand.
    He pictured the coast in his mind. They were steering towards the old anchorage at Sheerness, but before that lay Whitstable, and as the two vessels maintained their same tack and speed they were slowly converging, drawing together like lines on the chart.
    Paice said, “He’ll have to stand away soon, sir, or he’ll end up with Sheppey across his bows.”
    Bolitho glanced along the deck, at the gun crews crouching or lounging by the sealed ports, each captain having already selected the best shot from the garlands for the first loading.
    Bolitho had been in so many actions that he could recognise the casual attitudes of the seamen, the way they watched the schooner’s steady approach with little more than professional interest. With Allday it was different; but these men were not accustomed to real action. A few might have fought in other ships, but most of them, as Paice had explained, were fishermen and workers driven from the land because of falling trade.
    Bolitho said, “You may load now, Mr Paice.” He waited for the lieutenant to face him. “He is not going to run, you know that, don’t you?”
    Paice swallowed. “But I don’t see that—”
    â€œ Do it, Mr Paice. Tell the gunner’s mates to supervise each piece personally. I want them double-shotted but with no risk of injury from an exploding cannon!”
    Paice yelled, “All guns load! Double-shotted!”
    Bolitho ignored the curious and doubtful stares as several of the seamen peered aft to where he stood by the taffrail. He raised the glass again and watched the big sails leap into view. People too, at the bulwarks, and moving around the tapering masts. How would Telemachus look to them, he wondered? Small and lively, her guns still behind their port lids. Just one little cutter which stood between them and the land.
    â€œD’you know her?” Bolitho lowered the glass and saw young Matthew staring at him unblinkingly, as if fearful of missing something.
    Paice shook his head. “Stranger, sir.” To the master he added, “What about you?”
    Chesshyre shrugged. “Never laid eyes on her.”
    Bolitho clenched his fists. It had to be the right one. A quick glance abeam; the light was slowly going, the sun suddenly misty above the hidden land.
    He said, “Bring her up two points, Mr Paice.”
    Men scampered to their stations, and soon the blocks squealed, and the great mainsail thundered from its long boom.
    â€œSteady she goes, sir! Nor’-West!”
    â€œRun up the Colours!”
    Bolitho dragged his eyes from the schooner and watched the gun crews. Some of them were still standing upright, gaping at the other ship.
    Bolitho snapped, “Tell those bumpkins to stand to, damn them!”
    He heard the big ensign cracking in the wind above the deck, then shouted, “Fire one of the larboard guns, Mr Paice!”
    Paice opened his mouth to dispute the order, then he nodded. By firing a gun from the opposite side they would keep the whole starboard broadside intact.
    Moments later the foremost six-pounder banged out, the smoke dispersing downwind before the crew had begun to sponge its barrel.
    Bolitho folded his arms and watched the schooner, like the boy at his side, not daring to blink.
    Paice said, “He’s ignored the signal, sir.” He sounded dazed, as if he scarcely believed it was happening. “Maybe he’s—”
    Bolitho did not know what Paice intended to say for at that second there was a great flash from the schooner’s forecastle, and as smoke belched over the wave crests a ball smashed through Telemachus’ s bulwark and burst apart on a six-pounder. Splinters of wood and iron shrieked away in all directions, and as the gun’s echo faded the sound continued, but this time it was human.
    One of the seamen was on his