He heard Wolfe saying, 'I understand how you must feel, Mr Pascoe. But duty is duty, an' I'm short-handed enough without you staying away from your division.'
Wolfe-'touched his hat to Herrick and said, 'All done, sir. It's better from me. He can loathe my guts as much as he wants, provided he does his work.'
Midshipman Lyb called, 'Lookout's signalling, sir. The other vessel is…' He craned. over a fellow midshipman's arm to study the list of numbers. 'She's Marguerite, brig, sir.'
Wolfe released a great sigh. 'News, mebbee?'
Then he glared at Lyb and roared, 'Pork and molasses, sir! Acknowledge Lookout's signal, i f you please!'
Herrick turned away. It was better to be like Wolfe. Uninvolved, and therefore unreachable. Even as he thought -it he knew it was a lie.
The ship's company went to their midday meal, and by the time they had turned to for work again the lively little brig Marguerite was already standing into the wind while she lowered a boat alongside.
Herrick said heavily, 'Man the side, Mr Wolfe. The brig's commanding officer is coming across, it seems.'
Further aft in his cot, Bolitho strained his body on to one side as he listened to the familiar sounds from the quarterdeck. Preparing to receive the other vessel's captain. Allday had told him the brig's name, and Bolitho had sent him on deck to discover what was happening.
The pain seemed to pounce on his thigh like a savage beast. Sweating and sobbing, Bolitho pulled himself further and further up the side of the cot. In his reeling mind it was suddenly vital that he should see the water again, the other ships, and cling on to what he saw like a life-line.
It was like that day on the gangway. One second standing there, the next feeling his face grinding against the planking, with no memory in-between.
Outside the screen door the startled marine sentry yelled, 'Sir! Sir!'
Allday came running, thrusting the sentry aside as he rushed into the cabin and then stared aghast at Bolitho's sprawled figure on the deck.
The black and white chequered canvas beneath him was stained with discoloured blood, and it was spreading even as Allday shouted, 'Fetch the surgeon!'
He gathered Bolitho in his arms and held him firmly.
When Herrick and Loveys entered, followed by the brig's astonished commander, neither Allday nor Bolitho had moved.
Loveys knelt on the deck and said tersely, `It's broken the wound.' He looked at Herrick. 'Please send someone for my instruments.' He was thinking aloud.
Herrick stared at him as Ozzard ran to fetch Loveys' assistants. `Not his leg?'
When the surgeon remained silent he said, 'You'll not take off his leg?'
Allday exclaimed brokenly. ''Twas my fault. He sent me away. I should have known!'
Loveys eyed him sharply. 'Known what?'
Allday jerked his head towards the stern windows. 'He
wanted to get to the sea. It's his life, don't you understand?' Men were crowding into the cabin, with orders being passed
as rapidly as any musketry drill.'
Loveys cut away the dressing, and the lieutenant who commanded the brig recoiled saying, 'My God, he must have been in agony!'
Loveys shot him a chilling glance. 'Be off with you, sir, if you've nothing but' slops to offer!'
In a gentler tone Loveys said to Allday, 'Go, too. Trust me.' Allday reluctantly released hold of Bolitho's limp body as
the surgeon's men grouped around him like ghouls.
In the adjoining cabin Herrick said quietly, 'Now, what do you have to tell me, Lieutenant?'
Still wilting from the surgeon's anger, the lieutenant answered, I brought a despatch for your flag officer, sir. The French squadron did not go to Ireland. It is almost certain it may try to enter the Baltic. Commodore Rice of the Downs Squadron is coming to give you support.'
Herrick tried not to listen to the movements beyond the closed door.
Then he answered simply, `We met with Vice-Admiral Ropars three days ago. That man you just saw, who may well die before another hour is out, dispersed the enemy and destroyed one of his seventy-fours.' In the silent cabin his words were like pistol shots.
The lieutenant said shakily, 'That was bravely done, sir. Do you have orders for me?'
Herrick looked at the door. 'Presently.'
Lieutenant the Honourable Oliver Browne watched Herrick's stocky shadow sweeping back and forth beyond the cabin lanterns.
The ship's motion had got a good deal worse during the day, and Browne could not even imagine the surgeon's difficulties in such conditions. Now, it was early dark, and it was obvious that Herrick was driving himself to a complete collapse unless he rested from his work. Browne knew why Herrick was keeping himself busy when others could have done some of the tasks needing attention, but he did not know how.
The masthead lookouts had reported a signal from Relentless as she prowled along her patrol line to the north-west of the anchored ships. Commodore Rice's Downs Squadron had been sighted, but even as the signal had been read and repeated to the other captains, dusk, aided by a fast-moving rain-squall, had blotted out everything from view.
Herrick said, 'I shall inform Commodore Rice of our situation. We can fight, but some hull damage needs more careful attention. I will ask permission to leave the area and return to port.'
Browne nodded. The Benbow had certainly taken the worst of the battering, with more than a third of the squadron's total casualties. Two more men had been buried that day, surprisingly, neither had been expected to die at all.
Herrick threw his papers on the table and said desperately, `What is that damned butcher doing?'
`His best, sir.' It sounded so trite, so far short of what he had meant that Browne expected Herrick to fly at him.
Instead Herrick said, `I have never cared more for any man, d'you know that? We have seen action together from here to the Great South Sea. I could tell you things which would make you shake with fear and with pride.'
Herrick was looking at Browne as he spoke but his blue eyes were far-away, reliving moments which Browne knew full well he could never share.
Herrick said, `Storms, raging gales which threatened to tear the sticks out of the ship, but we saw them through, we managed, d'you understand me?'
'I – I think so, sir.'
'I was the one who had to take him the message about his young wife. They said it came better from me, but how can terrible news like that ever be better?'
Herrick sat on the edge of the cabin table and leaned towards the lieutenant as if to emphasize his words.
'Down on the orlop, one of our people shouted out to him and called him Dick.' He gave a sad smile. 'In his frigate Phalarope they used to call him that. Equality Dick. He cares, you see.'
Herrick stared past Browne's head as the cabin door swung
open, the other shipboard noises intruding like strangers. Allday stood there, filling the entrance, his face like stone. Herrick leapt to his feet. 'What is it, man?'
Browne strode across the cabin and gripped Allday's arm.
'For God's sake!'
Allday said in a small voice, 'I would relish a glass of something strong, sir.' He made a great effort. 'The surgeon says he'll live, sir.'
He sounded stunned, as if he was only half aware of what was happening to him. The three of them stood together, swaying in time with Benbow's deep roll, each wanting to speak but only Allday with the words.
Then Herrick said, 'Go on.'
He backed across the cabin as if by taking his eyes off Allday he would destroy everything. He groped for a bottle and some glasses.
Allday took the brandy and swallowed it without apparently noticing.
