The Flag Captain

He unbuckled his swordbelt and handed it to Captain Giffard.

The faces at the door melted away as Broughton’s voice rasped, “Give him back his sword, Giffard!”

He strode into the room, nodding curtly to Bolitho before saying, “Once I wronged you, Calvert. I cannot spare you the trial for your act.” He studied the lieutenant’s face with obvious interest. “But if and when we return to England, I will see to it that you are ably defended!

Calvert looked at the floor. “Thank you, Sir Lucius!”

Broughton turned to Bolitho. “Now, seeing that you seem able and strong enough to conduct my affairs, it appears I must come to you, eh?” He glared round the room. “Get these people out of my sight!” He relented slightly. “Except you of course, dear lady, for I have learned that but for your, er, ministrations I would now be without my flag captain!” He smiled coolly as he ran his eye over her. “Which would never do.”

She met his eyes unflinchingly. “I agree, Sir Lucius. It would appear you have great need of him.”

Broughton frowned and then gave a small shrug. “That was a fair match of words, ma’am.”

To Bolitho he said, “This is what I intend!”

There was no hint of shock or anger at the manner of Draffen’s death. As in the past, Broughton had already discarded him. A memory, and nothing more. Later, in England, he might find it less easy to ignore.

He said, “It seems almost certain the French will try and drive us from here.” He paused as if expecting an argument. “Sighting those ships and then losing them because of Rattray’s stupidity over my signal makes me more inclined to accept your earlier remarks!” He nodded. “You certainly left Gillmor a good report before you sailed on that fool errand against the pirates.” He sighed. “Really, Bolitho, you must learn to accept that you are already out of reach of those more lighthearted events!”

“It seemed advisable to remove one threat before we took on another, sir.”

“Maybe.” He sounded cautious. “But by now the Franco- Spanish alliance will know that the squadron which left Gibraltar is here on their porchway. Urgency to complete their plan will become even more apparent.” He nodded as if to confirm his thoughts. “I am not waiting for them. I propose to take the squadron towards Cartagena. For if only half the reports are true, that is where the enemy has been concentrating his transports and war vessels. What could be more likely? A further attempt to strengthen the relationship between the two countries after their defeat at St Vincent.”

Bolitho nodded. It was obvious the admiral had given the matter a great deal of thought during the past day or so. As well he might. For to return to Gibraltar and report that Djafou had been found useless, and Draffen had been killed by one of his own officers, would be asking for certain retribution. Broughton had already incurred the Admiralty’s displeasure over his part in the Spithead mutiny and the loss of the Auriga, and he more than anyone needed to obtain some credit, which the capture of the Navarra and a small brig hardly represented.

He replied, “It is very likely, sir. It is equally possible we may meet with the enemy in open water.”

“That is what I pray for.” Broughton paced to the window, showing some signs of agitation. “If we can bring them to grips we will have shown them that we are not merely a cat’s-paw. And that others will follow us in even greater strength.”

“And if we discover nothing at Cartagena, sir, what then?”

Broughton turned and looked at him calmly. “Then, Bolitho, I am a ruined man.” He seemed to realise he had shown too much of a confidence and added abruptly, “We will weigh tomorrow morning. Commander Inch will return to Gibraltar with the brig and Navarra. He will also carry all the garrison and other, er, people we have gathered. I have no doubt the governor there will be pleased to use them for exchange with British prisoners of war.”

“I have ordered charges to be laid in the fortress magazine, sir.”

“Good. We will fire them as we leave.” He sighed. “So be it.”

As he made as if to depart Bolitho asked quickly, I am hoping you may recommend Mr Keverne for command of the brig, sir?”

The admiral turned his eyes instead on the woman. “I am afraid not. You already have shortages, and we will need every experienced officer. I will tell Furneaux to supply a prize officer.”

He nodded to Angus as he came in wiping his hands.

The surgeon said, “He was dead, sir.”

The admiral said indifferently, “As I expected. Now, Mr Angus, Captain Bolitho will remain here until half an hour before sailing tomorrow. Make all arrangements. Then send someone to find Calvert and tell him I wish some orders to be drafted for the squadron immediately.” He smiled suddenly, so that he looked years younger.

“Do you know, Bolitho, I was once tempted to match rapiers with Calvert, just to teach him a lesson! If I had, you would now be in command here, and your head instead of mine would be on the block!” It seemed to amuse him, for he was still smiling as he strode out of the room.

Bolitho leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, feeling the energy and tension draining from him, leaving him spent.

Half to himself he said, “One more night.”

She touched his hair with her hand, her voice husky. “Yes. One more night.” She hesitated. “Together.”

17. Reunion

Lieutenant Charles Keverne stood by the quarterdeck rail with his arms folded while he watched the busy activity around and above him. The Euryalus had not re-entered the bay, but instead had anchored with her consorts off the beaked headland. Now, in the pale morning light, even the barren hills and skyline appeared less hostile, the fortress quiet and harmless.

He took a telescope from the midshipman of the watch and trained it towards the Tanais which was tugging at her cable in the freshening wind, her yards and decks also alive with seamen. He could see the scars on her quarter where Euryalus’s massive bulk had left evidence of the collision, and was thankful he had managed to complete repairs to spars and rigging before the captain’s return.

Like the rest of the watching officers and seamen, he had studied Bolitho’s appearance through the entry port with both relief and anxiety. The smile had been genuine, and there had been no doubting his pleasure at being back on board his own command. But the arm held stiffly in a sling, the twist of pain on his mouth as he had been assisted through the port, made Keverne wonder if Bolitho was yet fit enough for his work.

The ship had been fairly buzzing with speculation since their unhappy return after the fruitless chase, and collision with Tanais. Broughton’s temper had matched the occasion, and for that

reason too he hoped Bolitho would be able to advise his superior as well as control the teeming affairs of his own ship.

Keverne thought back over what he had done so far. The task of replacing some of the men killed and injured in the attacks on Djafou, the re-embarkation of the marines, and all the business of preparing to get under way once more. But he would have to speak with Bolitho about the officers. With Lucey and Lelean dead, and Bolitho far from fit, it left them very shorthanded when they were most needed.

Lieutenant Meheux strode aft along the larboard gangway and touched his hat.

“Anchor’s hove short, sir!” He seemed cheerful enough. “I’ll not weep to quit this hole for all time!”

Partridge said, “Flag’s comin’ down on th’ fortress, sir.”

Keverne raised the glass again. “So I see.” He watched the ensign as it disappeared below the ramparts and wondered how it would feel to be the last man to leave after the fuses had been lit.

He beckoned to a midshipman. “My respects to the captain, Mr Sandoe. Inform him that the anchor is hove short and the wind has backed to the sou’ west.”

Partridge watched him scurry away. “Bit o’ luck that. ’Twill save all the damn sweat to clear the ’eadland.”

Keverne tensed as a set of tan sails glided clear of the fortress. It was the brig, Turquoise, and in the clear morning light she looked lively and beautiful. Another chance gone. She could have been his. Momentarily he wondered if Bolitho had decided to retain him as first lieutenant merely because of his