He stared across Pascoe's shoulder and watched the frigate's masts spiralling and swaying in the wind.
Pascoe said brightly, 'By God, I’d like to command a ship like Buzzard!' He saw Bolitho's expression and added, 'One day, sir.'
Bolitho said, 'We will deal with this business first, Mr. Pascoe.' He smiled. 'But I understand your feelings.'
Allday fingered his cutlass and looked from one to the other. Now he had two to watch over. He frowned as the boat's coxswain failed in his first attempt to steer under the frigate's lee chains. And if anything happened to either of them he would settle Lieutenant bloody Gilchrist's hash for him no matter what.
The last seaman had barely scrambled aboard when Javal shouted, 'Hands aloft and get the ship under way, Mr. Mears! We’ve a lot of distance to cover before nightfall!'
He looked at Bolitho and doffed his hat. 'You are most welcome, sir. Though I fear you may find my quarters a mite cramped.'
Bolitho returned his smile and replied evenly, 'I have commanded three such vessels in my time, Captain Javal, but thank you for the reminder.'
Allday glanced down as Pascoe nudged him in the ribs. Pascoe murmured quietly, 'I think my uncle made his point very well, don’tyou?'
Allday grinned, suddenly reassured.
'And that's no error, Mr. Pascoe!'
3. Alone
UNDER topsails and jib the thirty-two gun frigate Buzzard stood close-hauled on the larboard tack, her yards braced round so tightly that from the deck they appeared almost fore and aft.
Bolitho gripped the hammock nettings and strained his eyes through the gloom. The light had gone suddenly, as was natural in these waters, and he was conscious of the muttering between Buzzard's master and her first lieutenant as they peered at the compass or inspected the set of each flapping sail.
Javal seemed confident enough and content to leave the navigation to his subordinates. Like him they were well used, a trained and self-reliant team. There was nothing false about Javal, and no trimmings in his quarters, which for a successful frigate captain were spartan. The cabin furniture consisted mostly of heavy chests, scattered about and within easy reach when required.
Javal joined him, his eyes screwed up against the spray which spattered above the nettings with each steep roll.
He said, 'The coast is about a mile or so on the larboard bow sir. If I am to weather the headland I’ll have to stand clear very soon or come about for another approach. I wanted a wind, but this one blows too merrily for my liking.' He pulled a stone bottle from his coat.' A drink, sir? A warming swallow of Hollands will do you good. '
There was no offer of cup or goblet, so Bolitho held the fat bottle to his lips, feeling the gin running down his tongue like fire.
Javal remarked offhandedly, 'Took quite a few bottles off a blockade-runner last August in the Channel. Better than nothing.' He swung round, his voice harsh. 'Watch your helm, damn your eyes! You’ll have us in irons before the next hour!' He became calm again. 'I’d suggest we make our play soon now, sir.' Bolitho smiled. That sudden spark of anxious rage had shown that Javal was mote human than he wished him to believe. It was never easy to close a little known shore in the dark. Harder still with a senior officer breathing down your neck.
He replied, 'I agree.'
Javal said, 'I’m putting my first lieutenant in charge. The launch and the cutter should suffice, but in case there is a chance of a hue and cry being carried inshore to some Spanish garrison, I’d suggest a small landing party below the headland.' He hesitated. 'Your lieutenant perhaps?'
'Very well.' Bolitho looked across the blurred procession of white-capped waves. 'Mr. Pascoe is young, but has seen action enough.'
Javal studied him curiously. 'I will attend to it.'
He hurried away barking out orders to the already assembled seamen. Blocks squeaked noisily and the boats began to move above the tier, the hands guiding them without effort, as if it was all in broad daylight.
Bolitho tried not to listen to the clatter of weapons, the occasional hesitation as a man failed to answer his name on a check list.
Allday loomed out of the darkness and said, 'It’ll be a hard pull in this wind, sir.' He seemed to sense something. 'Can I help?'
Javal strode past. 'We will heave-to, if you please!' In a louder tone he called, 'Mr. Mears! Stand by to lower boats!'
Bolitho said swiftly, 'Go with Mr. Pascoe. He will take the jolly boat. '
Allday understood but replied awkwardly, 'But my place is with-' He grinned. 'But you are right, sir.'
Bolitho saw the gleam of white breeches against the opposite bulwark and heard Pascoe say, 'I’m going now, sir.' Bolitho moved to his side. 'see you take care, Adam.' He tried to make light of it. 'Your aunt would never forgive me if anything happened.'
Pascoe turned his head as some seamen dashed past, their chequered shirts very pale and stark.
'I must go, sir.'
Bolitho stood aside. 'Good luck.'
Moments after the frigate had laboured round into the wind' her remaining sails booming in confusion, the
