Bolitho looked for the master but Gossett had already vanished to his quarters.
Stepkyne walked casually towards the watching midshipmen. 'Just so long as you understand.' He rocked back on his heels, his eyes examining the master's mate like a farmer looking over a beast at market.
Pascoe said quickly, 'He was explaining it to me, sir. How an officer should always show…'
Stepkyne turned and glared at him. 'Was he indeed?' He swung back again. 'An officer? What in God's name would you know about that, Mr. Selby?'
Bolitho saw the midshipmen exchanging quick glances. They were too young to understand Stepkyne's malice. They were ashamed of him, which was worse.
But Bolitho was concerned only for his brother. For just one brief moment he saw a flash of anger in his eyes, a defiant lift to his chin. Then he replied quietly, 'You're quite right, sir. I know nothing of such things.'
Stepkyne still stood by the rail his anger giving way to heavy sarcasm. 'Then I am relieved to know it. We cannot have our people getting ideas above their station, can we?'
Bolitho strode out of the shadow, his limbs carrying him forward before he knew what he was doing.
'Mr. Stepkyne, I would be equally relieved if you would attend to your duties! The hour for instruction is over!'
Stepkyne swallowed hard. 'I was making sure they were not wasting their time, sir.'
Bolitho eyed him coldly. 'It.seemed to me you were using their time to amuse yourself. In future, if you have nothing better to do, I will be pleased to know. I am quite sure I shall be able to supply your talent with more worthwhile and rewarding tasks.'
He turned and walked back to the poop ladder, his heart throbbing painfully with each step. In all his years at sea he could not recall ever having reprimanded an officer in front of his subordinates. He despised those who did it as a matter of course, just as he mistrusted them.
But Stepkyne was a bully, and like others of his type only seemed to understand similar treatment. And yet Bolitho could find no comfort in what he had done, and like the midshipmen was more shamed than satisfied.
He began to pace back and forth along the weather side, ignoring the sun's heat across his shoulders.and the eyes of the watchkeepers. In trying to help with his brother's deception he might have achieved just the opposite. When Stepkyne recovered from his surprise and discomfort he might pause to consider his captain's behaviour, and when that occurred…
Bolitho stopped dead and looked up as a lookout yelled, 'Deck there! Sail on th' weather bow!'
Snatching a telescope from its rack he climbed into the mizzen shrouds, feeling the salt wind across his lips like blown sand. For a moment he thought the lookout had mistaken the little sloop Dasher for a newcomer, but a quick glance told him otherwise. Far out on the larboard beam, her topgallants barely visible on the haze-shrouded horizon, he could see the sloop on her correct station as before.
He waited until the Hyperion had completed another steep plunge and then trained the glass towards the bow, seeing the crisscross of rigging, the colourful splendour of the Telamon at the head of the line with Pelham-Martin's broad pendant at her masthead, and then, a mere shadow beneath the clear sky, he saw what must be the approaching ship.
She was running before the wind, carrying every stitch of canvas, and seemed to be rising bodily from the haze as she headed straight for the sgaadron.
'Deck there! She's a frigate, an' English by th' looks of 'er!'
Bolitho climbed down to the quarterdeck and handed the telescope to the midshipman of the watch.
Inch had arrived from the wardroom, his jaws still chewing on the remains of his meal.
Bolitho said shortly, 'Call all hands, Mr. Inch, and prepare to shorten sail. That frigate'll be up to us directly and she's in a great hurry to tell us something.'
He heard the shrill of pipes and the immediate rush of feet as the order was relayed along both decks, and blinking in the bright sunlight the seamen poured through the open hatchways and dashed to their stations.
Midshipman Carlyon, very conscious of his new appointment in charge of signals, stood with his men by the halyards, while an experienced petty officer crouched in the mizzen shrouds with a telescope, his legs curled around the ratlines, balanced perfectly against the ship's heavy roll.
Bolitho took the glass once more and studied the fast approaching frigate, as with the spray bursting over her forecastle, and her rakish hull tilting to the wind she started to go about, flags already breaking from her yards.
He said quietly, 'So Captain Fargnhar has returned to the squadron.'
Inch was about to speak when Canyon yelled, 'Spartan – to Telamon. Have urgent despatch for commodore.'
He jumped as Inch barked, 'Watch the flagship, damn you!'
'S-Sorry, sir!' Canyon swung his glass round towards the Telamon as flags broke stiffly in the glare. He stuttered, 'General signal. Heave to.'
Bolitho nodded curtly. 'Carry on, Mr. Inch, or the Hermes will beat us to it.'
He walked between the scurrying seamen and marines to watch the Spartan completing her manoeuvre. Farquhar was wearing ship even before Telamon's acknowledgement had been lowered.
As the Hyperion wallowed heavily into the wind, her sails vanishing from her topgallant yards to the accompaniment of threats and curses from the deck, Bolitho wondered what news Farquhar was bringing with him. It would certainly take more than a display of excellent seamanship to appease the commodore.
The deck canted heavily in the wind, and every shroud and halyard cracked and vibrated as the topmen fought to secure the rebellious canvas while they clung to the dizzily swaying yards.
Inch said breathlessly, 'The Spartan'll get no thanks for missing the attack on Las Mercedes, sir.'
Bolitho wiped his watering eyes as more flags appeared above the Telamon's pitching hull. But for the sloop's inability to find him, Farquhar might now be lying with his ship beside the charred bones of the Abdiel.
The signals petty officer called, 'Boat shovin' off from Spartan, sir!'
Bolitho clung to the nettings to watch the little jolly boat as it rose and dipped across the lively crests, the oars rising and failing like gulls' wings. He could see Farquhar's straight-backed figure in the sternsheets and his gold- laced cocked hat gleaming above the straining oarsmen as an additional encouragement to their efforts.
He heard Lieutenant Roth say, 'It'll be bad news no doubt.'
Inch retorted, 'Keep your opinions to yourself!'
Bolitho saw the boat hooking on to the Dutchman's main chains, the small hull pitching and crashing against the steep tumblehome was the men fought to keep it from capsizing. He had noted the bitterness in Inch's voice. The same tone he had used to explain Pelaham-Martin's delay in attacking Las Mercedes. It seemed that the commodore had been unwilling to trust Bolitho's landing party to destroy the hidden battery, even to accept that they would finally cross the swamp. Bolitho could find some understanding for Pelham-Martin's qualms, but could equally well imagine the frustration and anger throughout the ships while they waited for the sloop Dasher to report the sounds of gunfire.
But Bolitho was sure of one thing. If he had merely destroyed those guns without using them to fire on the anchored French ships, Pelham-Martin would never have made that last, vital assault, and he and his remaining men would have perished. And as Fitzmaurice had remarked before the raid, the responsibility would have rested on Bolitho's shoulders in. any report which eventually reached England.
He gritted his teeth with mounting impatience until Canyon shouted, 'General signal. All captains repair on board forthwith.'
Bolitho jerked his hand. 'Call away the barge.' He looked round for Allday, but he was already carrying the goldlaced coat and hat.
As he threw off his faded coat he saw some of the seamen staring at the activity aboard the Telamon, and wondered briefly what they were thinking. Only very few of those aboard really understood where the ship lay or the name of the nearest land. They had no say in affairs at all. They obeyed and did their duty, and some people said that was enough. Bolitho believed otherwise, and one day…
He looked up as Inch reported, 'Barge alongside, sir.'
He had not even noticed it being swung outboard. He was too tired, too strained, and it was beginning to tell.
He nodded and ran down the ladder to the entry port. Below his legs he could see the lower gunports awash, and the next instant as the hull heeled violently away from the barge the copper on the ship's fat bilge rolled shining
