Had he met Captain Emes ashore or in any other surroundings he doubted if he would have recognized him. He still held himself very erect as he stood opposite the table, hat beneath his arm, his sword gripped firmly, too firmly, in the other hand. In spite of his employment on the Belle Ile station and the favourable weather which had given most of the ships’ companies a healthy tan, Emes looked deathly pale, and in the reflected sunlight from the stern windows his skin had the pallor of wax. He was twentynine, but looked ten years older.
Bolitho said, “You may sit, Captain Emes. This is an informal meeting for, as I must tell you, it seems likely you will be required to face at best a court of enquiry, at worst…” He shrugged. “In the latter case, I would be called more as a witness than as a member of the court or as your flag-officer.”
Emes sat down carefully on the edge of the chair. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“I doubt that. But before further action is taken I need to know your own explanation for your conduct on the morning of the 21st July when Styx became a total loss.”
Emes began slowly and deliberately, as if he had rehearsed for this very moment. “I was in the favourable position of being able to see the French to seaward, and the other force which you were intending to engage. With the wind in the enemy’s favour, I concluded there was no chance of our destroying the invasion craft with time available to beat clear. I held my ship in position to wind’rd as ordered, in case…”
Bolitho watched him impassively. It would be easy to dismiss him as a coward. It was equally possible to feel pity for him.
He said, “When Styx struck the wreck, what then?”
Emes stared round the cabin like a trapped animal. “ Styx had no chance. I saw her take the full force of the collision, her masts fall, her helm abandoned. She was a hulk from that moment. I- I wanted to drop my boats and attempt a rescue. It is never easy to stand off and watch men die.”
“But you did just that.” Bolitho was surprised at his own voice. Flat, devoid of hope or sympathy.
Emes’s eyes settled on him only briefly before continuing their tortured search around the cabin.
He said tightly, “I was the senior captain present, sir. With just Rapid to support me, and she only a brig of fourteen guns, I saw no reasonable chance of a rescue. Phalarope would have been caught by the enemy ships which were moving down wind under all sail. A ship of the line and two frigates. What possible chance would an old vessel like mine have stood, but for making a useless and bloody gesture? Rapid would have been destroyed also.”
Bolitho watched the emotions on Emes’s pale features as he relived the battle of conscience versus logic.
“And as senior officer I had responsibilities to Captain Duncan in Sparrowhawk. He was in ignorance of what was happening. Alone and unsupported, he would have been the next to go. The whole force would have been destroyed, and the enemy’s back door left unguarded from that moment.” He looked down at his hat and pressed it on to his knees as if to find the strength to go on. “I decided to discontinue the action, and ordered Rapid to follow my directions. I have continued with the patrols and the blockading of harbours as instructed. With Ganymede’s arrival I was able to fill the gap left by Captain Neale’s ship.” He looked up, his eyes wretched. “I was shocked to learn of his death.” His head dropped again. “That is all I have to say, sir.”
Bolitho leaned back in his chair and watched him thoughtfully. Emes had not pleaded or attempted to excuse his actions.
“And now, Captain Emes, do you regret your decisions?”
Emes gave a shrug which seemed to shake his whole body. “In all truth, sir, I do not know. I knew that by abandoning Styx and her survivors I was also leaving my flag-officer to his fate. In view of my record, I think perhaps I should have cast common sense to the wind and gone down fighting. Officers I have since met make no bones on their sentiments. I could feel the hostility when I stepped aboard Benbow, and there are some who will be eager to damn me in your eyes. A court martial?” He lifted his head again with something like defiance. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”
“But you think their lordships would be wrong to proceed with it nevertheless?”
Emes struggled with his conscience as if it was alien to him. “It would be easy to throw myself on your mercy, sir. After all, you could have been killed by a stray ball within minutes of starting the action, and then I would have been the senior captain anyway. I would then have ordered Neale to discontinue the engagement. Had he disobeyed me, sir, he and not I would be facing a court-martial.”
Bolitho stood up and moved to the stern windows. He saw Phalarope lying hove to some two cables away, her gingerbread glittering cheerfully in the sunlight. What did she think of her latest captain? He saw Emes’s reflection in the thick glass, the way he sat rigidly yet without life. A man counting the odds yet unwilling to give in.
Bolitho said, “I knew John Neale very well. He was once a young midshipman under my command. As was Captain Keen of Nicator, while Captain Inch, who will shortly be joining us in Odin, was once my lieutenant. And there are many more I have known for years, have watched grow to the Navy’s demands or die because of them.”
He heard Emes murmur huskily, “You are fortunate, sir. I envy you those friends and their methods.”
Bolitho turned and regarded him searchingly. “And there is my own nephew, of course. Midshipman, and now first lieutenant under your charge.”
Emes nodded. “I have no doubts at all of his scorn for me, sir.”
Bolitho sat down and glanced at the litter of charts and notes which would still be there after he had dismissed Emes. It would be simple to remove him without even waiting for a suitable replacement. A senior lieutenant, someone like Wolfe, could easily assume command until told otherwise. Why take unnecessary chances when so much was at stake?
And yet… The two words stuck in his skin like thorns.
“They are all a comfort to me, Emes, whereas to you they are an additional hurdle. Because of me, they may despise you. Even my good friend, Commodore Herrick, a man of great integrity and no little courage, was quick to speak his anger. He, after all, risked his position, maybe even this ship, on a whim, on a simple belief he might be able to find me. So you see, your decision, though logical, might be seen differently by others who were not even present on that damnable morning.”
Emes waited and then said dully, “Then there is no hope, sir.”
How quiet the ship seemed to be, Bolitho thought. As if she were holding her breath, like all the men who worked within her deep hull. He had known many such moments. Like the bad days of the mutinies at Spithead and the Nore. The boom of a signal gun, the breaking of a court-martial jack which had finished many a good officer just as surely as a halter at the main-yard or a merciless flogging round the fleet had ended the lives of their men.
“There is always hope, Captain Emes.” Bolitho stood up and saw Emes lurch to his feet as if to receive a sentence. He continued, “For my part, I think you acted correctly, and I was there.”
“Sir?” Emes swayed and held his head on one side as if he had suddenly lost his hearing.
“I know now that the French ships were there by arrangement. But none of us did at the time. Had I been in your position I ought to have behaved in exactly the same way. I shall write as much to their lordships.”
Emes regarded him for several seconds. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say. I wanted to do the honourable thing, but everything I believed stood in my way. I am more than merely grateful. You will never know how much it means. I can bear what others say and think of me, they are unimportant. But you,” he shrugged, at a loss, “I hope I would act with such humanity if our roles were reversed.”
“Very well. Send me a full report of what your patrols have discovered during my, er, absence, and when you sight Rapid, ask her to make contact with me immediately.”
Emes licked his lips. “Yes, sir.” He turned to leave and still hesitated.
“Well, Captain Emes, spit it out. Very soon we shall all be too busy for recriminations.”
“Just one thing, sir. You said just now, I ought to have behaved in exactly the same way.”
Bolitho frowned. “Did I?”
“Yes, sir. It was good of you to say so, but now that I understand how your people feel for you, even though I have never been fortunate to serve you and learn about it for myself, I know that the word ought is the true key.”
Bolitho said, “Well, you serve me now, Captain Emes, so let that be an end to it.”
Browne entered the cabin silently as Emes departed, his eyes brimming with curiosity.
Bolitho said heavily, “He should be the admiral, Oliver, not me.
He shook himself and tried to disperse the truth. Emes had been correct. Perhaps the word ought had been used intentionally. For in his heart he knew he would have gone to Styx ’s aid, no matter what. But Emes was in the
