Read Online A King's Cutter by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Woodman
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around the base of the cliff. Saw him stumble and recover, saw the spurts of sand where musket balls struck.
âOver here!â he yelled, reaching the grapnel.
He uncoiled the loop of light line and passed it around his waist ina bowline with a three fathom tail. The man blundered up grasping.
âMajor Brown?â
âThe same, the same . . .â The man heaved his breath in as Drinkwater passed the end of the line round his waist.
âA kestrel . . .â
â. . . for a knave.â Brown finished the countersign as Drinkwater grasped his arm and dragged him towards the sea. Already infantrymen were running down onto the beach. Resolutely Drinkwater turned seawards and shouted: âHeave in!â
He saw Tregembo wave and felt the line jerk about his waist. The breath was driven out of him as he was hauled bodily through a tumbling wavecrest. He lost his grip on the spy. Bobbing to the surface he glimpsed the night sky arched impassively above his supine body as he relinquished it to Tregemboâs hauling. He desperately gasped for breath as the next wave rolled over him. Then he was under the transom of the boat, feeling for the stirrup of rope Poll should have rigged. His right leg found it and he half turned for Major Brown who seemed waterlogged in his coat.
âGet him in first, Tregembo,â Drinkwater gasped, âheâs near collapse.â
Somehow they pulled him up to the transom and Drinkwater helped turn him round with his back to the boat. âGet clear Mr Drinkwater!â It was Tregemboâs voice and Drinkwater was vaguely aware of the two seamen, their hands on the shoulders of the Major, lifting him, lifting him, then suddenly plunging him down hard, down so that he disappeared then thrust to the surface where they waited to grab him and drag him ungainly into the boat. Drinkwater felt the tug on the line as Brown went inboard. He wearily replaced his foot in the stirrup and tried to heave himself over the transom but his chilled muscles cramped. Tregembo grabbed him and in a second he was in the bottom of the boat, on top of Brown and it no longer mattered about the coils of rope.
âBeg pardon, zur,â Tregembo heaved him aside with one hand and then his axe bit into the quarter knee cutting the grapnel line. Forward Poll showed the lantern and on board
Kestrel
all hands walked away with the hemp rope. Musket shot whistled round them and two or three struck splinters from the gunwales.
Wearily Drinkwater raised his head, eager to see the familiar loom of
Kestrel
over him. Ten yards to go, then safety. To seaward he thought he saw something else. It looked very like the angled peaks of a luggerâs sails.
Even as he digested this they were alongside and arms were reaching down to help him out of the boat onto the deck. Roughly compassionate, Griffiths himself threw a boat cloak around Drinkwater while the latter stuttered out what he had seen.
âLugger is it? Aye,
bach
, Iâve seen it already . . . are you all right?â
âWell enough,â stammered Drinkwater through chattering teeth.
âGet sail on her then. Mr Jessup! Larboard broadside, make ready . . .â Griffiths had given him the easy, mechanical job, Jessupâs job, while he recovered himself. He felt a wave of gratitude for the old manâs consideration and stumbled forward, gathering the men round the halliards at the fiferail. Staysail and throat halliards went away together, then the jib and peak halliards. The great gaff rose into the night and the sails slatted and cracked, the mast trembled and
Kestrel
fretted to be off.
There was a flash from seaward and the whine of a ball to starboard, surprising the men who had not yet realised the danger from the sea but who assumed they were to fire a defiant parting broadside at the beach.
The halliards were belayed and Drinkwater went aft to Griffiths.
â
Da
âOver here!â he yelled, reaching the grapnel.
He uncoiled the loop of light line and passed it around his waist ina bowline with a three fathom tail. The man blundered up grasping.
âMajor Brown?â
âThe same, the same . . .â The man heaved his breath in as Drinkwater passed the end of the line round his waist.
âA kestrel . . .â
â. . . for a knave.â Brown finished the countersign as Drinkwater grasped his arm and dragged him towards the sea. Already infantrymen were running down onto the beach. Resolutely Drinkwater turned seawards and shouted: âHeave in!â
He saw Tregembo wave and felt the line jerk about his waist. The breath was driven out of him as he was hauled bodily through a tumbling wavecrest. He lost his grip on the spy. Bobbing to the surface he glimpsed the night sky arched impassively above his supine body as he relinquished it to Tregemboâs hauling. He desperately gasped for breath as the next wave rolled over him. Then he was under the transom of the boat, feeling for the stirrup of rope Poll should have rigged. His right leg found it and he half turned for Major Brown who seemed waterlogged in his coat.
âGet him in first, Tregembo,â Drinkwater gasped, âheâs near collapse.â
Somehow they pulled him up to the transom and Drinkwater helped turn him round with his back to the boat. âGet clear Mr Drinkwater!â It was Tregemboâs voice and Drinkwater was vaguely aware of the two seamen, their hands on the shoulders of the Major, lifting him, lifting him, then suddenly plunging him down hard, down so that he disappeared then thrust to the surface where they waited to grab him and drag him ungainly into the boat. Drinkwater felt the tug on the line as Brown went inboard. He wearily replaced his foot in the stirrup and tried to heave himself over the transom but his chilled muscles cramped. Tregembo grabbed him and in a second he was in the bottom of the boat, on top of Brown and it no longer mattered about the coils of rope.
âBeg pardon, zur,â Tregembo heaved him aside with one hand and then his axe bit into the quarter knee cutting the grapnel line. Forward Poll showed the lantern and on board
Kestrel
all hands walked away with the hemp rope. Musket shot whistled round them and two or three struck splinters from the gunwales.
Wearily Drinkwater raised his head, eager to see the familiar loom of
Kestrel
over him. Ten yards to go, then safety. To seaward he thought he saw something else. It looked very like the angled peaks of a luggerâs sails.
Even as he digested this they were alongside and arms were reaching down to help him out of the boat onto the deck. Roughly compassionate, Griffiths himself threw a boat cloak around Drinkwater while the latter stuttered out what he had seen.
âLugger is it? Aye,
bach
, Iâve seen it already . . . are you all right?â
âWell enough,â stammered Drinkwater through chattering teeth.
âGet sail on her then. Mr Jessup! Larboard broadside, make ready . . .â Griffiths had given him the easy, mechanical job, Jessupâs job, while he recovered himself. He felt a wave of gratitude for the old manâs consideration and stumbled forward, gathering the men round the halliards at the fiferail. Staysail and throat halliards went away together, then the jib and peak halliards. The great gaff rose into the night and the sails slatted and cracked, the mast trembled and
Kestrel
fretted to be off.
There was a flash from seaward and the whine of a ball to starboard, surprising the men who had not yet realised the danger from the sea but who assumed they were to fire a defiant parting broadside at the beach.
The halliards were belayed and Drinkwater went aft to Griffiths.
â
Da
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