Bolitho eyed him keenly. You don't, but never mind.
Yovell said, 'The surgeon is waiting to see you, sir.'
Bolitho leaned both hands on his chair to study himself in the mirror. The small cuts had almost healed, and his eye looked almost normal. Even the occasional pricking sensation was less noticeable.
He said, 'Send him in.' He tugged the bandage. 'I have a job for him directly.'
Allday came through the other door and watched anxiously as Bolitho prepared to remove the bandage.
'If you're sure, sir?'
'I shall want you to perform as a barber later on.'
Allday glanced at Bolitho's black hair. It looked suitable, he thought. But he knew better than to say or do anything which might dampen Bolitho's new mood.
Tuson made no bones about it; he even raised his voice as he said hotly, 'If you won't listen to me, at least wait until you can be examined by someone more qualified, sir!'
The bandage had fallen to the deck and Bolitho had tried not to flinch or bunch his fists as Tuson had examined the eye for the hundredth time.
'It is no better,' he said at length. 'If you will but rest it, I-'
Bolitho shook his head. The vision was misty, clouded, but the pain held back as if surprised by his sudden action.
'I feel better, that is the important thing.' He turned to Tuson and added simply, 'Try to understand, my friend.'
Tuson closed his bag angrily. 'If you were a mere common seaman, Sir Richard, I'd say you were a damned fool.' He shrugged. 'But you are not, so I will say nothing.'
Bolitho waited until the door closed then massaged his eye until he realized what he was doing.
Then he stared at himself in the mirror for several seconds. He would find and destroy Jobert's squadron no matter what. And, like Inch, when his men looked to him at the cannon's mouth, they must find confidence and not lose heart.
To the cabin at large he said, 'So let us be about it.'
During the five and a half days it took for Argonaute to take passage to Malta, Bolitho remained for much of the time in his quarters. It allowed Keen time and scope to complete his repairs, and to change his watch-bill whenever he discovered a weakness in his company. Gun and sail drill, he kept them at it on each monotonous day. They might curse their captain, but the results were clear to Bolitho as he heard the creak of gun trucks on deck or the yells of the petty officers as they drove some reluctant land-men aloft to the dizzy yards.
As he studied his orders and information he was conscious of their slow progress, sometimes only six knots, often less. He became very aware that it would take just as long to return to his patrol area if the enemy decided to move.
He trusted Inch as a skilful and experienced captain. He did not lack initiative, but often hesitated about using it. It troubled Bolitho, for over the years Inch with his eager horse-face had become like a brother.
Keen reported as soon as the masthead had sighted the island.
'It will be late afternoon, maybe in the dogwatches, before I can anchor, sir, unless the wind freshens.'
Bolitho looked at him and saw Keen trying not to stare at his unbandaged eye. It was never mentioned now but it was always there, like a threat.
'Very well. I shall come on deck when we enter the Grand Harbour.'
Keen left him alone and Bolitho sat down in his new chair. What would the next move be? An order to remove him because of his injury? Replace him entirely? It was all too much of a coincidence to think, as Keen probably did, that he was imagining it.
There had been many letters sent home from the squadron in Firefly.
Bolitho frowned as he pictured his officers, his captains. Houston of the Icarus was the most likely. Anger and an obvious resentment made him first choice. He certainly had no love for either his admiral or his flag- captain.
He went on deck only briefly to train a telescope on the blue hump of islands as Malta appeared to drift sleepily towards them. He made up his mind. If things went badly wrong nothing he could say would save their accusations, or the girl either. But he had to be ready. He knew Keen had been to visit the girl in her cabin. It would have been a difficult farewell, each trusting Bolitho, neither knowing if or when they might ever meet again. They could not even speak freely with Tuson and a marine sentry close by.
Bolitho returned to his cabin. 'Ozzard, send for Allday. Now.' He walked to the windows and watched a small high-prowed fishing boat bobbing astern. Malta, fought over, won and lost, now accepting the Navy's protection more as a defence against the French than from any sense of loyalty.
Allday had obviously been very near. He entered the cabin and waited, his face expressionless as he gauged Bolitho's mood.
Bolitho said, 'Fetch her, please.'
Allday took a deep breath. 'I'm not at all certain about it, Sir Richard.'
'About what, old friend? You have heard nothing.'
Allday sighed. It was fine now, but there would be squalls later if it misfired.
He padded from the cabin, an unspoken argument left hanging in the air.
Bolitho swore silently as the deck tilted and he heard the clatter of blocks and helm as the ship altered course slightly. He had almost lost his balance again. It was unnerving, like the mist which hung over his eye like a piece of fine silk.
The door opened, then Allday closed it behind her.
'It is almost time.' Bolitho led her to a chair and watched her grip its arms, making a lie of her composure.
He walked behind her and touched her long hair. 'Are you sure, brave Zenoria?'
She nodded and held the chair even more tightly.
Allday muttered hoarsely, 'Lie back, Miss.'
She laid her head on the chairback and after a brief hesitation unbuttoned her shirt and bared her neck.
Bolitho took her hand. No wonder Keen adored her.
Allday said despairingly, 'I can't do it, sir. Not like this.'
She said quietly, 'Do it. Please. Now.'
Allday released a great sigh and then pulled her hair out behind her, his scissors poised like steel jaws.
Bolitho watched the hair falling to the deck and said, 'I will be on deck.' He squeezed her hand; it was like ice in spite of the cabin's humid air. 'Allday will care for you.' Then he bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek. 'Your courage will yet sustain all of us, Zenoria.'
Later, as he joined Keen on the quarterdeck and watched the white forts and harbour opening up to receive the slow-moving seventy-four, he had forcibly to restrain his anxiety.
The salutes began to boom across the placid water and a flag dipped above the nearest battery.
There were many ships at anchor and several large men-of-war. He raised a telescope and held it carefully to his good eye. A smart two-decker lay nearest to the jetty, a rear-admiral's flag flapping only occasionally from her mizzen.
He felt a catch in his throat. There was no mistaking the Benbow. Pictures flashed through his mind. He had been a rear-admiral, when was it? Three years back in the Baltic when his nephew had been the ship's third lieutenant and Herrick his flag-captain.
He tried to thrust her fat, black-and-buff hull from his mind as, with something close to physical force, he continued to examine the busy anchorage.
Thank God. The lens settled on a sturdy brig which was anchored almost end on. No wonder he had not seen her. He waited impatiently for the gentle breeze to swing her again on her cable until the sunlight glinted on her glided counter.
Bolitho read her name, Lord Egmont, although he already knew it well. She was one of the oldest in the fleet of Falmouth packets; he had known her since he had been a junior lieutenant.
He had felt certain she would be here; he had seen her name in his Admiralty instructions. But wind and sea, a change of events could have altered things, and even nowHe lowered the glass and the brig fell away into hazy
