He peered up at his pendant. It was shining cleanly in the new daylight, but the lower yards and shrouds were still in deeper shadow.
He said, 'Very well. Make to the squadron. Prepare for battle.' He smiled at Veitch. 'Have our people had breakfast?'
'Aye, sir.' Veitch looked at Herrick and stammered, 'someone told me of the commodore's feelings about today, sir. So I had all hands called an hour earlier.'
Bolitho rubbed his chin. 'I will shave now, and have some coffee, if there's any left.' He heard the squeak of halliards as the signal dashed up the yards and broke to the wind. 'I hope Nicator is awake and repeats the signal to Javal.'
He turned to look for Harebells lithe shape, but she was stem-on, her braced topsails very pale against the sky.
He said, 'We must deploy our ships to best advantage, Thomas. Alter course directly and steer due north on the larboard tack.'
Across the heaving water he heard the staccato beat of drums, and pictured Nicator' s seamen and marines hurrying to quarters.
Herrick nodded. 'Aye, sir. It’ll be more prudent. I’ll have the signal bent on, once Nicator has acknowledged. '
'she has, sir!' Glasson's normally sharp voice was hushed..
Veitch snapped, 'Then say it, Mr. Glasson! Or your rank will never rise above 'acting'!'
Bolitho did not even hear the exchange. He was thinking. Imagining the breadth of an enemy fleet. The control from one or several flagships.
He said, 'send away the quarter boat, Captain Herrick. Have the despatch bag sent over to Harebell.' He hesitated. 'And any letters there may be for England. '
Shouts echoed along the deck and the boat's crew dashed aft, Yeo, the boatswain, urging them with his powerful voice.
Bolitho looked once more at his pendant. Brighter yet again, but there was not much of a wind. His new course and tack would aid their speed a little, but it would still feel like an age before they got to grips with the enemy.
Pascoe hurried towards him, the heavy bag under his arm. 'Boat's ready, sir!'
'Off you go, Adam. Don’t delay, and tell Commander Inch to make all speed to rejoin the fleet.'
Herrick asked, 'Will we take the wind-gage, d'you think?' 'J am not certain.' He felt his stomach contract. Hunger? Fear? It was hard to tell. 'But if it is the force I imagine, it will be large enough to see.'
Veitch came aft again. 'Boat's away, sir. Pulling like the devil. '
'Thank you.' He pulled out his watch. 'You may clear for action in fifteen minutes, Mr. Veitch. In the meantime, make to the squadron, Steer north. When that is completed, make one other. To Form line of battle. '
He walked away as the calls started to shrill and men ran to their stations for altering course. He could leave all that and more to Herrick. Now.
He ducked his head automatically beneath the poop as Grubb yelled, 'stand by at th' braces there!' The wheel was going over, the sails flapping and banging and spattering the men beneath with great droplets of moisture.
In the cabin it seemed very cool, and he sat almost unmoving while Allday gave him a speedy shave and Ozzard plied him with black coffee.
Ozzard said dolefully, 'That was the last of it, sir.'
He heard Allday mutter, 'Never mind. We’ll take some off a Frenchie, eh?'
More stamping feet overhead, and the shriek of blocks and rigging.
Veitch's voice, hollow in his trumpet. 'Make fast there!
Belay that brace, Bosun!'
With the lantern giving only a feeble light, the cabin became extra dark, and he imagined the ship heading due north, the others following _in a line astern. Soon now.
There was sudden stillness, broken within seconds by the rattle of drums, sharp and nerve-racking, so that he knew Leroux's little drummer boys were just above the skylight.
The hull trembled, each deck giving its own sound and reaction as screens were tom down, chests and unwanted gear stowed below, and every gun captain bustled around his crew like a mother hen.
Allday stood back and wiped the razor. 'Eight minutes, sir. Mr. Veitch is learning your ways.'
Bolitho stood up and waited for Ozzard to bring his best coat.
He said, 'Captain Farquhar did the honours last time.' Their eyes met 'I think that is all.' He smiled. 'But for the sword.'
Ozzard watched the pair of them and then darted forward to adjust the bow around Bolitho's black queue.
Bolitho recalled his feelings about Farquhar. Like an actor.
He heard more yells from the upper deck, a clatter of oars as the boat returned alongside.
He looked at Allday, wondering if he was thinking the same. All together. Herrick and Pascoe, Allday and himself.
