In a ship of the line it was like living over a tightly compressed world where several hundred souls were crammed together at every moment of the day, yet so completely separated by the standards of discipline and station. And now even this remote link with the way of life he loved so dearly seemed to be drawing further away. While he had been outlining his sketchy plan to the others he had been made conscious of the fact, and it troubled him. From obeying other captains to commanding a small ship of his own. From the harsh necessity of seeking an enemy and laying his ship alongside her until victory or destruction, to the need of understanding tactics and how they could affect other ships and outflung squadrons. And as he had spoken his mind aloud he had been very aware of what he was doing. By revealing his innermost ideas, which might later be translated into actual deeds, he had taken one more irrevocable step in his career.
But strategy, as Pelham-Martin and others before him had been made to understand, could determine far more than the death of its planner. It might decide the fate of a cause, the very existence of a nation.
Inch came to his side and touched his hat. 'Any orders,
sir?”
lL Bolitho was still staring after the Spartan as she lifted and ploughed into the uneven ranks of whitecaps.
'I am going to the chartroom.' He hesitated, knowing he was going to take one more step, more personal, but no less vital. 'Pass the word for the new master's mate, Selby, and. send him down to me.'
Inch shuffled his feet, his face filled with obvious curiosity.
Bolitho looked at him. 'See that I am not disturbed.'
In the dark panelled chartroom he leaned his shoulders against the bulkhead in an effort to control. the sudden flood of misgivings. The normal shipboard sounds were muffled here, and the distant clank of the pump seemed to keep time with his heartbeats.
There was a tap at the door and he said, 'Enter!'
His brother stood on the opposite side of the chart table, his eyes guarded and watchful. 'You sent for me, sir?'
Bolitho plucked one corner of the uppermost chart, conscious of the enclosed silence, as if the ship was holding her breath.
He said slowly, 'I have need of information.' He kept his tone formal, as if the man opposite was indeed a mere master's mate. 'When you served in the Caribbean before.' His tongue lingered on the word. Before. What grief and uncertainty it had caused their father. He added sharply,, 'When you commanded the privateer Andiron you must have made good use of the islands.' He circled the rambling shapes on the chart with his finger. 'You had only your resources. You must then have known of inlets and bays where you could rest your men and carry out repairs.'
His brother moved closer, his features suddenly lined and tired beneath the spiralling lantern.
'That was a long while ago.' He nodded. 'Yes, I knew of many such anchorages.'
Bolitho walked round the table touching the lockers and the swinging cot, yet noticing none of them.
'You know of Lequiller of course, and what we are doing here. I believe that he will repair his ships which were damaged in battle before he…' He broke off, aware that his brother was watching him, his eyes pensive.
'I have heard many things. That Lequiller has seized the treasure ship and you intend to try and catch him again.' He shrugged. 'News has fast legs on the lower deck, as you know.'
'When you were in Las Mercedes, did you see or hear what was going on there?'
'Not much. We saw the troops drilling, and when the French ships put into the bay there was a great deal of excitement. I knew then that it would mean trouble for us.'
Bolitho could not contain his bitterness. 'For us? That is a change of heart surely?'
His brother eyed him with tired gravity. 'Perhaps. But even in my short stay aboard your ship I have learned to know you again. Like that time in St. Clar when the convicts stood and cheered you.' He grimaced. 'There is 'ittle difference between a convict and a seaman in a King's ship, and I have heard what they think of you.' He looked down at the chart. 'They'd follow you anywhere. Don't ask me why, and do not expect anyone to tell you. It is something which you have, which you give to them.' He gave another shrug. 'But no matter. I am saying that I – do not think you should throw all away just to save your commodore's good name.'
Bolitho said harshly, 'I did not call you here for an opinion on my motives!' He tapped the chart. 'Well?'
'There is a suitable place here.' His finger paused. 'The Isles of Pascua. Maybe fifty miles nor'-west of St. Kruis.' His eyes shone with professional interest as he stooped over the chart. 'Two small islands linked together by several tiny islets and a whole pattern of reefs. A dangerous anchorage, a last resort usually.' He nodded slowly. 'The main -advantage is that it has a dozen exits between the reefs. With your small squadron you could never control them all. His lined face twisted in a private smile. 'I gave Rodney's frigates the slip many a time there!'
Bolitho studied his lowered head with sudden understanding and near compassion. Hugh was only four years his senior, yet looked old and grey, like his father had been at their last meeting. Now he was here, reliving that one period in his life when, right or wrong, he had achieved something.
He asked quietly, 'What would you do?'
His brother looked up at him, the expression changing from surprise to disbelief. Then he replied, 'A frigate could enter through the reefs. A surprise attack would probably make any ships inside the anchorage put to sea by the main channel, where you could be waiting.'
Bolity'io studied him gravely. 'It needs a man of great experience to take a ship through the reefs, does it not? Someone who knows the exact bearings from every obstacle?'
The other man watched him, his eyes shrewd with understanding. 'It does. It would be madness otherwise. When I used it for the first time I had an old mulatto fisherman as bosun. He knew it well enough and taught me what he had learned the hard way.'
Bolitho straightened his back. 'Will you do it?' He saw the guard drop in his brother's eyes and added, 'I know it is a great risk. The captain of our only frigate is Charles Farquhar. He might remember you as his captor.'
'I remember him. Insolent young puppy!'
'But if all goes well, it could go a long way towards a free pardon, a last chance for you.'
His brother smiled sadly. 'It is just as many of your people say. You never think of yourself first.' He slapped his hand on the table. 'I was not thinking of my own skin for once. Don't you realise that if Farquhar or anyone else knows about me, it would be your loss? Hiding a fugitive, compounding an act of treason, why, they would crucify youl'
When Bolitho did not reply he added hotly, 'Think of yourself! Stop worrying about your damn commodore, me, and all the rest of them! Just this time, take care of your own self!'
Bolitho looked away. 'It's settled then. When we reach St. Kruis I will inform the commodore. We may find nothing at this anchorage of yours. But we shall see.'
His brother stepped back to the door. 'There was only one man who ever got the better of me in the Caribbean. So perhaps your luck will stand you in good stead a second time.'
'Thank you.' But when Bolitho turned his head the chartroom was empty.
14. AFT, THE MOST HONOUR…
As his barge came to rest alongside the crude wooden piles of the jetty Bolitho climbed from the sternsheets and then paused to stare back at the bay. Pelham-Martin's squadron had anchored just two hours earlier, but even in that short time a change in the weather was apparent. The sky was hidden by a film of pale cloud which distorted the afternoon sunlight into an angry glare and painted the irregular wavecrests with a harsh bronze hue. When he shaded his eyes to study the ships he noted the way they strained at their cables, as if fearful of the land's nearness.
Boats plied busily back and forth to the ships, while along the coast road and jetty parties of seamen waited to lower freshly filled water casks and hastily gathered fruit, before tramping inland again to collect another load.
Inch and Gossett clambered up beside him and stood in the swirling dust clouds which covered their faces and clothing in a matter of seconds.
The master said hoarsely, 'Wind's still steady from the nor'-east, sir.' He shook his head. 'I'll be 'appier when
