raised and dashed, and now he saw a point in it all.
He thought of Gilchrist. Tell them we tried. It sounded like an epitaph.
He stirred himself and put down the glass.
It would be dusk in five or six hours. He needed to be under way by then. The wind aiding instead of hampering, and this' time the objective would be far too big to miss.
In the following days while the three ships sailed east and south, each watch passed much like the one before. Bolitho deployed his small force in line abreast, with Lysander to the north and the Immortalite to the south.
The wind became sluggish and uncertain but maintained its south-westerly direction, so that after losing station during each night, Bolitho worked through the longer hours of daylight to regain his extended line. In the centre, Probyn's Nicator was a constant reminder of what Gilchrist had admit- ted. The weak link, but still the only man with experience enough to handle his two-decker in battle. Nearly three miles separated each ship, and with carefully chosen lookouts, he hoped the area covered would betray some sign, or an out- flung patrol of the enemy's strength.
He had sent Inch away ahead of the squadron, to use his agility and speed to reach Alexandria well ahead of his heavier consorts. Only after he had received Inch's report could he release him to carry his final information to the fleet.
Day by day, with the sun getting hotter, and the first sweeping wave of excitement giving way to a more realistic attitude of resignation. Gun drill was carried out whenever possible, as much to keep the hands occupied as to incorporate the newly-joined men into their team. Herrick had told him that the purser was opening some of the lower tiers of salt beef and pork. And there was no fruit, and barely enough water to drink, let alone use for personal comfort.
In Lysander, Herrick did his best to keep his men busy on watch, and involved in their own entertainment once the sun had departed at the end of each long day. Hornpipes, and' wrestling, a prize of a double rum ration for the most original piece of ropework. In many ways it was harder to think of new ideas than to keep the hands at work and drills.
Bolitho hoped that Javal and Probyn were acting with equal vigour to sustain their own companies. For if they failed to find the enemy this time, there would still be no relief. Just a long, relentless haul back to Syracuse, or to some other mark on the chart which their commodore thought profitable.
Several times Bolitho received signals from Javal that he had sighted the northernmost coast of Africa, but otherwise it seemed as if they had the sea to themselves.
Arguments began to break out, and a knife fight ended in a man being badly gashed, and the other flogged senseless as a grim reminder of discipline.
Then, when Bolitho was starting to worry for Harebell' s safety, the masthead sighted the sloop beating up from the south-east. It took another full day for Inch to draw near, and when he eventually arrived on board, his news was like a slap in the face.
He had sighted the Pharos and had sailed as near as he could to Alexandria. As before, it was empty but for the elderly Turkish men-of-war. Perplexed as to what to do, Inch had gone about, and almost by accident had fallen on a small Genoese trading vessel. Her master had confirmed what Bolitho had believed from the start. After leaving Naples, Nelson had sailed direct to Alexandria, but finding it empty, had led his fleet back to the west again. How far, and to what purpose, Bolitho could only guess, but he could imagine the little admiral searching out information from Syracuse or Naples, and trying to determine what action to take.
The Genoese trader also told Inch's boarding party that he had heard of heavy French ships of war off the Cretan coast.
That had been,many days ago. Despite all the questions, comparing of charts, even threats, the trader could not be more definite.
It was almost dark by the time Inch had, completed his report, and Herrick and Grubb had noted his sparse facts on the chart for future reference.
Tomorrow, Bolitho would send Harebell to search for the fleet again. In his shoes, Bolitho would have been glad to go. To get away from the ponderous manoeuverings of the two-deckers. But Inch protested, 'One more day cannot hurt, sir. The French are to the north of us somewhere. It would be better to remain with you and gather something definite for Nelson. Rather than finding the fleet once more with little but rumour to offer.'
Bolitho agreed with him in part. But for the weather, and long delays left in the wake of battle, they might have had better luck.
When he had confided his anxiety with Herrick, the latter had protested as strongly as Inch.
'There is nothing more you could do, sir. Even Rear Admiral Nelson was dismasted in a storm and allowed the Frogs to escape from Toulon. It's like seeking a hare in a burrow. With only one ferret, the odds of success are hard against you. '
Bolitho looked at them and smiled. 'If I ordered you to sail up the cliffs of Dover, I believe you would obey. '
Inch grinned. 'I’d need it in writing, sir.'
They went on deck together, and while Inch waited for his boat to pull alongside, Bolitho watched the molten ball of sunset spreading like stained glass in a church.
'Tomorrow then.'
He walked aft and peered at the compass, and nodded to Plowman, the master's mate of the watch.
'How is the wind?'
'steady 'nough, sir.' He squinted at the broad pendant, curling lazily in the sunset. 'Tomorrow’ll be another day like this one.'
Bolitho waited as Herrick carne from the entry port and said, 'signal the ships to remain in close contact tonight, Thomas.' He shivered, and clasped his 'arms around his stomach.
Herrick peered at him, startled. 'Are you ill, sir? Is that damned fever returning?'
