“Well, I’ll be damned!” He shook his head and grinned, “Well, I’ll be double -damned!”

15

THE STORM BREAKS

SURPRISINGLY the wind did hold, and twenty hours after Proby’s prophecy the Phalarope’s anchor splashed down into deep, clear water amidst a huddle of low, desolate islets.

Apart from lowering boats and filling them with water casks in readiness for the following morning, it was pointless to attempt a landing with night so close at hand, but at the first hint of daylight, long before the sun was able to burnish an edge to the horizon, the first boatloads of men grated up the narrow shelving beach of the nearest islet.

Bolitho climbed through the tangle of dark scrub at the top of the beach and stared round at the busy preparations behind him. The boats had already shoved off to collect more men, and the ones already landed were standing huddled together, as if conscious of the island’s bleak inhospitality. One or two of the sailors were staggering like drunken revellers, their legs so used to the pitch and toss of a ship’s deck that the unfamiliar land destroyed their sense of balance.

Petty officers bawled orders and checked their lists of names, and as the next batch of men arrived to join the swelling mass of sailors at the water’s edge the first parties picked up their casks and tools and began to stumble inland.

Lieutenant Okes appeared on the ridge and touched his hat. “All working parties ready, sir.” He looked harassed.

Bolitho nodded. “You have your orders, Mr Okes. Just follow the rough map I made for you and you should find fresh water without difficulty. Keep the men moving fast before the sun comes up. You’ll need every available man to carry the full casks down to the beach, so see they don’t wander off.”

He saw Trevenen, the cooper, scurrying ahead of another party accompanied by Ledward, the carpenter, the latter ever hopeful of replenishing his stock of spare timber. He’d not find much here, Bolitho thought grimly. These islets were useless and left well alone, but for occasional fresh-water parties. Underfoot the ground was hidden by layer upon layer of rotten vegetation, its heavy stench well mixed with seagull droppings and small bright patches of fungus. Further inland there were a few hump-backed hills, from the top of which a man could see the sea in every direction.

Okes walked off after his men, and Bolitho caught sight of Farquhar’s slim figure outlined against the green scrub, before he too vanished over the far side of the ridge. Bolitho had deliberately ordered the midshipman to join Okes in command of the main party. It would do them both good to work together, if only to break down the strange air of watchful tension between them. It seemed as if Farquhar was playing some sort of game with Okes. Ever since his escape from the Andiron Farquhar had made a point of not speaking to Okes, but his presence alone seemed more than enough to reduce the lieutenant to a state of permanent agitation.