'Thank you, Captain.' Bolitho walked with him to the rail. 'And a safe voyage to you also.'
He waited until Thurgood was in the boat and then said, 'send for my barge.' A fleet and three hundred transports. It was an armada. Probyn's voice cut into his racing thoughts. 'I must lodge the strongest protest! I was humiliated in front of that Yankee!'
Bolitho swung on him, his eyes blazing. 'Humiliated, were you? And how do you imagine I felt to see a ship of the line firing on an unarmed vessel? To know that one of my captains was prepared to risk unnecessary killing, a war if necessary, just to get what he wants for himself?' He kept his voice low. 'And all because you knew that I would take any blame, was that it?'
'That was unjust, sir!' Some of the bluster had gone.
'I dare say.' Bolitho regarded him evenly. 'But do not take me for a fool. That I do find humiliating.'
He strode to the entry port, seeing his barge curtsying across the blue water towards him.
'You’ll get your men, Captain. You would have probably been given them anyway, had you used common sense instead of a broadside.' He nodded towards some seamen at the boat tackles. 'Look at them, Captain. Would you fight for anyone who kept you in worse comfort than a dog?' He did not wait for an answer. 'Care for them. Or they’ll not fight for you.'
He leaned over the rail and cupped his hands. 'Take your bundle to the barquentine, Allday! Then return for me!' Allday waved one arm and steered the barge clear of the side.
An hour later Bolitho was back aboard his own ship, with Farquhar barely able to hide his curiosity.
Bolitho said, 'Make a signal to Harebell to close with us immediately. I cannot wait for Javal. Commander Inch can carry my despatches to the admiral.'
He waited while Farquhar shouted for Luce, and the barge was hoisted, dripping, on to the boat tier.
Farquhar came back and asked, 'May I enquire the nature' of your plan, sir?' He pointed to the Segura which had almost reached the other ships. 'And what is she doing?'
'I am sending some of the Spanish seamen to Captain Thurgood in exchange for the barquentine's, er, non- Americans.'
Farquhar pouted. 'It will leave us short-handed, sir.' 'But it has provided us with information.' He could hide his relief no longer. 'The French have a great fleet here. Harebell must sail with all speed, before dusk if possible.' Farquhar nodded. 'Captain Probyn will be happy about his good fortune.'
'Perhaps.' Bolitho recalled the captain's face. He had made an enemy there. Maybe he had always been one. All those years.
He said, 'Tomorrow, if nothing is changed, we will have a conference.'
He unbuckled his sword and handed it to Allday. He discovered that he was suddenly ravenously hungry. For the first time in many days.
As he made to walk aft he turned and looked at Farquhar again. 'If you were a French general, and did not wish your transports to be involved in a battle. before your main objective. And if that objective was North Africa, and beyond that to India perhaps.' He watched Farquhar's eyes. 'Where would you go to prepare for the final assault?'
Farquhar rested both hands on the main bitts and frowned. 'To avoid a battle?' He looked up. ' sicily might be too dangerous. A point on the coast of Africa which was far enough away from my objective to avoid suspicion would equally be too far for men and horses to travel and be fit to fight at the end of it.' He nodded slowly. 'I think I would choose an island already under my country's control.' He paused. 'Does that sound sensible, sir?'
Bolitho smiled. 'Do you know of such an island?' Farquhar looked surprised. 'Yes, sir. Corfu.'
'Exactly.' He walked past the helmsmen and nodded to Grubb.
Farquhar crossed to the master's side and said, 'The commodore believes that the French may be gathering at Corfu.' Grubb watched him warily. 'Aye, sir. But if you’ll pardon the liberty, I thought it was your suggestion!'
Farquhar stared at him and then at the poop. 'The devil, you say!' He smiled tightly. 'That was Cleverly done!'
10. Committed
FOR a further two frustrating weeks Bolitho's ships tacked back and forth, keeping to the south-west of Toulon's approaches, an area which would give them maximum advantage should the enemy emerge. With Harebell making all possible speed to Gibraltar, the work of inshore patrol fell to Captain Javal's frigate. While the seventy- fours and their prize wallowed unhappily under reduced canvas, Javal's topsails were usually to be seen sneaking around a distant headland, or standing hove-to in direct view of the enemy.
But even Javal's taunting manoeuvres had no effect. The French stayed where they were, and did nothing.
And then, on a hot, sultry evening, as Buzzard fetched off the land for *the fortieth time, Javal took it upon himself to lower a cutter in the charge of his first lieutenant, Mr. Mears. It was more to ease the boredom than anything, for the French had showed no sign of sending out a frigate or corvette to chase. the prowling Buzzard away.
On that particular night a French fisherman reacted in much the same way. Ignoring the instructions of the port admiral and garrison commander, he put to sea in his small boat, with his son and cousin for crew.
The first that -Bolitho learned of these coincidences was when Buzzard's cutter, complete with Captain Javal and three French fishermen, arrived alongside on the following morning.
The fisherman was elderly but defiant. He showed little concern for his life, and probably considered that as the English had rammed and sunk his little boat he had nothing left to live for.
Bolitho listened to Javal's report before having the three Frenchmen brought to his cabin. It was strangely moving. The old, grey-bearded fisherman, his cousin, as red as a lobster with a belly like a puncheon of rum, and
