The Flag Captain

He did not say if he was describing Draffen or his agent, and the look on his face decided Bolitho against even tactful questioning.

Draffen’s earlier confidence had visibly faded as the searing morning had dragged on. Any sudden shout from one of the ship’s company made him pause in his walk and stand stockstill until he had found the cry to be meaningless.

Bolitho said, “Well, Mr Keverne, there is nothing we can do at present.”

Two hours earlier the masthead lookout had hailed the deck, and as every eye had been raised to his tiny, swaying perch some two hundred feet above their heads, he had reported sighting land.

In spite of his hatred for any sort of height, Bolitho had made himself climb up the dizzy, vibrating ratlines, past the maintop, on and up until he had joined the pigtailed seaman who had made the report.

With his legs wrapped tightly around the crosstrees he had forced himself to ignore the deck far below him and had concentrated on opening his telescope, aware the whole time that the lookout was whistling between his teeth and not even bothering to hold on.

The sight was almost worth the anguish and embarrassment of the climb. There, far to the south, was a long, uneven ridge of mountains, ice blue in the harsh sunlight, disconnected from the land by sea mist, and strangely beautiful. The African coast. The mountains, he had estimated, were nearly thirty miles distant, but seemed unreachable and without reality.

Now, once again there was no sight of land, and away on either beam the sea danced and glittered in millions of blinding reflections, so that seamen working aloft and along the braced yards fumbled and groped with each precarious movement, their eyes too dulled by glare to be trusted.

The other ships had become more separated, so that the line was well stretched, the Tanais being some two miles ahead of Euryalus.

Broughton had conceded that if they were to be sighted by some small sailing vessel carrying Draffen’s agent it was prudent to extend the formation. And if seen by less friendly eyes it would be well to make the squadron appear as large as possible. Far away to leeward the sloop’s topsails shone like burnished steel as she pushed busily downwind like a terrier sniffing out a rabbit.

There was still no sign of the Coquette, nor might there be for some time yet. She could be investigating some strange sail well astern of the squadron. Equally she might be in serious trouble with an enemy.

Calvert appeared on the quarterdeck, his face screwed up with both worry and strain in the sun’s brightness.

He said, “Sir Lucius sends his compliments, sir. Will you join him in his day cabin.”

Bolitho glanced at Keverne, who turned his mouth down and said, “Perhaps there is a change of plan, sir?”

Bolitho strode after Calvert’s hurrying shape, wondering if Keverne was implying resentment at knowing so little. Like himself. When he entered the cabin it took his eyes several seconds

to get accustomed to the gloom, the comparative coolness after the unprotected quarterdeck.

Draffen was seated beside the desk, although Bolitho had not even seen him leave the poop.

“Sir?” He saw Broughton standing by an open stern window, his light brown hair glossy in the reflected glare. Far astern, the Valorous held rigidly to her tack, so that she appeared like some elaborate model, balanced on the admiral’s epaulette.

Broughton snapped, “I have asked you down here to explain further to Sir Hugo the necessity of keeping the Restless in company and within signalling distance! He breathed out hard. “Well?”

Bolitho thrust his hands behind him. In the presence of the admiral and Draffen, both of whom were impeccably dressed as before, he felt suddenly unkempt and dirty. He could feel the tension between the two men, and guessed they had been arguing before his arrival.

Draffen interrupted evenly, “I must find my agent, Captain. The sloop is fast and small enough for the purpose.” He shrugged. “I can say no fairer than that, now can I?”

Bolitho tensed. They were both drawing on him, each using his opinion to make him an ally. Never before had Broughton asked for his opinion on matters of strategy. And although Draffen had displayed an easy confidence after their first meeting, he had given away little of his intentions.

Bolitho said, “May I ask, Sir Hugo, what manner of ship we are expecting to meet?”

Draffen shifted in his chair. “Oh, something small. Probably an Arab trader or suchlike.” He sounded vague. Or evasive.

Bolitho persisted. “And if we miss meeting her, what then?”

The admiral swung away from the window, his tone sharp. “I am expected to keep this squadron beating back and forth for another week!” He glared at Draffen. “A week of avoiding open battle, of countless alterations of course!

“I know all that, Sir Lucius.” Draffen remained unmoved. “But this business demands great tact and caution.” His tone hardened. “As well as the efficient running of your ships.”

Bolitho stepped forward, “I can understand your concern, Sir Hugo.” He was very conscious of being in between these two powerful and unyielding men. Outside of the Navy he had had little contact with such people, and blamed himself for failing to understand them, to appreciate their worlds, each so different from his own.

“In this small squadron we have some three thousand officers and men to provision every day we are at sea. And that does not include the two bombs. Fresh water will become a real problem in this climate. And unless we can foresee some contact with a new source of supply it will be necessary to withdraw to Gibraltar before we have completed our mission.”

Draffen nodded. “I am sorry, Captain. You make good sense. A landsman tends to see ships as ships and not as people, mouths to be fed like luckier souls ashore.”

Broughton stared at him. “But that is exactly what I have just been telling you!”

“It was not what you told me, Sir Lucius, but the way you told it!”

He stood up and eyed each of them in turn. “However, I must ask you to signal the Restless to close with the flagship. Your master assures me this wind will hold for a while.” He looked at Bolitho. “That is also your opinion, I believe?”

Bolitho nodded. “It seems likely, sir. But you cannot be certain.”

“It will have to suffice. I will transfer to the sloop and go with her to sweep closer inshore. If I cannot make contact with my agent before dusk I will rejoin the squadron.”

Broughton rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “In which case we will carry on to Djafou as arranged?”

Draffen hesitated and then said, “It would seem so.”

The admiral gave a thin smile. “So be it.” He snapped his fingers at Calvert who had been hovering on the far side of the cabin. “Make a signal to Restless to close the flagship immediately.” He moved briskly up and down across the black and white squared deck covering. “You will then make a further signal to Valorous.”

Bolitho darted a glance at the flag-lieutenant as he wrote hurriedly in his book. It was to be hoped he was getting it all down correctly.

“Er, Valorous will take over command of the squadron and continue on present course. Euryalus will head down and make contact with Restless.” He shot Draffen a brief smile. “That will save time and allow you some extra hours for your, er, search.”

He swung round towards Calvert again. “Well, what in hell’s name are you gaping at? Go and attend to those signals at once!”

As the door closed behind Calvert’s back he added, “Young fool! He may be a fine jack-a-dandy in St James’s, but he is as much use as a blind seamstress to me!”

Draffen stood up and walked towards the adjoining cabin which stood opposite the larger one used by the admiral.

“I will change out of these clothes before I leave.” He eyed Broughton calmly. “I would not wish to be placed in Calvert’s category by the sloop’s commander.”

Broughton waited until he had gone and then said vehemently, “My God, my patience is wearing thin.”