He said flatly, 'A frigate would be faster, sir.'
Pomfret replied, 'I want you to go, Bolitho. It will give you time to recover yourself. And in the meantime we will try to run this war to your personal satisfaction!'
Bolitho said, 'Is that all, sir?'
The admiral seemed to consider the question. For the present.'
A footman held out another tray of goblets but Pomfret waved him away, adding, 'Now, if you will excuse me, Bolitho?' Then he turned on his heel and walked towards the curved staircase.
Cobban said, 'I'll not forget what you said, Captain! You'll be sorry, be sure of that!'
Bolitho glanced at Herrick. 'Shall we return to the ship? Without a glance at Cobban he walked towards the door.
Herrick swallowed his drink and followed him. His mind was still reeling from the controlled exchange of insults. He wanted to shout aloud to the assembled officers, to tell them what Bolitho had done for them, and exactly what each man owed to him.
He caught up with him by the door and saw that he was breathing deeply and staring up at the fresh stars, his face relaxed and strangely sad.
Herrick muttered, 'The admiral refused another glass, sir. I can't understand it. He had a great appetite for wine aboard the Phalarope!'
Bolitho did not even hear him. He was thinking of the girl. This time it would be more difficult than ever to carry her as a passenger. When Hyperion dropped anchor here again Cheney Seton would become a bride.
He hitched up his sword and said absently, 'We will take a drink with M'sieu Labouret and the others before we leave. I have a bad taste in my mouth at present.' Without another word he strode through the gates and down towards the harbour.
`Let got'. Herrick's voice echoed across the sheltered water, and as he lowered his speaking trumpet the Hyperion's anchor splashed down, the ripples moving lazily away in widening circles towards the surrounding cliffs. The forenoon watch had hardly begun, yet after the light airs of the open sea the enclosed harbour already felt like an oven.
Bolitho watched in silence as his ship tugged gently at her cable and the usual business of lowering boats and spreading deck awnings got under way. Cozar had not changed, he thought. The only other ship at anchor below the gaunt cliffs was the frigate Harvester, and he could see without usingg his glass that Leach, her captain, had almost completed his repairs.
He walked slowly to the nettings and looked up towards the hill fortress. Beyond the harbour mouth the sea mist which had floated out to greet their slow approach hung across the entrance, blotting out the horizon and curling around the grey stonework of the fortress and battery like a fog. He shivered and moved his bandaged arm away from his ribs. They had sighted the island early the previous day, but because of the poor breeze had been forced to lie to for the night, with the distant fortress rising from its protective mist like some enchanted castle.
Herrick touched his hat and said formally, 'Boats lowered, sir.' He glanced towards the sloping hillside beyond the fortress. 'It looks as if there are plenty more soldiers to carry to St. Clar.'
Bolitho nodded. The sun-scorched hillside was covered with lines of small tents, and occasionally he caught sight of a redcoated figure and the gleam of sunlight on a bayonet. But it was very quiet, as if like the island the heat and the dust had beaten the heart out of the isolated garrison.
Herrick said, 'I passed the word to Mr. Seton, sir. He is ready to go across.' He was watching Bolitho worriedly. 'Is that all right?'
'Yes.' Bolitho saw the retrieved jolly boat pulling clear from the ship's black shadow, two midshipmen sitting together in the sternsheets. It was right that Seton should see his sister alone before the upheaval of getting under way again, The boy had made a remarkable recovery, and if anything seemed to have gained in stature since the struggle aboard the burning Fairfax. The ball which had cut him down had burned a savage crease across his shoulder, but apart from shock and loss of blood he had escaped anything serious. An inch or so lower and… Bolitho bit his lip as he watched the oarsmen picking up the stroke and heading for the pier.
Had he really been considering Seton's feelings when he had allowed him to visit his sister? Or was it just one more attempt to postpone the inevitable meeting?
He asked quietly, `How is Mr. Fowler?'
Herrick shook his head. 'The surgeon is worried about him. His face is a terrible sight. If it were me, I'd rather be deadl'
Bolitho replied, half to himself, `That is easy to say, Thomas. There have been times before or during a fight that I have prayed for death rather than mutilation. But when Rowlstone cut the sleeve from my arm I was praying just as fervently to stay alive.'
Herrick watched him and asked, 'How is the wound, sir?'
Bolitho shrugged. 'I would rather be without it.' He did not., feel like talking, even with Herrick. On the short voyage to Cozar he had stayed aloof and remote from his officers, con-, tenting himself with an occasional walk on the poop, but staying mostly in the privacy of his cabin. He was being unrealistic and stupid, he knew that. The fever had hardly left him when he had been up and in action again. That fact, and the throbbing ache of his wounded arm was the real reason for his depression. Or so he told himself.
He tried to regain interest in the coming offensive from St. Clar but could find little to excite his usual zeal and eagerness for action. And there was no room for personal bitterness, not for a captain of a ship of the line. He must thrust all his misgivings aside and put right the wrongs which Pomfret's indifference had laid upon his ship.
Once during a night watch when he had been driven from his cot by the tormenting agony in his arm, he had walked out to the darkened quarterdeck and had overheard Rooke speaking with Gossett.
Rooke had said angrily, 'Whatever we do is wrong! When we go for the enemy alone we are blamed! Yet when we succeed, someone else always seizes the credit!'
The master had replied gruffly, 'Sometimes it goes hard when old scores are evened at the expense of others, Mr. Rooke. I think the admiral is doing his task well enough. But I cannot forgive him for his manner to our captain.'
Rooke's response had been sharp. 'It's damned unfair that the whole ship should be punished because of their dislike for one another!'
Gossett had said firmly, 'With all respect, Mr. Rooke, it seems to me that the captain has treated you more than fairly.'
'What the devil are you implying? I should have been first lieutenant, it was my right!'
'We both know we don't mean that.'., Gossett had sounded very calm. 'Given a better chance under Cap'n Turner you would have been ready enough, that is true.' He had lowered his voice. 'But Cap'n Bolitho said nothing to you about the gambling, did he? Not once did he threaten to take action against you for stripping poor Mr. Quarme of his savings, or driving Dalby to thieving from his own kind!'.
Rooke had remained silent as Gossett had finished, 'You can log me if you have a mind for saying this, but I think our cap'n has treated you more than well. Your needs exceed your purse, so you do the one thing, apart from fighting, which you do so excellently!'
As Bolitho watched the little jolly boat make fast to the pier he wondered why he had not confronted Rooke with this new knowledge. Maybe it was because of his own heated exchange with Cobban. Even as he had spoken he had seen himself with new eyes. He was just like his brother after all. Given the opportunity he would have fought a senseless duel, not perhaps over cards or dice, but for reasons no less trivial. It was an unnerving discovery, and more so because Pomfret had seen it, too.
Herrick said, 'No sign of the convicts, sir. I suppose they're working at the other end of the island.'
Bolitho nodded. The Justice had sailed back to England. As far as her master was concerned the convicts could all rot in this place.
He said suddenly, 'Call away the barge. I am going ashore directly.' He could no longer contain his restlessness.
Herrick studied him anxiously. 'Look, sir, it is none of my business, but when you were under the fever I did hear some rumours.' He dropped his eyes under Bolitho's steady gaze. 'You know without my saying that I'd do anything for you. That goes beyond question. I'd die here and now for you if needed.' He looked up, his blue eyes defiant. 'I think that gives me the right to speak up.'
