Pascoe asked quietly, 'You are surely not removing me from Relentless, sir?'
'No. I understand you better than you realize. My one regret is that I have left it so late to say so much. That scum Roche cleared my head if nothing else.'
Pascoe said, 'I heard all about it. The risk you took. He might have killed you.'
'Or you, Adam, have you thought of that?'
Bolitho walked to the stern windows and stared out at the shifting grey line of the sea, rocking back and forth as if to tip the ships over the edge into oblivion.
'I will not hide my feelings from you, Adam. You mean a great deal to me, more than I can say. I had hoped you might one day take on my family name, as you so rightly deserve.'
He saw Pascoe's reflection in the glass as he moved to protest.
'No, hear me. You have had to bear the shame of your father's actions for too long.' He could feel his heart pounding in time with the ache in his wound. 'I'll prolong it no more, even at the risk of losing your friendship. Your father, my brother, killed a man in a senseless duel. That man was Admiral Damerum's brother, so you see the hate has never washed away.'
'I understand, sir.'
'You don't. You think of your father as a traitor who died in ignominy.' He swung round, ignoring the sudden pain as he added sharply, 'The master's mate, Mr Selby, who lost his life to save yours aboard the Hyperion. He was Hugh, your father!'
If he had struck Pascoe he could not have made him recoil more.
Before he could speak Bolitho continued remorselessly, I thought it could be buried, forgotten. Hugh did not even know of your existence, but when he did, I can assure you he was a proud man. I made him promise to keep the secret from you. To do otherwise would have cost him his life, and you something even more dear. As it happened, he died bravely, and for no better cause.'
He realized Pascoe was on his feet, his body swaying against the roll of the hull as if he had lost his self- control.
Pascoe said quietly, `I must think about this.' He stared round the cabin desperately like a trapped animal. 'I – I don't know what to say! Mr Selby? I grew to like him very much. If I'd only known…'
`Yes.'
Bolitho watched his confusion and despair and felt his hope draining away like sand from a glass.
He looked up at the skylight as feet pounded overhead. The squadron was preparing to move towards the final rendezvous before the Sound Channel.
Pascoe said suddenly, `I had better return to my ship, sir. I came to see Captain Herrick about the man Babbage and Midshipman Penels.' He looked at the deck. 'And, of course, to visit you.'
`Thank you for that, Adam.'
Pascoe still hesitated, his fingers resting on the door.
`Will you tell me more of my father one day? Now that I know the truth?'
Bolitho strode across the cabin and gripped his shoulders tightly.
'Of course I will, did you doubt it?'
Pascoe stood very still now, his eyes fixed on Bolitho's as he replied, `And you, Uncle did you doubt my feelings? After all you have done for me, the happiness and pride we have shared, do you imagine I could feel anything but love for you?'
They stood back from each other, neither able to speak further.
Then Bolitho said, Take care, Adam. I'll be thinking of you.' Pascoe tossed some hair back from his forehead and jammed his hat on his head.
`And I'll be looking for your flag, Uncle.'
Then he turned blindly and almost blundered into Allday who was waiting outside the door.
Allday said bluntly, `He knows then, sir?' `Aye, he does.'
Allday padded past him to look for a dean goblet.
Then he said, `Bursting with it, he was, fair bursting!' He nodded with grim approval. 'Just as well, seeing it was you what looked after him. Otherwise, luff or not, I'd have put the young devil across my knee!'
Bolitho sipped the drink without even noticing what it was. In two days or so they would be fighting for their lives.
But the ghost was driven out, once and for all.
16. ‘All Gone’
Lieutenant the Honourable Oliver Browne lowered his telescope and said, 'Signal repeated from Elephant, sir. The Inshore Squadron will anchor when ready.'
Bolitho, too, had a glass to his eye, but he was studying the long, overlapping folds of the land. It never seemed to get any nearer, but held a strange menace, as if the whole shore-line was waiting for their first move into the channel.
The burden on individual captains was severe in these enclosed waters, but with a commander like Nelson some of the strain was removed. There would be no unnecessary signals, no wasted time, and Bolitho guessed that the Hero of the Nile must have worked on Hyde Parker to get him to a point of attack so quickly.
All day, as the squadrons and distant patrols had headed south through the Kattegat, Bolitho had felt the finality of it. With the coasts of Sweden and Denmark on either beam, even when invisible, it was like leading his ships into a poacher's bag.
Even now, with brigs and ships' boats under sail darting through the ponderous lines of two-deckers, there would be unseen eyes watching their movements. Nelson had signalled the whole fleet to anchor, even though he knew Bolitho's squadron would get under way again as soon as it was dark. He rarely forgot anything. He had even shifted his flag from the big ninety-eight-gun St George to the Elephant because the latter was smaller and had a shallower draught so that she could get closer to the shore without grounding.
Bolitho lowered the glass and glanced around at the familiar faces of the watch on deck.
Old Grubb, squinting at his traverse-board with his master's mates. Wolfe, staring up at the maintop where some marines were exercising with a swivel-gun on the barricade. Browne, standing almost knee-deep in bright flags as his midshipman and assistants brought down another hoist of signals from the yards.
And Herrick, he seemed to be everywhere, as usual.
Bolitho said, 'Anchor when it suits you.' He glanced at the masthead pendant. `Wind's dropped a bit. It has to be perfect for our work.'
Herrick nodded and crossed to join the sailing master by the wheel.
'Be ready to box the ship off, Mr Grubb.' To Wolfe he called, `Shorten sail. Take in the t'gan's'ls and maincourse, if you please.'
Calls shrilled again and men dashed to their stations for reducing Benbow's display of canvas.
Bolitho watched them, the patterns they made as they scurried up the ratlines to the topgallant yards, or loosened belaying pins while they awaited the next order from aft. Hardly any hesitation now, even amongst the latest recruits or pressed hands. Men not ships. Herrick's comment of six months back seemed to be fixed in his mind.
He saw Midshipman Penels by the-mizzen shrouds, dwarfed by a boatswain's mate and a handful of seamen. He moved like a puppet and rarely showed interest in anything around him. Herrick had told Bolitho about Pascoe's visit, how he had tried to defend what Penels had done. The rights and wrongs seemed small in comparison with the next few days, and only Babbage's unfortunate death was indisputable fact.
Herrick had been unusually uncharitable about Penels. 'Not fit to receive a commission, sir. A mother's boy. I should never have accepted him.'
Bolitho thought he could understand Herrick's attitude, just as he could sympathize with Pascoe's rash attempt to recover the deserter.
Herrick had never had an easy time. From a poor family, he had been made to win each single advance without favour in high places. But he loved the Navy all the more because he had earned it, and seemed unshakable when it
