chance there was.
Bolitho beckoned to him. 'Not hungry, James? And I am told that we have some fine beef today, barely a year or so in the cask!' He clapped Quinn on the shoulder. 'Make the best of it, eh?'
When Quinn faced him he saw the sudden gravity in Bolitho's eyes and knew his words had nothing to do with food.
With her yards re-trimmed and her great spread of canvas filling and banging in the wind, Trojan settled down on her new tack.
Bolitho looked at Cairns and touched his hat. 'Steady as she goes, sir.'
Cairns nodded. 'Dismiss the watch below, if you please.' As the seamen and the afterguard hurried thankfully below,
Bolitho glanced quickly at Pears, who was with the admiral on
the weather side of the quarterdeck.
It was another fiery sunset, and against it the two men were in silhouette, their faces hidden. But there was no mistaking Coutts' irritation, Pears' dogged stubbornness.
It all seemed a long, long way from the relaxed supper in the great cabin. Coutts had kept the wit and conversation going with little pause, except to recharge the glasses. He had enthralled the young lieutenants with stories of intrigue and corruption in the New York military government. Of the grand houses in London, the men, and in many cases the ladies who held the reins of power.
Once Pears and the sailing master had concluded their calculations, the ship's destination and purpose had gone through each deck like a bolt of lightning.
There was a small island, one of a group, which lay in the passage between Santa Domingo and Puerto Rico. Avoided by all but the most experienced navigators, it would seem to be the ideal place for transferring arms and powder to Washington 's growing fleet of supply vessels.
A s Coutts had discussed his hopes for a swift ending of the mission, Bolitho and most of the others had sensed his eagerness, his excitement at the prospect of a quick victory. He had known that nothing could outpace him with a warning, no horseman to carry the word that the British were coming. Not this time. With the vast Atlantic at his back, the keen-eyed Spite sweeping well ahead, Coutts had had good reason for confidence.
But that had been fifteen days ago. The delays had been unavoidable, but nevertheless had put a marked strain on Coutts and his officers. Several times Trojan had been forced to lie to while Spite made off under full sail to investigate a strange vessel and then beat the weary miles round again and make her report. The wind too had backed and veered as _ Bunce had predicted, but had on the whole favoured their slow advance.
Now, with another sunset closing over the ship, Bolitho could sense a growing impatience, even anger in Coutts' quick movements with head and hands.
Once more Spite had been sent ahead to discover if the tiny island was in fact the one described in Paget's documents. If it was, Cunningham was to put a boat ashore and if possible discover the strength of the enemy there. If there was nothing at all, he was to report back instantly. Either way, he should have returned by now. With darkness closing in with its usual swiftness, it was very unlikely they would make contact until tomorrow. Another day. More anxiety.
He stiffened and touched his hat as Pears strode past, his feet thudding loudly on the planking. The slam of the chart room door was further evidence of his mood.
Bolitho waited, knowing Coutts was going to speak with him.
'A long day, Bolitho.'
'Aye, sir.' Bolitho faced him, trying to discover the man's feelings. 'But the glass is steady. We should be able to maintain our tack during the night.'
Coutts had not heard. He rested his hands on the quarterdeck rail and stared down intently at the larboard battery of eighteenpounders. He was without his hat, and his hair was blowing across his forehead to make him appear even younger.
He asked quietly, 'Are you like the others? Do you think me a fool to press on with this mission, a task which has no more substance than a scrap of paper?'
'I am only a lieutenant, sir. I was not aware of any doubt.'
Coutts laughed bitterly. 'Doubt? God, man, there's a mountain of it!'
Bolitho waited, feeling the admiral's urgency, his frustration.
Coutts said, 'When you reach flag rank you believe the world is yours. You are only partly right. I was a frigate captain, and good at my work.'
'I know, sir.'
'Thank you.' Coutts seemed surprised. 'Most people look at an admiral and seem to think he has never been anything else, not an ordinary man at all.' He pointed vaguely through Trojan's black web of shrouds and stays. 'But I believe the information is true. Otherwise I would not have risked my ships and my reputation. I do not care what some soft-spoken official from London thinks of me. I want to get this war over, with more cards on our side than across the enemy's table.' He was speaking quickly, his hands moving eloquently to describe his feelings, his fears. `Each extra day brings more enemies against us. Ships to seek out and bring to battle. We have no squadrons to spare, but the enemy's agility is such that we must match his every move. No merchantman is safe without escort. We have even been forced to send armed vessels to the Davis Strait to protect our whaling ships! It is no time for the timid, or the one who waits for the enemy to act first.'
His terse, emphatic manner of speaking, of sharing his thoughts, was something new to Bolitho. It was like seeing the world, his world, opening up to reach far beyond the ship's hull, and further still to every sea where Britain 's authority was being challenged.
'I was wondering, sir.' Bolitho hesitated and then added, 'Why you did not request ships to be sent from Antigua? We have sailed four times the distance it would have taken the vessels which patrol from there.'
Coutts watched him, his face in shadow, saying nothing, as if he were seeking some criticism in Bolitho's question.
Then he said, 'I could have sent Spite to the admiral at Antigua. It would have been faster certainly.' He turned away.
'But would they have acted? I think not. The affairs in New York and the threat of Washington 's armies seem a long way off in the Caribbean. Only the commander-in-chief could have made a request, and with Sir George Helpman at his elbow, I doubt he would have done more than enter it in his report for the Admiralty.'
Bolitho understood. It was one thing to hear of a victorious sea fight, but nothing to match the sight of a beaten enemy being brought into port, her flag beneath the British ensign.
Coutts had evidence, but that was insufficient. Too many men had died so far to warrant another haphazard scheme. And with Probyn's prize being re-taken by the enemy, even the destruction of Fort Exeter might appear unimportant in far-off London.
But a sharp, determined attack on a supply base, right under the noses of the French who were flaunting their neutrality like a false flag, might sway the balance. Especially if successfully completed before anyone could say no.
Coutts seemed to read his thoughts. 'Remember this, Bolitho. When you attain high rank, never ask what you shall do. The superior minds of Admiralty tend to say no, rather than encourage risk, which might disturb their rarified existence. Even if you put your career and your life in jeopardy, do as you believe is right, and in the manner best for your country. Acting merely to placate your superiors is living a lie.'
Pears loomed through the dimming light and said harshly, 'We will shorten sail in one hour, Mr Bolitho. But I'll not lie to. There's too much current for comfort hereabouts.' He looked at the admiral and added curtly, 'We shall need to be on station for Spite's return.'
Coutts took Pears' arm and guided him away, but not far enough for Bolitho to miss the anger in his voice as he snapped, 'By God, you drive me too hard, Captain! I'll brook no insolence from you, or anyone else, d'you hear?'
Pears rumbled something, but they were out of earshot.
Bolitho saw Couzens, his face glowing in the compass light as he wrote his entry on the master's mate's slate. He seemed to symbolize something. Youth, innocence or ignorance, whichever way you looked at it. They were all being carried forward to what might easily turn into a disaster. Coutts' determination to win might soon give way to grasping straws. Pears' mistrust of his superior could do for all of them just as easily.
