He turned as Keen said, “The lady has just died, sir. Within sight of this damned island!” Then he hurried away.
Herrick said, “We will speak later, sir.”
He beckoned urgently to the boatswain, but the shocked and bewildered men were already being helped or hoisted inboard.
Bolitho nodded to each man in turn as they were aided or shuffled past. Acting-Lieutenant Pyper, being carried by two seamen, Billy-boy hopping with an arm around someone’s neck. Jenner and Miller, Sergeant Quare and the unbreakable Blissett. The Frenchman Lenoir, and Big Tom Frazer.
Allday touched his forehead. “All hoisted inboard, Captain.” He watched him, searching for some sign. Then he said, “You can be proud of what you did, Captain, an’ that’s no error.” Then he too walked slowly towards the companion.
Herrick followed Bolitho aft, past the silent, watching faces. He noticed the way he was carrying his coat, as if it was the most precious thing he possessed.
He asked hesitantly, “Do you have any orders, sir?” He fell back as Bolitho looked at him. “It can wait of course, but…”
“It cannot, Mr Herrick.” Again the impetuous grip on his arm. “Thomas. We have work to do. Get the ship under way, if you please. We are returning to the Levu Islands.”
As Bolitho lowered himself through the companion, Lakey said in a fierce whisper, “Five hundred miles, Mr Herrick. In that boat, and with nothing much to sustain them either.” He shook his head. “They must have found a power of strength from somewhere.”
Herrick nodded sadly. “Aye, they did. And now she’s dead. I could shoot myself for some of the thoughts I’ve had, some of the things I’ve said.”
He saw the boatswain watching him from the gangway.
“Mr Jury, be so good as to sink that cutter before we weigh.”
“But, sir, a boat, any boat, is valuable out here.” He sounded shocked.
“In this case I think it best to destroy it.” Herrick glanced at the cabin skylight. “I would to God I could destroy its memory also!”
16. No Retreat
ON THE morning of the first full day at sea the wind backed considerably, and with the sudden change came a heavy downpour of rain.
Bolitho leaned over the stern bench and stared emptily through the thick windows, his vision twisting and swirling as the rain swept across the water and pounded over the deck above. He heard feet hurrying to various parts of his ship, men watching over sun-dried cordage to ensure it did not swell enough to foul the blocks. Others would be collecting the rain-water to supplement their stocks.
He sat down wearily, letting the vessel move his body without resistance. In his screened sleeping compartment he could hear Hugoe, the wardroom servant, completing his tidying, collecting clothing to be washed.
Herrick had suggested several men who would be willing or suitable to replace Orlando. But Bolitho could not bear the thought of beginning again. Not yet. Hugoe was always in demand in the wardroom, and was grateful to be freed from the cabin, and its brooding captain, he suspected.
Rain gurgled down the scuppers or pattered happily across the sealed skylight. Water.You were less than nothing without it. He pictured the thirst-crazed man leaping overboard to fill his stomach from the sea. Orlando’s terrible agony as the shark had crushed him into a bloody pulp.
He forced himself to take out his watch, and hesitated further before he could open the guard. Even the engraving seemed to stand out sharper.
Hugoe stood in the screen door. “I’ve done, sir. ’Less there’s owt in ’ere?”
“No. You can carry on.” He saw the curiosity in his eyes. “Thank you.”
The marine sentry at the outer door shouted, “Midshipman o’ th’ watch, sir!”
“Enter.”
It was young Romney, very nervous as he presented a list of the day’s work from his first lieutenant. The visitors would soon be arriving. Questions. Needs.
He scanned through Herrick’s round handwriting. “Very well.”
Romney hesitated, one foot scraping over the other. “May I speak, sir?”
“Yes.” Bolitho turned his back as if to watch the water streaming down the tall windows.
“I-I, that is, we, sir, want you to know how sorry…”
Bolitho gripped his hands tightly to his sides until he could face him again.
“Thank you, Mr Romney.” He barely recognized his own voice. “It was most thoughtful.”
Romney watched him, his eyes full of warmth. Like a dog’s, Bolitho thought despairingly.
The surgeon peered through the door, and Bolitho snapped, “Come in.”
He would immerse himself in his duties and what he must plan ahead. But the small touches of kindness which came without warning shattered his guard like a cutlass on a badly cast rapier.
Bolitho listened to Gwyther’s sick report.
“The marine is doing well, sir.” Gwyther’s Welsh accent was very pronounced. It always was when he intended to act out of character. “But you seem not to have slept, sir? There’s bad, it is, if I may presume to say so.”
“You may not!” He hurried through the list of names. “And Penneck?”
The surgeon sighed. “I fear his mind has broken, sir. And Mr Pyper is very sick from his exposure and burns. But-” another sigh, “-he is young.”
Herrick was the next visitor, his conversation full of technicalities and requirements for keeping a ship of war in proper order. Although he did not mention anything about Viola, his blue eyes were incapable of concealing his anxiety.
Bolitho stood up and walked to the quarter windows. Birds dipped and wheeled beneath the ship’s counter, waiting for scraps, watching for incautious fish. He thought of Blissett. His perfect aim, despite his own suffering.
He asked, “Did you tell Prideaux that I expect him to promote Blissett directly?”
“Aye, sir.” Herrick shifted as Bolitho turned to look at him.
“In case he was about to argue the toss, I told him it was neither a suggestion nor a request. But that it was a bloody order, sir! I hope that was all right.”
“Yes.” He looked up as more feet pounded overhead.
Herrick explained, “I told Mr Lakey that you want as much sail as we can spread. The hands are turning to in both watches.” He tried to smile, to break through Bolitho’s ache. “Being the master of course, he wasn’t too pleased to drive her in this rain.”
He waited, wondering how to continue. “I can manage well enough, sir. No need to bother you until we sight the islands.”
Bolitho sat down on the bench and stared at the canvascovered deck.
“We can exercise the twelve-pounders as soon as the sails are trimmed. As we are so shorthanded it will be necessary to shift the crews around again.” He pounded his hands together. “I want this ship ready to fight, d’you understand?”
“Look, sir.” Herrick stood his ground. “I’ve little love for the Frogs, as you well know. But they’ve been in their King’s service too long to throw in their lot with a pirate, surely?”
Bolitho eyed him gravely. “Suppose I were to go on deck, right now, Thomas, and have all the hands lay aft. And if I told them that we were already at war with France, that England was depending on their courage and tenacity, do you honestly believe there is one single man aboard, including yourself, who would dare to question it?” He shook his head. “Do not bother to deny it. It is on your face.”
Herrick watched him and marvelled. How could he keep on worrying and altering the pattern of things uppermost in his thoughts?
