doubts were the last straw.
`For God's sake stop snivelling, man!' His voice cracked into a shout, but he did not seem to care. 'What in the name of the Almighty do you know about it? You young frigate captains are all the same, and see nothing beyond some brief conflict or the lustre of damn prize-money!' He pointed accusingly at Greig, who had gone quite pale. 'it was your ship which allowed the Saphir to enter harbour in the first place! If you had seen her, had tried to earn your pay instead of mooning around like some lovesick farmboy, all this might never have happened!'
Greig said thickly, 'I did not leave my station, because I was ordered to remain in the north'rd, sir!'
Pomfret yelled, 'Be silent! How dare you question my word! One more squeak out of you, you impertinent maggot, and I'll have you court-martialled, d'you hear me?' Sweat was pouring down his face as he swung furiously towards the others. 'I will not tell you again, any of you!' He banged his fist across the map. 'We are here to stay! We have been ardered to hold this port until we can strike inland. And that is exactly what I intend!'
Bolitho watched narrowly and saw the effect of Pomfret's words on the silent officers around him. They seemed stunned by his outburst. Dash of the Tenacious even looked embarrassed. Only the Spanish colonel appeared unconcerned. As he stared at his gleaming boots he could have been smiling a little.
Cobban cleared his throat uneasily. That will be all, gentleman.' He started to gather up some papers and then let them fall again.
Pomfret had seated himself in the gilt chair, and as the officers made to leave he picked up a pair of brass dividers and jabbed them in the air. 'I want a word with you, Captain Bolitho!'
Bolitho heard the door closing behind him and stood quite still by the desk. Cobban had walked to a window breathing heavily, as if he had just been running.
Pomfret ignored the soldier, but to Fanshawe, who still fiddled nervously with some papers, he snapped, 'Get out!'
Bolitho kept his voice flat and impersonal. 'Sir?'
The admiral was leaning back in the chair watching Bolitho while the dividers beat a small tattoo on the desk- top.
He said, 'Next to Dash you are the senior captain here.' He was very calm again. 'It is not unlikely that the enemy will try and attack us by sea, or at least attempt to cut off our supplies.' Tap, tap, tap went the dividers. `You will therefore take Hyperion to sea at first light tomorrow and carry out a patrol along the northern approaches to the inlet.'
Bolitho watched him steadily. 'Until when, sir?'
'Until I order otherwise!' Pomfret threw the dividers on the desk. 'I need my flagship here in harbour in case some of these spineless fishermen show the same sort of stupidity as that fool Greig.'
'I see, sir.' Bolitho could sense the heat rising in his wounded arm, the sudden dryness in his throat as the impact of Pomfret's words made itself felt.
Pomfret did not leave him a moment to speak further. He said almost casually, 'By the way, now that Miss Seton has informed me of her changed status, I intend that she should be put aboard the first available ship out of port.'
Bolitho said tightly, 'I can understand your feelings, sir, but they can be no cause for putting her to more inconvenience and hardship.'
'Really?' Pomfret dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief. 'You may have overlooked the fact that I arranged, for her to come here in the first place! As an English citizen she is under my protection…' His voice grew louder. 'And as flag officer in charge here I intend to enforce that protection without delay!'
Bolitho replied, 'Is that your last word, sir?' Any sort of understanding or compassion he might have felt for Pomfret's predicament faded at that moment in time. It could be weeks before any ship was available to carry Cheney Seton to England, or any other port of safety. And all that time, while tension mounted around St. Clar and the siege blossomed into outright war, she would be alone amongst strangers, while he would be isolated aboard his ship, unable to see or help her.
'It is.' Pomfret's eyes were flat and without pity. 'I,do not like you, Bolitho, and I dislike anyone who allows his mind to be changed by sentiment. So be warned!' He stood up violently and walked towards the windows. 'You may leave now!'
Bolitho clapped on his hat and pushed through the door, only half-aware of what he was doing. He would see her at once. There was still time to make arrangements.
He halted in his tracks by the main entrance as he saw Seton and Midshipman Piper talking in low tones below the steps.
'What are you doing here?'
Piper touched his hat and replied glumly, 'I brought Seton ashore in my boat, sir.' His monkey face was heavy with misery. 'He is to report here at once, sir.'
Bolitho shifted his eyes to Seton. 'Do you know the reason, boy?
'Y-Yes, sir. Sir Edmund has o-ordered that I be u-used f-ffor…'
He broke off wretchedly as Piper interrupted, 'He is to be seconded to the military for signals purposes, sir.'
Bolitho controlled his cold anger and said quietly, `When this is all over I will be happy to see you back aboard, Mr. Seton. You have done well, no, very well, and I am equally sure you will bring more credit to the ship in your new work.'
Seton blinked rapidly and stammered, 'Th-thank y-you, sir.'
It was not uncommon for midshipmen to be used in this manner, but the fact that Pomfret had failed to mention it made Bolitho even more certain it was no casual appointment. But surely no man, not even Pomfret, would use a boy's life to gain some sort of revenge? He thought of the admiral's sudden rage with Greig and felt a cold chill run up his spine.
He held out his hand and the boy grasped it tightly. 'I will see that your sister is well taken care of.' It was strange, even unnerving, to realise that this frail-looking midshipman would be as close to him as his own brother had been. As he studied the boy's pale face he knew he would be closer still.
Seton said, 'I am so happy about you and my sister, sir.' Then he walked quickly into the building, and it was not until he had reached the square that Bolitho realised the boy had not stuttered once in his last sentence.
As they reached the jetty stairs Piper asked, 'D'you think he will be all right, sir?' He was trotting to keep up with Bolitho's quick strides. 'I mean, sir, he's lost without me to keep an eye on him!'
Bolitho stopped above the nodding boat and looked down at him. 'I'm sure of it, Mr. Piper. He has had a good teacher!'
But as he climbed down into the jolly boat he tried to tell himself that his words were not just a lie.
At first light the following day the Hyperion weighed, and with her yards braced round to catch the limp north- westerly breeze, passed slowly between the protective arms of the headlands.
The town appeared to be sleeping, for apart from the watchmen and a few drowsy marines, the jetty and waterfront were quiet and deserted.
Herrick stood by the quarterdeck rail, hands on hips as he stared critically at the men working high above, their bare arms shining like gold in the probing sunlight. Some of the unemployed hands were on the gangways staring at the slow moving panorama of hills and sheltered houses, and beside the tiered boats he saw Piper standing with the jollyboat crew as they secured the final lashings before the ship rose to meet the open sea. The midshipman was shading his eyes and staring across the larboard quarter, and Herrick guessed he was still thinking about his friend.
When he turned away from the rail he realised that Bolitho was also looking astern, a telescope trained across the nettings with his sound arm.
He said, 'Anchor tatted and ship secured for sea, sir.'
Bolitho lowered the glass. The creeping side of the nearest headland had pushed the town from sight. But he had seen her. For long minutes as his ship had edged unwillingly towards the harbour mouth he had watched her, holding her slim figure in the lens until the last possible moment. She was standing on a small balcony right above the water, her body pale against the open window, her face so clear and close that he almost imagined he could reach out and touch it. When he lowered the glass, houses and anchored ships shrank away and lost individuality and meaning in the twinkling of an eye. The link was already broken.
He turned his face to the wind and shivered slightly as it explored his chest through the open shirt. When he
