right, that was equally certain.
Browne coughed politely. “I can see that you are going to have some explaining to do, sir.”
He held open the door and Bolitho saw Pascoe half running across the other cabin in his eagerness to reach him.
They stood for several long moments, and then Pascoe exclaimed, “I cannot tell you what the news did for me, Uncle. I thought… when there was no word… we all thought…”
Bolitho put his arm around the youthful lieutenant’s shoulder and together they walked to the stern windows. The ship was all behind them. Here was only the sea, empty now that Phalarope had fallen down wind and had laid bare the horizon.
The lieutenant’s uniform had done little to change the youth who had joined his old Hyperion as a young midshipman. His black hair, cut in the new short length, was as unruly as ever, and his body felt as if it needed six months of Cornish cooking to put more flesh on it.
He said, “Adam, you must know I had some concern about your joining Phalarope, even though the opportunity of being first lieutenant at twenty-one is enough to tempt a saint, which you are certainly not! Captain Emes has not made any report on your progress, but I have no doubt-” He felt Pascoe tense as he turned to face him incredulously.
“But, Uncle! You’ve not allowed him to remain?”
Bolitho shook his finger. “You may be a nephew, and when I am in despair I sometimes admit that I am quite fond of you-”
It was not working this time. Pascoe stood with his hands clenched at his sides, his dark eyes flashing as he said, “He left you to die! I couldn’t believe it! I pleaded with him! I very nearly flew at him!” He shook his head violently. “He’s not fit to have Phalarope, or any other ship!”
“How did Phalarope’s people behave when Captain Emes ordered them to change tack away from the enemy?”
Pascoe blinked, disconcerted by the question. “They obeyed, naturally. In any case, they do not know you as I do, Uncle.”
Bolitho gripped the youth’s shoulders and shook him gently but firmly.
“I love you for that, Adam, but it must surely prove my point? The same one I just made to your captain.”
“But, but…”
Bolitho released him and smiled ruefully. “Now I am not speaking as uncle to nephew, but as rear-admiral commanding this squadron to one of his officers, a damned cheeky one at that. Emes acted in the best way he knew. Even after considering what people would say and read into his interpretation at the time. We cannot always know the man who leads, just as I am no longer privileged to recognize the face of every sailor and marine who obeys.”
“I think I can see that.”
Bolitho nodded. “Good. I have enough problems without you starting a war of your own.”
Pascoe smiled. “Everything will be all right now, Uncle, you see.”
Bolitho said, “I am being serious. Emes commands, and you owe it to him to give everything you know for the ship’s benefit. If you were to fall in battle, there must be no gulf between captain and company. The bridge made by any first lieutenant between poop and fo’c’s’le has to survive. And if Emes were to die, the people have got to look to you as their leader, and not remember the petty bickering which went before. I am right, Adam.”
“I suppose so, Uncle. All the same-”
“God, you’re getting like Herrick. Now be off with you. To your ship, and heaven help you if I see any slackness; for I shall know where to lay the blame!”
This time Pascoe grinned and could not control it.
“Very well, Uncle.”
They walked out to the quarterdeck where Herrick waited in unsmiling silence beside Captain Emes.
Herrick said, “Wind’s freshening, sir. May I suggest that I have Phalarope’s gig piped to the chains?” He glanced meaningfully at Emes. “Her captain will want to get back on board, I shouldn’t wonder.”
Pascoe darted a quick glance between them and then stepped smartly up to his captain.
“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you, sir.”
Emes eyed him warily. “A pleasure, Mr Pascoe.”
For a moment longer Bolitho held on to the relationship he shared with his nephew.
“I met Belinda Laidlaw at Gibraltar. She is now on passage to England.” He could feel his cheeks flush under the youth’s stare.
Pascoe smiled. “I see, Unc-sir. I did not know. It must have been a very happy reunion.”
He glanced from Bolitho to Herrick and smiled. “I’m sure it was, in every way.”
They touched their hats, and then Emes followed Pascoe down into the tossing gig alongside.
Herrick whispered fiercely, “Impudent young bugger!”
Bolitho faced him gravely. “About what, Thomas? Did I miss something?”
“Well, er, I mean to say, sir-” Herrick lapsed into confused silence.
Wolfe’s great shadow loomed over them.
“Permission to get the ship under way, sir?”
Bolitho nodded curtly. “Granted. I fear the commodore is choking on words.”
Bolitho walked up to the weather side as the hands ran to the braces and halliards once again.
There was some cloud about, and the sea was lively with sharp-backed wavelets. They might be in for a blow.
He watched the Phalarope’s gig man?uvring alongside her parent ship, and recalled Pascoe’s words. It must have been a very happy reunion. Had he really guessed, or had he merely touched upon his uncle’s sense of guilt?
But one thing was certain. Pascoe was pleased for them both, and that would help the weeks to pass better than he would ever know.
The first excitement of rejoining his small force of ships became more difficult for Bolitho to sustain as days dragged into weeks with nothing achieved. The blockade had not changed merely because he wanted it to. The boredom and drudgery of beating up and down the enemy coast in all weathers had produced its inevitable aftermath of slackness and subsequent punishment at the gangway.
It was not difficult to imagine the French admiral watching their sails from a safe vantage point on the shore, while he took his time to prepare his growing fleet of invasion craft for the next and possibly last move into the English Channel.
Ganymede had gone close inshore to spy out the whereabouts of anchored shipping, and had been forced to run from two enemy frigates which had pounced on her in the middle of a rain squall. The close-knit system of semaphore stations was working as well as ever.
But Ganymede’s captain had discovered an increase in local fishing craft before he had been chased into open water.
At the end of the third week the lookouts sighted Indomitable and Odin running down to join their flagship. Bolitho felt a sense of relief. He had been expecting a firm recall from the Admiralty, or a request for him to return home and to leave Herrick in overall command. It would mean the end of Beauchamp’s plans, and also that Styx ’s sacrifice had been in vain.
As the three ships of the line man?uvred ponderously under Benbow’s lee, the unemployed hands lined the gangways and stared at their consorts, as sailors always did and always would. Familiar faces, news from home, anything which might make the dreary routine of blockade bearable until they were eventually relieved.
Bolitho was on deck with Herrick to watch the exchange of signals, to feel the sense of pride at the sight of these familiar ships. Bolitho had not seen Odin since her savage battering at Copenhagen, but without effort he could visualize Francis Inch, her horse-faced captain, the way he would bob with genuine pleasure when they next met. But that would have to wait a while longer. There was news to be exchanged, despatches to read and answer. And anyway, Bolitho thought with sudden disappointment, he had nothing to call his captains together for.
Bolitho took his usual stroll on the quarterdeck and was left alone to his thoughts. Up and down, up and down, his feet avoiding gun tackles and flaked cordage without effort.
The ships shortened sail, and a boat was sent across to Benbow with an impressive bag of letters and
