Piper screwed up his face so that he looked like a wizened monkey. `He's a bit sick, sir.' He sighed. `He's not used to it all yet.'
Bolitho hid a smile. Piper was also sixteen, yet spoke with the assurance of an admiral.
He walked past the marine sentry and on to the quarterdeck. The wind was still very fresh, but as he glanced forward across the leaping bowsprit he caught sight of a growing grey wedge of land. They had been following.t it all day, losing it as they ploughed through some open bay and picking it up again near the next headland.
Quarme said formally, 'Masthead reports six sail of the line to the north, sir.'
Bolitho saw Inch's long face watching him across the first lieutenant's shoulder. He was nodding vacantly in time with Quarme's words.
'Very well. Alter course two points to larboard to intercept.'
He crossed the deck and watched the men pouring up from below as the bosun's mates yelled, 'Hands to the braces there!'
Gossett stood stolidly near the wheel his lower lip between his teeth as the great yards began to swing round. To the helmsman he growled, ' 'Old 'er, man! Full an' bye!' Then he glanced aloft at the thundering sails and gave a slow smile. Bolitho had seen that smile before and- knew that Gossett was satisfied.
Bolitho took his glass and steadied his legs against the pitch and roll of the deck. With the wind sweeping down across• the bow and the ship sailing as close as she was able to it the motion was uneven and more pronounced.
He heard Quarme snap, 'Aloft with you, Mr. Piper, and be sure you make a proper report!'
Bolitho saw the tall pyramids of sails evenly spaced and shining like polished shells in the sunlight. Even from the deck there was no mistaking them.
He said to the quarterdeck at large, 'Stand by to report all signals.'
Then, carried by the wind like a flute he heard Piper calling from the mainmast. 'Six ships of the line, sir! The leading one wears the admiral's flag!'
The six ships were running on the opposite tack, and as Bolitho studied them through his glass he saw them growing in size and detail until the leading one, a huge three-decker with the admiral's flag at the main, filled his lens so that he could see the hull shining with thrown spray, the red and gold of her figurehead.
As he strained his eye to watch her he saw the tiny black balls streaking up the yards and breaking out like coloured metal in the wind.
Inch shouted, 'Flagship's signalling, sir!' He was hopping with excitement, as if he personally had spirited the squadron over the horizon.
Caswell, the signal midshipman, had already perched himself in the mizzen shrouds his big telescope steadied like a gun.
flying our pendant, sir!' His lips moved slowly, Then he called, 'Victory to Hyperion, 'Fake station to windward!''
Quarme. said quickly, 'The admiral'll be wanting you to go across, sir.'
'I imagine so.' Bolitho pushed his hands behind him to hide his excitement. 'Tack the ship and then call my boat's crew and prepare for lowering.'
Quarme nodded. Then he raised his speaking trumpet. 'Stand by to go about!'
From beside the wheel Gossett bellowed, 'Ready ho!' Then as the seamen ran to the braces he snapped, 'Helm a'lee!'
The hands up forward let go the headsail sheets and the Hyperion swung slowly into the wind, every block and sail flapping and banging as if outraged at this sudden change of direction.
From the maindeck came a yelp of pain, followed by a sharp, 'Lively, you awkward bugger! Lord 'God is watchin! you!'
Breathless and groaning, the men at the braces dug in their toes and hauled the great yards round, further and further, until with the jubilant roar of thunder the sails billowed and then filled, taut and bulging, while the ship beneath them heeled over to the wind.
Bolitho saw Gosset grinning and said, 'She handles well, Mr. Gossett. Slow but very determined.' He added, 'We will have the royals off her, Mr. Quarme.'
The fresh orders sent more men clambering aloft, and as the sails grew smaller and then vanished at the hands of the topmen Midshipman Caswell, who had run frantically to the opposite side of the quarterdeck, shouted, 'Flag to Hyperion, 'Captain repair on board forthwith!'
Bolitho snapped, 'Acknowledge!' He looked down at his shabby seagoing uniform. There was no time to change now. From any admiral 'forthwith' meant immediately, if no sooner. 'Call away my barge!'
As the six other ships drew closer the Hyperion turned once more into the wind, sails thundering in protest and every shroud and stay vibrating like some mad musical instrument.
The barge was already swayed out, and as Bolitho took his sword from an anxious Gimlett, Allday shouted, 'Lower away!' By the time Bolitho had reached the entry port the boat was dipping and plunging alongside, the white oars raised like twin lines of polished bones.
He almost missed his footing, but as the barge squeaked heavily against the Hyperion's fat flank he jumped out and down, praying that he had not misjudged it.
Allday breathed out. 'Out oars! Give way together!' Then he thrust the tiller hard over, and by the time Bolitho had regained his wind the Hyperion was already dropping fast astern.
She was swinging round once more to keep station on the flagship, and Bolitho felt a touch of pride as he watched the sails filling and the sluice of spray breaking back from her counter. He had been aboard her for twelve days only, yet_ already he could hardly remember what had gone before.
No sooner had Bolitho made another precarious climb from his barge to the flagship's entry port than he was met by her captain, and with hardly more than a curt greeting was led aft to the great stem cabin. If Bolitho's quarters in Hyperion were spacious, those of Admiral Hood were even grander on every scale.
Hood was seated on the bench below the stem window with one leg propped comfortably on a stool and his massive head in silhouette as he stared out at the ships which followed slowly in Victory's wake. He made no effort to stand but waved his hand towards a chair beside his writing table.
'I am very pleased to see you here, Bolitho. You appear to have carried the years well.'
Bolitho seated himself carefully and studied his superior with interest and admiration. He knew that Hood was nearing seventy, yet apart from a certain looseness around the jowl and the slowness of his speech he appeared to have changed little in the eleven years since their last meeting. The heavy brows and large beaked nose were the same. And the eyes which now swung to study him across the table were as clear and bright as a young man's.
The admiral asked, suddenly, `How do you like your ship, eh? Good enough for you?'
'I am well satisfied, sir.' Bolitho knew that Hood rarely wasted much time on unnecessary conversation and was taken slightly off guard. Perhaps, after all Hood was feeling his years. But for the war he would now be enjoying a more restful life well away from the burden of commanding a fleet.
Hood continued abruptly, 'I remember you well. You did good work at the Saintes.' He sighed. 'I wish I had my old flagship, the Barfleur, here with me today, but she is with Lord Howe in the Channel Fleet.' He heaved himself from the seat and moved heavily across the cabin. Over his shoulder he said, 'You've read all the intelligence reports, I suppose.' He hurried on without waiting „for a reply. It was safe to assume that any captain joining his command would have made himself fully familiar with every available detail if he wished to stay a captain. 'Just over yonder the French have at least twenty sail of the line bottled up in Toulon. I intend to see that they stay there until I decide what next action to pursue.'
Bolitho digested this information carefully. With a growing British squadron daily patrolling the French coastline it would be madness for the enemy to expect their own ships to enter or leave Toulon, or – Marseilles either for that matter.
Hood added sharply, 'In a week or so I shall have twentyone ships under my flag, and by that time I will know what to do. Compte Trogoff commands the French ships at Toulon, and our agents there have already reported that he is ready to negotiate terms with us. He was loyal to his king, like many more in Toulon. But his position is dangerous. Unless he can be sure of real support from his own people he will never allow us to land our men and take over the port.'
Bolitho said carefully, 'I would think that he has little time left to make up his mind, sir.'
