'That any success this squadron has achieved has been at your doing.' Herrick rose to his feet, his features suddenly stern. 'I have been with you in- action many times and have sailed by your side in worse conditions than many think exist. You know well enough what our friendship means to me, and that I would die for you here and now if I believed it would help. Because of this, and what we have seen and done together, I feel I have earned the right…'
He hesitated as Bolitho asked flatly, 'What right is that?'
'The right to speak my mind, even at the risk of destroying that friendship!'
Bolitho looked away. 'Well?'
'In all the years I have never seen you like this.' He gestured to the decanter. 'Always you have been the one to help and understand others, no matter at what cost to your own feelings. Your loss has been a terrible one. She meant much to me also, as I think you know. There is not a man aboard this ship who knew her who does not share your pain at this moment.' He added harshly, 'But viewed against what you believe and have taught others to accept in the past, it is a personal thing. And one which cannot, must not influence your deeds when you are most needed by all of us.'
Bolitho looked at him coldly. 'Have you finished?'
'Not quite. Often you told me that responsibility and authority are privileges, not the rights of every man for the taking. When we served in frigates there was a world of difference, with little at risk but our own lives. Here, our few ships might decide greater events which we cannot even begin to understand.' He looked hard at the sleeping-cabin door. 'And when we require an example, what do we have? A man so filled with self-deception and ignorance that he can see no further than his own skin.' He turned and faced Bolitho again, his eyes troubled but stubborn. 'So we will be looking to you. As the captain of the Hyperion, and a man who has never put self- advancement before honour and duty.' He took a deep breath. 'As the man chosen by Cheney Seton for her husband!'
In the muffled distance Bolitho heard the squeal of pipes, the sounds of boats alongside. The whole cabin seemed to be swimming in mist, and the words of anger and scathing retort would not come.
As he stood beside the desk Herrick stepped forward and seized his hands. 'Believe me, Richard, I know what you are suffering.' He studied his features with sudden determination. '1 know!'
Bolitho looked at him and gave a small shudder: 'Thank you, Thomas. I do not know of anything which could ever break our friendship. And speaking your mind to me is not one of them, I am sure of that.'
Herrick nodded but did not release his grip. He said, 'I have been a sea officer long enough to learn that it is not the Pelham-Martins of our life who really matter. You, and those like you, who have found the time to think and plan for others will finally decide the rights and wrongs of our cause. And one day, perhaps in our lifetime, we will see a better Service because of that example. One which men will take as a calling, and not an enforced and heartless existence which can be determined by the whim of mere individuals.' He smiled briefly. 'Tyrants and influential nincompoops have a way of fading in the smoke of real danger.'
Bolitho swallowed hard. 'Sometimes I believe that I set you a wrong example, Thomas. You always were an idealist, but now that you have a command you must be sparing with those ideals and be content with the improvements of your own making.' Then he smiled. 'Now we will greet the others.' He looked down at the decanter for a long moment then added softly, 'There is little solace there either!'
But later as he stood with the other captains around Pelham-Martin's cot he knew it was going to be far worse than he had thought possible.
The small cabin was oppressively hot, with the skylight tightly shut and only one small port partly open to allow the sea air to penetrate. The commodore had apparently enjoyed a large breakfast for there were several empty plates beside the cot, and the atmosphere was sickly with the aromas of brandy and sweat.
Peiham-Martin looked much as before, his round face shining and pink with heat, and his body covered by a sheet right up to his throat, so that it was more like standing around a bloated corpse than awaiting the word of their senior officer.
Bolitho said, 'We are all present, sir.' He glanced at the others, noting their mixed expressions and feeling his own complete sense of detachment, as if he was a mere spectator.
Fitzmaurice looked grimfaced and worried, while Farquhar seemed more irritated than concerned for the commodore's appearance. Beside Herrick's sturdy figure Lambe, the sloop Dasher's young commander, was perhaps the most obviously affected. He appeared quite unable to tear his eyes from Pelham-Martin's face, and was peering into the cot like a man witnessing something entirely beyond his understanding.
Pelham-Martin's tongue moved across his lower lip and then he said thickly, 'You have all heard Captain Herrick's news. You will no doubt have realised the impossibility of our present position.' He gave a hollow sigh. 'It was fortunate I despatched the Nisus when I did. Others will have to decide on a course of action if Lequiller ever returns to France, or whatever country his orders take him.'
Fitzmaurice asked, 'What do you intend for us, sir?'
'Without the rest of my ships, what can I do?' His lips tightened in a frown, so that for an instant he looked like a fat, petulant child. 'I was given an impossible task. I do not intend to further the chances of my enemies by sailing on a wild-goose chase!'
Herrick spoke slowly and carefully. 'It is my belief that Captain Bolitho is right, sir. This Perez from Las Mercedes would be an obvious pawn for the French to use to arouse a rebellion, to drive another wedge between us and the Dons.'
The commodore's eyes swivelled towards him. 'Are you suggesting I should sail this squadron five thousand miles on some stupid, unsubstantiated rumour?' He winced and allowed his head to fall back on the sweatstained pillow. 'If you think that, Herrick, you are more stupid than I would have given credit.'
Fitzmaurice glanced at Bolitho as. if expecting some lead or example. Then he said shortly, 'I think you should take heed of your wound, sir. It is unsafe to leave it untended.'
Pelham Martin scowled. 'Your concern fits you well. It is a pity that others have been so sparing in their attention.'
Bolitho clenched his fists and stared at the bulkhead beyond the cot. The heat in the cabin, and the brandy and the overwhelming sense of defeat left him almost indifferent to the tension around him. As he fixed his eyes on the bulkhead yet another memory flitted through his mind, so that he could almost hear his own despair. It was here, in this very cabin that Cheney had slept during the voyage from Gibraltar to Cozar. In this cabin and in this same cot, while he had stayed at a distance from her, yet had felt drawn closer with every passing hour.
The others.looked at him as he said sharply, 'There is no alternative. You must give chase.' He kept his eyes above the cot. 'Captain Farquhar has some prisoners from the prize, including her captain. We should be able to discover something.'
Pelham-Martin's sudden anger at Bolitho's interruption gave way immediately to something like triumph.
'Did you not know? Farquhar found no documents or sealed orders aboard!'
Farquhar turned as Bolitho looked at him questioningly.
'That is true. Every sort of evidence had been thrown overboard when we closed to give battle. The first lieutenant was killed, and now only the captain knows -anything of use, and he will not betray his trust.' He shrugged. 'I am sorry, but there was nothing I could do.'
Pelham,Martin wriggled beneath the sheet. 'I shall want a new dressing. Send for my servant immediately.' He raised his head to peer above the cot. 'That is all, gentlemen. I have nothing further to add at present.'
They filed out into the stern cabin and stood by the open windows in silence.
Then Farquhar said bitterly, 'That seems to be an end to it!'
But still none of them moved away from the windows, and Bolitho could almost feel their uncertainty, the unwillingness of each man to take a first irrevocable step.
He said quietly, 'To go in the face of the commodore's orders is to overrule him. ' He looked at each of them in turn 'The only way to force a change of tactics is to relieve him of his command!' His voice remained quiet, yet each of the other officers seemed stricken by it. 'I will not implicate you further by asking what you think or consider our chances of success. The commodore is wounded, how badly we cannot know without a proper examination, and that he will not allow. To relieve him I, as senior captain, must confront him and haul down his broad pendant.' He walked to the desk and touched the lip of the decanter with his fingers. 'After that, I am committed, and rightly or wrongly, so are those who would follow my example.'
Herrick said firmly, 'I'm with you, and here's my hand on it!'
