Bolitho sat down again, his limbs suddenly weak.
Inch said, 'I will go on deck, if I may.' He hesitated. 'I am indeed glad to be the one to find you, sir. Captain Herrick would have been pleased if-' He hurried from the cabin.
The woman said quietly, 'We spoke for a long time. I found Captain Herrick's story, his life, quite fascinating.'
Bolitho studied her for the first time. She was a pleasant looking woman, probably in her early thirties, She had a nice skin, and dark brown eyes to match her hair. It was all there in the way she had spoken of Herrick. Love denied. Love still to offer, perhaps.
He replied, 'I intend to find him, Ma'am. When I have spoken with Captain Farquhar I hope to know a great deal more than I do now!'
He had spoken with unusual sharpness, and she said, 'I think that Captain Farquhar is a man with great ambition.' He smiled, liking her and her quick appreciation. 'superior ambition does not necessarily breed superior ability, Ma'am. I should have known that earlier. Much earlier. I pray to God I’ve not learned the lesson too late.'
Her hand moved to her neck. 'For Captain Herrick?' 'For Thomas, and a whole lot more, Ma'am.'
Allday peered through the door. 'Could you get him to lay down, Ma'am? He's done enough for a regiment today.' She nodded. 'I will.' As Allday withdrew she asked, 'Is he one of your contemporaries?'
Bolitho lay back in the chair and shook his head, feeling the strain fading with his strength.
'No. He is my coxswain, and a good friend. But as a contemporary I fear he would soon be my superior. And that would be too much.'
She watched his eyelids droop, his head loll to the sloop's easy motion.
Bolitho was not quite as she had expected from what Herrick had told her. He seemed younger, for one who had carried so many, and who had experienced so much. Sensitive, too, something he obviously regarded as a flaw, and tried to hide with sternness.
She smiled. She was quite wrong. He was exactly as Herrick had described.
Farquhar stood quite still by the cabin screen, watching while Bolitho read carefully through the admiral's despatches.
Bolitho sat on the bench seat, the papers spread on the deck between his feet while he leaned above them, his elbows resting on his knees. On the seat beside him was a piece of fresh bread and a crock of butter which Manning had sent aboard that morning. Bolitho hat. eaten almost a whole loaf, liberally smeared with butter, and had washed it down with, to Farquhar's estimation, seven cups of coffee.
Bolitho looked up, his eyes searching. 'And you were going to remain here, were you?' He tapped 'the scattered papers, 'Did this mean nothing to you?'
Farquhar faced him calmly. 'If my assessment of the situation was different from yours, sir, then-'
Bolitho stood up, his eyes blazing. 'Don’t make speeches to me, Captain Farquhar! You read these despatches, the findings in the report on the artillery we captured, yet you saw nothing!' He stooped and snatched up two sheets of paper and thrust them on the table in a single movement. 'Read it! These cannon are forty-five pounders. The military tested one, although to them it was probably unnecessary.' He tapped the table in time to his words. 'It can fire a forty-five-pound ball over five thousand yards. If you rate that unimportant, then you must be a fool! How far does the biggest gun in the fleet fire?' He strode to the quarter windows, his voice bitter. 'Let me refresh your memory. A thirty-two-pounder can reach three thousand yards. With luck, and a good gun captain.'
Farquhar retorted angrily, 'I do not see what that has to do with us, sir.'
'No, that is quite obvious.' He turned to face him. 'The French people expect a great victory. After their bloody revolution they may well demand such matters. And so to conquer Egypt, and reach far beyond, their fleet must first command the sea. Once safely beneath the protection of artillery such as these great cannon, the French could anchor an armada, several armadas, and know that there was not an English ship which could not be pounded to boxwood before she could grapple with them!'
Farquhar bit his lip. 'Coastal batteries.'
'At last, Captain.' Bolitho looked at him coldly. 'The pieces begin to fit for you also.'
There was a tap at the door and the sentry bawled, 'Officer of the watch, sir!'
Farquhar said, 'Pass him in.' He was probably relieved at the interruption.
The lieutenant stood just inside the door. 'We have just sighted Buzzard, sir. Coming from the north.'
'Thank you, Mr. Guthrie.'
Bolitho sat down and massaged his eyes. 'Get my clerk. I will dictate a despatch for Inch to carry to Gibraltar.' He could not hide his anger. 'somewhat different from yours. ' Farquhar was expressionless. 'I will send for my clerk, sir.
I am afraid yours is still in Lysander.'
'He will suffice for the present.' He walked to the door. 'I will get mine back when I recover my flagship.'
Farquhar stared after him. 'But I have had your broad pendant hoisted aboard Osiris, sir!'
'so I see.' He smiled gravely. 'Yours or mine? Were you that sure I was dead?'
He walked to the companion without waiting for an answer.
He found Mrs. Boswell on the poop talking with Pascoe. Seeing his nephew had brought home to him how desperately he needed to find Herrick, how much they needed each other.
If he understood Herrick too well, it was his own fault.
