Farquhar eyed him coolly. 'But at least we will know they are nearby, my dear George!'
Herrick said, 'It is a serious matter!'
'Apparently.' Farquhar's eyes flashed. 'so let us tackle it seriously. '
Bolitho made them all turn towards him. 'One thing is certain. We must work together. I do not care what you may think of the value of these orders. We must interpret them into deeds. Drive them to a rightful and profitable end.'
Farquhar nodded. 'I agree, sir.'
The others remained silent.
'Now, if you will return to your commands and relay my wishes to your people, I will be pleased to have you aboard to dine with me tonight.'
They all stood up, already planning how they would rephrase his words to their own subordinates. Like Bolitho, each one of them, except Inch, would probably wish to be alone. in his own ship to prepare himself and his ideas for whatever lay ahead. But they would have little enough time together Bolitho thought. He needed to know each of them better, just as when a signal broke from Lysander's yards his captains would read the mind of the man who made it.
One by one they made their farewells. Probyn was the last to leave, as Bolitho knew he would.
He said awkwardly, 'Good to see you again, sir. They were great times we once shared. I always knew you would be successful, famous even.' His eyes moved hurriedly round the cabin. 'I have been less fortunate. Through no fault of mine. But without influence… ' He did not finish it.
Bolitho smiled. 'If makes my appointment all the easier to have old friends in company.'
The door closed and he walked slowly to the heavy mahogany wine cabinet which he had brought from London. It was beautifully worked, every join and surface the mark of a craftsman.
He was still looking at it when Herrick returned from seeing the 'other captains over the side into their various boats.
He sighed. 'Went well, I thought, sir.' He saw the cabinet and gave a low whistle… 'Now there is a thing of beauty!' Bolitho smiled. 'It was a gift. More useful than some, I’d say, Thomas.'
Herrick was examining it carefully and said, 'I have your nephew outside, sir. I have dealt with his foolishness. Some extra duties to entertain his busy mind. I thought you'd like to see him.'
He touched the cabinet, adding, 'May I enquire who gave you this fine piece, sir?'
Bolitho replied, 'Mrs. Pareja. You will recall her, of course. '
He checked himself as something like a shutter dropped behind Herrick's eyes.
Herrick said flatly, 'Yes, sir. I remember her well.' 'What is it, man?'
Herrick faced him. 'With ships coming fresh from England, sir, there is always. rumour, scandal if you like. There was some talk about your meeting with the lady in London.' Bolitho stared at him. 'In God's name, Thomas, this doesn't sound like you.'
Herrick persisted, 'Because of it, your nephew crossed swords with another lieutenant.' He added stubbornly, 'A matter of honour they call it.'
Bolitho looked away. And he had been imagining it was use of Pascoe's background, his dead father. Traitor and bade.
He said, 'Thank you for telling me.'
Somebody had to, sir.' The blue eyes were pleading. You’ve done so much, for all of us, I’d not wish to see it thrown away because of a-'
'I thanked you for telling me, Thomas. Not for your opinion of the lady.'
Herrick opened the door. 'I will call him in, sir.' He did not Look back.
Bolitho sat down on the bench seat below the stem widows and watched a fishing boat sculling below the two-decker's counter. The fisherman glanced up at him without expression. Probably in the pay of the. Spanish comandant across the water in Algeciras, he thought. Taking names of the ships. Tid-bits of information which might convey something in return for a few coins.
The door opened and Adam Pascoe stood inside the cabin, his hat tucked under his arm.
Bolitho stood up and walked towards him, feeling something like pain as he saw the way the youth was holding his arm away from his ribs. Even in his lieutenant' s, uniform he looked the same lean boy who had first been sent to him as a midshipman.
He said, 'Welcome aboard, sir.'
Bolitho forgot the weight of his new responsibility, his unwanted clash with Herrick, everything but the youth who had come to mean so much.
He embraced him and said, 'You’ve been in trouble, Adam. I am sorry it was of my doing.'
Pascoe watched him gravely. 'I would not have killed him, Uncle.'
Bolitho stood back from him and smiled sadly. 'No, Adam, but he might have finished you. Eighteen years is a beginning, not an end.'
Pascoe pushed the black hair from his forehead and shrugged. 'The captain has given me enough extra duties for my pains' He looked at Bolitho's shoulder. 'How is the wound, Uncle?'
'Forgotten.' He led him to a chair. 'Like your own, eh?' They smiled like conspirators as Bolitho poured two glasses of claret. He noticed that Pascoe's hair was cut in the new style, without any queue at the nape of his neck like most sea officers. He wondered what sort of a navy it would be when his nephew's broad pendant flew one
