The Flag Captain

grinning sheepishly at Tothill.

Bolitho rested one palm on his sword. The ship was alive, a vital, intricate weapon of war. He recalled his last fight aboard the Navarra, the stark contrast between this ordered world of

discipline and training and the other ship’s crude defences. The frightened Spanish seamen as they allowed their terror to change to bloody ferocity, hacking at the retreating boarders until there was none left alive. The half-naked women resting from their efforts at the pumps, shining in their sweat as he had passed. Meheux cursing as he had slipped in the Spanish captain’s blood, and Ashton’s youthful voice rising above the din as he had urged his gunners to fire and reload in his amateur Spanish.

And little Pareja. Wanting to please him. Feeling really needed, perhaps for the first time in his life. He thought too of his widow, wondering what she was doing at this moment. Hating him for leaving her without a husband? Regretting all the things which had brought her to Spain in the first place? It was hard to tell. A strange woman, he thought. He had never met anyone quite like her before. Wearing the finery of a wealthy lady, yet with the bold and fiery arrogance of one used to a much harder life than Pareja had given her.

Tothill’s voice shook him from his thoughts. “Signal from Zeus, sir. Repeated by Tanais.” He was scribbling busily on his slate. “Enemy in sight, sir.”

Broughton swore silently. “Hell’s teeth!”

Tanais’s topsails and rigging had hidden Rattray’s signal from the flagship, so time had been lost in repeating it down the line. Bolitho frowned. It was another argument for having Euryalus leading, he thought. He could imagine Rattray passing his order to a midshipman like Tothill. He would be very aware of his position in the van and would want to get his signal hoisted as soon as possible. There was nothing in the signal book which would suffice for a word like Djafou. Wanting to make haste and avoid spelling it out letter by letter, he had made a more familiar signal instead. Captain Falcon would have devised something more imaginative, or said nothing at all. How easy it was to know a ship’s ways once you knew her captain.

The land had changed colour as the sun climbed higher above its own image, the purples giving way to scorched green, the grey rocks and gullies becoming sharper defined, as if from an artist’s drawing in the Gazette.

But the overall appearance had not changed. Treeless and without any sign of life, above which the air was already distorted in haze, or perhaps it was dust swirling around on the steady sea breeze.

There was the western headland, and overlapping it, its nearest side still in deep shadow, the one shaped like a great beak. Exactly abeam was a round hill, the side of which had cracked and fallen into the sea. It was a good four miles distant, but Bolitho could see the sea breaking in white feathers across the crumbled rocks, driven along the cheerless shoreline by the wind, as if searching for an inlet.

Zeus would be level with the nearest headland now, and able to see the fort in this visibility. Rattray might already be in a position to gauge for himself what he was expected to face within the next few hours.

Broughton snapped, “Tell Zeus to make more sail. She can get on with landing her marines.” He glared at Calvert. “You see to the signal and try to be of some use.”

To Bolitho he added more calmly, “Once Rattray has got his boats away, make the signal to wear in succession. We will have seen the outer defences and be able to measure our approach.”

Bolitho nodded. It made sense. To go about and return along this same course was safer than to make the attack now as ship by ship they crossed the bay’s entrance. If the first sight of the fort proved different from the plans and scribbled reports, they would still have time to claw away from the shore. Nevertheless, when Zeus turned to lead the line back again it was to be hoped Rattray would keep an eye firmly fixed on the closeness of the land and the behaviour of the wind. If the wind got up suddenly,

or veered, they would all be hard put to it to work clear of the rocks, let alone find time to give battle.

He watched the flags dashing up the yards and breaking to the wind, and moments later the answering activity above Zeus’s decks as more and still more canvas billowed out in response to Broughton’s signal.

So far everyone was doing and acting exactly as Broughton had laid down. It might take Rattray an hour to get all his boats away, and by that time the remaining ships would be in position beyond the bay’s entrance.

Bolitho glanced up as a voice called, “Thar’s the Coquette, sir! Two points abaft the weather beam!”

Bolitho plucked at the front of his shirt. It was already damp with sweat, and he knew that in a short while it would be even hotter. He smiled in spite of his thoughts. Hotter… in more ways than one.

Partridge, seeing the small smile, nudged the fifth lieutenant and whispered, “See that? Cool as a chambermaid’s kiss!”

Lieutenant Lucey, who was usually cheerful and easygoing, had been dreading the daylight and what it might mean for him. Now as he saw the captain smiling to himself he felt a little better.

All at once they were level with the first headland. After the long, slow approach it seemed to take everyone by surprise. As the edge of land peeled back Bolitho saw the great fort, blue-grey in the morning sunlight, and felt strangely relieved. It was exactly as he had pictured it in his mind. One massive circular building and a smaller round tower within. A bare flagpole was centred on the smaller tower, gleaming in the sunlight like a white hair. But there was no flag as yet, nor any sign of alarm. It looked so still that he was reminded of a great, lonely tomb.

As the ship moved steadily across a sluggish offshore chop he saw deeper into the bay. One small vessel at anchor, probably a brig, and a few fishing dhows. He wondered how far Giffard and

his marines had managed to march, and whether they would be able to cross the causeway.

He saw the Restless tacking carefully away from the headland, and was thankful to see that Poate, her young commander, had two leadsmen busy in the chains. The sea bottom shelved very steeply, but it was always possible someone had overlooked a rocky ledge or reef when the charts were last corrected.

Because of its overlap, the second headland passed much closer, and as it crept out to hide the silent fortress from view Keverne exclaimed, “Look, sir. Someone’s awake!”

Bolitho took a telescope and trained it towards the sloping side of the beak. Two horsemen, quite motionless, but for an occasional flick of a tail or the wind ruffling the long white burnous which each rider wore. Looking down on the ships as they tacked slowly into the growing sunlight far below them. Then, as if to a signal, they both wheeled their horses and disappeared below the ridge, not hurriedly, nor with any sign of excitement.

Bolitho heard a voice say, “The word is goin’ out about us, lads!”

He glanced at Broughton, but he was staring at the empty skyline, as if the horsemen were still watching him.

And apart from the normal sounds of sea and wind everything was too quiet, the waiting made more obvious and unsettling. Giffard had even taken the marine band with him, and for a moment Bolitho toyed with the idea of getting the fiddler to strike up some familiar shanty for the seamen to sing. But Broughton seemed in no mood for any distraction and he decided against it.

He glanced from Broughton’s stiff back to some of the nearby seamen at the nine-pounders. The latter were standing to peer over the nettings at the slow-moving wall of rock and stone. How strange it must seem to most of them. They might not even know where they were, or see the worth of their being maimed or killed

for such a dismal place. And Broughton, he was probably just as doubtful of the reasons for bringing him here, yet could share his apprehension with no one.

Bolitho turned to watch Draffen, but he had already gone below, content, it appeared, to leave it all to the professionals. He walked slowly to the weather side again. In war, as he had learned from experience, there was no such creature. You never stopped learning. Unless you were killed.

“Zeus is drawing abeam th’ headland, sir!”

Bolitho walked to the lee side of the quarterdeck. “Thank you, Mr Tothill.”

It was all he could do to keep his voice even and unruffled. The final manoeuvre of reassembling the squadron and then wearing ship in succession to return along the same stretch of barren coastline had taken far longer than expected. Rattray had got all of his boats away quickly enough, but once inshore it was obvious the oarsmen were having great difficulty in getting their overloaded craft to the proposed landing places. There were half-submerged rocks as well as a hitherto unsuspected current which swung the boats around like leaves on a millrace, their oars