At the entry port where the side party had assembled Bolitho took Keen aside and said quietly, 'I shall see you at our rendezvous.' He glanced at the sky. 'We are in for a blow, so make sure that Icarus stays in close company.'
Keen opened his mouth to speak and changed his mind. The breeze barely pushed the reefed topsails against the shrouds as the ship lay hove-to, and apart from a few arrowhead clouds the sky was as before.
Old Fallowfield, the sailing-master, was nearby and walked towards his helmsman. Even he was impressed. He glared at a midshipman who was watching the vice-admiral open-mouthed and growled, 'Wait till you can fathom out the weather like that, Mr Penton, but I see no chance o' you learnin' nothin'!'
Keen touched his hat. 'Aye, sir. I'll send Rapid after you if need be.'
Bolitho glanced up to his flag. 'This would be a private ship but for my presence, Val. Use my quarters while I am away. They would have been yours.'
He tugged down his hat and clambered over the side as the boatswain's mates trilled their salute.
It was good that Keen should also have some freedom while there was an opportunity. What he did with it was his affair.
As the early light filtered across the nearest island Bolitho walked up the cutter's tilting deck, his shirt rippling from his body in the wind. It was difficult to find somewhere to stand, he thought, as Supreme s deck seemed filled with busy figures and snaking halliards. The topsail cutter was only seventy feet in length but carried a company of sixty. Bolitho had once served temporarily in one as a midshipman. That vessel had been commanded by his brother Hugh. Even so it was hard to believe that all these busy seamen could eventually find enough space below Supremes flush deck to eat and sleep.
The squall Bolitho had predicted had swept down after dark, and he felt sorry for the heavier ships he had left astern. Supreme on the other hand flew with the wind; her enormous boomed mainsail, jib and foresail bulging under the pressure, she seemed to skip across the waves.
A cutter had proportionally more agility and sailpower than any other man-of-war and could manage to sail as much as five points into the wind.
He saw Hallowes shouting to his first lieutenant, a round red-faced man who looked old enough to be his father, which he probably was. Lieutenant Okes had been promoted from the lower deck and had last trod the planks as a master's mate. It was just as well Hallowes had more than proved his skill and courage as a fighting officer when they had seized Argonaute. But Supreme required a knowledge of seamanship which could only come from long experience.
The rising wind and sea had kept the hands fully occupied, too busy to worry about the presence of their admiral amongst them. But now, as the wind backed slightly and the sturdy hull thrust closer into sheltered waters, many of the men paused to stare. Bolitho, with his hair plastered down by spray, his shirt open from the throat and grubby from the cutter's lively motion, was not most people's idea of a flag-officer.
Bolitho watched as some seamen bustled past Midshipman Sheaffe, who was clinging desperately to a backstay. His face was pale green and he had been sick several times. Lieutenant Stayt was below, not sick, but out of sorts at being a passenger and always in somebody's way.
Hallowes crossed to Bolitho and said, 'With your permission, I shall round the next headland and feel inshore, sir!' He had to shout above the din of canvas and rigging. He looked very young and was obviously enjoying his freedom in spite of Bolitho. Two leadsmen were already up forward loosening their lines in readiness. The chart was a poor one, but hinted at shallows and some spurs of rock, although to the naked eye in the blue-grey light the sea looked deceptively welcoming.
Bolitho took a telescope and waited for the Supreme to complete the next leg of her tack before he steadied it on the land.
Dark, lush green, with purple beyond. That must be the mountain, as it was described. More like a tall, bald hill, he thought as it swam into the dappled lens.
Bolitho stepped back as more seamen lurched past with a tangle of halliards and blocks, oblivious to everything but the boatswain's yell.
The long boom, which extended well beyond the counter, swung above the helmsmen at the tiller and filled out on the opposite tack. Spray dashed over the deck and Bolitho wiped his face with his sleeve. He felt alive again, the demands of land and flagship momentarily put aside.
He looked at Supremes armament, twelve tiny cannon and two swivels. But she could give a good account of herself in anything but a ship-to-ship action.
The headland fell back in a towering curtain of spray.
Hallowes saw Okes watching him and shouted, 'All hands! Shorten sail! Leadsmen in the chains, lively now!'
Hallowes waited until some of the way had gone from his command and said, 'Is it your intention to land here, Sir Richard?'
Bolitho hid a smile. Hallowes obviously still thought it incredible that he should wish to go ashore when others would do anything which was required.
'While your watering party is employed, I shall take a glass to that hilltop.' It was a long walk and a climb too. But now he had told Hallowes, he felt better. He would have to do it to avoid a loss of face. It was as well Allday was in the flagship. He would not be strong enough for a long time, he thought sadly. If ever. He saw Bankart in his blue jacket below the great, single mast and wondered what he really felt about his father.
'Look, sir.' Hallowes leaned on the bulwark and pointed at the sea alongside.
As the bow wave receded Bolitho saw the seabed rising and falling beneath the keel, as if it were breathing. Scores, no, thousands of fish scurried this way and that, and every so often a line of solid rock showed menacingly through the pale sand.
'By th' mark five!' The leadsman's chant was somehow reassuring. The boats were already made ready for hoisting out over the sides, a gig and a jolly-boat. Hallowes was sensibly going to replenish his own water supply before he rejoined the squadron.
He heard Sheaffe taking deep breaths. The worst was over.
'A pleasant landfall, Mr Sheaffe?'
The midshipman straightened his shoulderbelt and dirk and said, 'Indeed, sir. Am I to come ashore with you, sir?'
Bolitho grinned. 'It will do us both good.'
Stayt came on deck. Unlike Bolitho, he wore his uniform coat and hat and doubtless had his fine pistol close to hand.
'Stand by to come about! Hands wear ship!'
Feet pounded on the wet planking, and as the sails were checked and fisted into shape the anchor plummeted down into clear water.
Hallowes put his hands behind him and Bolitho saw that the fingers were tightly entwined. He was nervous, but that did no harm at all.
'Sway out the boats!'
Hallowes said, 'I'll send a good lookout up to that ridge, sir. With a glass he'll be able to see across the next headland, according to the chart.' He smiled self-consciously. 'And Mr Okes, of course.'
Stayt beckoned to Bankart. 'The gig!' His voice was sharp, and Bolitho knew that had Allday been here he would have reacted just as curtly. But Bankart had to learn.
Bolitho waited for the others to clamber down amongst the oarsmen. Lieutenant Okes was taking the jolly- boat, his weath-erbeaten face like some old figurehead, Bolitho thought. The Navy could do with a lot more Okeses just now.
Sheaffe and Stayt squeezed into the sternsheets with him and Supreme s only midshipman, a spotty youth named Duncannon, piped, 'Give way, all!'
Bolitho clutched his sword between his knees and thought of Cornwall, of how he and his brother and sometimes his sisters had played amongst the coves and caves near Falmouth. He sighed. A thousand years ago.
What would Belinda think when she received his letter? He had tried not to dwell on it, to keep his mind free of personal encumbrances.
