willingness to do battle, as easily as if their flag had been tom down before their eyes.
He forced himself to think of Herrick as the captain of his ship. Not as Thomas Herrick, his friend. In the past he would have despised any senior officer who had used friendship to cover up failure or incompetence. But now he knew the choice was not that easy, nor so free of prejudice. Herrick had almost pleaded with him not to leave the quarterdeck to join the fighting in the bows. Fondness for him, or a-desire to keep his advice and determination close by, or both, the effect could have meant complete disaster. Bolitho had noticed, if only in hindsight, that the French captain had remained aft during the time when Lysander's boarders had been carving a bloody path through his men. How would the fight have gone, he wondered, if the French captain had rallied his men in the forefront of the struggle, even at the expense of his own life, while his British counterparts had stayed clear and in comparative safety?
He leaned his hands on the sill below the salt-stained glass.
Herrick was no coward, and could no more display disloyalty than he could betray his sister. But up there, on the quarterdeck, when he had been most needed, he had failed.
Bolitho said shortly, 'I’ll finish it later, Moffitt.' He turned and thought he saw a quick gleam of curiosity in his eyes. 'You may copy out what we have already done.' It would keep Moffitt busy and the report at arm's length for a bit longer.
There was a tap at the screen door and Herrick stepped into the cabin.
'I thought you would like to know at once, sir. Harebell has signalled that she has sighted two sail to the east'rd. 'His blue eyes moved briefly to Moffitt at the table. 'It will most likely be the rest of the squadron.' He added bitterly, 'This time.'
Bolitho saw his glance fall on the pages of the report and felt something like guilt. As if Herrick had read his mind. His nagging doubt.
, Yes. What is our estimated position?'
Herrick frowned. 'At eight bells we fixed it as approximately forty miles north of the island of Majorca. With the poor progress and damage to canvas and helm, even the master will not make a stronger estimate.'
Bolitho looked at Moffitt. 'You can go.' He heard Ozzard letting himself out of the sleeping cabin.
Herrick asked, 'What are your orders, sir?'
'When we can rejoin our other ships I intend to call a captains' conference.' He walked to the windows again, seeing Herrick * s reflection in the thick glass. 'After I have heard Captain Farquhar's explanation for waiting until this second rendezvous, I will say what I think we should do. As flag captain, you must ensure that each ship, from Lysander to Harebell, understands my standing orders exactly. To me, initiative is a worthwhile substitute for blind obedience. But I’ll have no selfish manoeuvres, nor will I tolerate rank disobedience. '
Herrick said, 'I understand, sir.'
Bolitho turned to face him. 'What do you think, Thomas?' He waited, willing him to speak out. 'Really think?' Herrick shrugged. 'I believe that Farquhar is petty-minded, and eager enough for advancement, that he will act as he thinks fit whenever possible.'
'I see.'
Bolitho crossed to his wine cabinet and touched it with his fingertips. He could see her smiling at him, hear her infectious laugh as she had watched his pleasure with the gift. So warm, so generous with her love. Reckless, too, with her hostility for anyone who had dared to show criticism of their brief affair.
'Is that all, sir?' Herrick was studying him, his face tired and grim.
'No, Thomas.' He turned, hating the strain on Herrick's features. He had probably not slept more than an hour or two at a time since the battle. 'It is not ail. '
He gestured to a chair, but Herrick remained standing, as he had known he would. He cursed inwardly. That was the trouble. They knew each other too well for any sort of conflict.
He said, 'I must complete my report for the admiral. Sooner or later I will have to send a dispatch to him, my personal understanding of the situation here. Upon it might well depend a whole new strategy. If I am wrong, there is far more than my head at stake. If St. Vincent sends a great fleet to the Mediterranean, and we discover too late that the French have sailed west instead of east, maybe to join their squadrons from the Biscay ports, England, and not merely a battle, will be lost.'
'I realise that, sir. A heavy responsibility.'
Bolitho stared at him. 'Are you deliberately being evasive? You know damned well what I mean! This is an important mission, with no risk too great to complete it. When I send my first despatch to the admiral, I must also tell him the state of my squadron.'
Herrick faced him stubbornly. 'While the rest of the squadron took itself elsewhere, sir, our people fought and acted better than I’d have believed possible. I’ve said as much in my own report.'
Bolitho shook his head sadly. 'And what of you, Thomas?
What must I write of your part in it?'
He watched the strain growing on Herrick's face. 'I am not speaking of your seamanship, your bearing under fire, nor would I dare to.'
Herrick looked past him. 'I did my best.'
Bolitho hesitated, but knew that this, and only this, was the moment. He said flatly, 'It was not good enough. And you know it.'
Overhead, a faint cry came from a lookout. 'Deck there!
Sail on the lee bow!' So Farquhar's ships, if they were such, were in sight from Lysander.
Herrick replied, 'If that is what you believe, sir, I suggest you say as much in your report.'
Bolitho stared at him. 'Don’t be such a damnedfool!' He could feel the blood churning in his head, the wildness
