The gun nearest the bows erupted with a violent bang, and as the smoke fanned out over the water Bolitho saw the great ball slam down almost in line with Ajax 's figurehead.
But the tricolour which had replaced the one lost overboard on the mizzen showed no sign of dipping, and even as he watched Bolitho saw the frigate's shape shortening as she began to turn away.
Wolfe asked, 'Broadside, sir?'
Bolitho stared past him, the French ship blurred in his vision as if through thick glass.
At a range of just over a mile, a full broadside from those great guns would smash the damaged frigate to fragments. The leaks caused by her fight with Relentless and the weight of her own artillery would finish it.
He heard Clinton exclaim, `That captain is a fool!'
Bolitho shook his head. 'Tell the gun captains to fire in succession.'
The second ball smashed through the Ajax 's quarter, hurling wreckage and shattered spars high into the air like straw in a wind.
Bolitho watched the tricolour as it was hauled down and added quietly, 'He is also a brave man, Major.'
A master's mate said, 'Lookout's boats have picked up some people, sir!'
Bolitho barely recognized his own voice. `Alter course to intercept Lookout. Make a signal to Indomitable to board the ' Ajax and take off her company.' He hardened his voice. `Then sink her.'
Speke, still on his lofty perch in the cross-trees, yelled, 'Six hands, sir! Five seamen and a marine!'
Bolitho ducked beneath the furled boarding nets and stood on the starboard gangway as he watched the slow-moving boats, the drifting remains of Peel's command. Flotsam, burned timber, fire-blackened canvas. And men. Men so torn and disfigured that they would have known very little about it.
He gripped the shrouds and almost cried out as his wounded thigh grated against the iron-hard cordage.
A hand reached up and he saw Midshipman Penels staring at him. 'Let me, sir!'
'Thank you.' Bolitho rested his elbow on the boy's shoulder as he waited for the pain to ebb away.
Damerum, however unwittingly, had found an assassin after all.
He made himself look at the procession of bobbing remnants as they parted beneath Benbow s staring figurehead.
Behind him he could hear some of the seamen yelling, congratulating each other on preventing Ajax 's escape.
Penels said in a small voice, 'Sir, I think I saw something move out there.'
Bolitho raised his glass and followed the direction of his arm. Half of an upturned boat and a long spar with one end blasted off like chalk.
There were several corpses floating nearby, and for a moment he thought Penels had imagined it, or had wanted to say something to please him.
He said, 'I see it!' It was just an arm, sticking up over the spar. But it was moving. Alive. Someone who had survived. Who might know…
He was gripped by something like panic. Even in these few moments the ship had moved some fifty yards.
`Captain Herrick! Man in the water, starboard side! Quarter boat, quick!'
He almost fell as Penels darted from beneath his elbow. He had a vague impression of the boy's terrified face, matched only by some last spark of determination, before he was up and diving straight for the water. He broke to the surface and was swimming strongly before Herrick understood what had happened.
Bolitho saw the quarter boat appear around the stem, the coxswain staring blankly at his officers.
Herrick cupped his hands. `Follow that boy, Winslade! Fast as you can!'
Bolitho climbed back to the quarterdeck as Browne said apologetically, `I am sorry, sir, but Indomitable has signalled to say that the Ajax will be destroyed once we are standing clear of the danger.'
Loveys, the surgeon, hurried across the quarterdeck, his white face alien amongst the guns and the seamen.
He said calmly, `The boat is returning, sir. I took the liberty of borrowing a telescope. There are two survivors.' He relented slightly. 'One is Mr Pascoe.'
Bolitho clasped his arm then hurried past him to the rail as the boat nudged carefully alongside.
Winslade, the boat's coxswain, waited for more seamen to limb down the tumblehome to assist and then called, `Just the two, sir!' He swallowed hard before adding, 'I'm afraid we lost young Mr Penels, sir! He just seemed to give up as he reached the boat!'
Bolitho reached the entry port as the two limp figures were handed through. The first he did not recognize, a pigtailed seaman with one arm so badly burned it looked inhuman.
Loveys was on his knees running his hands over Pascoe's body while his aproned assistants hovered behind him like butchers.
Bolitho watched the painful rise and fall of his nephew's chest, the sea water running from beneath his dosed lashes like tears. His clothes had been all but blasted from his body and he gave a quiet groan as the surgeon's boney fingers felt for internal damage.
Loveys said at length, `He's young and fit, of course. Nothing broken. He's lucky.'
He turned to the seaman and said, 'Now, let me have a look at you.'
The seaman muttered vaguely, 'I didn't hear nothin'. One minute the cap'n was yellin' and cussin' about fire.' He shook his head and winced as Loveys touched his burned arm. 'Next thing I was deep underwater. Goin down. I can't swim, y'see?' He realized that Bolitho and Herrick were there and stammered, Beggin' yer pardon, sir!'
Bolitho smiled. `Easy now. What happened next?'
`Our new third lieutenant, sir. Mr Pascoe 'ere, 'e pulls me to some floatin' wreckage, then goes back for my mate, Arthur. But he died afore the boat come for us. It was just me an' Mr Pascoe, sir. The rest is all gone.' He'had to repeat it as if he still could not accept the enormity of it. `All gone!'
As the seaman was carried away to the sick-bay, Pascoe opened his eyes. Surprisingly, he smiled and said weakly, `I've come back after all, Uncle!' Then he fainted.
17. The Prime Target
Bolitho sat at a small table in the stern cabin, a pen poised above his report. Someone would read it, he thought grimly, log books and written reports always seemed to survive no matter what.
It was a strange feeling, like sitting in an abandoned house. The furniture had all been taken below, and without looking up from the table he knew that the gun crews of the nearest nine-pounders were sharing the space with him. Screens had been taken down, and the ship, as she moved very slowly towards the Danish coastline once again, was cleared for battle from bow to stern.
Unlike Nelson's fleet, Bolitho's squadron had been under way throughout the night, his four ships of the line divided into two short columns so that they could watch as much of the area as possible.
The seamen and marines had worked watch and watch, snatching a few hours rest beside their guns and nourished by neat rum and stale food. The galley fire had long since been doused for safety's sake, for each ship in the squadron had to be prepared to fight at minutes' notice.
Bolitho looked at the lines he had written about Mr Midshipman George Penels, aged twelve years and nine months, who had died the previous day in one desperate act of courage.
What had the boy been thinking of? Of Pascoe, whom he had got involved in Babbage's desertion, of his admiral, who had cared enough to put him in Browne's charge when everyone else had shunned him?
This carefully worded report might help the boy's mother when the news eventually reached her in Cornwall. Bolitho had no doubt that Herrick would make certain no mention of Babbage would mar his memory for her.
Allday walked to an open port and leaned down to watch the sea, cold and grey in the morning light. Two cables abeam, Nicator, followed by Inch's Odin, brought life to the dreary scene.
He said, 'Not long now, sir.'
Bolitho waited for Yovell to seal the envelope and replied, _ 'The attack will begin in two hours, if everything is timed correctly.'
He glanced along the deck, past where the screen door would normally be, to the gloom beneath the poop and beyond to the crowded activity of the quarterdeck.
