had been awakened before the dawn he had lain motionless in his cot for several minutes after Gimlett had departed. Without effort he could remember her nearness, the touch of her hand, the very smell of her hair as they had made that hasty farewell at Labouret's house. As he lay in his cot the warmth of the sheets had seemed like the closeness of that embrace, and when he had gone to his mirror to shave the feel of his fingers on his face had recalled the caress of her hand.
He said abruptly, 'As soon as we are clear you may get the courses set, Mr. Herrick. We will steer to the nor'- east and take advantage of this offshore wind.'
Herrick nodded. `When we were in the South Sea I swore I would never pray for winds such as some of those we met there. But even the North Sea in winter is better than this crawling.'
Bolitho looked at him distantly. 'I know. A sharp wind, the icy spray in your teeth can take away the pain of thinking too much, and too deeply.'
Gossett was watching the distant beacon, his eye measuring the drift and bearing without conscious effort. `Ready to wear ship, sir!'
Herrick asked, 'Is all well, sir?' He faltered. 'Were you able to make your arrangements?'
Bolitho sighed. 'Some, Thomas. Labouret has promised to do all he can, and I have a good ally there in Captain Ashby. For once I am not sorry to leave him behind on land.'
As the ship moved clear of the headland she tilted readily to the waiting swell, the sunlight lancing down through her taut rigging and playing across the Titan's crown below the bowsprit.
Bolitho jerked himself from his brooding thoughts. 'Wear ship, if you please!'
Herrick waited until the order had been repeated and piped along the upper deck before asking, 'Any orders, sir?'
Bolitho suddenly remembered the freshly made coffee in his cabin. He had not been able to face it before. Now he needed it, if only to be alone. He said, 'We will exercise the lower battery at eight bells, Mr. Herrick. I do not want those guns to get rusted through lack of use.'
Herrick smiled and watched him stride beneath the poop. He was making the best of it, he thought. And he was right to throw the ship and her company into a busy routine as of now. Hyperion's masters came and went with the years and she cared little if anything for their personal worries. She had to be sailed and maintained, so then did the men who served her.
He picked up his speaking trumpet and shouted, `Mr. Pearse, have the lower battery piped to quarters at eight bells! And I'll want two minutes lopped off the time it takes to clear for action!'
He saw the gunner nod, and then began to pace the quarterdeck. I am even beginning to sound like Bolitho, he thought. The realisation cheered him, and he quickened his stride 'accordingly.
Nightfall found the Hyperion some twenty miles northnorth-east from St. Clar, her sails almost motionless as she wallowed heavily in a deep-offshore swell. In Bolitho's cabin the air was humid and lifeless, and most of the officers present were careful to stay beneath the open skylight, their faces shining damply in the swaying lanterns.
Bolitho stood with his back to the shuttered stern windows watching in silence as Gimlett moved nervously across the cabin filling the officers' glasses and passing round the pipe tobacco. Beyond the bulkhead the ship was unusually quiet, and only the sluice of water around the rudder and the creak of steering tackles intruded, and then only as reminders of the Hyperion's slow progress. Not that it mattered, Bolitho considered bitterly. His patrol area laid little importance on either speed or direction. The ship just had to be there. But the slow pace, the dull regularity of movement left his men with too much time on their hands. Time to brood and consider their wretched lack of purpose. Whatever else happened he had to make sure that they did not suffer because of Pomfret's imposed isolation. He had called his officers to the cabin socially and for no other reason but to start as he would have to continue, if the carefully built up morale was not to crumble before his eyes.
As he looked slowly around their faces it was again brought home to him how his collection of subordinates had dwindled and changed. Quarme and Dalby were dead, the two marines and young Seton back there in St. Clar. The rest, for the most part, looked strained and worn down by the never-ending work. It was the way of nearly every sailor to grumble about his lot, but these, he decided, had good cause. Young Piper, for instance, was sixteen. He had joined the ship at thirteen, and to the present day had hardly set foot ashore but to carry out minor duties, or in his beloved jolly boat. Throughout the labouring hull it was mostly the same. No wonder landsmen feared the sounds of the press gangs, even the sight of a naval uniform, when such heartless conditions were taken for granted. Yet these men, who lived and died beside the guns they saw on every waking day, were unbeatable in battle, just as they were seemingly unbreakable in spirit. Sometimes they were starved by miserly captains, flogged by tyrants, or treated like animals by others. Yet when the call came they rarely failed. It was something which Bolitho never really quite understood. Some said it was out of fear, others that the inbuilt tradition and harsh discipline of the Navy were the real reasons. But he believed it went far deeper. A man-o'-war was a way of life. The Cause and the Flag often came second to the love of the men around her crowded decks. They fought to protect each other, to avenge old comrades lost in forgotten battles. And they fought for their ship.
He said quietly, 'I called you together, gentlemen, in order that you should see clearly the difficulties ahead. It may be weeks before we are relieved. Nobody knows what the French intend to do, or if they are yet able to do it. But with such uncertainty abroad our place is at sea. Whatever victories the enemy obtains in Europe he cannot win an overall conquest just so long as our ships are ready to meet him.'
He saw Herrick nodding soberly and young Caswell biting his lip.
'We will have daily drills as before. But this time we must go further. Try to take the men's minds off themselves. Ar_ range contests, no matter how trivial or small, and do your best to encourage them all. What has been unnoticed in the past, good or bad, will become an event if the loneliness and boredom seize control from you.' He lifted his glass. 'A toast, gentlemen. 'The ship, and God bless her''
The glasses clinked and the assembled officers waited for Boltiho to continue.
He said more crisply, 'With our number shrinking as it is, I have decided to promote Midshipman Gordon to actinglieutenant. He will assist Mr. Rooke with the upper battery.'
He paused as the other midshipmen pounded Gordon's shoulders, and his face, a great mass of large freckles, broke into a surprised grin. Bolitho glanced swiftly at Rooke and noticed he was nodding in silent agreement.
It had been a careful choice. Gordon had been with Rooke when he had stormed and taken the St. Clar beacon. They seemed to get on very well together, and he suspected it was because they both came from old and established families. Gordon's uncle was a vice-admiral, and that knowledge might help to keep Rooke's temper in check.
'In addition,' the buzz of voices stilled, 'I think one of the master's mates could stand watches until Mr. Fowler is well again.'
Inch looked up. 'May I suggest Bunce, sir? He is a very reliable man.'
'You may, Mr. Inch. You can attend to it directly.' He saw Inch nod and take- another sip at his glass. What a difference in the man. Perhaps him most of all. From the fifth and junior lieutenant he had risen to fouth, but more important he had gained the self-confidence to go with it.
They all looked up at the skylight as a muffled voice yelled, 'Avast there! What the devil do you think you're about?' There was a sound of running feet, and then the same voice bellowed, 'Deck there! Man overboard!'
As the officers rushed to the door Gossett could be heard shouting, 'Back the mizzen tops'!! Call away the quarter boat!'
The quarterdeck was very dark and not a star was visible beyond the unmoving clouds. Figures were rushing down gangways, and from right aft Bolitho heard the crew of the quarter boat falling over each other in desperation, urged on by the voice which had called the alarm.
Bolitho snapped, 'What is it, Mr. Gossett? How did the man fall overboard?'
Bunce, the thickset master's mate whom Inch had just mentioned, pushed through the running men and touched his forehead. 'I saw 'im, sir. I was by the wheel as one of my lads was changin' the binnacle lamp.' He shuddered. 'I looks up, sir, an' there's this face starin' at me! Gawd, it was awful, an' I pray to my Maker I never sees the like again!'
The ship was swaying drunkenly as the flapping canvas volleyed and thundered against the yards and masts, and from somewhere beyond the high poop Bolitho heard the thrash of oars, the shouted' instructions from the boat's coxswain.
Bunce added, 'It was Mr. Fowler, sir. 'E'd took off all his dressin' and was carryin' a mirror in 'is 'and. 'E was
