“The Navy has its ways of doing things.” He looked at the towering Rock. “And I have mine.”
He turned to Inch. “Now, Commander, if you will leave us alone, I have some matters to discuss.”
Bolitho said, “Dine with me tonight, Inch, aboard the flagship.” He grinned to cover the sudden emotion brought on by Inch’s appearance. “Your next promotion may be speeded that way.”
He saw Inch’s pleasure as he scurried over to his lieutenant, and guessed he would soon be retelling some of the old stories for his benefit.
Draffen remarked, “Not much of an officer, I suspect, ’til you got your hands on him.”
Bolitho replied quietly, “He had to learn the hard way. I never met a man more loyal nor one so lucky in many ways. If we meet the enemy, I suggest you stay close by Commander Inch, sir. He has the knack of remaining alive when all about him are falling and the ship herself is in pieces.”
Draffen nodded. “I will bear it in mind.” He changed to a brisker tone. “All being well, your squadron is sailing tomorrow evening. The bombs will follow later, but your admiral can give you fuller details than I.” He seemed to come to a decision. “I have made it my business to study your record, Bolitho. This venture we are undertaking will call for much resource and initiative. You may have to twist the Admiralty rules to suit the occasion. I happen to know that such methods are not unknown to you.” He smiled dryly. “In my experience I have found that war needs special men with their own ideas. Hard and fast rules are not for this game.”
Bolitho had a sudden mental picture of Broughton’s face when he had requested him to give
He said, “I only hope we are not too late and that the French have not enlarged the defences at Djafou.”
Draffen looked round quickly and then said, “I have certain influence, connections if you like, and I do not intend you should have to rely entirely on luck and personal bravery. I know the Algerian coast well, and its people, who for the most part are both murderous and completely untrustworthy.” The smile returned. “But we will use what we can, and make the best of it. As John Paul Jones said under very similar circumstances, ‘If we cannot have what we like, we must learn to like what we have!’”
He thrust out his hand. “I must go and see some people ashore now. No doubt we will be meeting again very shortly.”
Bolitho watched him climb down into his boat and then joined Inch by the bulwark.
Inch said, “A strange man, sir. Very deep.”
“I believe so. He wields a good deal of power, nevertheless.”
Inch sighed. “He was telling me earlier about the place where we are going. He seems well versed in details.” He shook his head. “Yet I can find hardly anything about it.”
Bolitho nodded thoughtfully. Trade, but what sort of trade would anyone find in a place like Djafou? And where was the connection with the Caribbean and his meeting with Hugh?
He said, “I must return to my ship. We will talk more at dinner, although there are no familiar faces for you to see, I am afraid.”
Inch grinned, “Except Allday, sir. I cannot imagine you without
Bolitho clapped his bony shoulder. “And neither can I!”
Later, as he stood alone in his cabin, Bolitho opened his shirt and toyed with the small locket, his eyes unseeing, as he stared through the stern windows. Inch would never guess how much his arrival had meant to him. Like the locket, something to hold on to, something familiar. One of his old Hyperions.
There was a tap at the door and Calvert entered nervously, holding some papers before him as if for protection.
Bolitho smiled. “Be seated. I will sign them, and you may distribute them to the squadron before dusk.”
Calvert did not hide his relief as Bolitho sat at the desk and reached for a pen. Bolitho’s action saved him from having to face Broughton when he came offshore. His eyes fell on Bolitho’s sword lying on the bench seat where he had put it when he returned from seeing the
In spite of all his caution he said, “Oh I say, sir, may I look at it?”
Bolitho stared at him. It was unlike Calvert to say much, other than mutter excuses for his mistakes. His eyes were positively shining with sudden interest.
“Certainly, Mr Calvert.” He sat back to watch as the lieutenant drew the old blade from the scabbard and held it in line with his chin. “Are you a swordsman like Sir Lucius?”
Calvert did not reply directly. He ran his fingers around the old and tarnished hilt and then said, “A beautiful balance, sir. Beautiful.” He looked at Bolitho guardedly. “I have an eye for it, sir.”
“Then see that you restrain your
Calvert replaced the blade and became his old self again. “Thank you, sir. For allowing me to hold it.”
Bolitho pushed the papers towards him and added slowly, “And try to be more definite in your affairs. Many officers would give their arms for your appointment, so make good use of it.”
Calvert withdrew, stammering and smiling.
Bolitho sighed and stood up as Allday entered the cabin, his eyes immediately falling on the sword, which he replaced on its rack against the bulkhead.
He said, “Mr Calvert was here then, Captain?”
Bolitho smiled at Allday’s curiosity. “He was. He seemed very interested in the sword.”
Allday eyed it thoughtfully. “And so he might. Yesterday I saw him showing off to some of the midshipmen. They lit a candle, and Drury, the youngest of ’em, held it in the air for Mr Calvert to strike at.”
Bolitho swung round. “That was a damned stupid thing to do.”
Allday shrugged. “Need have no worry, Captain. The flag-lieutenant’s blade parted the wick and flame without even touching the candle.” He cleared his throat noisily. “You’ll have to watch that one, Captain.”
Bolitho looked at him. “As you say, Allday. I will.”
Jed Partridge, the master, tugged at his battered hat as Bolitho strode from beneath the poop and reported, “Steady, sir. Sou’ east by east.”
“Very well.”
Bolitho nodded to the officer of the watch and then crossed to the weather side of the quarterdeck, filling his lungs with the cool evening air.
The squadron had weighed in the remorseless heat of a noon sun, but with an encouraging north-westerly breeze had soon formed into a tight column, each ship taking her prescribed station and keeping their interchange of signals to a minimum.
Many telescopes must have followed them from the Spanish coast, and there would be plenty of speculation as to their destination. It was unlikely that the enemy would give much weight to so small a force, but there was no sense in taking chances. Once clear of the land each captain would know that almost any ship he might meet would be an enemy. Even neutrals, and there were precious few of those, must be treated with suspicion and as possible informers of the squadron’s course and whereabouts.
But now it was evening, and in the Mediterranean it was a
time which Bolitho always found full of fresh fascination. While the four ships-of-the-line rolled and plunged easily in a deep swell, with a steady and unwavering wind sweeping down across the larboard quarter, he could see the shadows lengthening on the gangways, the sea beyond the bows already vague in deeper purple. Yet astern the sky was salmon pink, the dying sunlight trailing down from the horizon and making the
If this wind and sea held, it would be possible for all of them to keep good station during the night, which should please Broughton, he thought.
Keverne crossed the deck and said, “The visibility will not endure much longer, sir.”
Bolitho glanced towards the master’s rotund shape by the helmsmen. “We will alter course two points directly, Mr Partridge.” He sought out Midshipman Tothill by the lee shrouds and added, “You will bend on the signal for the squadron. Tack in succession. Steer east by south.”
He did not have to bother further with the midshipman. Tothill and his signal party had already proved themselves more than capable. He would make a good officer, Bolitho thought vaguely.
He said to Keverne, “Each ship will show a stern light, in case we get scattered. It may help the
