'Your wife? Will she go straight to Kent?'
Herrick looked at him. `Aye, sir. When we're out of sight of land, she says.' He gave a slow smile. `God, I'm a lucky man.'
Bolitho nodded. 'So am I, Thomas, to have you as my flag captain again.' He watched the uncertainty on Herrick's homely features and guessed what was coming next.
`It may be impertinence, sir, but have you ever thought? I – I mean, would you consider…'
Bolitho met his gaze and answered quietly, 'If I could bring her back, old friend, I'd cut off an arm to do it. But marry another?' He looked away, recalling with sharp anguish Herrick's face when he had brought word of Cheney's death from England. `I thought I'd get over it. Lose myself. Heaven knows, Thomas, you've done your best to aid me. Sometimes I am so near to despair…' He stopped. What was happening to him? But when he looked at Herrick he saw only understanding. Pride at sharing what he had perhaps known longer than anyone.
Herrick stood up and placed his coffee cup on the table. `I'd best go on deck. Mr Wolfe is a good seaman, but he lacks a certain gentleness with the new men.' He grimaced. `God knows, he frightens me sometimes!'
`I shall see you later at four bells, Thomas.' Bolitho turned to watch a gull's darting shape as it flapped past the quarter windows. `Adam. Is he well? I spoke to him briefly when I came aboard. There is so much I'd like to know.'
Herrick nodded. `Aye, sir. High rank makes higher demand. If you'd entertained young Adam yesterday, the others in the wardroom might have sniffed at favouritism, something which I know is foul to you. But he has missed you. As I have. I think he yearns for a frigate, but fears it might hurt the pair of us, you especially.'
'I shall see him soon. When the ship is too busy for gossip.'
Herrick grinned. That'll be very soon, if I'm any judge. The first really good squall and they'll be too worn out to stand!'
For a long time after Herrick had left him Bolitho sat quietly on the green leather bench below the stern windows. It was his way of getting to know the ship, by listening, identifying, even though he was unable to share what was happening above him, or beyond his marine sentry.
The stamp of feet and squeal of blocks. He shivered, recognizing the sounds of a boat being hoisted up and over the gangway to be stowed on the tier with the others.
The bustle of many men, guided and harried by their warrant and petty officers. The seasoned hands being spread thinly through the watch and quarter bill to make the raw and untrained ones less of a hazard.
Volunteers had come to the ship in Devonport, and even here at Portsmouth. Seamen tired of the land, men running from the law, from debt or the gibbet.
And the rest, hauled aboard by the press-gangs, dazed, terrified, caught up in a world they barely understood, except at a distance. This was a far cry from a King's ship under a full head of sail standing proudly out to sea. Here was the harsh reality of the crowded messdecks and the boatswain's rattan.
It was Herrick's task to weld them by his own methods into a company. One which would stand to the guns, even cheer if need be as they thrust against an enemy.
Bolitho caught sight of his reflection in the streaming windows. And mine to command the squadron.
Allday entered the cabin and studied him thoughtfully. 'I've told Ozzard to lay out your best coat, sir.' He leaned over as the deck tilted steeply. 'It'll make a change not to fight the Frenchies. I suppose it'll be the Russians or the Swedes before long.'
Bolitho looked at him with exasperation. 'A change? Is that all you care about it?'
Allday beamed. 'It matters, o' course, sir, to admirals, to Parliament and the like. But the poor sailorman.' He shook his head. 'All he sees is the enemy's guns belching fire at him, feels the iron parting his pigtail. He's not caring much for the colour of the flag!'
Bolitho breathed out slowly. 'No wonder the girls fall for your persuasion, Allday. You had me believing you just then!'
Allday chuckled. `I shall give your hair a trim, sir. We've a lot to live up to, with Mr Browne amongst us.'
Bolitho sat back in a chair and waited. He would have to put up with it. Allday would guess how much he might worry until they were at sea in one company. Equally, he would make certain he was not alone for a minute until the captains came to pay their respects. With Allday you could rarely win.
Two bells chimed out from the forecastle, and seconds later Herrick came aft once more to Bolitho's cabin.
Bolitho held out his arms for his coat and allowed Ozzard to tug it into place, to make sure that his queue was lifted neatly above the gold-laced collar.
Allday stood by the bulkhead, and after some hesitation took down one of the swords from its rack.
It was glittering brightly in spite of the grey light from the windows, beautifully fashioned and gilded, and when drawn from its scabbard would reveal an equally perfect blade. It was a presentation sword, given and paid for by the townspeople of Falmouth. A gift, a recognition for what Bolitho had done in the Mediterranean.
Herrick watched the little tableau. For a few moments he forgot the pain of leaving Dulcie so soon, the hundred and one things which needed his attention on deck.
He knew what Allday was thinking, and wondered how he would put it.
The coxswain asked awkwardly, 'This one, sir?' He let his eyes stray to the second sword. Old-fashioned, straight-bladed, and yet a part of the man, of his family before him.
Bolitho smiled. 'I think not. It will be raining soon. I'd not wish to spoil that fine weapon by wearing it.' He waited while Allday hurried across with the other sword and clipped it to his belt. 'And besides,' he glanced from Allday to Herrick, 'I'd like all my friends about me today.'
Then he clapped Herrick on the shoulder and added, 'We will go on deck together, eh, Thomas? Like before.'
Ozzard watched the two officers leave the cabin and said in a mournful whisper, 'I don't know why he doesn't get rid of that old sword, or leave it at home.'
Allday did not bother to reply but strolled after Bolitho to take his own place on the quarterdeck.
But he thought about Ozzard's remark all the same. When Richard Bolitho parted with that old sword it would be because there was no life in his hand to grasp it.
Bolitho walked out past the helmsmen and ran his eye over the assembled officers and seamen. He felt his eyes smarting to the wind, the chill in the air as it whipped around his legs.
Wolfe looked across at Herrick and touched his hat, his ginger hair flapping from beneath it as if to escape.
`All cables are hove short, sir,' he said in his harsh, toneless voice.
Equally formal, Herrick reported to Bolitho. `The squadron is ready, sir.'
Bolitho nodded, aware of the moment, of the faces, mostly unknown, around him, and the ship which contained all of them.
`Then make a general signal, if you, please.' He hesitated, turning slightly to look across the nettings towards the nearest two-decker, the Odin. Poor Inch had been almost speechless with the pleasure of seeing him again. He finished it abruptly. 'Up anchor.'
Browne was already there with the signal party, pushing urgently at a harassed midshipman who was supposed to be assisting him.
A few more anxious moments, the hoarse cries from forward as the capstan heaved in still more of the dripping cable. `Anchor's aweigh, sir!'
Bolitho had to grip his hands like twin vices behind his back to contain his excitement as one by one his ships weighed and staggered violently downwind beneath a mass of thrashing, booming canvas.
The Benbow was no exception. It seemed an age before the first confusion was overcome, and with her yards braced round, her courses and then the topsails hardening like metal breastplates to the wind, she steadied on her first tack away from the land.
Spray thundered over the weather gangway and up past the hard-eyed figurehead. Men dashed out along the yards or scurried in frantic groups to add their weight to the braces and halliards.
Wolfe had his speaking trumpet to his mouth without a break.
'Mr Pascoe, sir! Get those damned younkers of yours aloft again! It's a shambles up there!'
For an instant Bolitho saw his nephew turn and stare along the length of the deck. As third lieutenant he was in charge of the foremast, about as far from the quarterdeck as he could be.
