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

Hugh nodded. `Immediately.' He led the way on deck.
Bolitho felt the damp biting into his bones. Easy living for a few days at home had had its effects, he thought ruefully. Now, tired and weary from the sea and wind, he was feeling very low indeed.
He peered at the tossing boat alongside. It was so dark he could barely make out its outline, just a pitching shape in a welter of white spray.
Dancer hurried to his side. `I wish I was going with you.'
Bolitho gripped his arm. `Me too. I feel a complete novice amongst these people.'
His brother lurched across the slippery planking.
`Be off with you. Carry on, Bosun.' He waited for Pyke to vanish over the side and added quietly, `Keep your eyes wide open. I will lie to when I can, but in any case will be nearby at first light. If there is any truth in my information we may stand a chance.'
Bolitho threw his leg over the bulwark and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. One false step and he would be swept away like a wood chip on a mill-race.
The boat cast off and veered away from the Avenger almost before he had regained his breath, while Pyke swung the tiller-bar and peered above the oarsmen's heads as if to seek a way through the nearest line of leaping breakers.
To calm his nerves Bolitho asked, `What are the centipedes, Mr Pyke?'
The stroke oarsman grinned, his teeth very white in the darkness. "Ere, sir!' He kicked out with his foot as he leaned aft for another pull at his oar.
Bolitho reached down and felt two enormous grapnels. They were unlike any he had seen, with several sets of flukes like legs.
Pyke did not take his eyes from the shore as he said, `The smugglers usually sink their booty to wait until the coast is clear. Then they lifts it when they'm good and ready. My little centipedes can drag the stuff off the bottom.' He laughed quietly, a humourless sound. `I've done a few in me time.'
The bowman called, `Land ahead, sir!'
The boat was planing forward, the spray hissing between the oar blades to beat across the already dripping inmates.
`Easy, all!'
A tall, slab-sided rock rushed down the starboard side, muffling the sound of breakers like a huge door.
With a lurch and a violent shudder the boat grounded on hard sand, and as men fell cursing in the water and tried to steady the impact, others leapt on to the beach to guide the bows clear of fallen rocks.
Bolitho tried to stop his teeth chattering. He had to assume Gloag and Pyke knew what they were doing, that his brother's plan made sense. This was the cove, but to Bolitho it could have been anywhere.
Pyke regarded him through the gloom. `Well, sir?'
`You know this business better than me.'
Bolitho knew some of the men were listening, but this was no time to stand on dignity at the expense of safety. He was Avenger's second-in-command. But he was a lowly midshipman for all that.
Pyke grunted, satisfied or contemptuous it was impossible to say.
No Choice
He said, `Two men stand by the boat. Load your weapons now.' He gestured upwards into the darkness. 'Ashmore, you stand guard. Watch out for any nosey bugger hanging around.'
The invisible Ashmore asked, `An' if I does, sir?'
`Crack 'is 'ead, for Gawd's sake!'
Pyke adjusted his belt. `The rest of you, come with us.' To Bolitho he added, `Night like this, should be all right.' .
The snow swirled around them as they fumbled their way up a winding, treacherous pathway. Once, Bolitho paused to give a seaman his hand on a slippery piece of the track and saw the sea reaching out far below him. Impenetrable black lined with broken crests of incoming rollers.
He thought of his mother. It was unreal to know that she was only twelve miles or so away from where he was standing. But there was a world of difference between a straight bird's flight and the Avenger's meandering track to this particular point.
Pyke was tireless, and his long, thin legs were taking him up the path as if they did it every single day.
Bolitho tried to ignore the cold and the blinding . sleet. It was like walking into oblivion.
He collided with Pyke's back as the boatswain hissed, `Still! Th' cottage is up 'ere, somewhere.'
Bolitho fingered his sheathed hanger and strained his ears, expecting to hear something.
Pyke nodded. `This way.' He hurried on again, the track levelling off as the little group of men left the sea behind them.
The cottage loomed out of the sleet like a pale rock. It was little more than the size of a large room, Bolitho thought, with very low walls, some kind of thatched roof and small, sightless windows.
Who would want to live here? he wondered. It must be quite a walk to the nearest hamlet or village.
Pyke was peering at the little cottage with professional interest. To Bolitho he said, `Man's name is Portlock. Bit of everything 'e is. Poacher, crimp for the press gangs, 'e can turn 'is 'and to most trades.' He laughed shortly. "Ow 'e's escaped the noose all these years I'll not know.' He sighed. `Robins, go 'alf a cable along the track and watch out. Coote, round the back. There's no door, but you never knows.' He looked at Bolitho. `Better if you knocks the door.'
`But I thought we were supposed to be quiet about it?'
`Up to a point. We've come this far safe an' .sound.' He approached the cottage calmly. `But if we are bein' watched, Mr Bolitho, we got to make it look good, or Mister bloody Portlock will soon be gutted like a fish!'
Bolitho nodded. He was learning.
Then he drew his curved hanger and after a fur
ther hesitation he banged it sharply on the door. For a moment longer nothing happened. Just the
patter of sleet across the thatch and their wet clothing,
the irregular breathing of the seamen.
Then a voice called, `W-who be it at this hour?' Bolitho swallowed hard. He had been expecting a
gruff voice to match Pyke's description. But it was a
No Choice
female.Young by the sound of her, and frightened too.
He heard the rustle of expectancy from the sailors and said firmly, `Open the door, ma'am. In the King's name!'