Success to the Brave by Alexander Kent Read Free Book Online Page A

their admiral was mad enough to clear for action because of some stupid stranger?
    Another voice said, “Dawn coming up, sir.”
    The lieutenant who had spoken sounded awed by the occasion.
    Bolitho turned to look astern and saw the horizon begin to betray the division between sea and sky. How many hundreds of dawns must he have watched, he wondered? And how many had he thought might be his last?
    Someone remarked, “The bugger might have slipped us during the night.”
    The sergeant of marines tapped his hand-pike on the damp planking and muttered, “Easy, lads. Stow the chat!”
    The crossbelts of the marines who lined the poop nettings were already brighter, and when Bolitho looked up to the main-mast truck he saw it was touched with pale gold, like the tip of a lance.
    The lookouts in the crosstrees or crouched in the swaying tops would see the other ship first. If she was still there.
    All night long Keen had worked his ship upwind, a slow, wearying task with the yards so often close-hauled that they seemed to reach above the deck in a single barrier of spars and canvas.
    All they had said of Achates was true. She handled well, and responded to sail and rudder like a thoroughbred.
    Bolitho listened to the sluice of water below the lee side, the occasional creak of gun tackles as they took the strain.
    The light seemed to spill down from the horizon like a separate layer, as if it was in pursuit of the ship which lay over to the wind just out of reach.
    â€œ There she is! Fine on the lee bow!”
    Everyone was talking at once, and Bolitho saw Keen’s teeth, very white in a grin, as he nodded to the sailing-master.
    They had done even better than expected. Had taken, and could now hold the wind-gage if it came to a chase.
    Bolitho stared at the distant shadow as the other vessel took on shape and substance against the dark water.
    Keen closed his telescope with a snap. “Bigger than a fifth-rate, Mr Pas—, er Bolitho.”
    Several of those nearby chuckled, and Bolitho was glad Adam was here with him.
    He heard his nephew say, “I agree, sir. A cut down two-decker seems more likely.”
    Keen crossed to Bolitho’s side. “What orders, sir?”
    â€œWait a while longer. He has not sighted us yet. But when he does, tell him to identify himself.”
    It seemed incredible that Achates had got so near and yet remained unseen. The other ship lay less than a cable now across the larboard bow, and they could see the white tail of her wash beneath the counter. Even the din of Achates ’ canvas and drumming stays and shrouds seemed loud enough to wake the dead, but Bolitho knew from experience it was an illusion.
    Suddenly above the noise of sea and wind Bolitho heard a shrill whistle. He could picture it exactly. A sleepy lookout, who had most likely been ordered to seek out Achates as soon as it was daylight, the watch on deck thinking of little but being relieved and getting something warm to eat and drink. It was all normal enough.
    Quantock said sharply, “She’s setting her t’gan’s’ls!”
    Keen said, “They’re making a run for it, sir. So they are up to something.”
    Bolitho felt a chill run through his body as if it was the first time. Elation, excitement or madness, who could say?
    â€œAs soon as it is light enough, make your signal. Until then hold him on the larboard bow.”
    Keen nodded. The excitement was infectious. With him it had always been the same even as a midshipman a million years ago in another ocean.
    â€œHands aloft, Mr Quantock, if you please. We must make more sail.”
    Calls trilled and the seamen swarmed up the ratlines on either side, their bodies and limbs glowing suddenly as they climbed higher and the pale sunlight discovered them.
    â€œBring her up a point. Hands to the braces there!”
    Spray burst over the beak-head and bowsprit and spattered across the forecastle like tropical