him.
They all watched as the master's mate traced a course with his finger.
'There's a good channel here, sir. Deep water, but with 248
two difficult ridges of reef. I' suggest that you have the boats. swung out in case the wind drops. We could warp her through under such circumstances.' He rubbed his chin. 'And we shall need two good leadsmen in the chains.' He broke off, aware of Farquhar's searching stare. 'Sir?'
Farquhar asked, 'Are you sure you have never sailed under me before?'
'Quite certain, sir.'
'I see.' Farquhar still watched him thoughtfully. 'Where did you serve to gather such knowledge?'
Bolitho gripped the arms of his chair, feeling the sweat gathering on his brow as he waited for Farquhar's expression to change to sudden recognition.
But the reply was calm and assured. 'In the old Pegasus, Sir. We were doing a survey out here some years back.'
Farquhar's frown faded. 'Then you did not waste your time, Mr. Selby. Have you never considered seeking a commission?'
'I am content, sir.' He bent over the chart again. 'You know what they say, sir. Aft the most honour. But forrard the better men!'
For an instant Bolitho thought he had gone too far. Farquhar stepped back as if suddenly conscious of close contact with an inferior, his mouth tightened into a thin line.
Then he shrugged and gave a curt nod. 'Do they indeed?'
Pelham-Martin stood up. 'Then we are done here, gentlemen.' He paused as if seeking some phrase which they might all remember. 'If we find Lequiller see that your people fight bravely and with no thought of defeat.' He lowered his glass to the table and stared at it without recognition. 'Return to your ships and recall all boats immediately. If we are to clear the reef and claw to windward of Pascua then we must suffer no further delays. '
Bolitho crossed to the table as the other officers began to file from the room. 'That was a wise decision, sir. And if I may say so, a brave one.'
Pelham-Martin looked past him, his eyes opaque. 'Damn you, Bolitho!' He did not raise his voice. 'If you are mistaken about this place and what we might discover there, no amount of good intentions will save me.' His eyes swivelled round and fixed on Bolitho's face. 'Or you either. If, as I very much doubt, you live long enough, you will discover that bravery is not always sufficient. I hope, if that time ever comes, you will be equal to it!'
Bolitho picked up his hat. 'Yes, sir.'
As he made his way down the stairway he still retained a picture of Pelham-Martin in his mind, so that his words seemed to follow him like an epitaph.
Perhaps after all Pelham-Martin was more entitled to pity than respect for his authority. Unlike so many others he was desperately afraid. Not just of dying or making a mistake. But fear of failure and of showing his own uncertainty, and things which Bolitho could only try to imagine. Yet in all his career he must have realised his own weakness, but had seemingly allowed himself to be carried on and upward by a system he had failed to master and understand.
Earlier or later in his life it might not have mattered so much. But now, at this very moment in time, while the little Nisus spread her sails and gathered way from the bay, he could see nothing but complete disgrace, and worse, the scorn of those he had tried for so long to emulate.
Inch asked, 'Are you ready, sir?'
Bolitho glanced along the jetty and saw Farquhar speaking with his first lieutenant while they waited for their boat to arrive. His brother was standing a little apart, arms folded, his eyes on the distant frigate as she rolled uneasily at her cable. Then he saw Bolitho watching him and walked slowly to meet him.
Bolitho waited until Inch and Gossett were out of earshot and then said fiercely, 'You fool! You nearly gave yourself away back there!'
'He made me angry. If he did know who I was he'd let 250
his ship founder rather than have me at the helm!' He smiled sadly. 'You'll take care of the boy if anything happens to me, won't you?'
Bolitho studied him for several moments. 'You know that.' He heard Farquhar yelling, 'Bring that boat alongside, damn your eyes!' It made a sudden urgency, and he had to check himself from touching his brother's arm. 'Take care of yourself.'
Then he turned and walked back to the others.
Inch said cheerfully, 'Poor old Selby! Out of one ship into another!'
'Kindly lend your thoughts to receiving the commodore on board, Mr. Inch!' Bolitho turned his back to watch the barge drawing nearer and did not see Inch's confusion or Gossett's unsympathetic grin. He knew the brief anger was only to cover his own uncertainty. To hide the fact that he did after all care about his brother, even though he suspected Hugh was really laughing at him in spite of his constant danger. It had always been so between them, and it seemed now that even the threat of arrest and a traitor's rope could change nothing.
Allday stood and removed his hat as the officers scrambled into the barge.
'I shall want you to return and collect the commodore as soon as I'm aboard.'
Allday nodded. 'Aye, aye, Captain.' He gestured to the bowman. 'Cast off! Out oars there!' He watched the back of Bolitho's head, sensing his mood. 'Give way all! Together!'
Bolitho sat rigidly in the sternsheets, his eyes fixed on the black silhouette of the Hyperion's upper yards. He had seen the quick exchange of glances between the bargemen, like privileged persons hearing some secret information. How did men such as these really see their commanders? he wondered. A stern fate at a flogging or pronouncing punishment, or a man who strode his quarterdeck, aloof and untroubled by the crowded world beneath his feet? And during battle, did they seek out that same, shadowy figure with any sort of real understanding or warmth?
He recalled how these same men had reacted when Pelham-Martin had hauled down his broad pendant, their resentment and hurt, as if their ship and therefore they themselves had been slighted. Now they knew the pendant was returning and seemed genuinely pleased by it. He wondered what they would think of the man beneath the command flag. One so beset with inner worries and personal doubt that faced with another reverse he might well break under the strain.
He looked up and saw the hull high above him, the scarlet-coated marines at the entry port, the gleam of harsh sunlight across upraised bosun's pipes.
As Allday guided the barge beneath the ship's lee he thought suddenly of what Hugh had said. They'd follow you anywhere. But men who followed must have the right leadership. It was no use feeling sorry for Pelham-Martin merely because he was out of his depth. These men needed leadership. He frowned. No, they should have it as
a right.
He climbed up the side, still thinking of Peiham-Martin even as he returned the salutes and made his way aft to the poop.
'Captain, sir?'
Bolitho opened his eyes and stared dully at the chart beneath his forearm. In the enclosed cabin the deckhead lantern was gyrating wildly, throwing shadows back and forth like spirits in torment, and he was immediately conscious of the increased motion around him.
Allday stood beside the table, a giant pot of coffee tightly grasped against his body.
'What time is it?'
'Seven bells, Captain.' Allday took a cup from the rack and poured some black coffee between the ship's uneven plunges.
Seven bells. Bolitho leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. He had been on deck almost continuously since the ships had quit the bay and butted out into a rising wind. Then for perhaps two hours he had tried to rest. To restore his tired mind before first light. He groaned. The middle watch still had half an hour to run.
Allday stood back to watch him drink. Then he said, 'Mr. Inch's respects, and the wind's freshening.'
'From the nor'-east?'
'Aye.' He slopped more coffee into the cup.
