Rennie’s marines were already pouring gratefully from the hold, their white crossbelts bright and eerie against their uniforms. Rennie had not forgotten his part, and within minutes he had split his men into two parties, and with a single command had both files trotting briskly along the pier towards the silent village.
Stockdale was the last to leave the lugger, his cutlass swinging from his hand like a toy.
Bolitho took a last look round and checked his bearings. “Very well, Stockdale, let us go and take a look!”
8
THE RAID
BOLITHO lifted his hand, and behind him the file of sailors shuffled to a standstill. “We will wait here for ten minutes! Pass the word down the line!”
He waited until silence had again fallen over the steep roadway and then added quietly to Lieutenant Okes, “We’ll push on a bit further and have a look at the bridge. We can’t help Rennie’s marines by standing here worrying, and it’s already near two o’clock. There is a lot to do before dawn finds us.”
He walked on without waiting for Okes to comment. He could feel the loose stones crunching beneath his shoes, and was conscious of a new sense of light-headedness. Everything had gone so well that the strain was all the more telling. Surely the luck could not last?
It had been less than an hour since the lugger had tied up to the pier. After killing the two luckless sentries, Captain Rennie’s marines had gone on to capture the small guard-house at the end of the coast road with hardly a scuffle. The sleeping soldiers, all ten of them, had been gleefully clubbed into deeper slumber, or worse, and the duty NCO had been seized and trussed like a terrified chicken.
Bolitho had left Rennie to spread his men along the roadside and occupy the high ground above the village. From there they should be able to withstand anything but a really heavy assault until the raiding party had completed its work.
Bolitho dropped on one knee and strained his eyes into the darkness. He could just see the spidery outline of a high wooden bridge and the isolated headland beyond, where the sleeping gun-battery lay as yet unaware of what was happening. It was quite a solid bridge, Bolitho thought. Wide and heavy enough for guns and stores, for shot, and all the materials for building breastworks and embrasures. It would take a long time to replace once destroyed.
A boot crunched at his side and Sergeant Garwood peered down at him. “Cap’n Rennie’s respects, sir. The marines is all in position. We’ve ’ad the lugger warped to the end o’ the pier so that we can cover our withdrawal with the swivel gun.” He stared towards the bridge. “I’d like to have a crack at that lot, sir!” He sounded envious.
“You get back to Captain Rennie and tell him to hold the road until we fall back.” Bolitho smiled in the darkness. “Don’t worry, Sergeant, you’ll get your pennyworth of fighting before the night’s done!”