the wind!'
When he peered over the quarter he noticed that the Tenacious was still on the same bearing, in spite of his own ship's extra canvas. He pounded the rail in time with his thoughts. If only they could get the filth and weed off her bottom the old Hyperion would soon show them something!
Herrick said suddenly, 'Could be a blockade runner, sir.'
'Unlikely.' Bolitho was staring at the dull streak where the horizon should have been. 'Lord Hood will have too much on his hands with his own evacuation to care much for enforcing a blockade elsewhere. It will be St. Clar multiplied ten thousand times over, Thomas.'
'Deck there! Sail fine on th' weather bow, sir!'
They stared up at the swaying masthead. Then Bolitho said
,quietly, 'We shall soon know now. Get up there, Thomas, and
report the moment you recognise the facts for me.' Midshipman Piper appeared as if by magic. 'Sir!
Harvester's signalling!'
Bolitho took a glass from its rack and peered along Piper's outstretched arm. The frigate was well out on the larboard bow, suddenly clear and sharp in the lens as some freak wind brushed away the wet haze like smoke.
Piper was shouting, 'Ships in sight to the nor'-east!' He paused and flipped through the pages of his book. 'Estimate six sail of the line!'
Bolitho looked aloft and abeam, his mind busy as it digested the frigate's information and slotted it into his own knowledge. The ships, whatever they were, were almost directly ahead of his own. They could not possibly be slower than Hyperion, so therefore it seemed most likely they were on the opposite tack and heading straight for him. -
Herrick called hoarsely, 'Deck there! It's a stem-chase, sir! Maybe five or six. sail of the line after one another!'
Bolitho glanced briefly at the Tenacious. 'Come down, Mr. Herrick!' He caught Inch's eye and snapped, 'General signal to our ships, Mr. Inch. 'Prepare for battle!'
As the flags soared up the Hyperion's yards Herrick arrived with a thud beside him, by way of a backstay.
Bolitho looked at him gravely. 'Beat to quarters, and clear for action!'
Herrick touched his hat. 'Aye, aye, sir!' Then he grinned: 'Do you think we can snatch a prize from right under the noses of those other ships, sir?'
Bolitho did not smile. 'I think you will discover that the ship being chased is one of ours, Mr. Herrick!' Across the water he heard the mounting rattle of drums as the Tenacious beat to quarters. Dash' probably thought he was mad, and like Herrick imagined it impossible for the enemy to be at large already and in such strength.
The Hyperion's drummers took up the call, and as men poured from the hatchways and petty officers hurried to their stations yelling names' as they ran, Bolitho looked once more at Pomfret's flag as it flapped briskly from the mizzen.
When the clamour and noise died away Herrick hurried once more to the quarterdeck and reported, 'Cleared for action, sir!'
Bolitho was still looking at the masthead, his eyes thoughtful. Then he said, 'Hyperion has been on the fringe of things for too long, Thomas. That flag will ensure our proper place in affairs this morning!' He met Herrick's anxious stare and added, 'So you see, I could not transfer Sir Edmund to Tenacious even if I wanted tol'
Piper had climbed up to the maintop to get a better view. 'Deck there! The leading ship is wearing our colours, sir!'
Bolitho banged his palms together. 'Did I not say so, Thomas?' He was trembling inwardly with excitement. 'Have chain slings rigged to the yards immediately, and lower all boats for towing astern! We want no additional woodwork about our ears this day, Thomas!'
Herrick passed his order and stood aside as Tomlin's spare hands dashed aft to secure. the towing lines. A ball striking a boat while it lay inboard could fill the air with murderous splinters. But, nevertheless, he felt vaguely uneasy as first one and then the rest of the boats were swung outboard and dropped alongside. It was like casting off the last chance of safety, he thought.
Bolitho said distantly, 'Signal Chanticleer to take station to lee'rd. I do not want her to follow Snipe's fate.' He too was watching the boats being passed aft until they bobbed astern at the full extent of their lines. 'The sloop can watch the battle and give us some encouragement!'
Herrick stared at him. How could he do it? To be so calm, so utterly indifferent to the approaching danger.
Bolitho did not see Herrick's expression. He was looking along the full length and breadth of his command. Each detail must be checked. Soon there would be no more time.
Every gun was manned, and each captain was busily looking over his crew and equipment, while back and forth to the magazine hatch the little powder monkeys ran with their shot carriers and charges, their faces engrossed and concentrated on their tasks, their only purpose in life to keep those muzzles supplied when the moment came.
The marines lined the nettings, bayonets fixed and muskets at the ready. And forward by the carronades he could see Lieutenant Shanks with his own, detachment, his back to the enemy as he stared aft to the quarterdeck.
Rooke and young Gordon were pacing together between their lines of guns, and Bolitho wondered momentarily what they were finding to discuss.
He glanced round the quarterdeck. The nerve centre which could decide the fate of every single life aboard. Caswell was by the nine-pounders, but his eyes were on Piper and Seton at the 'signal halyards. He was remembering his own past, Bolitho decided. It would be better if he thought of his future.
Bolitho could not bear the waiting. He said, 'I am going below, Mr. Herrick. Then I will see the admiral.' He glanced up at the masthead pendant. 'It will be an hour before we close with them.' He listened to the intermittent boom of gunfire. It was indeed like thunder.
Then he turned and climbed down the larboard ladder. The overall picture of preparation seemed to break up as he approached and individual faces stood out to bring back some past event or memory.
A grizzled gun-captain touched his forehead and said, 'Us'll show 'em today, sir!' He laid a horny hand on the breech of his twelve-pounder. 'Old Maggie 'ere is just bidin' 'er time!' The men around him grinned and nodded.
Bolitho paused and looked at them gravely. 'Do your best, lads.' He shook himself to drive away the realisation that before many hours some of these faces would be dead, and others praying for death to receive them. He said abruptly, 'Make sure they have their scarves around their ears. When we reach England I want them to hear the welcome they'll get!' It was terrible the way they laughed and cheered as he passed.
Almost blindly he ran down another ladder and stood for a few moments to allow his eyes to recover. On the lower gundeck it seemed like night after the grey light above. But soon now those ports would fly open and the guns would make this low-beamed place shudder with the hammers of hell.
Inch was now at his station with the big twenty-fourpounders, and was actually grinning as he strode to meet his captain.
Bolitho said, 'Do not lose contact with the upper battery. And try to prevent your gunners from getting too excited. We are depending on you today!'
Inch nodded. 'Midshipman Lory is with me, sir. He can keep me informed.'
Bolitho saw the double line of guns, the eyes of their crews glittering in the gloom as they peered towards him.
He called briefly, 'Good luck, lads!'
He glanced at the red-painted sides and decks. They might help to hide the blood, but the sights would be bad enough. He saw the midshipman watching him and recalled his own terrible experience in his first ship. Almost thirteen years old, and he had been serving on the lower gundeck of a similar ship to Hyperion. Perhaps the very horror had been too unreal to unhinge him, he thought vaguely. There could be no other reason.
Bolitho was grateful to return to the daylight and the damp air. But as he walked aft into his cabin he wondered what he should do with Pomfret. What might it do to his mind if he was shut below in the orlop?
Rowlstone stood by the windows, staring listlessly at the Tenacious. He asked, 'Shall I go to my station, sir?'
Bolitho did not answer immediately. He walked to the open door of his sleeping cabin and stared past Fanshawe's drooping figure beside the cot. Pomfret was propped almost to a sitting position, his chest bared in the
