he? Was the mistrust already there?
Two servants threw open the high doors and Bolitho turned to face the man who seemed to fill the entrance.
Sir Marcus Laforey, Admiral of the Blue, was gross to a point which even his immaculate uniform could not hide. He had heavy-lidded eyes and a wide mouth, and when he walked with some difficulty to a chair Bolitho saw that one of his legs was bandaged. Gout, the curse of several admirals he knew.
Admiral Laforey sank carefully into the chair and winced as a servant eased a cushion beneath his foot.
When seated he looked like an irritable toad, Bolitho thought.
The admiral waved his handkerchief. 'Sit down, Bolitho.' The lids lifted slightly in a quick appraisal. 'Bothersome about all this, what?'
Bolitho sat down and got the impression that his chair had already been carefully positioned so as not to be too close.
Laforey had been on one land appointment after another, and had not been in command at sea since before the war. He looked dried out, obscene, and Malta would very likely be his last appointment. The next would be in Heaven.
'Read the report, Bolitho. Good news about the French seventy-four. Make 'em think, what?'
Bolitho tightened his hold on his sword. With the chair half turned towards the window his vision was blurred. He stared at a point beyond the admiral's fat shoulder and said, 'I believe the French will be out soon, sir. Jobert may be hoping to make a diversion so that the main fleet can slip out of Toulon. Egypt or the Strait of Gibraltar-'
Laforey grunted. 'Don't speak to me about Gibraltar! That bloody fever, not safe to let anything or anyone land here if they've been there en route. This place is like a ship aground, there's always some sort of sickness amongst the people an' the military.' He touched his brow with the handkerchief. 'Good wine is gettin' scarce. Spanish muck an' little else, dammit!'
He had not listened to a word, Bolitho thought.
Laforey stirred himself, 'Now about this court of inquiry, what?'
'My captain is accused-'
Laforey wagged a spatulate finger. 'No, no, dear fellow, not accused! Others may have to do that. It is all a mere formality. I have not read the details but my flag-captain and this Mr, er, Pullen from their lordships assure me that it will be a matter of hours rather than days.'
Bolitho said evenly, 'Captain Keen is possibly the best officer I have ever had under me, Sir Marcus. He has shown his courage and excellence on many occasions, from midshipman to command. In my opinion he should rate flag rank.'
Laforey's lids lifted again and beneath them the small eyes were cold and without pity.
'Bit young, I'd have thought. Too many inexperienced popinjays about these days, what?' He glared at his bandaged foot. 'If I could hoist my flag above the Channel Fleet instead of this, this-' he stared round resentfully, 'I'd soon make the mothers' boys shed a few tears!'
He tried to lean forward but his belly prevented him. 'Now, see here, Bolitho, what really happened, eh?' He searched Bolitho's face as if for an answer. 'Needed a woman, did he?'
Bolitho stood up, 'I will not discuss my officers in this fashion, Sir Marcus.'
Surprisingly Laforey seemed pleased. 'Suit yerself. The court will sit tomorrow. If Captain Keen is sensible I am sure that you will be able to put to sea without further delay. There is a convoy due, and I cannot stand incompetence, anything which might make life here even more unbearable.' He watched as Bolitho stood up. 'I hear you were wounded too, Sir Richard?' He did not expand on it. 'It is part of our service.'
'Indeed, sir.' Bolitho could barely conceal the irony in his voice. 'There will be many more if the French succeed in joining their fleets together.'
Laforey shrugged. 'I am afraid I cannot entertain you longer, Sir Richard. My day is full. I sometimes wonder if their lordships and Whitehall realize the extent of my responsibility here.'
The interview was over.
Bolitho walked down a passageway and saw a servant with a tray carrying two decanters and a single goblet towards the room he had just left. The admiral was about to extend his responsibility, he thought bitterly.
Stayt was waiting for him in the marble lobby.
He watched curiously as Bolitho shaded his eyes to stare at the harbour. Then he said, 'You asked about the Benbow, sir. She has recently completed an overhaul here.'
'And whose flag has she hoisted?'
'I thought you would know, sir. She is Rear-Admiral Herrick's flagship.'
Bolitho turned towards the shadows in the lobby to contain his feelings. The last part of the pattern, as he had known there would be. It was not imagination, now he knew it, even before Stayt said, 'Rear-Admiral Herrick is to take the chair at the court of inquiry, sir.'
'I shall see him.'
'It might be unwise, sir.' Stayt's deepset eyes watched him calmly. 'It could be misconstrued, by some, that is.'
Thomas Herrick, his best friend, who had nearly died for him more than once.
In his mind he could see Herrick's eyes, clear blue, stubborn at times, too easily hurt, above all honest. Now the word 'honest' seemed to stand out to mock him.
Stayt said, 'There will be a letter awaiting you aboard Argonaute, I understand, sir. You will not need to attend the court. A written statement will suffice.'
Bolitho turned towards him, his voice hard. 'Will you write one also?'
Stayt met his gaze without flinching. 'I am ordered to attend the court to give evidence, sir.'
It was like being snared in an invisible net which was being squeezed tighter every hour.
'I shall be there, be certain of that!'
Stayt followed him into the dusty sunshine and waited on the steps which faced the harbour.
Bolitho said, 'Did you imagine I would stand by and say nothing? Well, did you?'
'If there is anything I can do, sir-'
Bolitho felt his eye sting and knew it was anger rather than injury.
'Not for the present. You are dismissed. Return to the ship.'
He strode down towards the jetty where Allday stood by the barge. There were other Argonaute boats nearby and Stayt would have to use one of them.
The boat coxswains stood up and touched their hats as they saw him. Their routine did not allow for emotions like his. Stores had to be arranged, and the purser would have been ashore since first light to carry out his bargaining with chandlers and traders alike.
Bolitho said, 'To the Benbow, if you please.'
Allday watched him enter the barge without any show of surprise. Herrick was here. It was only proper they should meet, no matter what some might think. Mates were mates, high or low.
'Give way all!'
The green-painted barge slid through the busy thoroughfare, other boats raising their oars or backing water to allow a flag-officer to have free passage.
Bolitho sat stiffly in the sternsheets, only his eyes moving as he focused them on familiar things, masts and rigging, seabirds and small clouds above the fortress.
Damn Laforey and his drink-sodden indifference, and anyone else who had a part in this. He glanced at the stroke oarsman and quickly along the bronzed faces of the barge crew. They all knew. Probably the whole fleet did too. Well, let them.
Vague thoughts flashed through his mind, of Belinda's letter, of Stayt's cool demeanour as he had mentioned his summons to the inquiry, and of Inch and the squadron who expected him to be above mere human reactions-or did they?
It would certainly not be the first time he had acted against the dictates of authority. He gave a small, bitter smile. It must run in the family. His father, who to his sons had always appeared as the stern, model example of a sea officer, had once fallen out with his army equivalent during a siege in the East Indies. Captain James Bolitho had solved the problem by arresting the soldier for negligence and then going on to win the battle. Had he lost it,
