weather.' It would be as well to keep signals to a minimum, he thought grimly. There would be time enough later for chasing up the laggards.
He watched the tiny sloop Snipe spreading her topsails and overhauling the leading transport like a terrier past a bullock. Her station was ahead of the convoy. Hyperion and the frigate would stay to windward, in this case astern of the transports, so that they could dash down if required to defend them. He shifted his glass to the Harvester and saw her sleek bows lift and crash down, slicing into the first deep-sea roller with the grace of a wild thing.
Hyperion merely lifted a massive shoulder into it and threw the sea back across the blunt bows in a solid sheet. With the wind astern the deck lifted and fell in a steady smashing motion, while overhead the air was filled with noise of whining rigging and the overall beat and roar of straining canvas as the tiny, shortened shapes of the men aloft fought to obey Bolitho's last order and set more sail.
He thought suddenly of the girl below in his cabin and knew she was the cause of his irritation. He saw Gossett's face soften with relief as he added shortly, 'We may have to take in a second reef directly, Mr. Gossett, but we'll use this advantage to clear the land.'
The master nodded. No doubt he understood better than most that there was no point in dismasting the ship merely to relieve a captain's anger.
The wind's force and direction stayed with the little convoy without much variation until the fourth day out from Gibraltar, and by noon of that day they had logged all of four hundred and twenty miles. Nobody aboard the Hyperion could recall the ship making such a good speed, and the voyage had proceeded with little interruption or incident.
By dusk of the fourth day the wind veered suddenly to the north-west and lost a little of its power, but as Bolitho stood on the weather side of the quarterdeck watching the glowing beauty of a great copper sunset he could afford to feel satisfied. The ships had held together well, and even now as he turned his eyes ahead of the Hyperion's plunging bows he could see the transports' hulls gleaming in the strange light as if they were of burnished metal. Erebus, the largest transport, led the line, followed at a comfortable distance by her consort Vanessa. Both were well-handled vessels, and as they basked in the fading sunset they looked for all the world like men-of-war-with their imitation painted gunports and taut rigging. Further astern followed the Justice, her hull a dull black and already lost in shadow, her hands still working aloft, as like the rest of the ships they shortened sail for the night.
Above the drumming whine of rigging Bolitho heard a sudden gust of laughter, and guessed that his officers were making full use of their time and the unusual opportunity of entertaining a lady in their mess.
Bolitho clasped his hands behind him and resumed his steady pacing back and forth along the weather side. His regular movement was watched by the two helmsmen, as well as by Dalby, the officer of the watch, who stayed discreetly on the lee side of the deck.
It was strange how the girl Cheney Seton had taken the ship by storm. In spite of her brief appearance. on the poop there always seemed to be a goodly crowd of spare seamen ready to smile up at her, or merely to watch her spellbound, as if she was some sort of apparition.
Gimlett was, of course, in his element. He fussed over his passenger like a mother hen and guarded her against every possible intruder with more determination then Bolitho imagined he could possess. She had kept her word, too. She had stayed out of Bolitho's way and had done nothing which might outwardly interfere with the running of the ship.
Bolitho quickened his pacing in time to his thoughts as the realisation returned once more to remind him of one true fact. By her very reasonableness she had somehow managed to isolate him more than ever, rather than the other way round. Perhaps it was for that reason he had granted Inch's cautious request to entertain her at dinner that evening. He had half-expected they might invite him too, but it was not to be, and as he paced the darkening deck listening to the sounds of his own shoes on the scrubbed planking he half-hoped there might be some emergency or change of wind so that he could call all hands and break up the sounds of gaiety from below.
When he turned into his cramped quarters in the chartroom he still found it difficult to believe that the girl was sleeping within feet of him in his own cot, or eating in his own cabin, while he hid away like a naughty schoolboy. Stranger still was the realisation that he hardly knew anything more about her than the minute she had stepped aboard. What information there was available was third or fourth hand, and all the more maddening because of its incompleteness. The gunroom messman had overheard Midshipman Piper telling Caswell what Seton had confided to him about his sister. The messman had of course informed Gimlett, who with obvious reluctance, but under threat of violence, had disclosed some of his information to Aliday. As the coxswain had stood watching Bolitho shaving or had helped him into his heavy coat when the ship had reeled to a sudden squall in the middle of the night, he had casually imparted his news. Bolitho had accepted it equally casually, and had thereby saved both time and face.
Now as he recrossed the deck his chin sunk into his neekcloth, he built up a small picture of the girl who was going to be Pomfret's bride. She was twenty-six years old, and had until recently been in Pomfret's London house acting as a sort of housekeeper. Bolitho's first suspicion had been diminished when Allday had informed him that Pomfret had arranged that to their mutual benefit, as she had been nursing her invalid father, who for some reason which Bolitho could – not discover, had been allowed to use the house as his own. Her father was now dead, and she had only a brother left in the whole world. Her mother had died in one of the uprisings in Jamaica when some slaves had -revolted and bad attacked the Seton homestead, more from convenience than for any real purpose.
Bolitho's frown deepened. That was interesting. Pomfret had been attached to a squadron off Jamaica, and it was quite possibly where he had met and made friends with the Seton family. In those days at least the girl's family must have been quite rich and influential. But what had happened since was past his understanding. But one thing was quite clear, her attitude of defiance which he had at first taken for a natural arrogance was merely a defence. It could not have been easy for her to manage alone in London.
Allday had fed him his last titbit of information- that forenoon. Midshipman Seton had been made Pomfret's ward. The admiral was obviously very eager to make sure of his position, Bolitho thought.
Lieutenant Dalby crossed the deck and touched his hat in the darkness. `All lights burning, sir.'
Bolitho paused and glanced ahead at the slow-moving 128
transports. Each carried a single lantern and would be able to retain close contact even at night. It was his- own idea and he was already putting it down to over-caution on his part. But during the afternoon the sloop Snipe, far ahead of the convoy like a searching terrier, had signalled that she had sighted an unknown sail to the north- west. Nothing more had been seen of it, but one had to be careful. It was probably a Spanish merchantman, he thought, although the convoy was standing well out to sea, and even now was some sixty miles from the nearest land. But they were in the Gulf of Valencia, and every day took them nearer to the coast of France.
`Very good, Mr. Dalby.' He did not feel much like confiding in the third lieutenant who was inclined to be overtalkative if given the chance.
Dalby said, `We will be in Cozar within five days if this weather holds, sir.' He banged his hands together noisily for it was already cold after the heat of the day. 'I hope Miss Seton is not disappointed with her new home.'
That was something else which had been nagging Bolitho_ more than a little. And the fact that Dalby could discuss it so easily made him unreasonably angry.
`Be so good as to attend to your duties, Mr. Dalbyi You should call the duty watch and take another pull on the weather forebrace, it sounds like a flapping bellrope!'
He saw Dalby hurry away and sighed to himself. It was not his concern at all, but how could Pomfret let a girl like that go to a sun-beached hell like Cozar?
From forward he heard the snap of orders and the weary fumblings of the roused seamen as they sought to find some fault where there was none.
There was a movement on the quarterdeck ladder and he saw two shadows climbing up to the lee side. One he saw was the girl well wrapped in a long cloak with a hood over her hair, and the other was her brother. The latter had been almost a guest of honour at the wardroom dinner, and was probably well pleased with the sudden popularity his sister's presence had given him.
Seton saw Bolitho's solitary figure and said quickly, _MMust go! I-I am on w-watch in an hour!'
He scurried below and the girl turned by the massive trunk of the mainmast, her face pale against the sea beyond.
