"Bolitho 02 - Midshipman Bolitho & Avenger(txt)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kent Alexander)

If Whiffin's information was correct there would be an attack on the slow-moving waggons. If the attackers already knew of the deception they would be beside themselves with glee. If not, it would still make little difference unless Dancer and his men received help.
He looked up at the hard-bellied sails, the long whipping tongue of the masthead pendant.
His brother called, `Very well. Stand by to come about.'
When order had replaced the confusion of changing tack, and Avenger's long, pole-like bowsprit was pointing towards the east, the gunner came aft, leaning over to a steeper angle as the wind pushed the hull over.
`Boats checked an' ready, sir. An' I've got a good man by the arms chest in case we. . . .'
He swung round as a voice called hoarsely, `Light, sir! On th' larboard bow!'
Dark figures slithered down across the tilting deck to the lee side to search for the light.
Someone said, `Wreckers, mebbe?'
But Gloag, who had also seen it, said, `No. It was too regular.' He pointed. `See? There it be again!'
Bolitho snatched a telescope and tried to train it across the creaming wash of crests and spray. Two flashes. A shuttered lantern. A signal.
He felt Hugh at his side, heard his telescope squeak as he closed it and said, `Where is that, d'you reckon, Mr Gloag?' Calm again. In charge.
"Ard t' tell, sir.'
Bolitho heard Gloag breathing heavily, any animosity between him and his youthful captain momentarily forgotten.
Pyke suggested, `Round the point, towards Prah Sands, is my guess, sir.'
The light blinked out twice like a malevolent eye against the black shoreline.
Pyke said with disbelief, `God damn their eyes, they're runnin' a cargo tonight, the buggers!'
Bolitho chilled, imagining the unknown vessel, somewhere ahead of the lightless cutter. If they sighted the Avenger they might sheer off. Then again, they might raise an alarm which in turn would warn the ambush. The attack would be brought forward and there would be no hope of quarter.
`We will shorten sail, Mr Gloag. Mr Truscott, have the guns loaded with grape and canister.' The sharpness in his tone held the gunner motionless. `But do it piece by piece. I don't want to hear a sound!' Hugh peered round for a boatswain's mate. `Pass the word forrard. A flogging for the first man to alert the enemy. A golden guinea for the first man to sight him!'
Bolitho crossed the deck before he knew what he was doing.
`You're not going after her?'
His brother faced him, although his face was hidden in the gloom.
`What did you expect? If I let her slip away we could lose both. This way we might do for all the devils at once!'
He swung away as the hands ran to the braces and halliards.
`I've no choice.'
As the Avenger ploughed her way through each succession of wave crests, Bolitho found it harder to contain his anxiety. The cutter seemed to be making an incredible noise, and although he knew it would not be heard beyond half a cable, he could find no comfort. The sluice of water against the hull, the boom of heavy canvas with the attendant strains and rattles in the rigging, all joined in an ever-changing crescendo.
The topsail had been taken in, as had the jib, but even under fore and mainsail alone Avenger would stand out to any watchful smuggler.
As Gloag had mentioned, it was a fair night. Now that their eyes had become accustomed to it, it seemed even brighter. No clouds, a million glittering stars to reflect on the frothing waves and spume, and when you looked up the sails were like great, quivering wings.
A man craned over a stocky six-pounder and thrust out his arm.

7
A Tragedy

`There, sir! Fine on th' lee bow!'
Figures moved about the decks, as if taking part in a well practised dance. Here and there a telescope squeaked or a man whispered to his companion. Some in speculation, others probably in envy for the man who would receive a golden guinea.
Hugh Bolitho said, `Schooner, showing no lights. Under full sail too.' He shut his glass with a snap. `--Bit of luck. He'll be making more din than we are.' He dispensed with conjecture and added shortly, `Bring her up a point, Mr Gloag. I don't want the devil to slip past us. We'll hold the wind-gage if we can.'
Voices passed hushed orders, and cordage squeaked through the sheaves while overhead the big mainsail shivered violently before filling again to the, alteration of course.
Bolitho glanced at the compass as the helmsman said hoarsely, `East by south, sir.'
`Man the larboard battery.' Hugh sounded completely absorbed. `Open the ports.'
Bolitho watched the port lids being hauled open toreveal the glistening mane of water alongside. Avenger was heeling so far over that spray came leaping inboard over the six-pounders and deadly looking swivels.
Normally Bolitho would have felt like the rest of the men around him. Tense, committed, slightly wild at the prospect of a fight. But he could not lose himself this time, and kept thinking of the waggons, the outnumbered escort, the sudden horror of an ambush.
A Tragedy
A light spurted in the darkness, and for an instant he thought some careless seaman had dropped a lantern on the other vessel. Then he heard a distant crack, like a man breaking a nut in his palms, and knew it was a pistol shot. A warning, a signal. Now it did not matter which.
`Put up your helm, Mr Gloag!' Hugh's voice, loud now that caution was pointless, made the men at the tiller start. `Stand by on deck!'
There were more flashes, doing more to reveal the other vessel's size and sail plan than to harm the crouching seamen.
The distance was rapidly falling away, the big sails sweeping the cutter downwind like a bird of prey, and then they saw the schooner rising through the darkness, her canvas in confusion as she tried to change tack and beat clear.
Bolitho watched his brother as he stood by the weather rail, one foot on a bollard, as if he was watching a race.
`As you bear, Mr Truscott! On the uproll!'
A further pause, and across the choppy water Bolitho heard muffled shouts, a vague rasp of metal.
Then, `Fire!'
At a range of less than seventy yards the larboard battery hurled themselves inboard on their tackles, their long orange tongues as blinding as their ex