“And you think the Bounty mutineers may be in that area, sir?”
Bolitho did not reply immediately. He was thinking of the governor’s instructions, feeling their anger and urgency. Most of all he was remembering the last paragraphs. The Eurotas, apart from her valuable cargo, was also carrying more convicts, and he could almost see the rest in his mind. The newly appointed adviser and acting governor for yet another colonial project, James Raymond, and his wife were passengers.
He turned from the glittering lights and reflected stars. They had gone cold.
“Rouse the master, Thomas. Find out the first possible moment we can proceed. I’ll warp her clear with boats if need be. It may be a false alarm. Eurotas might have put into an island for water or wood. Or she could have been becalmed as we have often enough.”
Herrick was studying him, his eyes very still.
He said, “Doubtful.”
Bolitho walked past him, touching the chairs without feeling them, and the old sword which hung on the bulkhead, where Allday watched over it like a keeper.
He continued, “Sayer will be sending the courier brig when she returns, and the governor will despatch two small schooners to the north and east.”
“Like a needle in a haystack, sir.”
Bolitho swung on his heels. “I know that, damn it! But we must do something!”
He saw the instant look of surprise and hurt on Herrick’s homely features and added, “I’m sorry. Too much wine.” Herrick would have to know sooner or later. Bolitho thrust the papers across the table. “Read them for yourself.” He walked to the door and said to the sentry, “Call the midshipman-of-the-watch. I want all officers in the cabin without delay.” He turned aft again and saw Herrick watching him.
Bolitho said simply, “I know, Thomas. I even know what you have been thinking. But it was five years ago. A long while to remember.”
Herrick eyed him grimly. “Aye, sir. If you say so. I’ll go and assemble the officers outside and bring them in together.” He left the cabin.
Bolitho sat down on the bench seat and after a slight hesitation drew the watch from his pocket. It was a very good timepiece, made by Mudge and Dutton, and it had a neat cylinder escapement and a firm, air-tight guard.
He saw none of these things, but clicked open the guard to read the engraved inscription on the inside.
He closed the guard and thrust it into his pocket. His head and mind were quite clear, and when his officers filed into the cabin they saw nothing to make them believe he was in any way different. Except for Herrick, and he could do nothing about it.
2. Isolation
BOLITHO paused on the companion ladder and allowed his eyes time to adapt to the harsh glare.
It was almost eight bells, with the men of the forenoon watch listlessly assembled below the quarterdeck rail to make the changeover.
Bolitho had been on deck two hours earlier, as was his habit. Then, even with the sure knowledge of another scalding day to come, it had seemed refreshing and alive. There had been a dampness on canvas and rigging to add to the deception, but now the sun’s heat had expanded and magnified, and as he stepped on to the quarterdeck he found himself wondering just how long they could continue searching for the Eurotas.
Since leaving Sydney they had made good two thousand five hundred miles. Nearer three thousand with all the changes of tack and the maddening perversity of the wind. Herrick had remarked that itfelt twenty times that much.
Three weeks of searing heat and endless, empty miles.
Bolitho squinted his eyes to try and see beyond the gently pitching bowsprit, but the glare was already so fierce that the sea appeared as polished silver without division between it and the sky.
Slowly he examined the set of each sail. Drawing, but only just, with the yards braced round to hold the vessel on a starboard tack.
He heard the master’s mate report to Lieutenant Borlase, “The watch is aft, sir.”
Then Borlase’s heels squeaked as he crossed the deck, his shoes clinging to the hot pitch between the seams.
Both he and Keen, who was relieving him, were well aware that their captain was present, but were used enough to his ways to know he would not interfere with the routine of changing the watch.
Bolitho heard Keen say, “Aye, sir. Nor’-east by east. Full and bye.”
Then Borlase, curt and impatient. “As usual, nothing to report. I have logged Peterson for insolence. The first lieutenant can deal with him later.” He wiped his streaming face and neck. “Relieve the wheel, if you please.” Then with a nod he vanished through the companionway.
The hands went about their allotted duties and the watch began another long four hours.
Bolitho had seen Herrick right forward with the boatswain and some working parties. The tasks were unending. The ship, like any other, was like a finely tuned instrument, with every inch of rigging and canvas designed and arrayed to play its part. Splicing and stitching, painting and blacking-down rigging, Tempest took a lot of sweat and backbreaking effort.
Herrick saw him and strode aft along the weather gangway, his stocky frame barely angled to the sun-dried planking. It was hardly surprising, for even with courses and topsails set to the wind the hull was hardly heeling to its thrust.
Herrick observed, “Another hard one, sir.” He looked at each mast in turn. “I’ve had the hands turned-to early. It’ll save them from the worst of it. Mr Jury has some heavier tasks on the orlop for this afternoon.”
Bolitho nodded, watching Keen as he moved restlessly around the wheel and compass. Like the other officers he was dressed only in shirt and breeches, and his fair hair was plastered across his forehead with sweat.
He said, “Good, Thomas. I know they’ll curse us for the heavy work, but it will save them from other troubles.”
Herrick knew as well as any officer that too much leisure under these conditions could lead to arguments and worse. In cabin and wardroom it was bad enough. For the company crammed together in their screened quarters or messdecks it would be like part of hell.
Herrick watched him, judging the right moment.
“How much longer, sir?” He stood his ground as Bolitho turned towards him. “I mean, we have covered the full distance. That mail packet reported Eurotas in these waters, safe and on passage. She must have run into trouble. We could barely miss her at this snail’s pace.”
Bolitho walked to the quarterdeck rail and gripped it with both hands. The heated woodwork helped to steady his mind, hold back his uncertainty.
He saw Jacob Twig, the cook, walking purposefully beneath the shadow of a gangway, on his way to see the purser, no doubt. The fresh food and extra stores they had obtained from Sydney had to be eked out within the usual issue of meat from the cask. Salt beef, salt pork, some so hard it was like the ship’s teak. Twig was very dark and extremely tall. When he was in his evil-smelling galley he loomed over the pots and platters like some kind of sorcerer brewing potions.
Bolitho said slowly, “I agree that we have run the full course.”
He tried to picture the missing ship, guess what could or might have befallen her.
In the whole three weeks they had spoken with only two other vessels, small Dutch trading schooners. They had been a week apart, but neither of the masters had reported sighting anything except the usual clusters of native craft amongst the many islands. And it was always prudent to give them a wide berth.
He added, “According to the chart, we are once again due south of Tongatapu. If we come about and steer to take advantage of this wind, I think we could sight land early tomorrow.”
Herrick waited. Reading his mind.
