The flag of truce failed to convince Horne that the Malagasy’s surrender was genuine. Suspicious of treachery, he explained the next stage of action to the crew. ‘We board in three parties. Keep alert for any traps. Defeat will be bitter for those men.’
The babble of excitement spread among Kiro’s gun crew as Horne cautioned, ‘I don’t want a blood bath. We’re going aboard to muzzle the enemy, keep them from pursuit.’
‘Babcock,’ he said, ‘board men from the prow.’
Babcock jumped from the quarter-deck with a whoop.
‘Kiro, lead your men from midship.’
‘Both crews, sir?’ Kiro gestured to the men crowded on opposite gun decks.
‘Both crews,’ affirmed Horne.
He looked aloft. ‘You men up top. I’ll lead you from the stern.’
A cheer rose from the hands sitting with their bare legs wrapped around spars, clinging to canvas.
‘Now, arm yourselves,’ Horne called.
As the men swung from the rigging, the scramble began on deck for knives, swords and clubs; Kiro’s crew seized the long ropes attached to spiked grappling irons. The growing fervour worried Horne. Hand-to-hand combat fuelled a man’s appetite for blood lust. Was he wrong to be ordering a boarding party?
Looking astern, he saw the Malagasy crews abandoning both pattimars, crowding into open boats and clinging to planks serving as makeshift rafts. His first instinct was to offer assistance but he dismissed it. What Malagasy would accept succour from an enemy? Certainly not those proud tribesmen. Especially not from topiwallahs who had caused their loss of self-respect.
A sword in one hand and a dirk tucked into his waistband, Horne clung to the ratlines as the Huma drew closer to the pirate sloop. Seeing preparations to repel boarders, he realised he had been correct not to believe their white flag of surrender. But he also saw pandemonium spreading among their men, more figures jumping feet first into the sea, clawing through the choppy waves towards the other evacuees.
Did any of those men now realise how senseless this battle had been? A stupid loss of ships, not to mention a senseless waste of lives?
As the gap lessened between the two ships, excitement mounted aboard the Huma. Kiro’s crew became increasingly anxious for the call to hurl their grappling irons; Babcock’s men stood ready with long planks to bridge the sloop’s rail.
Clear-voiced, Horne reminded them, ‘Fight to disable the ship. Not to spill blood.’
A silence fell over the crew, the babble giving way to the sound of lapping waves and creaking timber. For the final time, Horne looked aboard the sloop to see if the enemy might succeed in a defensive manoeuvre. Thankfully, they were not returning to their guns, not preparing to greet the Huma with a sudden broadside.
At last the moment came.
‘Throw grappling irons.’
As the spiked iron stars crossed the gap, a flood of brown men swung from the shrouds; the second crew rushed their plank bridges, pouring over the rail, the sound of clanking steel and the pop of flintlocks filling the air.
Sword in hand, Horne leaped aboard the sloop and was instantly greeted by a dagger’s thrust. Dodging to one side, he swung his sword at the attacker, slashing a line of blood across the man’s wrist.
Moving amidship, he stopped when he saw a man lunge toward him; he caught the attacker on his dagger and, summoning his strength, hurled the body overboard into the water.
Bent upon finding the leader, he paused to peer through the smoky confusion, searching for some figure of authority. Certainly the captain had not already abandoned ship.
Turning towards the stern, Horne faced a wild-eyed giant who rushed at him with a scimitar. Jumping aside, he pulled back his own sword but, at the same moment, he caught sight of another man raising a club high in the air. That was the last he remembered.
* * *
Kiro took his crew across amidships with a blood-curdling cry. In the prow, Babcock’s men already waged battle as Horne led the stern attack.
Kiro had learned the Japanese fighting art of Karate in his homeland. Chopping down his hand, he sent a pistol flying. A kick disabled a swordsmen. Quick fingers blinded two more attackers.
Kiro and Horne made a good fighting team, Kiro using Karate, Horne practising the ancient Greek technique of fighting, Pankration, which he had learnt from an old soldier in England.
Before becoming a Bombay Marine, Kiro had known nothing about Adam Horne or the East India Company. Having been a gunner aboard an island raiding boat out of Nagasaki, he had been captured by a Company merchantman and gaoled for piracy in Bombay Castle.
The rootless day-to-day existence of a Bombay Marine was little different from the life of a pirate—homeless; no family; a life of feast or famine. Constant danger, too, taught a Marine to depend on his physical strength and quick wits. But Horne also instilled a sense of honour into his men. There must be no senseless killings, no plundering, no savage attacks on the defenceless.
Horne showed each man, too, how to get the most out of himself; to evaluate his mental as well as his physical capabilities; to plumb hidden talents; to exercise brain as well as brawn.
On their last assignment, two of Horne’s seven Marines had been killed by cannon fire. Kiro had realised that missions ashore were as deadly as sea fighting. There were now only five Marines left; who would be killed next?
Kiro had learnt not to let worry eat away at him. He had no wife, no children, no known ancestors. The only time in his life when he remembered ever being truly frightened was on Bull Island during his training with Horne. He still recalled how his stomach had knotted with nerves when he feared that Horne was eliminating him from the final choices for his Marine unit.
Now, bamboo pole in hand, he rushed a ragged Malagasy, then spun halfway across deck, clipping two other men with either end of the pole, his foot surprising a fourth on the chin.
Righting himself, his eye fell on Horne. A man was attacking him with a cudgel.
Diving for the attacker, Kiro saw in a flash that the man was Chinese, that Horne had been caught unprepared, and that the attack could easily be fatal.
For the first time Kiro thought: What would happen to the Bombay Marines if Horne himself was killed?