Free Badge of Glory (1982) by Douglas Reeman Page B

be like down there as coal was shovelled into the hungry furnaces was hard to imagine.
    ‘South by east, sir!’
    ‘Steady as she goes, Mr Oliver.’
    Tobin rubbed his chin. ‘I’ll bet a million bloody eyes are watching us already.’ He looked at Blackwood. ‘Have you got it fixed in your mind?’
    Blackwood thought of the many hours he had spent with Tobin in his cabin. The captain had taken him over charts and sketches, had read him scraps from some of his oldnote-books until he felt he knew this place from memory. During each forenoon before the sun had become too hot he had exercised the marines again and again until they too knew what was expected of them once they had left the safety of
Satyr
’s hull.
    ‘Aye, sir, thanks to you.’
    Tobin regarded him gravely. ‘I’ll not risk lives for nothing.’ Again a brief command. ‘Dead slow, Mr Oliver.’
    Somewhere a gong jangled and the great paddles rose and fell to a quieter beat.
    Slade strode from the companion-way, his face shaded by a straw hat.
    ‘Anything?’
    ‘No, Sir Geoffrey. Not even a local fisherman. Like the grave.’
    Slade looked past him, his eyes cold. ‘Very apt, I shouldn’t wonder.’
    Suddenly he drew Blackwood aside. ‘I did not intend this should happen. The fact is, I must know what is happening here, as it could have a vital effect on what action we must take later on. The only people who can help are at the mission. They were under Mdlaka’s protection and able to do much as they pleased. However . . .’ The word hung in the air like a threat. ‘But if this uprising is no accidental affair to settle old scores, someone’s behind it, fanning the flames.’ Impetuously he touched Blackwood’s arm. ‘I’m sorry to ask you to do this. But I
must
know.’
    Blackwood said, ‘I’m ready, sir.’ He forced a smile. ‘Do my men good to stretch their legs.’
    Slade did not smile. ‘As quickly as you can. In and out before nightfall.’ He fixed his eyes on Blackwood’s features as if to try and memorize them. ‘Right?’
    ‘Right, sir.’ Blackwood walked to the rail. ‘Be ready, Colour-Sergeant! As soon as we anchor!’
    Lascelles stood beside him. He had changed into his scarlet coatee.
    Blackwood said, ‘We’ll take two boats, Mr Lascelles, thatway we shall divide the target.’ He saw the lieutenant’s eyes widen as if he had only just realized what was happening. ‘I think we are in for some trouble, so check their weapons, and make certain each man carries an extra pouch of ammunition.’
    Along the frigate’s main-deck the marines dashed back and forth to prepare their equipment and weapons for loading into the boats. No longer the passengers, they made the rest of the ship’s company look like mere spectators.
    Lascelles would be quite useless. It hit Blackwood like a fist. Outwardly a good officer and popular with his own men, he would crack wide open in a real battle. But it was too late now.
    Blackwood clapped him on the shoulder and felt the stiffness beneath the scarlet cloth. There was no nice, easy way.
    ‘You draw your pay, Mr Lascelles. Now bloody well earn it!’
    He watched the lieutenant march away, his face tight with humiliation.
    Then he said quietly, ‘Go with Mr Lascelles, Colour-Sergeant.’ He saw all the arguments building up on M’Crystal’s red face. ‘I shall take his sergeant with me.’
    M’Crystal nodded. ‘Aye, sir. I understand.’
    Tobin came out of the companion-way and said, ‘I heard most of that, Major. You’ve an old head for one so young. Try and keep it on its shoulders. I think we’re going to need you again before long.’
    Lascelles came aft again and touched his shako. ‘Landing party ready for inspection.’ He did not look directly at Blackwood’s face.
    ‘Very well.’ What was it his grandfather had told him? In the Corps it was always the same.
The first to land. The last to leave.
He glanced towards the bare line of hills and fallen rocks. And that