Then he fainted and Tuson snapped, 'Now!' He glanced only briefly at Bolitho. 'I suggest you go elsewhere, sir.'
Bolitho barely recognized this Tuson. Steady-eyed, coldly professional. To him it was not a wrecked wardroom but a place of work.
Bolitho walked up to the quarterdeck again and saw that a young lieutenant, one of Helicons, was supervising the hoisting and rigging of two staysails. It would give them steerage-way, but little else until they could replace some of the yards. Bolitho looked at the forecastle and decking again. Point-blank range, mostly grape by the look of it.
The lieutenant saw him and touched his hat. He said, 'Addenbrook, sir, fifth lieutenant.'
'Where were you?' Bolitho watched the strain and emotion on the lieutenant's grimy features. At a guess about eighteen and newly promoted like most of Keen's. Probably the first time in battle in his junior rank.
Addenbrook said, 'Lower gun deck, sir. The French laid off and concentrated their fire on us. Heavy artillery, everything.' He was reliving it, the roaring, sealed world of the lower gun deck. 'We heard the masts shot away, but we kept firing, just like we'd been trained, what he expected of us.'
'Yes. Captain Inch is a fine man.'
The lieutenant barely heard him. 'They kept coming for us, sir, until half our crews were laid low. They still closed the range and started to use grape.' He pressed one hand to his forehead. 'I kept thinking, in God's name, why don't they stop? My senior was killed, and some of my men were half mad. They were beyond reason, screaming and cheering, loading and firing, not like the men I knew at all.'
Grape at close range. That explained the utter devastation. There could have been hardly a gun to return the fire by that time.
The lieutenant looked down at his stained uniform, scarcely able to believe it had happened, that he had survived without a scratch.
'We were alone, 'til Barracouta joined in, sir.' He looked up, his face suddenly bitter. 'We had no chance.' For just a moment some pride cut through the hurt in his eyes. 'But we didn't strike to the buggers, sir!'
There was a splash alongside and Bolitho saw Carcaud walk away from the gangway, wiping his hands on his apron. He did not have to guess what he had pitched into the sea. Was that all it took? He beckoned to the gangling surgeon's mate.
'How is he?'
Carcaud pursed his lips. 'I don't think he knew what had been done, sir, but later on-'
Bolitho nodded and walked slowly towards the entry port, or what was left of it.
Helicons first lieutenant appeared on deck, his head in a bandage. He saw Bolitho and hurried towards him.
Bolitho said, 'You have done well, Mr Savill. If you need any more men, signal the flag to that effect.' He saw the man sway. 'Are you fit to be here?'
The lieutenant tried to grin. 'I'll manage, sir.' He had a round Dorset accent-no wonder Inch liked him. 'I shall lighten the ship as soon as I can rig some tackles.' His eyes sharpened. 'Not the guns though. We'll fight this old lady again once we can get her into dock.'
Bolitho smiled sadly. A sailor's faith in his ship. And he was probably right.
'You saw the French flagship, the Leopard, I understand?'
'Aye, sir.' His eyes were far away. 'I took a bang on the skull an' was pressed against a nine-pounder. I reckon that saved me in the next broadside.' He glanced aft. 'They were all cut down, smashed like a bowl of eggs. But, oh yes, sir, I saw her right enough.' He gave a rueful smile. 'Pity I've not got that Frenchie's extra boom. I could use it to hoist up some of the shot an' stores!' A man called out and he touched his forehead. 'If you'll pardon me, sir.' He hesitated and turned. 'Cap'n Inch just stood there an' damned th' lot of 'em, sir. He was a good cap'n, a real gentleman to the people.'
Bolitho looked away. Was. 'I know.'
In the barge he twisted round in the sternsheets to look for his other ships, his mind trying to grapple with the mauled squadron as He/icon's lieutenants were fighting to restore life to their ship.
If Barracouta had not arrived the French would have gone for the other ships. He had already heard that Barracouta had been hurrying with the news that the enemy was moving out of Spanish waters when she had been chased by two French frigates. But for her speed, and the fact that the two enemy vessels had believed her to be a small two-decker, she would never have been able to help.
Once or twice he turned to look astern at He/icon. Scarred and burned, with only stumps for masts, she made a grim spectacle. How many had died? One more list of names to be considered. Jobert would not have wasted so much time if he had known the frigate was that near. But he had wanted to destroy He/icon, utterly. To pay him back for destroying his Calliope or because she was a prize-ship? Or was it a savage warning of the fate he intended for Argonaute if he could not retake her?
He pictured each of his remaining ships in turn. Without Inch, he was left with Houston and Montresor, who had yet to prove their ability in battle. Then there was Rapid, and with luck the cutter Supreme would rejoin them if the Maltese dockyard kept its promise. And one frigate. It was strange that Lapish, who had got off to such a bad start, had shown both skill and initiative. Bolitho wished in his heart that he was still captain of a frigate.
He sighed. 'We must fetch Captain Inch aboard the flagship as soon as he may be moved, Allday.'
Allday glanced down at Bolitho's squared shoulders, the stains on his arms and legs from his examination of the other ship.
'If you think he can.' He flinched as Bolitho looked up at him. Those grey eyes were still the same. It was hard to accept that one was half blind.
He tried again. 'You know how it is, sir.'
'Yes.' Bolitho stared at the Despatch, hove-to above her own reflection. But for her steering failing. He turned the thought aside. It would merely have delayed the inevitable.
Jobert must have imagined that Barracouta was one of Nelson's ships, the vanguard of his blockading squadron off Toulon.
He said, 'But he'll not survive a passage to Malta.'
Allday persisted, 'He'll never leave 'is ship, sir!'
Bolitho shook his head. 'I think otherwise. This time.'
Keen was waiting for him, his face full of questions.
How different were Argonautes decks, Bolitho thought. Order, purpose. But despair was infectious; it would soon spread, with Helicons hull a constant reminder to them.
He said, 'Captain's conference, Val, this afternoon if possible. If the wind gets up, it might be days before I can speak with them together.'
Keen looked across at Helicon and said quietly, 'There's the heart of a ship, sir.'
Bolitho shaded his eyes and saw a thin fragment of sail being hoisted between the fore and mainmast stumps.
He said, 'Inch's heart.'
He pictured Jobert's squadron in his mind. It was not formed for a diversion or merely to seek revenge. If the latter offered itself, then so much the better, but there was far more to it. Was it to draw Nelson's blockade from Toulon so that Admiral Villeneuve's main fleet could break out in force? With Gibraltar under siege from another fever, it was unlikely that any English ships would stay there to act as a deterrent. Jobert might well try for the Strait. Bolitho dismissed the idea at once. Jobert could have done that already, could be in Brest by now if he had managed to slip past the blockade there.
Bolitho made his way aft as Keen called out to the signals midshipman to pipe his assistants on deck. Allday watched him and noticed that he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not even falter or hesitate when the deck tilted in the swell.
Bolitho walked through the screens and made his way right aft to stare through the stern windows. He should have been exhausted, worn down by shock and a sense that he had failed. Instead his mind seemed to have taken on a new edge, sharpened still further whenever he thought of Inch, lying over there in his stricken ship.
Keen entered and said, 'The signal is bent on, sir.' He sounded strained.
Knowing Keen, he was probably blaming himself for what had happened. If he had not been recalled to MaltaBolitho faced him. 'Dismiss any doubts from your mind, Val. At least by going to Malta I discovered something
