but still hesitated over reading the neatly written despatches.
He kept seeing Herrick's anxious face. They were almost the same age, and yet Herrick seemed to have grown much older, his brown hair marked here and there like hoar frost. It was hard not to see him as his best friend. He had to think of him as a strength, the flag captain of a squadron which had never acted as a single unit before. A rough task for any man, and for Thomas Herrick. he tried to hold back the sudden' doubts. Herrick's poor beginnings, the son of a clerk, his very honesty which had marked him out as a man who could be trusted under any known circumstances, could hinder his overall judgement. Herrick was a man who would obey any lawful order without question, with no consideration for his own life or ruin. But to assume control of the squadron, if its commodore should die in battle?
It was strange to realise that Lysander's original masters ' had fallen at St. Vincent. Her commodore, George Twyford, had been killed in the first broadsides, and her captain, John Dyke, was even now enduring a living hell in, the' naval hospital at Haslar, too cruelly maimed even to feed himself. The same ship had survived them and many more. He looked around the neat cabin with its well-carved chairs and dark mahogany table. He could almost feel them watching him.
He sighed and began to read the despatches.
Bolitho nodded. to the five officers who stood around the cabin table and said, 'Please be seated, gentlemen.'
He watched them as they eased their chairs towards him, their mixed expressions of pleasure, excitement and curiosity.
It was a very special moment, and he guessed they were all sharing it with him, if for varied reasons.
Farquhar had not changed. Slim and elegant, with the self-assurance he had carried even as a midshipman. Now a post-captain of thirty-two, his ambition shone in his eyes to match his gleaming epaulettes.
Francis Inch, bobbing and horse-faced, could barely restrain his great beam of welcome. As commander or the sloop he would be vital for inshore work and sweeping ahead of the squadron.
Raymond Javal, the frigate's captain, looked more like a Frenchman than an English sea officer. Very dark and swarthy, with thick greasy hair, he had features so narrow that his deep set eyes seemed to dominate his whole appearance.
He looked at Captain George Probyn of the Nicator and gave a brief smile. They had served together in the old Trojan when the American Revolution 'had erupted to change the face of the whole world. Yet it was almost impossible to see him in those times. He sat hunched against the table like a large, shabby innkeeper. A year or so older than Bolitho, he had left the Trojan in much the same manner as himself. To take command of a captured blockade runner and sail her as it prize to the nearest friendly port. Unlike Bolitho, however, whose chance had led directly to his first command, Probyn had been captured by an American privateer and had fretted out most of the war as a prisoner until an exchange had been made with a French officer. Those vital years in his, early service had obviously cost him dearly. He looked uneasy, with a sly, darting way of examining his fellow captains and then looking down into his clasped hands.
Herrick said formally, 'All present, sir.'
Bolitho looked at the table. In his mind's eye he was seeing his written orders, You are hereby authorised and directed to proceed with your squadron to ascertain by every means in your power the presence and destination of considerable armaments…
He began quietly, 'As you will know, the enemy has spent much time in seeking out some flaw in our defences. Apart from our successes at sea, we have been able to do little to stop the spread of French progress and influence. In my view, Bonaparte has never changed from his original tack, which was and still must be to reach India and seize our trade routes. the French admiral, Suffren, almost succeeded during the last war.' He saw Herrick's' eyes flicker towards him, no doubt remembering when they had sailed together in the East Indies, seeing for themselves the determination of their old enemy to regain ground lost in that uneasy peace. 'Today Bonaparte must know that any delay in his preparations can only give us time to gain strength.'
They all looked around as Inch exclaimed cheerfully. 'We’ll show them, sir!' He grinned at the others. 'Like we did before!'
Bolitho smiled. Glad that Inch, if ignorant of the facts, had not changed. Thankful that his excited comment had broken some of the distance between himself and the others. 'Thank you, Commander Inch. Your optimism does you credit.'
Inch bobbed and flushed with pleasure.
'However, we have no real intelligence of which way the French will move first. The bulk of our fleet is operating from. the Tagus, to keep a wedge between the French and their Spanish allies. But the enemy may attack Portugal because of our presence there, or indeed he may attempt to invade Ireland again.' He could not conceal his bitterness. 'As they intended when our own Navy was beset with misfortune which broke last year in the great mutinies at the Nore and Spithead.'
Farquhar looked at his cuff. 'should have hanged a thousand of the devils, not a mere handful!'
Bolitho eyed him coldly. 'Perhaps it a little more thought had been given to our sailors' wants in the first place, no punishment would have been needed at all!'
Farquhar smiled up at him. 'I take the point, sir! Bolitho looked at his scattered papers, giving himself time.
He had risen too easily to' Farquhar's intolerance.
He continued, 'Our duty will 'be first to examine the progress of French preparations in the Gulf of Lions. At Toulon, Marseilles and any other port about which we can discover enemy activity.' He looked at each of them gravely. 'Our fleet is stretched to the limit. We cannot afford to allow the enemy to scatter it to the extent it can be devoured piece by piece. Likewise, we must not have a large fleet atone end of the ocean while the enemy is at the other. Seek, find and bring 'em to battle it is the only way!'
Javal said harshly, 'And mine is the only-frigate, sir!' 'Is that an observation or a complaint?'
Javal shrugged' 'A malady, sir!
Probyn darted him a quick glance. 'Iris a vast responsibility' He looked at Farquhar. 'If we meet with superior forces we will be without support.'
