artillery. And all the men and horses to sustain them.'
Farquhar's eyes gleamed. 'This vessel, too, was carrying fodder.' He looked around the cabin. 'I am sorry, sir. But should we not wait for the others? It will save time.'
Bolitho looked at the sealed envelope. 'This is for you, Captain Farquhar.' He walked to the stern and watched the other ships, hearing the rasp of a knife as Farquhar slit open the envelope.
Farquhar said quietly, 'You have me all aback, sir.' Bolitho turned and studied him thoughtfully. 'It was a hard decision. '
'And Captain Herrick, sir?' Farquhar's face was masklike. 'Is he ill?'
'Not ill.' He added shortly, 'Execute the arrangements directly. I want the squadron under way before dusk.' Farquhar was still watching him, the letter in one hand. 'I cannot begin to thank you, sir.'
Bolitho nodded. 'You obviously think I made the right choice.'
Farquhar had blue eyes. But they were not like Herrick's, and in the light from the sea they were like ice.
'Well, as you have asked, sir, yes I do.'
'Then see that the squadron's affairs show some sign of this.' He looked at him evenly. 'Captain Herrick is a fine officer.'
The eyebrows moved again. 'But?'
'No but, Captain Farquhar. I want him to feel his strength in a well-trained ship, where he has no personal contact as yet. He will be kept fully occupied. I think it will be good for him and the squadron.
Farquhar smiled. 'My first lieutenant will be surprised. It will do him good also.' He did not explain what he meant. 'The first lieutenant in this ship is Mr. Gilchrist. I suggest you make his acquaintance without delay.'
He waited for a sign but Farquhar merely remarked, 'Gilchrist? I don’tthink I know him.' He shrugged. 'But then, why should one bother to know these people?' Bolitho said, 'I would appreciate it if you would keep your personal dislikes out of the meeting.'
Farquhar stood up. 'Of course, sir. You should know that I have never disliked Captain Herrick. Although I am well aware of his hostility towards me.' He gave his tight-lipped smile. 'I cannot imagine the reason for it.'
Bolitho saw Ozzard hovering at the door. 'show the other captains aft, Ozzard. Then you can bring some wine.' He tried to speak lightheartedly, as if he was untroubled, unreached.
Ozzard bobbed, his eyes on Farquhar. 'Aye, aye, sir.' Bolitho crossed to a quarter gallery and stared at the small white-horses cruising down from the horizon. Each piece of news and every thin rumour took them deeper and deeper into the Mediterranean. Each time it would be his decision. One captured letter had taken him into a bay where men and ships had been destroyed. Now Farquhar's chance find would send them still further north-east, to the harbours of the French navy. Pieces of a puzzle, all set against a chart and the remorseless run of sand in an hour-glass.
The door opened and he turned to see Herrick and Probyn entering the cabin. He waited until they were seated and then beckoned Ozzard to the wine cabinet.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Gilchrist peered in at them. He saw Herrick and said, 'I am sorry to intrude, sir, but I wish to speak with the flag captain.' Farquhar's voice made him turn.
I am the flag captain, Mr. Gilchrist. I will trouble you not to forget it!' There was an uncomfortable silence and he added, 'I' will also trouble you never to enter the commodore's quarters without my permission!'
The door closed and Farquhar leaned sideways in his chair to look at the cabinet.
His voice was perfectly normal again. 'A fine piece of joinery, sir. I know his work well.'
Bolitho glanced at Herrick, but he was already beyond his reach.
9. Wine And Cheese
CAPTAIN CHARLES FARQUHAR strode aft to greet Bolitho as he came on deck. In spite of being without coat or hat, Farquhar managed to retain an air of elegance, and his ruffled shirt looked as if it was freshly laundered.
He said formally, 'Course east-nor'-east, sir.'
Bolitho nodded and glanced up at his broad pendant and the set of the yards. The wind had veered slightly during the night, and there was evidence that it was weakening also.
He took a telescope from the rack and trained it over the larboard nettings. It was as if the scene stayed permanent and the sails were merely pretending to make the ship move. And yet it was three wearying weeks since he had watched Herrick pulled across to the Osiris, and two of those weeks had been spent along this stretch of coast. He watched the familiar shark-blue blur of land. It was maddening to realise that just out there was the busy port of Toulon, and behind its protective walls and batteries lay the answer to his speculation and doubts.
Farquhar remarked, 'Not even a sign of a 'sail, damn them.'
Bolitho replaced the glass and looked along Lysander's upper deck. The forenoon watch had begun. One like all the others before it. Everywhere, above and along the decks, men were at work, splicing, painting, blacking-down the standing rigging, examining a hundred and one things for flaws and possible wear.
It was eerie to find the Gulf of Lions so empty. It was like being laughed at. The French must know that an enemy squadron was active in their waters. Any tiny fishing craft might have sighted it and passed the news to garrisons ashore. Perhaps they were too busy to care, or were content to let the British ships tack wearily back and forth, consuming their stores and resources, and with nothing to show for it.
He said, 'We must get some news soon, or we’ll have to push closer inshore.'
Farquhar eyed him calmly. 'If we had some more frigates, sir. '
