solution. 'I am glad to bear it. Damn it, man, the Chanticleer could have foundered! There might be fire or mutiny aboard her right this minute!'
Quarme tried to smile. 'I think that unlikely..
Bolitho stared at him coldly. 'So you believe that we should just wait and see, is that it?'
Quarme's smile froze. 'I was only meaning that we could not be expected to know this would happen, sir. We took the island as instructed, we carried out our orders to the best of our ability!'
Bolitho felt suddenly calm. 'Obeying orders is not always the final solution, Mr. Quarme. In the King's service you may have many victories and triumphs. But make one mistake and the value is wiped away.' He tugged the shirt away from his damp skin. 'It is not always enough to have tried.'
He made himself sit down again. 'Face the facts. We have no water to speak of, but against that we have ample stores of spirits and wine. Sooner or later some hotheads are going to run wild, and when that happens we will lose more than this damned island!' H, gestured towards the cliff. 'Without Ashby's marines aboard how long do you imagine we could control a company of drink-maddened seamen?'
Quarme stared at him. 'I have served in this ship for several years, sir. I know most of our people well. They would never betray.
Bolitho waved his hand. 'I do not know whether to admire your faith or to pity you your ignorance!' He ignoredd the sudden flush of anger on Quarme's cheeks. 'I have seen mutiny at close quarters. It is an ugly thing. A terrible thing.' He stared out at the mocking water. 'But they were just ordinary men. No better or worse than these. Men do not change. Only situations.'
Quarme swallowed hard. 'If you say so, sir.'
Bolitho twisted on the bench seat as Allday opened the door a few inches.
'Yes?'
Allday darted a brief glance at the first lieutenant and then said evenly, 'Begging your pardon, but a marine has just come aboard with a message from Captain Ashby.' He eased himself into the cabin. 'He sends his respects, Captain, and would you be prepared to receive the senior French officer in audience?'
Bolitho dragged his mind away from the mental picture of
the empty water casks. 'For what reason,' Allday?'
The big coxswain shrugged. 'Private reasons, Captain. He'll only speak with you.'
Quarme scowled. 'Bloody impudence! I suppose because you stopped the Dons from cutting their throats the French prisoners think you'll grant any damn thing they ask!'
Bolitho looked past him, 'My compliments to Captain Ashby. Tell him to send the man across without delay. I will see him.'
Quarme clenched. his fists. 'Will you require me here, sir?'
Bolitho stood up, his face thoughtful. 'When I send for you, Mr. Quarme.' He watched him stalk towards the door and added slowly, `In war we must change with the wind, Mr. Quarme. No breeze can be ignored when you are drifting on a lee shore!'
The senior surviving officer of the Cozar garrison was an elderly lieutenant of artillery named Charlois. He was a heavily built man with a crumpled, melancholy face and a drooping moustache, and in his ill-fitting uniform and heavy boots presented anything but a military appearance.
Bolitho dismissed Lieutenant, Shanks, who had brought the prisoner from the fortress, and then asked the Frenchman to sit down beside the desk. He saw his eyes watching him as he poured two glasses of wine, but was not deceived by this officer's unprepossessing appearance. For he had commanded the island's main battery. Under his care and knowledge the big but outdated guns had pounded the Spanish eighty-gun flagship into a blazing inferno in a matter of minutes, so that when her magazines had finally exploded the savage victory had been complete. Of the thousand or so ship's company and soldiers crammed aboard, less than a dozen had survived the ordeal. The latter had been carried by the sluggish current to the opposite side of the anchorage, and this fact alone had saved them from the final slaughter by the French sharpshooters below the cliffs.
Charlois raised his glass and said haltingly, 'Your health, Captain.' Then he drained the wine in one quick gulp.
Bolitho eyed him gravely. 'You speak good English.' He hated this waste of time spent in idle remarks, but knew it to be necessary as each summed up the other's strength and weakness.
The officer spread his thick hands. 'I was a prisoner in England in the last war. I was in a castle at Deal.'
'And why do you wish to see me, Lieutenant? Is there some trouble amongst your men?'
The Frenchman bit his lip and glanced quickly around the cabin. Then he lowered his voice and said, 'I have been thinking about our plight, Captain.' He seemed to come to a decision. 'Yours and mine. You have no water for your ships and men. You cannot hold out much longer, is that not so?
Bolitho kept his face impassive. 'If you came out here to tell me this then you have had a wasted journey,. m'sieu!'
Charlois shook his head. 'I regret that I have offended you, Captain. But I am getting old now, and I have outgrown the natural caution of a serving officer.' He smiled at some secret thought. 'But I must rely on your word as a gentleman to repeat nothing of what I am about to say. I have a wife and family in St. Clar and have no wish for them to suffer on my account.’
Before Bolitho could speak he continued quickly, 'I think maybe that you do not realise that my soldiers are not of the true army, eh? They are militia, recruited for the most part from St Clar itself. We have all grown up together. We are simple folk who did not ask for war and revolution, but had to make, as you say, the best of it. The garrison commandant_ was different, he was a true professional.' He shrugged wearily. 'But he died in the fighting.'
Bolitho slid his hands below the desk and gripped his fingers together to control his rising impatience. He asked quietly, 'What are you trying to tell me?'
Charlois dropped his eyes. 'It is said that your Lord 'Ood intends to attack Toulon. There is much feeling there because of the King and his death under the revolution.' He took a deep breath. `Well, Captain, in my small town there is the same feeling!'
Bolitho stood up and walked towards the charts which were spread across the dining table. He knew what the outspoken confession had cost the French officer, what it would mean to his future if it leaked out that he had betrayed his country with words to an English captain.
He said at length, 'How can you be so sure of all this?'
'I have seen the signs.' Charlois sounded sad. 'St. Clar is a small town, no different from a hundred others. We have a few vineyards, a little fishing and coastal trade. Before the Revolution we were slow but content. But this unrest in Toulon and to the east has made compromise impossible. Even now the government is sending an army to crush these idealists for all time. And when that happens they will go further. To fight a war with England our government cannot allow even a small chance of an uprising happening again.'
Bolitho turned and studied him gravely. 'They will come to St. Clar too, is that it?'
Charlois nodded heavily. 'There will be killings and reprisals. Old scores will be paid off in blood. It will be the end for us.'
Bolitho could feel the excitement churning at his insides as he turned the Frenchman's words over in his mind. After all, Lord Hood had indeed implied that the main purpose of taking Cozar was to give an impression of a multi- pronged attack on the French mainland. But even he had not suspected that such an invasion might be welcomed.
Charlois watched him anxiously. 'We could arrange a parley. I know the mayor very well. He is married to my cousin. It would not be difficult.'
'It sounds too easy, m'sieu. My ship would be in danger of attack should your words prove false.' He watched closely for some sign of guilt, but there was only desperation in the man's eyes.
'I have thought about it for many days. You have all my men as prisoners. In St. Clar they have the crew of your sloop Fairfax which we took as a prize here in Cozar. You could parley for an exchange. That is not uncommon, eh? Then if the signs were favourable we could explore the possibility of joining Toulon 's fight against the King's murderers!' He was sweating badly, and not merely because of the heat.
Bolitho bit his lip until the pain steadied his racing thoughts. 'Very well.' He shot Charlois a hard glance. 'I would also want water in exchange for the prisoners.'
Charlois staggered to his feet, obviously relieved to be free of his inner burden. 'That would be simple, Captain. This island was to be fully garrisoned in a month or so, and the water lighters are already at St. Clar.'
